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Mary’s fingers shook as she packed everything back into her travelling bag. Her tears had dried but she felt morose. As empty as a conker husk.

Was everything he had said a lie?

He’d admitted to propositioning Kate… John had not told her about that. She should have asked Andrew how many women he had been intimate with.

The room was warm but her skin felt icy cold. They’d not eaten this morning, but she could not eat now if she tried, and a headache was brewing behind her left temple.

Drew stood by the window, looking down at the stable yard, waiting for her to be ready. Appearing as impenetrable as stone.

Last night, he said, ‘I love you’ numerous times. But words were easily said.

He turned and looked at her.

John is right. I have been fooled.

Within half an hour, she sat in a hired carriage opposite her father. He had only spoken in growls as he directed their departure.

John was not with them, he had taken a horse and ridden on ahead of them.

Andrew sat beside her, his shoulders resting back against the squabs and his arms crossed over his chest, while one of his booted feet rested on the opposite seat. His hat was tilted forward so the rim covered his eyes, and he stared through the window.

She looked through the window at the passing fields. How long would it take to get back to London? How long before this agony was over?

But then she would have to face Mama.

Suddenly, she’d had enough of the judgement that screamed from her father’s silence. She faced him across the narrow carriage. ‘Do you not love me, Papa? Is there only hate now?’ It was a childish question, but she did not care, she could not bear his silence.

His gaze met hers, the slate blue depths unusually unreadable. ‘I could not hate you, Mary, never that.’ He leaned forward and gently squeezed one hand that lay in her lap. ‘I will always love you, but, at this moment, I am furious with you.’ He released her hand and sat back. ‘And I am in no mood to talk.’ A muscle flickered at the back of his jaw as he stared at Andrew who ignored them.

She could feel Andrew’s body bristling with irritation, and his posture said he was in a sulk.

She sighed, folded her arms across her chest and looked through the window. She was angry too, and hurt, and confused.