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Her father wiped his face again and threw the neckcloth to the floor. “I shall send the man a gratuity. One hundred pounds. In refusing you, he showed the breeding of his paternal lineage. Obviously, he realized that you were slightly cracked because of the horrendous experience you endured. And he responded as a gentleman must. Two hundred pounds,” he added.

“Be that as it may, you’re to marry Rodney immediately,” he continued. “We’ll forget that episode with the castle and the butler ever happened. Rodney is not the man I should have chosen for you; I see that now. And I am sorry. But you know as well as I do, my dear, that all other doors are closed to you at this point.”

To Philippa, his voice seemed to take on a brassy sound, like someone speaking a foreign language. “Papa,” she pleaded. “I cannot marry him. Please.”

“Do you think that your mother wished to remain married to me after our wedding night?”

There was no possible answer to that.

“She did not,” her father said heavily. “The act is horrifying to a delicately bred creature. But we managed, and we loved each other, and there’s no one else in the world I would rather have married.”

“She didn’t have to marry Rodney!” Philippa cried.

“I want your word of honor that you will not run away again, Philippa.”

“Wick might come for me,” she blurted out.

Her father’s eyes softened. “Oh, sweetheart. Didn’t you just say that he refused to marry you?”

She nodded miserably.

“He truly is a gentleman,” he said gently.

“But he might come for me,” she said, tears running down her cheeks. “He—He knows how much I detest Rodney, and he loves me.”

“He can’t support you,” her father said, standing up and pulling her into his arms. “Were I he, I would loathe the idea of lowering the woman I loved, a lady, to the level of a servant. Did he say anything of that sort?”

A sob rose in Philippa’s breast.

Her father held her even closer. “I see he did. Well, my dear, the truth of it is that you have met two young men. One of them is a true gentleman, though perhaps his birth is not the best. And the other is no gentleman, though he’s a baronet’s son.”

“P-Please don’t make me marry him,” Philippa managed.

“There’s no choice,” he said, rocking her a little. “You know that, Philippa. There’s no choice. You’ll forget your noble butler in time. Rodney genuinely loves you, for all the boy’s a fool. You could do much worse.”

“I can’t bear it,” Philippa said, sobbing.

“You mustn’t run away,” her father said. “It broke my heart. I aged ten years, sweetpea. I couldn’t bear it if I didn’t know where you were. Please.”

Silent tears seeped into his coat.

“And you’re a lady,” her father said, pressing forward where he obviously saw an advantage. “You must marry Rodney.” Then he played his strongest card.

“It’s what your mother wanted.”

She knew it was the truth.

“Margaret’s heart would break to think of you, her only child, as a servant, or withering into an old maid,” he said. “I promise you, child, I promise that you will learn to love Rodney. He’s a fool, but he’s not vicious or unkind. He genuinely loves you, in a way that I’ve rarely seen among gentlemen, to tell the truth. He will always care for you, and for the children you will have.”

The weight of his words felt like heavy brambles, rooting her in Little Ha’penny, in Rodney’s arms, in Durfey Manor.

“I—” She swallowed, made herself say it. “I will marry Rodney, but only if you give me a week. If you force me to marry him tomorrow, Papa, I will run away tonight. I will crawl out my window if I have to.”

Her father sighed. “Waiting for the butler?”

“He’s a gentleman,” she said stoutly. “You acknowledged it yourself. He loves me. He told me so. He’ll find a way, some way, to come to me.”

Her father turned away, but not before she saw raw sympathy in his eyes. “As you wish,” he said. “I owe you that at least.”