Page 21 of Her Obedience (Ruin & Gold #1)

"Security has been enhanced appropriately," he replies, returning to his tablet. "Your interaction with the Montgomery family will be carefully managed to prevent unnecessary friction."

"I'll need to know which Montgomerys to avoid," I say. "Beyond Charles Senior, who considers themselves personally affected by our arrangement?"

He glances up, that brief expression of approval returning.

"James Montgomery primarily. He had certain expectations regarding your eventual return to family obligations.

His mother, Margaret, similarly invested in the potential connection.

Charles Senior maintains professional distance despite personal disappointment. "

James Montgomery—the younger brother I'd met perhaps twice at society functions, a Harvard business school graduate with his father's ambition and significantly less restraint, according to society gossip.

"I'll maintain appropriate distance," I promise, the cooperation genuine since conflict at Violet's wedding was one of the last things I would want.

He nods, apparently satisfied with my response. "The bracelet suits you," he observes, gesturing to my wrist where I've indeed worn the sapphire piece, a decision to demonstrate acceptance.

"It's beautiful," I acknowledge, neither effusive nor rejecting. "Antique, I believe?"

"Mid-nineteenth century. French craftsmanship." He returns to his tablet, the brief personal exchange concluded with characteristic efficiency. "Your dress fittings begin at one. I have meetings until dinner."

The dismissal is familiar. I finish my tea, the morning sunlight streaming through conservatory glass.

The day proceeds with wedding preparation activities—fittings for the blue Valentino Gage, hair and makeup trials, reviews of jewelry options beyond the sapphire bracelet.

I cooperate.

By evening, preparations complete and Gage still occupied with business matters, I retreat to the garden for relative solitude.

Spring has fully arrived, flowering trees creating canopies of white and pink blossoms, perennial beds emerging with careful planning evident in color progressions and textural contrasts.

I sit on a stone bench near the koi pond, watching fish navigate their beautiful prison—a metaphor too obvious to ignore. Like them, I swim within boundaries not of my choosing, observed and maintained as decorative property rather than autonomous being.

"Miss Everett."

The voice startles me from contemplation. Victor stands several paces away, his expression professionally neutral as always.

"Mr. Blackwood requests your presence in his study immediately."

I follow Victor through the garden and into the mansion, maintaining a composed exterior.

Gage isn't alone when I enter the study. A distinguished older man in an impeccable suit stands at the window, turning as I enter. Something in his features—the particular angle of jaw, the set of shoulders—triggers immediate recognition despite never having met him before.

Gage's father. Or rather, someone so closely related that the resemblance cannot be coincidental.

"Penelope," Gage says, his voice carrying unusual tension beneath its controlled surface. "Allow me to introduce my uncle, Richard Blackwood. He's arrived unexpectedly from London."

Richard Blackwood approaches with practiced charm, taking my hand with old-world courtesy. "My dear, forgive the intrusion. When I heard my nephew had finally decided to formalize a family connection, I couldn't resist seeing for myself the woman who accomplished what so many others attempted."

"Mr. Blackwood. What a surprise to meet Gage's family. He rarely mentions relatives."

Richard laughs. "No doubt. My nephew has always preferred operating independently, keeping family at a convenient distance unless specifically required."

"My uncle has business in Chicago this week," Gage interject. "He'll be staying at the Peninsula rather than here at the estate."

"Will you be attending our wedding, Mr. Blackwood?" I ask.

"Richard, please." He smiles. "And yes, I wouldn't miss my only nephew's marriage. Though the invitation arrived surprisingly late, considering the significance of the occasion."

"Last-minute international travel can be challenging," I observe. "How long will you be in Chicago?"

"Through the wedding, at minimum." Richard accepts the drink Gage offers with practiced ease. "Perhaps longer, depending on how certain business matters resolve."

"Penelope has had a full day of wedding preparations," Gage says, the subtle dismissal clear in his tone. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation tomorrow, when everyone is refreshed."

Richard smiles, seemingly unperturbed by his nephew's attempt to end the interaction. "Of course. I'm sure we'll have ample opportunity to become acquainted before the ceremony. Perhaps you might join me for lunch tomorrow, Penelope? I'd love to hear more about your background in floral design."

The invitation might result in restricted freedoms if mishandled.

"That would be lovely," I reply before Gage can intervene, taking calculated risk. "Though my schedule is quite full with wedding preparations."

"I'm sure Gage can spare you for an hour or two," Richard says smoothly, the presumption deliberate. "Family connections should be nurtured, particularly before such significant occasions."

Gage's expression remains controlled, but the tension in his shoulders increases noticeably. "I'll have Victor arrange transportation," he says after a pointed pause. "Assuming Peninsula at noon?"

"Perfect." Richard finishes his drink, setting the glass aside with practiced ease. "I won't keep you any longer this evening. The car service is waiting."

He takes my hand again, the gesture courtly rather than condescending. "A pleasure meeting you, Penelope. I look forward to our conversation tomorrow."

When he's gone, the study remains silent for long moments. I wait, observing Gage.

"My uncle's visit was unexpected," he says finally, moving to refill his glass. "His attendance at Violet's wedding would be inappropriate. I'll arrange alternative activities for Saturday."

"He seems interested in establishing a connection before our wedding," I observe neutrally.

"Richard's interests rarely align with their apparent objectives." Gage's tone carries unusual edge, the control slightly frayed by his uncle's appearance. "Tomorrow's lunch will proceed as arranged."

"I understand," I say simply. "Will that be all for this evening?"

He studies me. "The sapphire bracelet would be appropriate for tomorrow's lunch. More subtle than the emeralds, better suited to daytime engagement."

"Of course," I agree. "Good night, Gage."