Theodosia's POV 

The whole walk home I am giddy. My first thoughts when I laid eyes on that boy was damn, he's cute. I am almost ashamed by it. I guess I inherited my mom's romanticness. And that's not even a word!

Mom...

I'm not going to think about it. I'm just going to focus on what excuse I'm going to give to my dad in order to meet Phillip at that resturant tonight and actually enjoy something. I'll probably end up saying something like:

"OK, that's great. I'm going to go get some food. Be back in a while!"

Ok, that'll be Plan B. 

What's Plan A? No idea. 

I'll figure it out. 

I sigh dreamily as I walk up to our front door. My father got an exquisite modern mansion called Richmond Hill in Manhattan before I was born and I cannot remember a time without it. It's a big, beautiful white house with pillars and porches. I have been it's hostess since 14 years when my father started becoming more distant. It's really where all my memories were made. Good or bad. 

As I enter the house I see my dad father sitting at his desk. He quickly stands up and turns around. "Hello, Theodosia," he says. 

Uh oh. I have a bad feeling about this. 

"Hello, father. I'm home," I reply cautiously. 

"Did you end up buying anything when you were out?" he asks. 

Stalling. But for what? 

"No, though I may go back later," I say, thinking up a plan to escape from whatever is coming. 

"Good. Because as you know, we have our money problems," he starts. "I don't know if we will even be able to keep this house anymore—" 

"Yes, father, I know. You talk about it every day," I tell him, trying hard not to roll my eyes. 

"Theo, I think I may have a solution."

I pipe up eagerly. "Really? What is this solution?"

"You may not like it..." he says uncertainly. 

"Well, I won't know until you tell me!" I reply. "How bad can it be, if it could fix a problem you've been worries about for months!"

He sighs. "Joseph Alston. One of the wealthiest planters in South Carolina. Has a great reputation. And he's only four year older than you," he added as I gasped. 

"Father, you don't mean—"

"Yes, I do mean. He's coming here to meet you. He should be here in two days time."

"But father, I am only 18 years old! Plus, you've always talked about women being independant and making their own choices! Why can't I choose who I marry?" I plead. 

"Theo, nothing is settled yet. I'm simply warning you—"

"—OK, that's great. I'm going to go get some food. Be back in a while!" I say as I walk out the door, extremely exasperated. My father does not come after me. 

Plan B was a success.