“The thing about having a bookshop that one doesn’t consider when deciding to have a bookshop is that there are so many shelves and so many books that need to be constantly dusted. After you’ve gone through them all, it’s time to start over.” She picked up a book, gently wiped the cover, and returned it to the shelf.

His heart ached for her. “You spoke with your mother. I’m going to assume she confirmed the truth of his words.”

Without looking at him, she nodded and ran the cloth over another book. “He was the landlord, and she didn’t have the coins for the rent.”

He slammed his eyes closed. “Christ.” Opening his eyes, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

She curled it away from him. “I bathed when I got home, and yet I still feel so dirty.”

“Perhaps it’s only the dust from the books.”

She looked at him then and the sadness in her eyes would have brought him to his knees if he were still standing. “Oh, Matthew, the filth runs much deeper than that.”

“You are not that man. He is no part of you.”

“Did you ever look at your parents and think, ‘they are no part of me?’”

In his world, lineage was so deuced important. Of course he’d never done that. He’d grown up aware that the very fact they were part of him was what made him special, made him what he was, if not who he was. “I concede your point.”

“Normally, I would take great joy in being correct.”

“But, Fancy, the people who are responsible for your existence do not necessarily determine the type of person you become. My father was a harsh man. Not once did I ever hear him laugh. The people who reported to him were terrified of him. They knew he could destroy their lives with a word. He gave me my eyes; he gave me my hair. But he did not give me my soul. I work with many of the same people he did, but I listen to their ideas and discuss ways to improve things. He was dictatorial, thought no one knew more than him. For him, all that mattered was his opinion. I recognize that I don’t know everything, that it’s worth listening to others’ suggestions. In other words, I’m far more reasonable than he was.” He touched his fingers to his chest. “That is me. I am different from him. You are different from your father. You are Fancy Trewlove, and there are aspects to you that have nothing at all to do with him.”