Dawson hesitated for a moment before opening the door, only to see Isolde, one of the maids. She stood with her hands neatly folded in front of her and gave a slight bow.
"Sir," she said politely, "your father is here to see you."
Dawson ran a hand down his face in frustration, muttering something under his breath. "Tell him I'll be there in a moment."
"Yes, sir," Isolde replied, retreating quickly.
Closing the door with a quiet sigh, Dawson turned back to Amelia, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him with curiosity. "What's wrong?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
"My father," Dawson said, his voice heavy. "He's here."
Amelia blinked, unsure why that seemed like such a big deal. "Okay... and?"
Dawson gave her a sharp look. "And I need you to act like we're dating."
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "What? No way!" she exclaimed, standing up.
"Amelia, please," he begged, stepping closer.