It took an embarrassingly small amount of time for glassy eyes to turn into teary ones. She swiped miserably at her cheeks, wiping her fabric on the skirt of her dress. It was one thing to feel like a burden on her family; it was another to get confirmation, however unintended and well-meaning it was. She hated it. She'd known that most girls didn't get married after a single season, but three? And now Jemima Farley, who was just a year beneath her in school, was marrying her brother and would probably resent her, too.

It was selfish to be thinking of her own feelings and she knew it, so when Ford took her hands she attempted to reel them back in, sniffing and clearing her throat until her tears stopped flowing.

"I am one-and-twenty," she insisted, straightening her back. Confidence. Self-assurance. Control. She needed all three right now, because tomorrow was Ford's day and she couldn't send him to bed worrying about her. "I am not a little girl anymore. I will do everything I can to take what weight I can off your shoulders." It was Clementine's turn to have the center of attention, anyways. "I swear it."

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