It’s supposed to be new.”

“I thought the same thing. And, Papa, I can manage here. You know I can—”

“Not alone. Not after I’m gone. You don’t know men.”

She shot him a sharp glance. “I know you, and if I could manage you—”

“This is different. I’m your father, not a... not a—”

“What?”

“Randy stallion.”

“Papa!”

“But it’s true. You’re too young, and far too pretty. Your mama was far too pretty, too, and it’s a danger. Living here, alone, you’d be a target for every unscrupulous man, and I have not spent my life protecting you, only to leave you vulnerable now.”

“Then don’t die. It’s most inconvenient.”

He smiled crookedly and watched as she returned the poker iron to the fire tools. “You look just like her. Same glorious hair. Same sea green eyes.”

“But I’m not as sweet, I know.” She crossed to his side, kissed the top of his head. “You must feel absolutely miserable if you’re being sentimental. Why won’t you take some laudanum?”

“Won’t touch the stuff. Need to keep my wits about me.”

“For what, Papa? An Irishman who is coming to collect some sheep?”

“Pretty soon I won’t feel pain. At least this way I know I’m still alive.”

Ellie struggled to breathe around the lump filling her throat. “You’re making me sad.”

“That’s why we need to get you settled. We’re running out of time.”

She couldn’t answer, not when fear filled her throat and made her chest ache. He was so much weaker today than yesterday, and yesterday he’d been exhausted and frail. She couldn’t imagine a week from now. And a month?

She blinked hard, trying to clear the sting from her eyes. “Can I get you something? Have you had—” She broke off, listening to the voices outside.

They both listened. Ellie’s stomach rose and fell. “I think he’s here,” she said.

Archibald struggled to fold his blanket. “Well, go on up.”

“Up?” she repeated, taking the blanket from him and swiftly folding it into neat squares.

“Yes, up. Upstairs. That way you won’t have to deal with him again.”

“And how do you intend to manage? You can’t even get out of your chair, Papa.”

“Someone will send him through eventually.”

He was a dreadful, stubborn old man and she loved him more than life itself.