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“Ha!” Horatio snapped, still pacing up and down.

His limp was becoming more pronounced, and his face was gray. It would not be long before he tired and he was reduced to sitting in his armchair for a day or two, impotently raging at the world in the midst of his agony.

“We shall have to find Beatrice another match—any match—as soon as we can, let me tell you. We cannot afford to be picky anymore.”

“Why don’t you sit down, Papa,” Beatrice said, a trifle desperately. “Your gout will be?—”

“Enough about my gout! None of you seem to understand the danger of this—none of you. We are ruined, all of us. The Marquess will remain a rich man, so he will likely be able to buy his way back into Society. In five or six years, nobody will remember his scandal. But for us, we are ruined. We have no money, and since it was well-known that the Marquess was going to invest in my businesses, nobody would want to follow in his footsteps and try again. John is too young to do much, Jane is dead, and Beatrice—well, who would ever take her now?”

There was a heavy silence after that, Horatio’s words ringing in the air.

Beatrice felt as though she were frozen in her seat. She was still holding John’s hand, his fingers twitching uncomfortably in her grip. She was squeezing too hard, and she forced herself to let go, folding her hands in her lap.

Helena seemed to wake up from her reverie, glancing between her middle child and her husband.

“That was unkind, Horatio,” she said, slowly and clearly. “Beatrice has had a difficult day, too.”

He snorted. “Oh? So difficult that she went back to her friend’s house for tea. If Anna was any sort of friend at all, she might have tried to findsomebodyfor Beatrice to marry.”

Beatrice flinched. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, to inform her father that Anna was atruefriend who would never try and force her into marriage with anyone, and anyway, she was too preoccupied with a much-deserved romance. Anna was inlovefor the first time, and what sort of friend would want her to snap out of her blissful new reality and attend to more menial matters?

“It is not Anna’s responsibility to find Beatrice a husband,” Helena said coolly.

“No,” Horatio snapped. “It is ours. And who will marry her now, after this… this spinsterish scandal! Such a scandal, and she is not even married at the end of it! In fact, she is further away from marrying now than she had ever been. Oh, and have I mentioned that we are ruined? Nothing can save us. I wonder if the infamous Duke Blackheart cares much about that as he sips his whiskey and congratulates himself on his fine deeds. No, I imagine that he does not. I hope you are happy with your escape, Beatrice, as you will likely be a spinster for the rest of your life now.”

John spoke up. “Is that really the worst thing in the world, Father? Why can Beatrice not be a spinster, if it makes her happy?”

“Because it will make the rest of us very, very miserable,” Horatio shot back. “Because now that Jane is gone, Beatrice is—was—our last hope at changing our fortunes. Nobody will touch her now any more than they would spoiled goods.”

Beatrice flinched at that.

Helena drew herself up in indignation. “Your daughter isnotspoiled goods, Horatio! How dare you? She is not a cut of rotten meat or a bruised apple, or however else you might choose to describe her! She is our daughter, and every bit as much of a victim as we are. Do you think she conspired to bring about all of this?”

The guilt stabbed deep, constricting Beatrice’s chest.

Undeterred, Horatio shouted right back, “I am not saying thatIthink that way, Helena! I am saying that this is howSocietythinks, and if you believe we can simply ignore what Society thinks and go on our way, well then, I have some unpleasant news for you.”

She had heard enough. Quietly and carefully, Beatrice got to her feet and left the drawing room. Nobody seemed to notice.

Or so she thought.

“Beatrice, wait a moment.”

She paused at her brother’s voice, one foot on the bottom step of the staircase. She twisted around to look at him, fighting to keep her composure.

John was looking at her anxiously, twisting his hands together and biting his lower lip.

“Father didn’t mean any of that,” he said, at last. “He’s just frightened, I think. He’s worried about all of us, and our fortunes. He spoke to me about my education before, and how… how a worthwhile education is never cheap. He worries about you,Beatrice, and what will happen to you once he is gone.”

She bit her lip.

Does Papa think that he is the only one who has thought of this?

“This isn’t your concern, John,” she said. “You should be enjoying your youth, not worrying about this kind of nonsense.”

He let out a brittle laugh. “How can I not worry? Beatrice, I’m not sure you have understood the enormity of what has happened today. You’ve had such a narrow escape. If you married that man…”

Despite it all, Beatrice had to bite back a smile.