When they reached home, Master Gent and Sebastian followed them inside instead of going on to their inn. Or had they been invited to stay here? Eleanor resisted the urge to stamp a foot and pout. She wanted some proper food, her book, her bed.

She allowed her father to herd her into the front parlour as Mrs Fisher and the footman fussed over removing Sebastian’s mud protectors.

Before her mother could be seated, Eleanor put her hand out. “May I have my book now, please?”

Her mother sighed, but Eleanor stood firm. “You promised.”

Mistress Marchant looked like she wanted to argue, then sighed again and retrieved the book from one of the little cupboards in the sideboard.

Eleanor grabbed it and made for the door, only to be stopped by her father asking. “Where are you going?”

She turned. “Bed. It’s late, and I’m tired.”

Master Marchant frowned. “We have guests.”

She replied. “You have guests. I have Sun Empire culture and Carran language lessons from Mistress Azami in the morning. I need to be well rested.”

Sebastian strolled into the room and joined the conversation. “Why bother learning about places you’re never going to visit? And everyone speaks Common Trade, there’s no point learning other languages.”

Master Gent asked. “What languages do you speak, Eleanor?”

She said. “Northlands, Common Trade, Sundarian, a bit of Carran, greetings in Desert Common and some Scattered Isles patois.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “What a waste of time.”

His father looked sidelong at him, but made no comment.

Her father shook his head. “Always best to know who you’re dealing with, and language is key to that understanding.”

Sebastian shrugged one shoulder. “We have people for that.”

Master Marchant replied. “And how do you find those people, then make sure they’re honest and capable of doing their job?”

Sebastian’s shoulder went up again. “I suppose that’s what I’ll use Ellie for then, she’s not much good at anything else.”

He smirked. “Just joking. We know you’re a little buried treasure, Ellie.”

He yelped. Eleanor slid her hairpin back into place and said. “Learn my name.”

She turned to the two older men. “What is he talking about?”

Sebastian sniggered, and sauntered across the room to charm her mother.

Her father grinned and spread his arms wide. “Master Gent and I are going into partnership, merging our businesses.”

Master Gent nodded. “And what better way to ensure its future than uniting our families as well?”

He could not be saying what she thought he was saying. She looked at her father. “What?”

His grin widened. “You are to marry Sebastian, move down to Rushmouth to learn the Gent side of the business, then when we retire, you’ll be able to assist Sebastian in running the company.”

She gaped, and clutched her book to her chest like a shield. “Assist him? Do I have any choice in this?”

Master Gent chuckled. “Such a bashful little maid, but you don’t need to dissemble. Every girl dreams of a tall, handsome husband and a comfortable home for their children. What other choice could you want?”

Eleanor drew herself upright. “The choice not to be chained to an arrogant, ignorant toad who will leave me to do all the work and then spend all the money on ridiculous outfits.”

Her father lost his grin. “Now, Eleanor…”

She stamped her foot. “No! I will not marry Sebastian. I don’t care what you say. He’s a vile, slimy parasite, and you can’t make me.”

Master Marchant was turning purple, but Eleanor hadn’t finished. “This is what you were talking about with the Mayor wasn’t it? I was more capable but Sebastian would catch up?”

She laughed. “He won’t. He won’t do anything that needs learning or work.”

Master Gent frowned, but her father spoke first. “You are my daughter, and you will follow the choices I make for you.”

Eleanor looked down at the book she held. “And what of the promise you made Grandma Ruth that you’d allow me a choice in who I spend my life with? Are you going to break your vow to your mother?”

Something in her father snapped. She didn’t know what it was, but she saw it happen. He snatched Grandma Ruth’s book from her arms. “I’ll give you a choice. You either marry Sebastian, or I hand you over to the next beggar that knocks on our door.”

Eleanor’s chin went up, although she watched her book anxiously. “Very well. I will never marry Sebastian.”

Her father scowled. “So be it.”

He marched to the window, opened it, and threw her book, her grandma’s book, into the cold, dark wet of the market square.

Eleanor shrieked and ran from the room. “My book.”

She was halfway across the front hall when someone knocked on the great front door. Mrs Fisher, pointedly ignoring Eleanor, stalked across the floor to open it. A young man stood outside. “Excuse me, Mistress, I think someone in your household has lost a book.”

Eleanor’s father surged past her. “Come in, come in. Can’t have you standing in the cold.”

He was still purple-red but affecting good humour.

The young man entered, stopping a scant foot beyond Mrs Fisher as she closed the door behind him. He had dark eyes and mid-brown close-cropped hair, matching the scruff on his chin – both of which looked like he’d done the trimming himself, in the dark, with a set of sheep shears. Eleanor judged him as being a little older than her, not quite as tall as Sebastian, and nervous.

He was also holding Eleanor’s wet, muddy book. She darted forward to take it from him but was brought up short by her father’s hand on her shoulder. “So, lad, what is it you do for a living?”

Their visitor looked confused. “Apprentice forester, Sir.”

The hand on Eleanor’s shoulder tightened a little. “A worthy profession and, tell me, do you have a wife?”

The forester returned a bewildered. “No, Sir?”

Master Marchant forced a jovial laugh. “In that case, I am presenting you with my daughter, as, er, thanks for returning her book.”

Eleanor gasped. “Papa!”

Her father glared. “You made your choice, now you will live with it.”

She glared back. Fine. If this was the game he wanted to play, she’d beat him at it, see how much it took to make him stop, force him to apologise.

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