“Young Master…” Andrew’s usually stoic face twinged in worry. He set down the candle he was carrying, its melted wax sliding down the sides. “Whatever is the matter?” He approached cautiously. You had been engaged to a fellow aristocrat, fully against your wishes. They were fine, nice, but they weren’t Andrew. They could never be your Andy. He had found you weeping, a state he had never wished to find you in. “Please…what has gotten you in this state?” He asked, not approaching you quite yet.