Lord Jones's visit drew to a close before dinner, which somewhat upset Lord and Lady Fitzgerald. They seemed to have been assuming he would stay for the rest of the day. They plied him with coffees and cigars in the hopes he would stay a little longer, but after his third cup of coffee he insisted he needed to leave.

“You have been most gracious hosts, and I truly appreciate how well you have cared for me, but I have already stayed far longer than I intended to,” he insisted.

“Are you certain you will not stay for dinner?” Lady Fitzgerald asked, sounding disappointed.

“I am sorry, but I am a little busy this evening,” Lord Jones said.

Lucy was a little surprised to say the least by the change in attitude both her parents and Andrew were displaying. It was as though they were all completely different people all of a sudden. Her parents, who would never have tolerated Andrew's behaviour from anyone else, not only would not evict him from their home, but were asking him to stay longer. And Andrew, who had been fairly rude all afternoon, was suddenly very collected and polite. It seemed the rules of conventional society did sometimes apply to him after all.

“Would you like to stop by again sometime?” Lady Fitzgerald asked.

Andrew smiled. “Of course. I could visit again for tea tomorrow, if you would like? Or you could visit me?”

Lady Fitzgerald nodded. “It would be lovely to see your home,” she said.

“I am sure it would,” Andrew replied in a tone of voice which suggested he knew her sole intent was to snoop.

This seemed to have been missed by Lady Fitzgerald who just smiled. “Lucy, be a dear and see Lord Jones to the door.”

Lucy followed him as he walked over to where a servant was presenting his coat. She was a little embarrassed by her parents' desperation to keep him around.

“I am sorry they are so... needy,” she said. “Normally they are not this bad with any of my suitors.”

He shrugged. “Never mind. I am sure it is just because I said I did not intend on marrying anyone, so they are all the more desperate to change my mind.”

Lucy sighed. “I hardly think that is the way one would go about changing your mind...”

“Ah, but you understand me, they do not,” he explained.

“I only hope they are not so bad when we next meet,” Lucy replied. “For what it is worth, it was nice having you.”

“And it was nice spending time here also. I shall see you again tomorrow,” Andrew said with another of his gentler smiles.

Lucy was not sure why, but as he walked off she felt a little weak. Perhaps it was the coffee. It had made her heart beat so fast, and given her a little bit of a stomach ache. So it was probably making her giddy too.

As a servant closed the door, she made her way into the front room and lay down on a chaise longue, looking up at the ceiling. What a strange sensation. She ought to remind herself not to drink coffee again. But... When she was at Andrew's house she would have to. She wanted him to think she was a modern, strong girl, like the ones he had mentioned. And she could hardly say she disliked coffee now that she had drank some in front of him.

Nevertheless, Lucy was glad that her friend would continue to see her. And especially glad that she would soon see his home, for, despite her disgust at her mother's desire to snoop, she was a little curious herself. She knew full well why her mother had pressed for him to visit more often, but she also knew he would remain true to his conviction. No matter what her parents said or did, he had no intention of marrying.

He was especially the worst person for them to pursue for a proposal since the pact. Not only were they trying to get a man who was completely against marriage to court her, but he was also committed to helping her avoid marriage. In the time they were supposed to be courting he could help her evade her usual range of suitors.

“Are you alright, Lucy?” her mother's voice sounded in the doorway. “Did you eat too much? Do you have indigestion?”

Lucy sat up a little. “I think it was the coffee,” she replied.

“I said you should not have it,” her mother said, sitting on the edge of the chaise longue beside her. “Shall I call for a doctor?”

Lucy shook her head. “I will be fine, it will pass.”

“So... do you think we could persuade you to see Lord Jones more in earnest?” Lady Fitzgerald asked tentatively.

Lucy shook her head. “I do not think he is interested in marriage.”

“Many young men say that, and are stubborn, especially at his age, but are eventually persuaded,” her mother replied.

“I am not sure he could be, he seems very convinced,” Lucy insisted.

“I wish you would make more of an effort,” her mother said with a sigh. “Men do not drop out of trees, you know?”

“I know,” Lucy replied. “It's just that... I want to wait for the right man. Men may not grow on trees, but there is more than enough of them. I want to be a little selective.”

Lady Fitzgerald seemed disappointed even though the smile on her face reached her eyes. “But I fear you are too selective. I fear that you will never marry at all.”

Lucy felt the words stab her heart. Of course her mother was worried about that. But avoiding marriage was the literal purpose of her actions. Her mother would never get the conclusion she desired because, no matter what she did, Lucy would never want for herself what her parents wanted for her.

“I... I am sorry if I cause you any pain,” she said. And she genuinely felt it. Unlike Andrew, who seemed to take some depraved joy in making people squirm, she hated what she needed to do to keep herself unmarried.

“No, I am sorry,” her mother replied. “I try and try to make sense of you, but I feel as though I do not truly understand who you are anymore. And how can I help my own daughter when I do not even know who she is?” A tear rolled down her mother's cheek, leaving behind a trail of white and smoky makeup.

Lucy sat fully upright and embraced her mother tightly. “I... I am not sure who I am, mother. I need time to work that out. And I feel that you and father are pushing me too much.”

“All we want is for you to do well in life. Lucy, your father and I will not be here forever. You have no siblings, no aunts or uncles. When we are gone you will be alone,” her mother explained. “And the world is not a simple place. You will have the house, and some income. But it will not be a nice life. And it may not be easy for you to find a man after that. I had an aunt myself, who was a spinster. She always regretted not listening to my grandparents, and she no longer had anyone who could help her find a husband. She wanted children and could not have any. I... I do not want that for you.”

Lucy felt her heart breaking a little. No wonder her mother was so intent on finding her a husband as soon as possible. She, herself, had painful memories of what it would be like to be unwed. She wanted her daughter to have the same security and love that she experienced with Lord Fitzgerald. And Lucy felt some compassion towards her mother, a pull to marry if only to allow her mother to live the rest of her life with a satisfied heart, not a burdened one.

Even knowing all this, Lucy could not find it in her heart to open herself up to marriage. There was just too much wrong with it. But if there was so much wrong with marriage, and so much wrong with being unwed, then what was the solution? Neither alternative sounded good to Lucy.

She did not want to marry a man who did not love her, or to be forever bonded to someone who could turn out to be terrible. But she did not want to end up an old spinster either, always regretting her solitude and her lack of children. What she wanted was the fairytale romance. She wanted a man perfectly suited to her, who would not lie to her, and who would love her and have children with her, and then go on to care for her until the end of their lives.

But that was not real. And so her options were loveless marriage or spinsterhood.

Lucy wished more men were like Lord Andrew Jones. He was a perfect example of what men ought to be like. And yet... he was rare. And even he could not be trusted. After all, he could be deceiving her. The only way to know for certain that a man was not tricking her into marriage was to not marry him. And, after all, loneliness would be better than abuse or neglect...

* * *

Her suitor the next day was definitely nothing like Lord Jones. He was, in many ways, nothing like any man she had ever met before, and not in a good sense. Lord Thompson was the very image of a pompous aristocrat, the sort of person even a Prince would say was too soft and vain. His hands and hair were perfectly manicured, he dressed in more jewels than any woman would dare to wear, and he was too concerned with the state of his suede boots to brave a walk in the garden. So they sat in the front room as Lucy attempted to discourage him.

But that was another way in which he was unlike any man she had ever met: no matter what she said, or how indignant he got, he would simply not back down.

“I... I heard that you were cruel, but I did not believe you were this bad,” he said indignantly. “And with that haircut. I am doing you a favour. Most men would not even see you until you grew it out again.”

“And most women would not see a man who cares more about his shoes than his soul in the first place, and yet here we are,” Lucy replied.

“It is not a crime or a sin to wish to look my very best,” he said indignantly.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Vanity is most definitely a sin, as is being too proud to admit to your own vanity.”

“Then there is not a woman out there who is sinless,” he insisted.

Lucy shook her head. “We are held to a different standard than men. You, on the other hand, are going out of your way to display yourself like some sort of an overly enthusiastic peacock.”

“And you noticed,” he replied. “And I can see you have nothing bad to say about my sense of dress, so I suppose it is working.”

“I have only not said anything bad yet because I do not even know where to begin,” Lucy replied.

This was exhausting. She had gone through her entire protocol. When she ignored him and replied with single words and sounds, he had simply talked about himself for half an hour straight. When she had tried to lord herself over him he had thought she was flirting by showing off.

Now she was being rude and he was happily bickering with her, getting more and more insulted by the second, and refusing to leave.

“You do know that all of this will not endear you to many men?” Lord Thompson said. “If you wish for a man to marry you, you ought to show him more of your feminine side.”

“I do not wish to marry some petty, snobbish, vain man such as yourself,” she replied.

“And I suppose you believe you can do better?” he asked with a slight laugh.

Lucy was caught off guard by this, but quickly bounced back. “Indeed I can. I do not know why my parents keep setting me up with lesser men such as yourself.”

She had thought she had done enough to push him away. But this man was particularly resilient. It was a losing battle to try and scare him off. He just laughed and shook his head.

And, however much she needed to pretend it was not affecting her, his insults were slowly eroding her self-esteem. She was feeling worse and worse by the minute, and she just wanted him to go away and never return. But even after all that he just smiled and sipped his tea, as though she had just complimented him on his rings.

Thankfully, the clock struck ten and he stood up, arranging his clothes so that everything lay just so. “I am terribly sorry, but I must away. I have a meeting in an hour and I must be prepared. Do not fret, it is not another young lady.” He smiled.

“Oh, I would not believe you if you said it was, but one can hope,” Lucy replied.

She was glad when he left the room and the servants closed the door. She sank back into her chair with a frustrated groan.

Lucy sighed. Why was he still interested? She had done everything she could to insult him, and yet he came back for more, and more again. Could it be he liked this? Was this something some men liked? Whatever it was, it was annoying.

She felt completely and utterly exhausted. It was not right that she kept having to do this. It was not who she was, who she wanted to be. And yet the more she did it, the more she found it becoming her second nature, the more she questioned her own identity. It was as though the person she was pretending to be was overtaking her, stealing her body and her mind.

Perhaps this was what had happened to Lord Jones? Perhaps after so long pretending to be cold and cruel and to take pleasure in the suffering of others, he had become that way? Lucy shook her head. No, it was probably just who he was. If Duke Perry was two-faced, then perhaps other men were two-faced as well. She chastised herself for trying to make excuses for Andrew. He did not need or deserve to have her defend him. No man needed or deserved to be defended by her.