The Oldest Son

The next day, Rose anxiously waited for the Ashbournes to arrive.

She could feel the tension building inside her, and every minute that passed only made it worse.

"They're here," their housekeeper, Bridget, said, peeking into her room to announce their arrival.

Damn it.

Rose glanced at herself in the mirror, annoyed. She was wearing her best dress, as per her father's request. It was a sky-blue, short dress with lace sleeves and an open back.

Her long blonde hair was tied into a fishtail braid that hung loosely over one shoulder. She barely recognized herself. She looked more feminine than she'd ever felt before. Who was she trying to impress anyway? This marriage was the last thing she wanted.

With a deep sigh, she turned away from the mirror and made her way to the dining hall, where her father usually entertained special guests. The heavy weight of dread settled in her chest with every step she took.