“How about some music?” Constance asked, breaking the silence.
“The radio in this one is broken,” Scarlett said. “Looks like one of us will have to sing.”
Jameson smiled, shaking his head. The girl had a dry sense of humor, and he couldn’t get enough of it.
“Here, I’ll read. May I?” Howard asked, and Jameson heard the paper shifting hands. “I have five dollars that says I can get everyone to sleep before we reach the airfield with this thing.” Howard’s eyebrows shot up in the rearview. “Except you, Stanton. You’d better stay awake.”
“On it,” Jameson responded as they pulled onto the station. Once they were through the gate, he took Scarlett’s hand, shaking his head at the mundane tone Howard used to read an article about supply shortages.
“He really might put me to sleep,” Scarlett whispered.
Jameson squeezed her hand.
“Coming to the aid of our troops is none other than the head of Wadsworth Shipping, George Wadsworth—” Howard continued.
Scarlett stiffened at his side.
“—who has more than one merger to celebrate with a confirmed source stating that his oldest son, Henry, is to be engaged to the oldest daughter of Baron and Lady Wright…”
Scarlett gasped, covering her mouth with the hand he wasn’t holding.
“Oh God,” Constance muttered.
Jameson felt the earth beneath him shift, and his stomach bottomed out. It can’t be.
Howard’s solemn gaze met his in the rearview, and he knew it was.
“Well, surely there’s more than one Wright in the country,” Christine muttered, yanking the paper back from Howard. “Henry is to be engaged to the oldest daughter of Baron and Lady Wright, Scarlett…” Christine fell quiet as she glanced toward Scarlett.
“Please, read the rest,” Jameson snapped. What the hell? Had she played him for a fool? Or had he been a fool all along?
“Um…Scarlett,” she continued to read, “who is currently serving in His Majesties’ Women’s Auxiliary Air Force. Both of Wright’s daughters joined the fight last year and were commissioned as officers.” The paper crinkled. “The rest is about the munitions,” she finished softly, just in time for him to park the car at the edge of the lot that faced the narrow end of all three hangers.
“Looks like you lost that five dollars, Howard, because we’re all wide awake.” Jameson killed the engine and threw open the door. She was already in a relationship and about to be engaged. While he’d been falling in love with her, she’d been using him for what? A little entertainment? He glanced to the runway at his left, ready to launch, to leave the ground behind for a few hours.
…
Jameson slammed the door, and the sound jarred Scarlett from her shock. She flew out of the car, but he was halfway down the pavement to the hangar by the time she caught up with him. “Jameson! Wait!”
How could they do this? How could they inform the Daily that she and Henry were going to be engaged when she’d firmly told her mother she wouldn’t do it? It was them behind this, not just George. This reeked of her parents’ interference, and she’d be damned if it cost her Jameson.
“Wait for what, Scarlett?” he snapped as he strode away, those warm, dark eyes of his going cold and taking her heart with them. “Wait for you to marry some rich society-type? Was that why you wanted to know why I hadn’t kissed you yet? Were you worried about running out of time to pull one over on me?” He never broke stride, those long legs carrying him farther away from her with every step.
“That’s not what’s going on! I’m not engaged!” she argued, racing to get ahead of him. “Listen to me!” She put her hands on his chest and stopped, forcing him to pause or run her over.
He halted, but the look he gave crushed her all the same.
“Are you getting engaged?”
“No!” She shook her head emphatically. “My parents want me to marry Henry, but I won’t do it. They’re trying to force my hand.” She would never forgive them for this. Not ever.
“Force your hand?” His jaw ticked, and her mind scrambled for a way to make him understand.
“Yes!” She didn’t bother to check if they were being overheard or where the others from the car were. She didn’t care who heard what she said as long as he did. “It’s not true.”
“It’s in the paper!” He stepped back from her and laced his fingers over his hat.
“Because they think publishing it as fact will force me to agree out of embarrassment or duty!” she fired back.
“Will it?” he challenged.
“No!” Her chest tightened, facing the possibility that he might not believe her.
He looked away, clearly torn, and she couldn’t blame him. Her parents and the Wadsworths had dumped her in a damnable mess.
“Jameson, please. I swear I’m not marrying Henry Wadsworth.” Death was preferable.
“But your parents want you to?”
She nodded.
“And this Wadsworth guy wants you to?”
“Henry’s father believes the title—and the seat in the House of Lords—will fall to Henry if we marry, and if not Henry, then our firstborn son, which it won’t because—”
“Your firstborn son?” His eyes narrowed. “Now you’re having future kids with this guy?”
Apparently, that was not the thing to say to get him to understand.
“Of course not! None of it matters, because I’m not going to marry him!” A dull buzzing sounded in her head, as though her own mind were shutting down to spare her what felt like impending heartbreak. “If you believe this stunt, you let them win. I will not.”
“It’s easy to lose a fight you don’t know you’re in.” At least he was looking at her again, but the accusation in his eyes nearly brought tears to hers. He looked as though he’d been betrayed, and in a way, he had.
“I should have told you,” she whispered.
“Yes, you should have,” he agreed. “What kind of parents try to force their daughter into a marriage she doesn’t want?” His hands slid to the back
