I was to be married off, to the son of Duke Penbroke, no less. Father had broken the news without any forewarning one day as I cleaned up the wood shavings from the shop floor. “This is an unprecedented opportunity for you,” my father said, “to be given a second chance at marriage. Not very many widows could consider themselves to be so fortunate.” He smiled. “Cecil is taken by your beauty. I am proud.” Father busied himself with a broken hinge, working the jointed pieces back and forth in his hands. Father was a skilled craftsman, capable of fashioning all sorts of hinges and door latches, locks and keys. His specialty seemed to rely specifically on the existence of doors. I shook my head. “I loved Phillip until the day he was overcome by the great sickness, and do still. Besides, I want to stay with you. I’ve just started to learn the business.” “Which is not a proper place for a lady.” His smile faded into a stern scowl. “Cecil Penbroke is a promising young lord, and when he becomes Duke, you will come to have land and money.
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