"Hmm, there you are." Their father surveyed them both through his spyglass. "Daughters."

The disdain in his tone never failed to curdle Lottie's stomach. It was not their fault that he had failed to sire a son, yet it was a failure of birth for which he endlessly derided them. So too did he bemoan the ridicule his lack of heir apparently caused amongst his compatriots. She braced herself for his next words.

To her astonishment, as he turned to her sister, he managed a grimace which approximated to a smile. "Angelina, fortune has smiled upon you. You will have noted the flowers which have come for you, along with an advantageous offer. Naturally, I have accepted on your behalf. Why it should be that my younger daughter should succeed where the elder has failed I hesitate to mention, however," here he drilled Lottie with a glare, "I have no doubt that it is due to Lottie's predilection for getting into scrapes."

Lottie opened her mouth to refute this but closed it again. There was little point in arguing. Angelina was the beauty of the family and as such avoided much of Papa's ire. Her blonde curls and blue eyes were reminiscent of her namesake, whereas Lottie's own brown tresses, devoid of waves of any kind, and coupled with an overly-large mouth and unremarkable grey eyes, failed to attract his approval. But what was this he was saying? An offer? Baron Rothschild—what? Her heart gave an uncomfortable lurch and she couldn't snatch back her horrified exclamation. "Papa, you cannot mean to—"

"Silence!" Her father glared, his arm twitching as if he might strike her. "Rothschild is the ideal husband for Angelina. He can offer her a comfortable home, a ready-made family and sufficient money to smooth the way." The meaning behind his words sank like ice into Lottie's stomach. So her sister was to be sold to pay off Papa's debts.

"But—but, he's old," spluttered Angelina, her face drained of colour. "And I do not like him."

"Pff! What's that to do with anything? Marriage is not about liking, it's about financial transactions, advantageous connections and political expedience, things which neither of you have the brains to understand. It is arranged. You have a little under four weeks while the banns are read to prepare yourself for the next phase of your life. Meanwhile," he turned his attention to Lottie, "I would hope to get you off my hands as soon as maybe. I understand Templeton is looking for a wife."

At this, Lottie's stomach threatened to exit south. Dear heaven, no. No no no no no!