She entered the room without knocking and found her father bent over a book, a glass of whiskey in his free hand. “How dare you.”

He didn’t even look up. “You have no right to lecture me on the choices I make for my marriageable daughter, not when you’ve left me no option.”

No option? “Your debts are paid. You have a roof over your head and food in the larder. Rachel and Rebecca are having a Season at no cost to you. How is that not an option?”

“Your husband has pots of money, but he’d rather look down his nose at me than offer a few quid to family for the chance to make a fortune.” He glared at her. “If you were a better wife, he’d look more favorably on me.”

“What gives you the impression I’m a bad wife?” Never mind that she’d spent weeks thinking the same thing.

His eyes narrowed as realization dawned. “You told him not to help me.”

“I asked him not to throw good money after bad, because you are an endless well of bad decisions.”

Purple splotches bloomed across his red face. “To think that I would live to see the day that a daughter of mine would speak to me so.”

Annabel resisted the urge to step away, to apologize. She’d done that before, when she’d discovered his ledgers. But now she wasn’t just his daughter, and she wasn’t dependent on his goodwill. “Someone should have done it a long time ago.”

“If Rachel wishes to marry, I will choose her husband.” He thumped his hand to his chest. “There are several men who are wealthier than Drew could dream of being, and they would look favorably on their new father.”

“Father.” She snorted in disgust, both at his suggestion and his whiskey-soaked breath. “They’ll be your age or better, and they’ll treat Rachel like property because that’s what you’ll make her. You’ll sell her into marriage for the price of worthless stocks and then look the other way when they take their losses out on her.” She was lucky that—or worse—hadn’t happened to her.

“You’ll give your mother tea and sisters dresses, but you won’t spare me an investment that will put me back—”

“I will give the girls a chance at a better life, which is the same as you have now. Your debts are paid. Your rents are yours again.”

“Rents are a pittance.” It was his turn to snort. “It would take years to finance an investment that would make any difference.”

This was not the father she knew. He’d spent hours tromping through the fields surveying fence lines and livestock, laughing with the farmers who depended on him. Some of her fondest memories were of him rowing across the small lake as she listened to stories from his childhood.

“When did our home, our family, stop being enough for you?” she asked. “When did it become all or nothing, and this grasping desperation?”

“You know nothing of what it takes to make a success.”

He was wrong. She’d watched Jasper since their marriage. He worked diligently at both building his reputation and protecting his family. He was honorable and kind, intelligent and patient.

He was also an arse who had just put his mistress in the room across the hall.

“I know it’s not being blind to what you’ve done to the people who loved you.” Annabel blinked away her tears. She would not cry in front of him. “It’s not drinking in a shell of a house and bemoaning the luck you made for yourself. And it isn’t selling your nineteen-year-old daughter to a man old enough to be her father.”

“In time she will realize how this decision benefits her family.”

The man she’d loved would have never treated his daughters like commodities to be bartered for his own benefit. If he had, she never would have left them alone with him. She wasn’t going to abandon them again. “I have risked more than you will ever know,” she said. “And I will lose more than you will ever understand.” She drew a deep breath. “But my sisters will marry men who love them.”

“You have no say on this matter.” He reached for the copy of Debrett’s.

She pushed it away. “I have no say, but I have a voice. If you barter Rebecca and Rachel for foolish schemes, everyone in the ton will know.” She knew better than anyone how one whisper would become a chorus. “All of London will learn that you would see your wife in the poorhouse and your daughters sold as broodmares and mistresses so long as your pockets are lined.”

“You wouldn’t court a scandal like that.”

She had married a man to spy on him and ended up in his bed. She had shot at highwaymen and held that same husband’s bleeding body in her arms. She’d confessed her mission but withheld her heart, and he’d installed his mistress under her nose. “I am already scandalous. It won’t make a difference.”

Especially if she was never seen in London again.

“Annie—”

She ignored his wheedling tone and lifted a page from the sheaf of paper he always kept nearby. “Go upstairs and do something about your appearance.” She took his pen. “I’ll summon Mr. Drew here immediately. When he arrives, you will apologize for being out of sorts and give your permission for this marriage.”

If he didn’t, she’d loan Rachel the Ramsbury carriage for a run toward Scotland.

He remained in his chair, daring Annabel to move him like a child. Unlike the last time they’d argued, when she’d let him continue driving them toward poverty, she stared him down. Relief only came when realization dawned, and he pushed himself upright and walked toward the door with a straight spine but wobbly legs.

Once alone, Annabel finished the letter before ringing the bell. She was blotting the ink on the envelope when Symes, their beloved butler, appeared. His face was lined with concern.

“You rang, Lady Ann—Lady Ramsbury?”

She wasn’t sure what kept him with a family who couldn’t pay him, but she was forever grateful for his steadying presence. “Please have this letter delivered to the Drew household immediately, and ask Cook to prepare for visitors.” She stopped. “Father will require a strong pot of coffee.”

“A maid just took up a tray.” The old butler smiled. “We thought it would be wise to have on hand.”

“Thank you.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his rough cheek as she left the room. “And Lady Annabel is fine, Symes.”

There were times, like today, where she missed being Lady Annabel. She would forever be tied to the Ramsbury name now, whether or not she and Jasper lived together. Unless, of course, he divorced her, which he might do.

She’d always known divorce was possible, even likely, given her reasons for entering the marriage and her ties to the man who wanted to see him hang. It was even more possible now that Claudette was in the house. There was no reason to hide behind a charade, was there?

Pain lanced through her at the thought of all she’d never get to do again, and none of it had anything to do with ball gowns, teas, or grand houses—unless you counted the gardens.

Misery filled the gap that regret had created, but Annabel forced it to flow through her before she wept rivers that would shock even her romantic youngest sister.

Admit it. You fell in love with a man for the best and worst of reasons, and he sat in his room laughing about his poor decisions. You knew this was a possibility.

She had been through worse, and those experiences had taught her how to survive.

Putting one foot in front of the other, she walked down the hall, past the staircase, and to the drawing room. By the time she arrived at the door, her back was straight and her smile was wide.

“Rachel, dearest, Peter is returning to speak with Father. Let’s get some cold cloths for your eyes so he doesn’t second-guess his decision.”

*

“Where the bloody hell is she?”

Jasper looked at the book in his lap as though it could answer his question. It couldn’t even hold his attention past the first line.

He wasn’t worried. Lawrence and Frederick would look out for her—unless she convinced them to help her make a run for it. Given her state when she’d left, he wouldn’t be surprised. Though more likely she’d send them home without her to avoid witnesses and to get a running start.

He wasn’t worried. Family matters, he knew, could get complicated. Dressmaker appointments took hours; packing for travel took weeks. Jane and Johanna always ended up sniping over who had more lace on their sleeves, or the larger trunk.

“She’ll be back, and you can talk. She knows the consequences of Claudette staying in Kit’s home alone better than anyone.”