“I thought as much.” He heaved a great sigh. “Your father had hopes that I could appeal to your more practical nature, but I told him you were far too wise to consider such a scheme. I told him I was sure you already planned to continue on your chosen path despite the gossip and your lack of references.”

Annabel had known her failure would doom her future chances. The scandal would follow her through London, if not through all of England.

“I told him you’d likely considered traveling to Scotland, perhaps Ireland.” He steepled his fingers together and peered at her over the peak. “Maybe even the Continent. Your French is excellent, and they are more lenient in Paris than they are in London.”

She’d been considering the same thing. Perhaps the French, or even the Italians, would pay well for a tutor to teach English, and English manners, to daughters in search of titles. She could send her earnings home to combine with funds gleaned from rents and sales. She wouldn’t have to be gone long. In a few years, Ramsbury would be married and the ton would have found another scandal.

The only other option was to stay here and watch her family sell their lives piece by piece because, in her attempt to help, she’d only made things worse.

“Your earnings could keep the collectors at bay as long as all his debts are held by different agencies.” Spencer’s lips shaped into a cruel smile. “But if one agency, one person, bought all his markers, and then called them in…”

Annabel’s heart stopped. If all Father’s debts were called in at once, they’d be forced to sell everything quickly at a bargain. They’d never have enough, and Father would end up in prison anyway. Mother and the girls would be beside him.

She knew better than to ask if Spencer had them. He didn’t talk just to hear himself.

Quick steps in the hallway, punctuated by a cane to form a triplet, signaled Father’s approach.

“You will marry Ramsbury and get me the information I need, or your family will be carted through Mayfair on their way to prison,” Spencer whispered.

Her father bustled in. “Ramsbury has sent word that he will call within the hour.”

“See, Miss Pearce? I told you he would behave like a gentleman eventually.” Spencer’s jolly announcement sounded very much like a threat. “I’ll wait across the hall in case his courage fails.”

Once they were alone, her father took the seat facing her. He covered her fingers with his. “Annie, dearest. I want you to know that your mother and I believe your explanation of events. You have always been a good, kind young lady with a stout moral compass and an eye toward protecting those in your care.”

Who had looked through a man’s room and read his mail. “Thank you, Father.” She met his eyes and smiled as much as she could. “I am sorry it has come to this.”

“It could be worse. He is a handsome lout who has a kind reputation, and he votes well.” A smile curved through his ruddy cheeks. “He’s also richer than Croesus.”

Which meant he didn’t need a wealthy bride. Aren’t I lucky? “Father—”

“Annie. This is the first bit of luck we’ve had in the past year. The ton won’t dare overlook your sisters when you are a marchioness.”

While Annabel understood the positive outcome for Rachel and Rebecca, it was also fair to consider the possibilities for her father. Lord Ramsbury would not want to see his father-in-law in debtor’s prison. If he bought Father’s debts from Spencer, the lout’s threat would disappear.

Which meant Spencer wouldn’t sell them.

“And if I build on that luck, we could right our ship by the end of the year.” His eyes gleamed. “An acquaintance has approached me about a coal mine.”

He would never learn. “Let’s take one step at a time.” She stood and walked to the window, only to turn away when she began searching the street for Lord Ramsbury’s carriage. “We assume he wishes to propose. He might have a more unsavory proposition.”

He might be bringing a magistrate to arrest her for spying on him in his own home.

Father cleared his throat and refused to meet her eyes. “Even an unsavory proposal would be a relief. You would still have a roof and likely servants of your own. You will have an allowance—a generous one that you could share with your family.”

A family who wouldn’t be able to acknowledge her on the street and still have her sisters be respectable. Tears stung her eyes. “Father!”

He used his cane to help him to his feet, then came to her and kissed her cheek. “There are worse things, Annabel. Just think about it before you toss him out on his ear.”

She turned away to look out at the weak sunshine that heralded a London spring afternoon. Father’s triplet step faded as he crossed the hall to the receiving room where Spencer waited like a greedy specter in the graveyard of her hopes.

Annabel put her head in her hand. She should have simply pushed Elizabeth from the room and followed her down the hall. If she’d never stayed to search for that dratted earring, she never would have looked under the bed. She wouldn’t have seen the box, wouldn’t have read the letter. None of this would have happened.

The earring hadn’t even been in there. Elizabeth had found it in their room, on the floor just over the threshold.

Annabel’s life lay before her in two paths. Stay true to herself and spend the rest of her days in service, if she was lucky. She’d have a roof and a chance to make an honest living. If she was lucky, she might find love with a footman or valet. Maybe a shopkeeper. Or she could marry for the sake of her family and live in a cold, gilded cage. She’d never have to worry, but she’d never have love.

She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and blotted her tears, again and again. It should be an easy choice.

“Miss Pearce?”

She spun to face the door. Jasper stood there, tall and handsome. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard him arrive. His maroon and blue striped waistcoat was the perfect companion to his blue wool coat. The color was the same shade as his eyes had been that night in the firelight. “I don’t wish to marry you,” she said.

He blinked for a moment before a wry smile twisted his lips. “Then that is something we have in common.”

Despite her declaration, her heart still sank. She stopped it in mid-fall. There was nothing wrong with a life of honest work. “Thank you for coming to—”

He stepped into the room and strode toward her. “Perhaps we could find other things on which we agree.”

Annabel forced herself not to run. “We both enjoy riding, I believe.” She motioned to a chair in front of the hearth and took the opposite one.

“And books,” he said as he sat. “We dislike dancing.”

Her toes and fingers stung as the heat penetrated her chilled skin. “And bad music.”

He chuckled. “Indeed.”

They both quieted as her family’s one remaining maid delivered a tea tray. Once she left, Annabel reached for the teapot. “Cream and sugar?”

“Neither, please.” Jasper took the cup she offered.

She fixed her tea and sat back in the chair. “I am sorry I was in your room.”

“And I am sorry I was an arse about it.” He relaxed in his chair. “I also apologize for my behavior while you were a guest in my home. My only excuse is that I enjoy tweaking Society’s collective nose, and that I’m frequently thoughtless about it.”

“Thank you.” She lifted the tea to her lips, anticipating the simple comfort of routine things. Oddly enough, Jasper—with his swearing, easy nature, and blunt honesty—was a unique kind of tonic.

“We should marry, Miss Pearce.”

Her cup clattered into the saucer, sloshing tea onto her fingers. He looked the same as he had five minutes ago, but in that time, he had lost his wits. “I beg your pardon, Lord Ramsbury, but are you foxed?”

“I never begin drinking before noon, especially not at my mother’s house.” He held her gaze. “My behavior has left you with few viable options for your future.”

“It wasn’t just your behavior, and I don’t believe our penance should be a life sentence in a loveless marriage.”

He put his teacup back on the table and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Since I inherited my title, my mother has prodded me to choose a wife based on anything but love. I’ve avoided proposing because every candidate has, quite frankly, bored me senseless. You do not.”

Annabel kept a tight grip on her cup but didn’t dare drink it. “You know my circumstances.”