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“I do not believe you. I think you are lying to me.” Andrea ran the pad of her thumb across each of her fingers in turn, using the feel to steady her heartbeat.

“And why would I do that?” Her father canted his head towards her, a glint in his eyes.

To control me. She almost said it, but could not bring herself to do so. She studied her father, looking at the way he leaned on his cane.

She made an encompassing gesture with her left hand. “You look perfectly healthy to me.”

“What I look like to you is immaterial. You are not a physician, you are a woman.” He laughed bitterly. “Truly, you have a heart of stone. Most women would hear that their father is dying and leap to his aid.”

“I am not most women, as you well know.” Andrea ran a hand through her hair.

“You know what you did. What you took from me. Though I confess, I am grateful your mother is no longer with us after the shame you have brought upon the family.” He met her gaze, a cold empty look in his eyes.

“If you have any sense of filial loyalty, you will marry. Surely you would allow me the gift of a little peace in the time I have left.”

“Why should I, when you have given me nothing but grief my entire life?” Andrea clenched her fist.

“Because you are the reason I am the way I am. You and the constant reminder you present. Or has your time away from me made you forget just what your presence in this world cost this family.”

Green eyes, the mirror of her own, flashed in Andrea’s mind.

Her mother’s kind smile, only known from portraits.

A lump formed in her throat and she dug her nails into the palms of her hand to keep from shaking.

It is my fault he is like this. Everyone told her he had been a different man before her mother had died.

Since I- No. I will not think about that.

“I will not go into the next life with the stain of your behaviour on my reputation.” Her father shook his head, lip curling in disgust. “I will not let you rob me of joy in both life and death. Or do you wish to so thoroughly disgrace your mother’s memory?”

“I… I am not.” Andrea wished she sounded more certain, but the thought of the woman shrunk her. What would she think?

“Are you so sure about that?” Her father moved towards her, a wolf sensing weakness in its prey. “And what about this house? This Burrough is hardly known for its… soundness. It would be a pity if anything were to happen to it.”

Andrea winced. “Are you threatening me?”

“No. I am simply trying to teach you a lesson that thus far you have failed to learn. There are consequences to your actions.” Her father’s eyes flashed. “Just as there are consequences of your birth.”

The implication lay heavy between them, shame squeezing its way into the space. She could not fight this. He was dying and clearly desperate.

“. I shall marry. I am sure I can find myself a suitable husband if_” Andrea began but her father cut her off, a triumphant gleam on his face.

“_Oh there will be no need for you to do that.” His grin broadened and Andrea’s stomach twisted violently as he took a step towards her.

“What do you mean?” Her voice was scarcely more than a whisper.

“I have already found you a husband.” He leaned towards her and whispered. “Lord Crossley is to claim you for his own.”

Andrea stumbled back from him, her jaw dropping. The world around her seemed to collapse. It felt as though the very air had turned to stone. She barely noticed her father leaving.

She was too busy thinking about her future husband and the fact that her life was over.

“But Lord Crossley is nearly sixty!” Lady Cecily Nightingale exclaimed a few hours later as they waited for the christening to start.

Andrea hastily made a shushing motion to her friend, glancing around at the various members of the ton gathered around them. Thankfully, no one took much notice of them as most of them were used to Cecily’s outbursts.

It helped that almost everyone gathered for the post-christening garden party was related to Duke Verimore in some way. His family was rather large given the three fruitful marriages of his grandmother.

“Do not shush me!” Cecily whispered, glancing around. “You cannot really mean to allow your father to wed you to Lord Crossley? Aside from his age, the man is one of the biggest lechers in England.”

“I know.” Andrea shuddered. “I do not know a single woman he has not accosted at some point in their lives. Even before his wife died, he flirted with anything even vaguely woman-shaped.”

“Exactly!” Cecily shuddered. “You cannot possibly marry a man like that.”

“I do not want to marry anyone at all.” Andrea sighed. “It is my father forcing this upon me.”

“But how? You do not even live with him, and you have your own money.” Cecily’s brow furrowed.

“He is my father. And bonds like that are not so easily broken.” Andrea opened and closed her mouth, glancing at Cecily as she tried to decided how much she could say.

I cannot tell her the truth. “And he made me see how truly awful my reputation has become. They are calling me a thornback, Cecily. A thornback!”

Cecily canted her head towards her. “I thought you did not care about such things.”

“Not for myself, but it is having an effect on him. And well, whatever else I might think of him, I do owe him some semblance of filial piety.” He is dying. She would be an orphan, truly alone when he left her.

“Your duties as a daughter do not mean you have to marry Lord Crossley. You will be miserable!” Cecily’s eyes widened and she clapped her hands together.

“You should try and find someone else! Grandmother is having a ball, and everyone who is anyone will be there. That is the perfect place to find a husband.”

Andrea arched an eyebrow at her friend, her chest tightening. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is.” Cecily shrugged.

“That has not been my experience.” Andrea hugged her arms around herself self-consciously. “I seem practically to repel people.”

“You have not repelled me. Or cousin Dominic. Or Charlotte. And grandmother loves you as though you are family!” Cecily gestured around them. “And you know how hard it is to gain her approval!”

“But I cannot marry any of you! Friends are one thing, but men…” Andrea swallowed, hollowness spreading through her chest. “Romance… All of it… I just… I do not have the knack for it that most women do.”

Among my many other womanly failings. Her father had been only too happy to remind her of her ineptitude with men.

“Men are simple creatures, dearest Andrea. Besides, someone as pretty as you should have no trouble attracting someone!” Cecily gave her an appraising look, nodding to herself thoughtfully.

“Yes, with the right clothes, perhaps a new necklace or two… And we’ll have to do something about your dresses, they are far too plain! ”

Andrea was barely aware of Cecily’s words as she launched into all of the things they could do to win Andrea a husband. It was hard to feel particularly hopeful, not with what she knew.

A familiar laugh caught her attention and she found herself following the sound before she was even aware of what she was doing.

Frederick Felton, the Duke of Caverton, was a cousin of Cecily’s and his laugh had the singularly irritating quality of being highly infectious. He had the kind of easy grace that came from never having to worry about anything.

Andrea shook her head, but was unable to tear her eyes away from him.

Of course, life would be easy when you were not only wealthy but the very picture of rakish good looks.He was taller than most of the men around him, his dark hair was long and fell in artful locks around his face.

He had dimples that gave him a boyish charm and his dark blue eyes reminded Andrea of a lake.

“Some people have all the luck.” Andrea muttered under her breath, thinking of her own green eyes and how often her father had lamented their colour.

Where Andrea took great pains to fade into the background, the Duke clearly wanted to be seen and to be liked. He moved towards a crowd of rowdy children, stopping and chatting to people as he did.

“I shall always be thankful to Sir Brummel for making breeches popular.” A woman beside Andrea muttered to her companion. “It makes it so much easier to appreciate the male form.”

“Especially one as fine as Duke Caverton’s. And I do appreciate that he adds a little colour to the room.” Her companion replied fanning herself.

“In more ways than one.” The women devolved into a fit of giggles.

Andrea only just managed not to roll her eyes, glancing back at the Duke in his beautifully tailored outfit, with its indigo coat. He did cut rather a striking figure.

He laughed, a rich and unshackled sound that forced a smile across Andrea’s lips, until she realised and hastily stopped herself.

The Duke scooped a small boy into his arms, animatedly talking to a gaggle of children who had been causing a commotion only moments before.

“My turn! My turn!” a little girl cried, holding her arms out to the Duke.

“Of course.” He lifted her up with his free arm, balancing a child on each shoulder and making the others laugh in delight.

He made silly faces and acted the fool, and each child seemed completely at ease with him. Andrea watched him curiously. How is it possible that a man can understand children so well?

She had not spent much time with children, after all, she had few friends and only one of them was married. In the few instances she had interacted with them, she had felt so uncomfortable she had scarcely known what to do with herself.

Yet to watch the Duke, it seemed easy, almost natural. Something inside her twisted, and she almost took a step forward before catching herself.

Guilt filled Andrea as she looked at the Duke. I suppose it is easy enough to look after a child when you know you can give it back. He does not have to worry about anything. At that moment, the Duke looked up.

Their eyes met from across the room, and he flashed her a dazzling smile that made her heart skip a beat.

He canted his head towards her, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. His dimples made him look boyish. To her immense frustration and embarrassment, she blushed a deep shade of scarlet. His smile broadened and he winked.

She glared at him, and had half a mind to tell him that her blush had nothing to do with him. To her irritation, his grin broadened, and he returned to playing with the children.

She shook her head. “What would it be like to be that free and uncaring?”

“Pardon?” Cecily frowned and belatedly Andrea realised she had spoken aloud.

Her cheeks coloured, and she turned away from the Duke. “I was just thinking about the fact that I thought I had earned my freedom and here I am, preparing to give it away.”

“What do you mean?” Cecily asked.

“Well, when I marry – everything will go to my husband. The house, what money I have, it will all be in his control.” Andrea could not keep the bitterness from her voice, her lip curling at the thought.

“Well grandmother has been married thrice, and I do not think it has affected her freedom terribly.” Cecily gestured to the Dowager Duchess Caverton who had just entered the church and was laughing raucously.

The Dowager Duchess was three times a widow, and one of the richest women in England. She was the reason that Andrea had managed to buy her house in the first place.

“Maybe I do not have to give it all up.” Andrea muttered as the Dowager Duchess caught her eye and waved cheerily. “She certainly did not.”

“So you will come to the ball then?” Cecily’s smile was so wide, Andrea could not help but return it.

“Yes, I will.” Andrea nodded. “And Lord Crossley can find himself another victim.”

Cecily laughed, and it buoyed Andrea. Perhaps there was some hope after all.