"We marry in a fortnight," Warwick repeated as he allowed the footman to help him into his overcoat.

"You cannot be serious!" Sarah cried, it felt as if all the blood in her body was rushing to her toes.

"I travel to London for the special license, and we will marry upon my return, Miss Sarah," Warwick confirmed in a hard voice.

"You disgusting, vile man!" Sarah spat, "You cannot shackle me to yourself like this! My father -"

"Is dead," Warwick interjected loudly, his voice echoing off the high, gilded ceiling of Sarah's childhood home. George Warwick took a step towards her and though her fingers felt like ice, Sarah Stanhope refused to cower. The man's large, figure towered over her, and with one hand he reached out to take hold of her chin.

"I am your guardian now, Sarah Stanhope, and I'll choose who you marry. Your parents are long dead, and the law is on my side. Besides, I am only trying to protect you, Little One. Can't have fortune hunters after that inheritance of your's." Sarah tried to pull away but his meaty fingers only dug deeper into her skin.

"I will not marry you," she hissed, but tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

"You've nowhere to go, no money, no family," he sneered, "You will marry me, Sarah. Best get used to the idea" he finished, releasing his hold on her with a rough shove. Sarah stumbled away from him, refusing to cry until the sound of his carriage had faded down the drive.

She glanced towards the ceiling, as if looking for a different kind of guardian as the first few tears slipped down her face.

"Miss Stanhope, can I be of assistance?" It was James, a footman in the house since her father had been a boy.

"What am I to do?" she whispered hoarsely, wishing instead it was her own father who stood before her instead.

"I've been wondering the same for a few months now, Miss," he answered, "Lottie and I have an idea, a way for you to escape him."

Sarah sniffled, shivered and crossed her arms over her chest. She took one long glance around the room, the home she'd shared with her mother and father. It was so empty now, it had been so empty for so long. The house meant nothing to her, not since Warwick had taken over and sullied any sweet memories she'd had of the place.

"Very well," she answered resolutely though she still held her arms around herself, "Tell me your idea James."

"Sir Richard, miss," said James, "Surely he would help you."

Sarah's stomach turned at the idea.

She closed her eyes as she covered her face with both hands. Sir Richard Amesbury was her betrothed, an agreement forged by their mothers since childhood, he was nearly eight years her senior and had never been the man she wanted to marry. She'd last seen the Amesbury family only two years before, the last Season she'd spent before her father's death. Lady Eleanor had always been kind, his sisters were lovely, but Richard was a dandy. Completely absorbed by his own loveliness and wealth, he'd been disinterested in Sarah and she'd hoped the arrangement would simply dissolve. Not long after she'd broken contact with the family completely, in hopes that Richard would find another rich wife - for she herself could never stomach him. But in order to escape Warwick, she needed to marry. A sickness came over her as the memory of a third man came crashing through her well crafted walls that she'd placed around her grief long ago. She could not marry a dead man. Sarah let out a long sigh, marriage to a monster or a disinterested dandy? The decision was simple. She'd go to Broadcroft, and she would throw herself on the mercy of a childhood contract. She just hoped that it would hold. Hoped that she could survive a life shackled to the brother she'd never loved.