Still reeling from the unexpected guest at the Headmasters’ Supper, Faith slipped into the most calming room in her parents’ home: the sumptuous Digby library.

Although her parents would not approve of giving their hard-won books away to indigent students, Faith could see no harm in borrowing a few from time to time as a special treat for the girls.

As she knelt to browse a colorful collection of illustrated volumes about England’s flora and fauna, the door to the library flew open and a four-foot-tall bundle of pure energy burst into the room with a squeal of delight.

“Aunt Faith!” Christina sprinted across the room and launched herself into Faith’s arms, causing Faith to tumble backwards and Christina to dissolve into hiccupy laughter.

“Grandmother and Grandfather took me out on a boat! There was water, and fuzzy ducklings, and men selling pies… The only piece missing was you!” Christina hugged Faith as if they hadn’t seen each other in years rather than since this morning at breakfast time. After a long moment, she leaned back and clapped her hands. “The ducklings were ever so cute. I counted them. First there were seven, then there were twelve, and all of them left and followed the mama.”

Faith’s heart soared as she cradled the child in her lap and listened to her recount her adventures. Faith tried to imagine sweet Christina with a stranger’s eyes. She could not. Thick brown hair, sparkling hazel eyes, infectious smile. The spit and image of Christina’s father.

Faith shook her head. She would not think about Hawkridge right now. Or ever again, if she could help it. He had disrupted her life more than enough. She would not allow thoughts of him to ruin her favorite bedtime ritual with Christina.

“Are you ready to pick out a book?” she asked as she hauled herself and the excited ten-year-old to their feet.

“One book?” Christina wheedled, dramatically puffing her lower lip. “You mean two books?”

Faith grinned at the familiar ritual. Of course she meant two books. There were always two books, sometimes three books. Part of the game was to pretend there could be only one. And every night, Christina would stick out her lower lip and beg for just one more book… Or two… Or three. Faith had never once said no.

Christina loved their time together just as much as Faith did. Remembering such moments were limited only made them all the sweeter.

They were inseparable. The best of friends. No matter how many meals they shared, books they read, games they played, stars they counted, puddles they splashed in, hills they rolled down, it was never enough. Faith missed her desperately whenever they were apart. She would read shelves of books until half midnight if that was what Christina wanted.

Christina held up a volume on horses. “How about this one, Aunt Faith?”

“Of course.” Faith smiled indulgently to hide her wince of pain. Every time Christina called her Aunt Faith, it was a dagger to her heart. Even after all these years. But pretending Christina to be an orphaned niece had been the only way to save both of their futures.

“One more,” Christina announced, and dashed off amongst the tall stacks of books.

Faith leaned back against one of the many shelves bulging with leather-bound volumes. There was such a stark difference between the Digby library and the boarding school library. Her parents’ collection was as new as the books it contained, many of which had been acquired specifically for Christina. The school’s “library” was a ramshackle collection of castaway tomes, many of their battered pages not meant for children at all.

It seemed like such a waste not to share the wealth. But all this opulence was purchased with her parents’ money, not Faith’s. They were unwilling to donate much to the school. Mother and Father considered doing so “spending Christina’s inheritance” and could not understand why Faith would want them to divide their interests.

Faith sighed. She wanted the best for Christina and the girls at the school. Her parents wanted the best for her and for Christina. Their horns remained locked for now.

“These!” Christina flew around the corner with a book held high in each hand, skidding on the lush imported carpet.

Faith’s heart twisted. She could not imagine a life without Christina in it. She would give up every other comfort in the world as long as this little girl with a big smile and the sweet-smelling ringlets was always at her side.

But life had a way of dropping marquesses at the dinner table.

She pressed her lips together. Damn her traitorous heart for skipping a beat when he’d asked to speak with her alone. She shouldn’t be anywhere near a man like that. She definitely shouldn’t be wondering how he had been, what he was doing now, if she would ever see him again.

He was poison. An addiction. But she was through. No matter how pretty his words, he had shown his true colors long ago. She would not fall for the magic of his embrace anew. There was too much at stake.

She straightened her shoulders, determined to spare Christina pain at any cost. One could not undo the past, but Faith had dedicated the last ten years to making the best she could of their present.

Faith wanted Christina to have what she had not. To grow up and fall in love with a man who cherished and appreciated her. To be free to marry without any hint of scandal that would stop her from living the best life possible.

“After such a busy day, I believe you deserve a treat,” Faith said as she accepted the two slim volumes. “How about a third book tonight?”

Christina’s only reply was a high-pitched squeal before she disappeared between the stacks in a whirl of ribbons and ringlets and lace.

Faith hugged the two children’s books to her chest and smiled affectionately. She considered herself a logical person, possessed of a practical mind, not a creative one. Yet she was a dreamer after all. She could not help but hope for new opportunities for the girls at her school, for the daughter she protected at all costs, and sometimes, even for herself.

The library door swung back open and her ruddy-cheeked parents barreled into the room.

“There she is!” Mother pointed at Christina dashing between two tall stacks of books, then turned to Faith. “Did she tell you about the little ducklings?”

“Of course she did,” Faith said with a grin.

Christina loved her grandparents as much as they loved their grandchild. They doted on her like she was the princess in a fairy story, and in turn Christina believed her grandparents to be the equal of any king and queen.

Faith supposed that was the power of money. Her parents hadn’t been able to shower her with toys and attention when she’d been Christina’s age. She had not lived a sheltered childhood, because her parents had not been wealthy enough to shelter her. She had been elbowed, shoved aside, trod upon. Sometimes because she was invisible to the others. Sometimes because she was not invisible enough.

Her fingers tightened about the books clutched against her chest. She would never let her daughter’s wrist be bruised by a stranger’s careless yank. A shiver slid down Faith’s spine from all the old memories. That was then. She was no longer invisible. Christina would never be.

She turned to her parents. “Have you given thought to the list of schools I researched?”

“Oh, darling.” Mother exchanged a telling glance with Father. “We simply haven’t had time.”

They had time. They had nothing but time. Time and money. What they didn’t have was any desire to let Christina out of their sight, even in the name of education.

As much as Faith understood their reluctance, sometimes letting go was the best way to give more. Christina deserved a good school, to have good friends. Real friends. She deserved to have the kind of life that little girls like Faith had always dreamed of.

She intended to ensure it happened. Her only goal was to keep Christina healthy and happy now and in the future. She leaned forward. “If Chris’s schooling is not a priority at this moment,” Faith said smoothly, “perhaps now is the perfect time to invest a small sum into my boarding school.”

The amount of money her mother spent on a single gown would transform the girls’ pitiful library into a haven for the rest of their school years. Her parents’ pocketbooks wouldn’t even register the donation. But the lives of her students would be forever enriched.

“I think it’s time you reenter society,” Mother began, ignoring Faith’s request.

“I was never in society,” Faith reminded her. “You tried your hardest, but I was never worthy in their eyes. I shall stay right where I am, thank you.”

“That was back then,” her father put in. “Our factories were new, our money was new, our situation was new. It’s a different world than it was ten years ago.”

“Is it?” Faith hoped so, for Christina’s sake.

Nonetheless, she had taken care when crafting the fictional circumstances of Christina’s birth. Chris had not been born to a family of social-climbing trade-mongers with bad manners and good intentions, but to a mysterious wealthy cousin twice or thrice removed whose family had never worked a day in their lives. The untimely demise of Christina’s very genteel birthparents was a dreadful tragedy, but since the distant Digby relatives had been visiting nearby, of course they had done their Christian duty and agreed to raise the orphaned newborn as their own.

A story like that was hard to disprove. Tragic enough not to invite nosy questions. Faith simply wished for Christina to be accepted for who she was: a kind, wonderful, curious, bighearted little girl.

“I’ve increased your dowry,” Father said, tensing as if he expected this news to incite a war.

Faith would not disappoint him. “I told you to invest that money in my school. I will not be needing it.”

“And I told you,” Mother put in, “that instead of going to work in a rookery, you should be outfitting yourself with the very best modistes in the whole of London. The Season is underway. You did make one friend amongst the ton. If you attend the Grenville routs in the right gown, you might even catch the eye of a duke or an earl.”

“I decline.” Faith crossed her arms. That was how she had ended up ruined and alone ten years ago. She would not be making that mistake again.

“Doesn’t Chris deserve an…uncle?” Mother insisted. “Lord knows you deserve a husband.”

“A good one,” Father put in quickly. “A man with a title, full coffers, and the bollocks to do what’s right.”

Faith forced a brittle smile to hide her clenched teeth. Not because her parents were wrong. But because they were right.

Yet finding a good man with the stones to do what was right was not that easy. Faith was no more likely to scoop up an errant duke today than she was ten or twelve years ago. Less likely, even. For one, she was far too old. For two, well, the only eligible bachelor she had come across in all that time was… The same one who had ruined her the first time.

Her resolve hardened. Hawkridge hadn’t been part of her life for over a decade. She would not change that now. Especially not to benefit him.

She knew what he wanted in a wife. Everybody knew. Back then he had been looking for an evening’s distraction. Now he was looking for money.

Well, he could keep looking. Her family’s money was for family, not selfish blackguards. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need any man. Spinsterhood was far preferable to how she’d suffered in her failed attempts to fit in with the fashionable set. She wasn’t one of them. She didn’t need to be. ’Twas better the devil one knew, and what Faith knew was being a good mother.

Er, aunt.

Once was more than enough.

She gazed at her daughter, whose pert little nose had already disappeared into a book.

Faith was neither proud nor embarrassed of her place in society. Or lack thereof. She loved her friends, her family, her career. She didn’t want to lose any of it. She was finally happy. How could anyone be anything less with a wonderful child such as Christina in her life?

“Let’s go upstairs to read!” Christina latched onto Faith’s elbow and dragged her from the library toward the nursery.

“Only if you help,” Faith replied as she did every night.

What had begun as marathon sessions of Faith reading bedtime stories to her child had transformed into blissful evenings of Christina snuggled tight to her chest, reading aloud at a level quite advanced for her young age.

Faith was so proud of her daughter. Christina deserved the best education they could find. Loving friends, a happy childhood, every possible advantage.

Which could only happen if things continued exactly as they currently stood. Under no circumstances could she allow any hint of gossip that Christina was a by-blow.

Faith knew firsthand how cruel society could be. The fashionable set wouldn’t accept Faith because her family was in trade. Their “betters” would positively rip apart an innocent bastard child.

Her child.