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Samantha laughed. She knew immediately that he would be furious with her for that, but she could not help herself.

“So it was a man that dragged you home each morning?” she asked. “And it was a man that ran the household after Mother died, is that what you are trying to say? Because, if it is, you must know that you are wrong. We had to carry you inside each time you frequented your clubs, and it was my aunt that handled your affairs for you whilst you disappeared to Scotland for all those years.”

“Do you think I do not know that?” he asked, his hand balled into a fist. “I did what had to be done, something you need to learn how to do.”

“I do not know if abandoning your children had to be done, nor am I sure if it was utterly imperative that you practically resided in bars in Scotland all that time whilst we tried to do our best with what little we had.”

His fist raised, and she silenced herself. She dared not look at him properly, but she was sure he was smirking at her.

“There. I much prefer it when you are quiet, you know.”

Samantha did not respond.

“Now,” he continued, “amongst those here, there is Lord Drowshire, who is an earl and bachelor, and then there is the Duke — aduke, and his brother is very well-off, and then there is also a baron present.”

“For one, the duke's brother is courting a lady already.”

“That counts for naught. Of all of them, one of them must be stupid enough to fall for you and want you as their wife. It is your duty to hurry that along.”

“I do not want to. I do not like any of them. I told you, Father, that the moment I meet the man I love, I will marry him, no questions asked.”

“And I told you exactly how much I care about you being in love, did I not? Let me reiterate, as you seem to be as lacking in intelligence as I need the gentlemen to be. I do not care if you are happy nor in love. That simply does not happen for people like us. You will marry the first man to show an interest, and you will leave my household so that my heir can have the best possible start to his time here. Am I clear enough with words, or must I use other means?”

“It is clear, Father,” she sighed, looking at the ground.

“Good. Now, if there is any more of this nonsense about love and refusing to do as I say, there will be other consequences thansimple conversations. You will be married, Samantha, whether you like it or not, and it will be done within the month. I will force it if I must, do not doubt that.”

He left her no time to respond, leaving the room immediately. Samantha suddenly felt the ability to breathe properly return to her. It was not the first time that she had noticed that. Whenever her father was around, she was scared to do the simplest of things in case it angered him. It was strange because she still used her voice and had hardly ever been afraid to, but everything else seemed to scream at her to do what was necessary to survive, and it was only growing worse with time.

A desperate man would do unspeakable things as means to an end after all.

Samantha placed a hand on her chest, feeling it rise and fall as she steadied her breathing. She closed her eyes gently, waiting for it all to stop so that she could go back to the room with Lady Penelope and act as though nothing was amiss.

But it was. Everything was wrong, and she hated everything, especially the fact that there was nothing she could do to make it all easier. This was simply how it was for her now, and no amount of begging and pleading would ever fix it.

After all, what was there that a girl could do? It was as her father had told her — she had a role to fill whether she liked it or not, and she decisively didnotlike it, but who was she to tell him that? Any good daughter would have silenced herself and agreed.

Which meant, Samantha thought to herself, she was a terrible daughter indeed.

CHAPTER 6

After several more moments passed, Samantha was quite sure that she could no longer face her new friend. It was far too dangerous; with how she was feeling, it was entirely possible that she would tell her everything, and Samantha’s life had been a secret that she hoped to keep for the rest of her life.

It was shameful; she felt shameful. Who in their right mind could possibly love a girl that hated her father so much? Even with how unliked he was, he still had his allies, that much was clear with the fact he had a man lying in wait to take her as his bride.

The garden was far nicer than the room her father had taken her to at least. It was easier, Samantha decided, to name the flowers in Latin that she passed as she walked than it was to stay there a moment longer. There was not anything too difficult to name, for the most part, and she was quite knowledgeable about the subject, having read a book about them before coming to the party. That was when she came to a new flower, purple andlarge and unlike anything she had read about. She was not even certain of the name in English, and it infuriated her.

She was supposed to be intelligent.

That was why she had never wished to marry. She had hoped that somewhere along the way, women would be allowed to have their scholarly pursuits, and thus she could follow her main dream of becoming a real intellect. It did not appear as though it was coming, though. Even if it was, here she was struggling to name a flower, and she thought that she could change her father’s mind, two things rendering her undoubtedly dim.

Her intelligence was the one thing about herself that she had always trusted, and she had to admit to herself that she was wrong. It was too much to bear. Perhaps, she thought, if alcohol helped for a while, perhaps another one of her father’s other vices might too.

And so, for the first time in her life, she attacked something out of frustration and kicked a tree.

As with the alcohol, however, the aftereffects made her regret it quite quickly. It hurt terribly, and she instinctively grabbed her foot and whimpered. She must have looked ridiculous, she realized, and even without her secret being revealed, she was not doing her reputation any favors which would only cause her father further anger.

“You certainly are unladylike,” a lady’s voice came. “Why, I can see why your father loathes you so entirely.”