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“No, but I should not have assumed, especially given that…”

“Given that what?”

“It is unimportant. Regardless, I should know better.”

“Well, all is forgiven.”

She hated that the mere mention of her mother had upset her so. It had been almost twenty years since she lost her, and no matter how much she tried to forget about what had happened, she almost couldn’t help but blame her mother too. She shouldn’t have been left like that. It wasn’t fair, nor had it been fair to Samantha.

She scolded herself. It had never been their mother’s fault. It had been their father’s.

“So, do you suppose that we might start again?”

“No,” she said softly, shaking her head, “I do not like to start again. I cannot start again anymore. I just want to keep moving forward.”

“You are strong, Lady Diana. Do not forget that.”

It felt strange that he said that to her like that. It was as he said—he did not know her, and all that she could speak of was her sister and her spinsterhood, and now her mother. She truly did not want to be there with him.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“You know, I am still adjusting to that, the title. It is not something I was expecting to have.”

“Were you not prepared from birth for it?”

“Not exactly, but that hardly matters now.”

“Perhaps we have more in common than we think.” She laughed softly. “Neither of us was ready for the lives we must lead, and neither of us thinks that it matters.”

“I suppose you are right. I must say, though, that it is a wonder that you are unmarried. You are not unfortunate-looking, and you are more than capable in conversation. Given that you seem so proud of your sister, one can only assume that it was you who helped her there, so you must be quite intelligent too.”

“That changes nothing.”

“You are a lady of marriageable age no matter what you might think, and you are tolerable. The gentlemen in that ballroom should have proposed to you the second they saw you.”

“Well, that would be a question for those gentlemen, I suppose. In any case, I am perfectly content to be unmarried. It gives me freedom, which is something that a married lady does not have.”

“An unhappily married lady, to be sure, but there are husbands that do not limit their wives.”

“Which is a chance that I do not wish to take. As long as I am alone, I need only answer to myself. I need not be meek and simper to my husband and cater to his every need. It may come as a surprise to you, Your Grace, but we are not all so desperate to do that.”

“And yet you are happy to do so for your father?”

“That is quite different. He raised me.”

“Be that as it may, you are limiting yourself. Do you not agree?”

“I do not. There is no difference at all between caring for a father and caring for a husband, save for the fact that a father has been responsible for his daughter and has therefore at least earned it. You do not deserve a life of luxury simply because you marry a lady.”

“It certainly feels that way at times,” he sighed.

“Are they awful?” she asked, laughing again. “I can imagine how young ladies are in your presence. They likely see you as a way out of their situations, or perhaps even a way to a better life than their already wonderful ones.”

“It is something like that. Sometimes I look at them and I see it, that desperation to not become a spinster, and I wonder why they are made to feel that way in the first place. Perhaps that is why I am so puzzled by you.”

“Puzzled? I should think I have made my position quite clear.”

“You certainly have, and yet you are still here. You are in a dark garden with a stranger, and you are doing nothing about it even if you continue to say that you must.”