In the hush of the room, he studied her for a full minute. “That’s not what I asked, sweetheart. Do you want to marry him?”

“I’ve thought of nothing else all morning. I’ve struggled with it. Nearly strangled my cat, I held him so tightly.” She thought a little levity might help, but it didn’t. This was a serious affair, and she had to take it seriously. It was her future, her life. “I don’t want to disappoint you all or Mum, but I’m going to. I can’t marry him. I’ll just be miserable if I do.”

Uncrossing his arms, he pushed away from his desk, strode over to her, wrapped his arms around her, and placed his chin on the top of her head. “You’re not going to disappoint us. We just wanted to know if we needed to take our fists to him if you wanted to marry him and he wasn’t going to step up and do the right thing.”

Unshed tears clogged her throat as she wound her arms around his back, held him close. “I don’t think fists will be necessary. I can handle it.”

He tucked his finger beneath her chin, tilted up her head, and gave her a warm smile. “We know you can.”

More tears threatened. She was going to be a blubbering idiot before Beresford appeared. “I’ll be a woman of scandal. Society won’t have me.”

“That just makes you one of us, then, doesn’t it?” Aiden asked.

She looked past Mick to her grinning brother. “I’ve always been one of you.”

He winked at her. “That you have.”

A knock on the door had her heart skipping a beat, her stomach tightening. Mick pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Give Beresford whatever answer you want, Fancy. We stand behind you.”

No, she thought, they stood beside her. They always had.

Mick strode back to his desk, leaned against it, and once more crossed his arms. “Yes?”

Mr. Tittlefitz peered inside. “Lord Beresford is here and requires an audience.”

“Send him in,” Mick ordered.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Fancy turned and faced Beresford as he entered, and she wondered why she’d never before noticed how arrogant and entitled he appeared. Mr. Tittlefitz closed the door. She was rather certain the lord jumped slightly at the sound of it snicking into place. He gave her a nervous glance, and she suspected he hadn’t expected to be facing an army of Trewloves. He gave her a perfunctory bow. “Miss Trewlove.”

“Lord Beresford.”

He looked past her, took a step to walk around her. And she knew with absolute certainty that her decision was the correct one. She moved in front of him. “Your meeting is with me, my lord.”

He blinked, looked to the window, the ceiling, the floor, finally back to her. “That’s not really how it’s done, Miss Trewlove.”