I spend the rest of the night drinking and dancing and holding Maggie’s hand, refusing to acknowledge that Ryan isn’t there—hasn’t been there since he left the reception three hours early with someone else.

The next morning, I enter my apartment wearing flip-flops and my bridesmaid dress. A beautiful soft pink Grecian gown that no longer looks flattering with my puffy eyes and pale complexion.

I walk past the kitchenette and my eyes find a bakery bag I didn’t notice yesterday morning. Knowing exactly what I’ll find, I reach inside and pull out a scone that’s cold and stale. I drop the empty bag onto the floor and toss the scone into the sink beside me without looking. I’m not even rattled when I hear it smash into a glass that’s waiting to be washed.

I glance around the living room, and even though all traces of him are gone, the whole space is haunted by Ryan. He might as well be standing next to me. I walk back over to the door and lock it, feeling utterly and chillingly numb.

18

“I’m getting married.”

Charlotte’s words split through Robert like the swipe of an ax. “I beg your pardon?”

“To Edward Brinton, the Marquis of St. Clare. He’s an acquaintance of my father. The wedding will take place as soon as possible.”

Robert was unable to disguise his confusion as every muscle in his body tightened. He studied Charlotte, finding her cheeks pale and her eyes puffy and bloodshot. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“It’s quite simple, really. Our dalliance has come to an end. I would have thought someone like you would be well-versed in these matters.”

“If something is wrong then tell me. I can fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix. It’s true, I have enjoyed your company for the past few weeks, but it’s now time for you to leave.”

Silence stretched for what felt like a lifetime until Robert stormed forward to stand barely an inch away from Charlotte. “I don’t give a damn if you want me to leave! I’m gone for two days and I come back to find you engaged to some old letch? What the devil has happened?”

Charlotte pushed violently against Robert’s chest, forcing him back and gaining some distance. “George is gone!” she cried. “Father sent him away and he won’t tell me where he is or if he’s all right and he won’t tell me anything until I marry Lord Brinton.”

Robert shook his head as anger hammered through him. “This is ridiculous. I’ll talk to your father and put a stop to this at once.”