Her father’s study was a male sanct

Her father’s study was a male sanctum, its walls made of dark oak paneling and covered with framed prints of hunters galloping over fields and soaring over fences. His desk was massive, as was the overstuffed Moroccan leather sofa with matching chairs at either end. The room smelled of furniture polish and her father’s favorite cigars. Even the thick Persian rug beneath her feet was masculine, with its deep blues and maroons.
He closed the door with a click and turned around. “All right, Margot, what is it? What do you have to discuss that’s so important it can’t wait until tomorrow, when we don’t have a house full of guests to entertain?” Now that they were alone, his voice was tinged with impatience.
“It’s—it’s about Ned.”
“Ned Connelly?” His eyebrows came together in a severe line. “You dragged me away from our party to talk about Ned?”
“No, yes—not exactly,” she stammered. “It’s just that now you’re really going to need the extra help while he’s laid up with his broken arm. I’d like to take over his responsibilities while he recovers.”
“Ned is my manager,” he said, as if she hadn’t been living at Rosewood for the past eighteen years. “You’re saying you want to take on the job of Rosewood Farm’s manager?”
She nodded. “Yes, though I’d be more like a substitute manager until Ned’s fully healed. Then afterward I could be his assistant.” She didn’t let herself consider what it would be like working with Travis. She’d deal with that later. The only thing that mattered was to hear Dad say yes and have him give her the job. She could do the work, she was sure of it. She just needed to be given a chance. Nevertheless she felt compelled to add, “Of course Ned will be around to make sure I don’t screw up or anything. It’ll be great, Dad. Hands-on training, the best way to learn all—”
“Aren’t you forgetting a minor detail? You’re starting college in a few weeks.”
Oh, Lord, not the “You must go to college talk” again. They’d been having it for months. Why couldn’t he understand that college was unnecessary when all she wanted was to work at Rosewood, raising and training their horses? It was all she would ever want. She drew a deep breath and tried again. “Come on, Dad, what could I learn sitting in a stuffy lecture hall that could equal actually working with our broodmares and stallions or listening to you and Ned analyze a yearling’s potential? Don’t you want me to have the best training to help you run Rosewood? My taking over for Ned would be a perfect opport—”
Her father cut her off with an emphatic shake of his head. “No. I’ve already picked Travis for the job. Spoke to him about it yesterday. He’s the man—”
“But—”
“Don’t interrupt, Margot,” her father said automatically. “I admit Travis is a little rough around the edges, but when it comes to horses—”
Her father’s voice receded. He was giving Travis the job, without even considering her as a possibility. In all these weeks, nothing she’d said had made an impression. The news that he’d chosen Travis over his own child was yet another lash to her heart. Not only had Travis rejected and humiliated her, her dad was giving him what Margot considered her birthright—the opportunity to help run Rosewood Farm, to learn all the facets of their business, and above all to know her father trusted and relied on her. Travis wasn’t the only one who was good with horses. She could handle the job of manager—if only her father would give her the chance. “Please, Dad. Just let me try—”
“You’ll go to Farleigh as planned. Topher McCallister is enrolled there. He’s entering his junior year. The boy comes from good stock. He’d be a fine catch for you, Margot.” His blue eyes skimmed over her. “You’re pretty enough.”
And what did that have to do with anything? She nearly laughed, but then she looked at his expression. He was serious. Oh, my God. It had taken the words good stock and pretty enough for understanding to finally dawn. Dad didn’t want her to work beside him at Rosewood Farm … not now, not ever. His goal was for her to snare some man, become his wife, and bear his children.
And she’d bet he’d be praying for male grandkids. His insisting on her enrolling in college wasn’t because he cared about her education but because at Farleigh there’d be a nice pool of eligible young men for her to attract. Like Topher McCallister, who just so happened to know the difference between a horse’s fetlock and forelock. He’d be just the candidate Dad would pick to take the reins at Rosewood Farm.
Wasn’t it ironic that Topher also happened to be the exact sort of “pretty boy” Travis had mockingly suggested she try her luck with? Until tonight, she’d never realized how similar her father and Travis were—both considered her good enough only for the likes of Topher.
So where did that leave her? She could be a dutiful daughter, go off to Farleigh, and marry some conceited drip … and maybe, just maybe, she’d finally please her father. If she chose that path her future would be predictable: she’d spend her days doing lunch with other wives and volunteering for the Warburg Hunt Club’s social committee, and producing babies every two years. There was nothing wrong with that life, except that she had always assumed she’d get to be a part of Rosewood Farm and help breed and train their horses. But clearly her father had no intention of having her work alongside him, and all those excuses that she was too young or inexperienced were just a load of bull. It was a question of chromosomes.
Wasn’t life just too funny? Travis didn’t want her, either, because he didn’t believe she was enough of a woman. She’d offered herself to him and he’d laughed. He was probably still laughing.
The pain of the dual rejection was unbearable. How could she stay at Rosewood knowing that the two most important men in her life cared so little? She couldn’t. She would have to leave. There was no other choice.
Her father had gone over to the side table to retrieve his precious cigars from the humidor. Closing its lid he turned back to her. “Come, Margot. Let’s go back to the party. You can find Topher and talk to him about college and the riding team. I bet the two of you get along like a house on fire,” he said, an indulgent smile on his face.
She shook off the hand he’d placed under her elbow. “No.”
“No, what? This is really too much. What’s the problem now?”
“I am not going to college this fall,” she said. “If you don’t want me to work with you, I’ll leave home and—” The rest was cut short as the study door opened.
Nicole’s head appeared around the edge of the door. “RJ? What are you doing in here?”
Margot’s stomach clenched as her stepmother’s gaze landed on her.
“What’s going on? What’s she done now?” Nicole demanded, stepping into the room.
“Margot’s just announced that she’s not going to college.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “Oh, Lord, again? Honestly, RJ, why do you put up with this nonsense?”
“Damned if I know.” Any warmth or patience toward her had vanished the second Nicole appeared. “Margot was about to tell me what she plans to do instead.”
“This should be good. Do tell, Margot. What do you think you’re actually qualified to do?” Nicole’s smile was openly mocking, perfected by constant practice.
The sight of it made Margot remember the guy she’d met earlier, the photographer. He’d said she had the looks to be a model. He’d gone to the trouble of giving her the name of some agent, so he must have been serious. Modeling. Why not? If she was going to sell herself, at least she’d be doing it on her own terms rather than as a two-legged broodmare for her father.
“I’ll go to New York,” she said to him, studiously ignoring Nicole.
“New York? New York?” he repeated incredulously. “What in the world would you do in New York?”
“I’ll get a job as a model.” The party was going strong. Maybe that guy, Charlie something, was still around. She could find him, ask him if he’d been straight with her about her chances.
“Are you joking?”
She lifted her chin. “No. If I can’t work at Rosewood, why shouldn’t I take a shot at modeling? After all, as you yourself said, Dad, I’m pretty enough.”
Having his words thrown back at him pushed her father over the edge. A deep red flush flooded his face. “Damn it, Margot! You are beyond belief. What is wrong with you?”
Maybe I just need to know that you love me. But her answer went unvoiced. Nicole was pointing an accusing finger at her. “RJ, do you realize she still has that dress on, the one you explicitly told her to change out of? My God, I simply cannot believe how selfish she is. Prattling on about being a model when there’s a party going on and I’ve worked so hard to make everything perfect. But why should I be surprised when at every turn, your daughter deliberately tries to spoil what I do.”
“I do not!”
“Enough!” her father bellowed. “Nicole’s right. She’s worked incredibly hard to make the Radcliffe Roast a success and here you are doing your level best to ruin the evening!”
Margot stared, stricken that he would side with Nicole on this issue, too. Nicole hadn’t done a thing to organize the party. For the past five years she’d hired a party planner who was in charge of everything, from writing out the invitations to overseeing the caterer and choosing the table decorations. Nicole had spent most of today at a spa with one of her friends.
“Even if what you just said were true, Dad, aren’t I as important to you as a party?” she implored, her voice thick with tears. “Aren’t I as important as Nicole? Don’t I matter to you at all?”
“Christ Almighty!” He made a chopping motion with his hand. “That’s it. Enough. I’ve had it with your theatrics. This discussion is over. I’ve made my decision. Travis will take over as Rosewood’s manager. It’s too damned big a job for a woman to handle. And you,”

Hasil (Bahasa Indonesia) 1:

Ayahnya studi sanctum laki-laki, dindingnya terbuat dari panel kayu ek gelap dan ditutupi dengan bingkai cetakan pemburu berderap atas bidang dan melonjak lebih dari pagar. Mejanya adalah besar, seperti sofa empuk Maroko kulit dengan pencocokan kursi di kedua ujung. Kamar berbau semir mebel dan ayahnya favorit cerutu. Bahkan Persia karpet tebal di bawah kakinya adalah maskulin, dengan mendalam blues dan Origin.Dia menutup pintu dengan klik dan berbalik. "Baiklah, Margot, apa itu? Apa yang Anda miliki untuk membahas yang sangat penting ini tidak bisa menunggu sampai besok, ketika kita tidak memiliki rumah penuh untuk menghibur para tamu? " Sekarang bahwa mereka adalah sendirian, suaranya diwarnai dengan tidak sabar."Memiliki — tentang Ned.""Ned Connelly?" Alis nya datang bersama-sama dalam garis parah. "Anda menyeret saya dari Partai kami untuk berbicara tentang Ned?""Tidak, ya-tidak benar-benar," ia terbata-bata. "Itu adalah hanya bahwa sekarang Anda benar-benar akan membutuhkan bantuan tambahan sementara ia diletakkan dengan lengannya yang patah. Saya ingin mengambil alih tanggung jawabnya sementara ia sembuh.""Ned adalah manajer saya," katanya, seolah-olah ia tidak tinggal di Rosewood selama delapan belas tahun. "Anda katakan Anda ingin mengambil pekerjaan untuk manajer pertanian Rosewood?"She nodded. “Yes, though I’d be more like a substitute manager until Ned’s fully healed. Then afterward I could be his assistant.” She didn’t let herself consider what it would be like working with Travis. She’d deal with that later. The only thing that mattered was to hear Dad say yes and have him give her the job. She could do the work, she was sure of it. She just needed to be given a chance. Nevertheless she felt compelled to add, “Of course Ned will be around to make sure I don’t screw up or anything. It’ll be great, Dad. Hands-on training, the best way to learn all—”“Aren’t you forgetting a minor detail? You’re starting college in a few weeks.”Oh, Lord, not the “You must go to college talk” again. They’d been having it for months. Why couldn’t he understand that college was unnecessary when all she wanted was to work at Rosewood, raising and training their horses? It was all she would ever want. She drew a deep breath and tried again. “Come on, Dad, what could I learn sitting in a stuffy lecture hall that could equal actually working with our broodmares and stallions or listening to you and Ned analyze a yearling’s potential? Don’t you want me to have the best training to help you run Rosewood? My taking over for Ned would be a perfect opport—”Her father cut her off with an emphatic shake of his head. “No. I’ve already picked Travis for the job. Spoke to him about it yesterday. He’s the man—”“But—”“Don’t interrupt, Margot,” her father said automatically. “I admit Travis is a little rough around the edges, but when it comes to horses—”Her father’s voice receded. He was giving Travis the job, without even considering her as a possibility. In all these weeks, nothing she’d said had made an impression. The news that he’d chosen Travis over his own child was yet another lash to her heart. Not only had Travis rejected and humiliated her, her dad was giving him what Margot considered her birthright—the opportunity to help run Rosewood Farm, to learn all the facets of their business, and above all to know her father trusted and relied on her. Travis wasn’t the only one who was good with horses. She could handle the job of manager—if only her father would give her the chance. “Please, Dad. Just let me try—”“You’ll go to Farleigh as planned. Topher McCallister is enrolled there. He’s entering his junior year. The boy comes from good stock. He’d be a fine catch for you, Margot.” His blue eyes skimmed over her. “You’re pretty enough.”And what did that have to do with anything? She nearly laughed, but then she looked at his expression. He was serious. Oh, my God. It had taken the words good stock and pretty enough for understanding to finally dawn. Dad didn’t want her to work beside him at Rosewood Farm … not now, not ever. His goal was for her to snare some man, become his wife, and bear his children.And she’d bet he’d be praying for male grandkids. His insisting on her enrolling in college wasn’t because he cared about her education but because at Farleigh there’d be a nice pool of eligible young men for her to attract. Like Topher McCallister, who just so happened to know the difference between a horse’s fetlock and forelock. He’d be just the candidate Dad would pick to take the reins at Rosewood Farm.Wasn’t it ironic that Topher also happened to be the exact sort of “pretty boy” Travis had mockingly suggested she try her luck with? Until tonight, she’d never realized how similar her father and Travis were—both considered her good enough only for the likes of Topher.So where did that leave her? She could be a dutiful daughter, go off to Farleigh, and marry some conceited drip … and maybe, just maybe, she’d finally please her father. If she chose that path her future would be predictable: she’d spend her days doing lunch with other wives and volunteering for the Warburg Hunt Club’s social committee, and producing babies every two years. There was nothing wrong with that life, except that she had always assumed she’d get to be a part of Rosewood Farm and help breed and train their horses. But clearly her father had no intention of having her work alongside him, and all those excuses that she was too young or inexperienced were just a load of bull. It was a question of chromosomes.Wasn’t life just too funny? Travis didn’t want her, either, because he didn’t believe she was enough of a woman. She’d offered herself to him and he’d laughed. He was probably still laughing.
The pain of the dual rejection was unbearable. How could she stay at Rosewood knowing that the two most important men in her life cared so little? She couldn’t. She would have to leave. There was no other choice.
Her father had gone over to the side table to retrieve his precious cigars from the humidor. Closing its lid he turned back to her. “Come, Margot. Let’s go back to the party. You can find Topher and talk to him about college and the riding team. I bet the two of you get along like a house on fire,” he said, an indulgent smile on his face.
She shook off the hand he’d placed under her elbow. “No.”
“No, what? This is really too much. What’s the problem now?”
“I am not going to college this fall,” she said. “If you don’t want me to work with you, I’ll leave home and—” The rest was cut short as the study door opened.
Nicole’s head appeared around the edge of the door. “RJ? What are you doing in here?”
Margot’s stomach clenched as her stepmother’s gaze landed on her.
“What’s going on? What’s she done now?” Nicole demanded, stepping into the room.
“Margot’s just announced that she’s not going to college.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “Oh, Lord, again? Honestly, RJ, why do you put up with this nonsense?”
“Damned if I know.” Any warmth or patience toward her had vanished the second Nicole appeared. “Margot was about to tell me what she plans to do instead.”
“This should be good. Do tell, Margot. What do you think you’re actually qualified to do?” Nicole’s smile was openly mocking, perfected by constant practice.
The sight of it made Margot remember the guy she’d met earlier, the photographer. He’d said she had the looks to be a model. He’d gone to the trouble of giving her the name of some agent, so he must have been serious. Modeling. Why not? If she was going to sell herself, at least she’d be doing it on her own terms rather than as a two-legged broodmare for her father.
“I’ll go to New York,” she said to him, studiously ignoring Nicole.
“New York? New York?” he repeated incredulously. “What in the world would you do in New York?”
“I’ll get a job as a model.” The party was going strong. Maybe that guy, Charlie something, was still around. She could find him, ask him if he’d been straight with her about her chances.
“Are you joking?”
She lifted her chin. “No. If I can’t work at Rosewood, why shouldn’t I take a shot at modeling? After all, as you yourself said, Dad, I’m pretty enough.”
Having his words thrown back at him pushed her father over the edge. A deep red flush flooded his face. “Damn it, Margot! You are beyond belief. What is wrong with you?”
Maybe I just need to know that you love me. But her answer went unvoiced. Nicole was pointing an accusing finger at her. “RJ, do you realize she still has that dress on, the one you explicitly told her to change out of? My God, I simply cannot believe how selfish she is. Prattling on about being a model when there’s a party going on and I’ve worked so hard to make everything perfect. But why should I be surprised when at every turn, your daughter deliberately tries to spoil what I do.”
“I do not!”
“Enough!” her father bellowed. “Nicole’s right. She’s worked incredibly hard to make the Radcliffe Roast a success and here you are doing your level best to ruin the evening!”
Margot stared, stricken that he would side with Nicole on this issue, too. Nicole hadn’t done a thing to organize the party. For the past five years she’d hired a party planner who was in charge of everything, from writing out the invitations to overseeing the caterer and choosing the table decorations. Nicole had spent most of today at a spa with one of her friends.
“Even if what you just said were true, Dad, aren’t I as important to you as a party?” she implored, her voice thick with tears. “Aren’t I as important as Nicole? Don’t I matter to you at all?”
“Christ Almighty!” He made a chopping motion with his hand. “That’s it. Enough. I’ve had it with your theatrics. This discussion is over. I’ve made my decision. Travis will take over as Rosewood’s manager. It’s too damned big a job for a woman to handle. And you,”