“Of course,” said Eli, falling in step behind the man, who led him through a pair of doors into a private study. “This,” he said, “is really the only room that matters.”

He opened a cabinet and poured himself a drink.

“I can see why Charlotte likes you,” he said, leaning back against his desk. “She’s always had a weakness for charity cases. Especially handsome ones.”

Eli stilled, his easy manner stiffening a fraction. “Sir, if you think I’m with Charlotte for her money or her station—”

“The truth doesn’t matter, Mr. Cardale, only the optics. And they don’t look good. I’ve done my homework on you. So much tragedy—

you handle it with poise. While I admire how far you’ve come, the fact is, you’re tracking mud into my home.”

Eli’s teeth clicked together. “We can’t shape our past,” he said.

“Only our future.”

Charlotte’s father smiled. “Well put. And that’s what I’m offering you. A bright future. Just not with my daughter. I’ve seen your grades.

You’re a smart young man, Eliot. Ambitious, too, Charlotte tells me.

You want to be a doctor. Haverford is a decent college, but it’s not the best. I know you got into other schools. Better schools. I assume you couldn’t afford them.”

Eli stared, amazed. He was being bribed.

Mr. Shelton pushed off the desk. “I know you care about my daughter. Hell, you might even think you love her . . .”

But Eli didn’t.

If Mr. Shelton was better at reading people—or if Eli hadn’t made himself so hard to read—he might have seen the simple truth. That Eli didn’t need persuading. That Charlotte Shelton had always been, for him, a vehicle. A way to move through the world on an upward trajectory. What her father was now offering, if he was truly offering it, was a true chance for meaningful change, a great gain for a minor loss.

But what came next was a delicate maneuver.

“Mr. Shelton,” started Eli, contorting his face with an aspect of tightly controlled defiance. “Your daughter and I—”

The man held up a hand. “Before you play the noble card, and insist you can’t be bought, remember that you are both very young, and love is fickle, and whatever you have with Charlotte might feel real, but it won’t last.”

Eli exhaled, and looked down, as if ashamed. Let his features settle into a semblance of resignation. “What would you have me do, sir?”

“Tonight? Nothing. Enjoy your dinner. In a few days? Break things off. Pick one of those better schools. Chester, or Lockland. Transfer.

The tuition won’t be a problem.”

“Boys!” called Mrs. Shelton from the kitchen. “Turkey’s ready.”

Mr. Shelton clapped Eli on the shoulder. “Come on,” he said cheerfully. “I’m starving.”

“Dad,” warned Charlotte when they met her in the dining room.