I paused, letting the words settle.
"Your mother and Joan both spoke plainly. A marriage alliance concerns two families' reputations. This isn't children playing house—you don't just swap brides on a whim."
Rhys's face flushed crimson. His knuckles went white around the edge of a nearby table, but no retort came.
Mrs. Gilbert stepped in smoothly, her smile never wavering.
"I won't meddle in young people's affairs. Sort it out yourselves." Her gaze sharpened. "But understand this: the Gilbert family's bride will come from either the Pruitts or the Hensons. No exceptions."
The banquet wound down. Neither Joan nor I spared Rhys another glance as we headed for the parking garage.
I'd just pulled open my car door when Rhys's footsteps caught up. He stepped in front of me, blocking my path.
"Ursula, what's gotten into you tonight?" He gripped the door frame, leaning in. "Everyone knows you've been in love with me since we were kids. You said it yourself—you'd never marry anyone else."
I studied his anxious face, and unbidden, memories surfaced.
The night his stomach ulcer flared—I'd sat beside his bed until dawn.