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“So, it is true. Is my fate truly known so far and wide that I am bestowed with a nickname such as this? Is it not enough that I am fated to walk through life with my face as it is, that I must also be given a terrible name?”

Her father opened his mouth. “Please, my darling, do not let it vex you so. It is no reflection of you.” He shook his head, his hands balled into fists. “We live in a cruel world, as you know. It is just one more symptom of the disease that runs rampant throughout our society. Cruelty, unkindness, and judgment are bestowed without knowing a person. All of these are the ways of our class, unfortunately. It is why I try so hard to protect you…”

She shook her head. “But you do not protect me. You bring me out into this terrible world you speak of. Why? Why am I here? We both know that the intention is for Lord Rotham to marry Sophia. Let us not pretend as though there is any chance, he or any other Lord would choose me. Why could you not have allowed me to remain at home, or send me to Shropshire?”

He shook his head and took her by the arm.

“Come, let us walk around the garden as planned; the fresh air will do you good.”

Reluctantly she walked beside him, forcing herself to remain calm. It was not as though she had never experienced unkind remarks even to her face. It simply seemed as though ever since she arrived at Goldclaw Manor, it has been an unrelenting umbrage of one verbal assault after another.

And to think this man wanted to touch my face! Touch it! The audacity. Not in all of my years has anyone been quite so rude, quite so terrible as to… And the name. That terrible name.

Lady of the Flames. The words echoed in her mind again and again.

“Papa. Please, allow me to travel to Shropshire to Aunt and Uncle. I know they will be happy to have me.”

Her father sighed. “I will not send you away on your own on such a long journey. No. You are to remain here. We have only just arrived, and while I am disappointed with the behavior of Lord Rotham and highly alarmed at the presence of Lord Cragshade, I must trust in His Grace. He assured me his son is a lovely, kind man. And I will not allow you to withdraw yourself from the world due to these setbacks. And while it must be said that Sophia is the one most likely to find herself in the position of becoming Lady Rotham…Well, fate often has other plans.”

Ruth blinked at him. Fate had never been her friend. Fate had turned her from a beautiful young girl with a loving mother and father into a half-orphan, so terribly disfigured that her coming-out ball had been held in the privacy of their own home, with only their most trusted friends in attendance.

Fate had made it so every day she had to fight to be seen for who she was inside. She had to work to remove people’s misconceptions about her and yet, so often, she failed. For the world she lived in allowed for nothing but perfection – perfection she knew she would never be able to achieve.

However, she also knew her father was not someone who changed his mind with ease, and thus, she said no more. Instead, she walked by his side quietly, resigning herself to the knowledge that she’d be trapped here, in this beautiful manor. She would not leave here until either Lord Rotham decided to make Sophia his bride, or until it became obvious there was no interest on his part, and they could finally depart.

Either way, she knew it would be a long time before she’d see her home again. And yet, she longed for nothing more than to leave, to return to her sanctuary where she was loved for who she was. And where nobody bestowed her with wicked nicknames. She sighed and was about to allow herself to fall entirely into her daydreams when up ahead, she spotted her sister, running toward them.

“Papa! Ruthie!” Sophia’s face was illuminated by the sun which shone brightly behind her, giving her an ethereal appearance.

“Well, hello my darling. Have you decided to join us, after all? Was the sculpture garden not as captivating as you had hoped?”

Sophia shook her head. “Not at all. It was marvelous. And Her Grace, she is such a dear woman, and so kind. Only she found herself a little melancholy as she’d hoped Lord Rotham would join us. It appears she asked him to, but he was occupied with her nephew. The poor man fell from a window into a rose bush. Can you imagine such a thing?”

A shame he did not fall into it head first.

At once, Ruth was horrified by her unkind thoughts. She’d always prided herself on being able to remain tender-hearted and kind, even in the face of the ugliness of the world. However, Lord Cragshade was another level of ugly. And yet, she knew she ought not wish him ill.

“I heard,” she said instead, refraining from telling her sister all she’d come to find out about the man in question.

The party of three walked toward the lake where a swan swam in a quick circle, alone. Ruth frowned and wondered where his mate might be.

“Apparently, it is this young man, Lord Cragshade, who has driven Her Grace to inspire Lord Rotham to marry and have an heir. Did you know this, Papa?”

The Duke of Twilightfare shrugged. “I am well aware of it. Should Lord Rotham die without an heir, Lord Cragshade is the nearest male relation and thus he and his heirs will assume the title. As you know, titles can pass only to the nearest male relative.”

He looked from one daughter to the other. Ruth sighed. She knew very well that their mother’s death and her father’s unwillingness to remarry meant there was no heir to take the title of Duke after her father’s passing. Indeed, there was no male heir anywhere in her father’s line, the family having been cursed with either stillborn babies or only living girls. Thus, the title would revert to the crown, leaving Sophia at the mercy of her future husband – and Ruth, in turn, at the mercy of her sister.

“I suppose it is better to have an unsuitable heir than none at all,” she commented. “Although having met the man, I cannot fault Her Grace for her desire to ensure her own line survives.” She looked at Sophia. “It is no wonder she has taken to you so much. You are her hope for the future.”

Sophia colored up and shook her head. “Do not flatter me, Ruth. While his mother seems very taken with me and treats me with such kindness, I have yet to garner such favor from Lord Rotham himself. Indeed, he has hardly spoken to me thus far.”

“I am sure that will change,” their father said, trying to comfort her.

“Indeed, Her Grace is planning a private dinner for Lord Rotham, myself, and her as a chaperone, so we can get to know one another. Father, isn’t that wonderful? Ruthie, you will help me select a gown, yes? You have such a good eye for fine gowns. Ruthie?”

Her sister’s voice drifted to her ear, but she hardly heard her at all. For Ruth was entirely captivated by a figure on the other side of the lake.

It was Lord Rotham, seated on the ground and surrounding him in a half-circle, were a half-dozen cygnets. He was throwing wads of greenery at them which the animals pecked at with enthusiasm. The Marquess looked at the animals with such tenderness in his eyes that she could not help but feel her heart warm toward him.