“You’re afraid Mr. Foxworth would blame you for my not wearing that?”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to.

“Just leave it and go,” I said.

She hurriedly brought it to the closet, hung it up carefully, and then left. If I had the slightest doubt before, it was gone. I was marrying a man who ruled his mansion like a king ruled his palace. It wasn’t a total surprise, but I did believe he was enchanted with me. And after all, I was not coming here to be another servant; I was coming to be his wife, his queen, if he liked. Our wedding was certainly being organized as if it was a royal event.

Besides, as I once told some girls at one of my womanly talks, a man is not unlike any other wild animal. Once you corral him in marriage, capture him with your beauty and charm, you lead him to the belief that he exists now for only one thing: pleasing you.

“How do you do that?” Bethany Sue Andersen had asked skeptically.

“You lasso him like a wild horse.”

They had all laughed.

“With what, a rope of steel?” Mabel Warren had said, smiling, thinking she was so clever. The girls had laughed again.

“No, Mabel. With a rope of sex,” I’d said, and everyone had stopped laughing.

Maybe a woman couldn’t vote, couldn’t run a company, couldn’t be an executive like my father or do half the things a man was permitted to do.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t get a man to do everything she wanted him to do for her.

In the end, he would.

It was that confidence, after all, that brought me to Foxworth Hall and soon to the altar to promise my obedience to Garland.

Few who would attend would know my opinion of promises, but Garland certainly did, and if he didn’t, he would.

I was tired. I hurried to the bathroom and then to bed, snuggling up comfortably in my own confidence, unafraid of anything, even a nightmare. I decided instead to relive the lovemaking we had just enjoyed, and for a few moments, I even forgot I was pregnant.

Chapter 14

Garland wasn’t exaggerating about how full the following day would be.

Right after breakfast, the tailor arrived. My mother accompanied him to my room and, with me, waited for Dora to bring in what would surely be known as “the Foxworth wedding gown.” Even my mother thought that passing it down from one generation to another was a wonderful idea.