Chapter 1
Lady Emmaline Moreau had always had a head for business—her father had made certain of that—but this latest deal had her most concerned. Having been the one to hear the whispers of a large ship that would be traveling from India with a great deal of valuable cargo on board, Emmaline had suggested their investment to her father.
And having done such a good job of educating her, he trusted her—or perhaps trusted himself—in making the investment that might well be the very thing to see her and her closest stepsister reach the ultimate prize. An advantageous marriage that would see them safe for the rest of their lives.
But the trip from England to India and back again was a mighty long time by ship and Emmaline chomped at the bit so hard she thought her teeth might break.
Much to her stepmother's disappointment, she had bitten down her fingernails to nubs in anticipating the outcome of her investment.
The burden lay heavily upon her. It had most decidedly been her father's wealth and good name placed upon the line, for as an unmarried lady she had nothing to invest. But it was she who had found the opportunity and suggested it to her father. She who had encouraged him to stake his wealth.
If there were to be failure and shame, they would be her own, though their entire family would pay the price for it, and with four step-siblings, and four half-siblings, it would be a high price to pay indeed.
And so, each and every morning, Emmaline found herself outside the giant oaken door of her father's study, lingering in the shadows and unsure of whether or not to disturb him.
“Emm, are you coming to breakfast?” Jane, her younger yet closest stepsister by only eight months, called from the far end of the hallway. She stood close by the door that led to the breakfast room, radiant in a patch of sunlight that shone through the window close by. Oh, how beautiful she was and yet nobody would see her beauty if Emmaline's investment failed. All they would see was the family's ruin.
Emmaline gulped hard.
“I shall be there shortly,” she called back, straightening up. Clearly her hiding in the shadows hadn't been successful. Perhaps it was best to hold her head high and get on with it. “I must speak with Papa first.”
Jane looked at her with that same look her own mother gave Emmaline, the one that said they were worried yet supportive.
They worried because Emmaline was not the typical lady. Yes, she was lady-like and tried her hardest to always look and act the part, but her father had placed a great deal of ideas in her head. They were ideas that many members of thetonwould suggest had no business being there. And that was just what they were about… business. The education her father had given her was not typical of a lady, but she was grateful for it all the same, even if it did cause others to look at her as if she had grown a second head.
“Don't be causing any bother, Emm,” Jane warned before disappearing into the breakfast room, where the sounds of her family were already buzzing.
Sebastian and Victor would likely be there with sore heads after a too long a night spent at whichever gentleman’s club they had chosen. Her older stepbrothers were rebellious, thanks to the fact they were the sons of a widow and heirs to nothing.
Unlike Emmaline whose birth left her the eldest daughter and sole heir to her father's fortune. At least until her twin half-brothers had come along when she was just eleven years old, only a year after her father had remarried. Since then two more half-sisters had arrived, only making the burden greater.
Her eldest stepsister, Violet had not made matters any easier. She had married after only her first Season out in society, at 19, setting the precedence for Emmaline herself. And with Emm's first Season fast approaching, she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. Not only were her father and stepmother relying on her to continue the family's good fortune, but she had Jane, as well as her two young half-sisters, Elizabeth and Nancy, only two and three, whose future matches could all be determined by the value of her own.
If her investment idea were an utter failure, her family would face ruin, and then who might take her to marry then? She could already imagine the laughter of her older stepsister when she became the disgrace of the family, the only one set to be safe from their shame due to having already been married off.
Bile rose in Emmaline's throat. She did not wish to be married off. This investment had to work for it would bring the necessary funds and reputation for her to marry well, maybe even for her to have her pick, though she hated to think of it in such a way.
Her husband would not be a prize for his wealth or title or what he could offer her, save for one thing. Emmaline wished to marry for the rarest treasure of all—love.
Having spent far too long lingering in the hallway, thinking on all that could go wrong, she stepped up to the door with her fist raised to knock.
But before she could do so, her father called from the study, “Emm, do come in already before you wear out the carpet.”
Emmaline could not stop from smiling as she entered the room. “You know me too well, father.”
“It is no grand feat when you have been at my study door every morning for the past three weeks,” her father pointed out, looking up from behind his spectacles. Leaning back in his chair, he gestured her forward, “Read this for me, would you, my dear? My eyes are not what they used to be.”
“Of course, Papa,” Emmaline said, hurrying forth. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Her father had asked her to read letters to him before, that was no new thing, but somehow, she couldn't help but wonder if this one might be special. Perhaps it was a report from theIndia Rose.
Taking the letter from her father, she began to read, disappointed when it turned out to be a friendly correspondence from a distant cousin in the countryside on matters of no real import save the continued good health of a growing family.
Emmaline sighed deeply upon ending the reading and dropped the letter back down in front of her father. With a sad smile, he leaned across the table and took hold of her hand, squeezing gently.
“My dearest Emmaline, I find it best to put thoughts of valuable cargo crossing the ocean from my mind until I have a report in hand,” he explained to her softly, meeting her gaze. His large brown eyes were cloudy, and Emmaline could see why he was having trouble reading. He was no young man anymore and it only made Emmaline's anxiety stronger. How could he cope with failure of this magnitude should anything go disastrously wrong?
“How am I to do that when it is all I can think about?” Emmaline asked, squeezing her father's hand in return. How greatly she loved him, even more so now that he had placed his trust in her.
“Do you not have a Season to prepare for?” her father asked. He released her hand and leaned back in his chair. Regarding her with a raised eyebrow, he did not miss the way she cringed. “A young lady your age should be all abuzz with the prospect of such a thing.”
