“Do you know how rare a quality that is in a man? And yet you have refused him?”

“Yes!”

“Is it that you don’t return his feelings?”

“No. I didn’t know that I had those sort of feelings for him until today but . . .” Margaret dropped her head into her hands. Julia was making her doubt herself. Ought she to have agreed? But no, no, no, it still felt completely wrong. She lifted her head. “I am simply not ready to be married, Julia, and I told him so. What’s more, thanks to my father, I don’t need to marry. I had a letter from him today. Wait here, I will get it.”

Thinking that it would explain far better than she could, Margaret quickly retrieved the letter from her bedroom, then handed it over, watching anxiously as Julia perused it. But when she reached the end, there was no clearing of her brow, only a deepening of her frown. “I find this shocking in its calculated coldness.”

“The point is I’m free. I am now of independent means.”

“The duke is paying you off. This is the equivalent of a—a divorce settlement between you and your family,” Julia said, her hands shaking as she folded the letter back up and handed it over. “Your father is disowning you. If you accept his terms, you will never see your mother or any of your sisters and brothers again.”

Which of course Margaret understood, though having Julia articulate it made it sickeningly real. “But if I do not accept, I must remain here in limbo, quite powerless.”

“I would be happy for you to remain here, but Lochiel has offered you an alternative.”

“I won’t marry Donald simply to escape my father’s clutches.”

“You have admitted that you love him. He has declared his love for you. Even more importantly, Margaret, you are true friends,” Julia said earnestly. “Do you have any notion how unusual that is, between a husband and wife? Lochiel has everything you could want in a husband. As his wife, you would be re-established in society, accepted back into the family fold, and you’d have the chance to create your own family, too. That is so much more than most women can dream of, yet you . . .” She stared at her, shaking her head. “What more can you possibly want?”

“I don’t know,” Margaret replied wretchedly, knowing that she had already been offered a great deal more than Julia herself had. “I don’t want more. I want—I want something different. I know how fortunate I am to have received such an offer. When Donald proposed I was sorely tempted, of course I was, but I knew it would be a mistake.”

“A mistake! To do what every woman aspires to, to marry and hopefully raise a family? I simply don’t understand you. Do you realise what you are throwing away?”