Karinaâs eyes popped wide open; she tugged on Rosalynnâs arm, exclaiming, âLook, is that Lyndon? Oh my God! He always seems so unapproachable.
Could he really be this wild privately? And the woman with him, she looks familiar.
Whatâs her name?â
âIvy Larson.
â
Rosalynn spoke her name, her brows knitting together as she observed the footage unfurling on the large screen.
What exactly was happening here?
Why was Lyndon with Ivy?
And why was there a live broadcast of it?
Her mind raced, piecing together that they might be in the third-floor lounge.
Without further thought, she rose swiftly to her feet, gathering the fabric of her dress.
Halfway across the room, Brian met her.
âHoney, whatâs the rush? Take care, you could trip,â he said, steadying her by her waist.
âHow can I not rush? It looks like Lyndonâs been set up.
â
Such a spectacle wouldnât normally be his choice for public display.
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Surely, this was someone elseâs doing.
But who could it be?
Ivy?
A look of disapproval flickered across Brianâs face.
âHoney, the woman with Lyndon is Ivy.
They are well-suited in both status and age.
Lyndon is of an age to marry.
Itâs about time for it.
â
He was subtly reminding her of her undue concern for Lyndon.
âBut if Lyndon was set up, do you think Ivy is right for him?â
Rosalynn queried.
Brian arched an eyebrow.
âThereâs nothing we can do.
Given todayâs events, Lyndon has no choice but to marry her.
â
Rosalynn gave him a look and said, âDarling, why do I sense youâre somewhat pleased?â