“You will find, my lord, that we are a family that seldom does things in the manner they are usually done. I am, however, curious. Was it a coincidence that an audience was present to see us alone in the library?”

The earl cleared his throat. “I might have mentioned to Mr. Whitley I was going to show you the rare Bible.”

“Do you know what my dowry entails?”

“I do. I find it quite satisfactory.”

“I bet you bloody well do,” Aiden fairly snarled.

She gave her brother a sharp look, and he mouthed, “Sorry.”

She gave her attention back to Beresford. “In a situation such as ours, my lord, wedding bells soon ring.”

“Indeed they do, Miss Trewlove. I shall assume I have your family’s blessing, and—”

He started to lower himself. How could she embarrass him by refusing him once his knee hit the floor? “No.”

He stopped, half-bent over and looked up at her. “I beg your pardon?”

“Please straighten yourself, Lord Beresford.”

He did as she requested, his eyes never leaving hers. Taking a deep breath, she released it slowly. “I’m sorry, Lord Beresford, but I can’t marry you.”

Lord Beresford gaped, actually gaped. “If you don’t accept my offer, you will not be welcomed among the aristocracy. You will be ruined, dear girl.”

“I’m well aware.”

“I was willing to overlook your unlawful birth, but now you are asking me to overlook the scandal that your refusal will create. You will be fodder for gossip.”

“Better fodder for gossip than a wife with regrets.”

“If you deny me now, I shan’t be calling on you. No lord will call upon you.”

“Then, Lord Beresford, I must say I am more than happy with my decision.”

“You have to marry me.”

“She’s given you her answer,” Beast said. “Now, off with you.”

With a huff, a glare, a jutting out of his lower lip, Lord Beresford stormed from the room, slamming the door in his wake.

“I might have had to disown you if you married him,” Finn said. “What an oaf.”

With a soft smile, and a great sense of relief, she faced them. “Thank you for . . . well, everything. Your love, your support, your understanding. I love you all so much.”

“What now, Fancy?” Gillie asked.

“During all these years, while you’ve guided me, you never once asked me what my dream was.”

“What is your dream, sweetheart?” Mick asked.

She gave him a smile that caused her jaw to ache. “My dream is to marry a man I love, a man who loves me. And I’m going to make that dream come true.”

Crossing the street, she felt free, liberated, excited about the future, couldn’t wait to reconcile with Matthew, to reassure him that she loved him, wanted to be his wife. She was done with the aristocracy.