“It was memorable,” Emma said truthfully.
For an instant, she was tempted to tell her brother everything—but Lady Osgood’s hysterical threats rang in her head. She had given her word and couldn’t risk the other doing something foolish.
Swallowing, she said, “The truth is that I’d much rather go to work with you than to any ball. Shall we leave soon? There’s much to do and—”
“About that. We need to talk, Em.” Ambrose cleared this throat and set down his utensils. “You’ve been a marvel, and the partners and I are extremely appreciative for all you’ve done to help us recover from the fire. But a young woman like yourself shouldn’t be holed up in an office. You’ve known enough burdens, caring for the family all these years. I want more for you. Now is the time for you to enjoy yourself, to find happiness—”
“I know what I need to be happy,” she blurted out.
“Do you now?”
Her heart pounded. Ready or not, she had to lay out her proposal.
No time like the present—follow the wisdom of your heart.
“I want to work with you. As an investigator, I mean,” she said in a rush.
It wasn’t often that she saw Ambrose flummoxed. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious. With the new office and growing clientele, you need help. And I,”—she gave her brother a pleading look—“I need a purpose.”
“You have plenty to do.” Ambrose sounded bewildered. “You look after the girls.”
“They’re grown. They don’t need me like they once did.” Sorrow flickered at the reality. “They have lessons and fittings and outings to occupy their time now. When it comes to fashionable ways, Marianne is a far better mentor than I.”
“Then spend your time meeting eligible gentlemen. Don’t you want a husband, Em, one you could have your own family with?”
“I’ve not met a man whose morals I truly admire,” she said honestly. “If I were to marry, I would want a husband who shared my values and treated me as an equal partner.”
All her life, she’d looked up to her father and brother, men of principle and character who were devoted to their families. Although Ambrose had wed a wealthy woman, marriage hadn’t altered his essential nature. He continued to work, no longer out of necessity but because he believed in the pursuit of justice. His pride was such that when his office had burned down, he’d refused to take Marianne’s money to rebuild it. He’d gone from one lender to the next, trying to secure a reasonable loan. Just as things had begun to look hopeless, he’d received backing from Hilliard Bank.
’Twas proof, he’d said, that perseverance was the key to success.
“That’s because you haven’t met enough eligible gentlemen,” was Ambrose’s predictable reply. “You’ve been so busy taking care of everyone else that you haven’t had time to think of yourself.”
“Even so, the fact remains that I’m hardly marriage material.” Prosaically, she counted off the points against her on her fingers. “I’m managing, forthright, not to mention practically on the shelf—”
“You’re only four-and-twenty!”
“In theton, that makes me a spinster. Please, Ambrose,” she beseeched, “won’t you at least consider letting me join the family business?”
Ambrose sat back in his chair, his features somber. “It’s one thing for you to organize the office, another for you to engage in my line of work. It’s not as if I’m a greengrocer, and you’d be helping me to sell lettuce. The private enquiry business is fraught with peril. I won’t risk exposing you to danger, Em.”
“I helped with Mrs. Kendrick, didn’t I?” she said desperately.
“That was an anomaly. Most cases aren’t solved by giving an emetic to a ring-eating cat,” her brother said in exasperation.
Yes, but Emma had been theonly oneto suspect Snowball, Mrs. Kendrick’s long-haired Persian. Having cared for cats herself, she knew all about their penchant for gobbling up shiny objects. Tabitha, her own feline, had once swallowed a brooch; its removal had not been pretty, and for days after Tabitha had given her sour looks.
Thinking quickly, she said, “What if I only worked with elderly ladies and widows? How much trouble could I get into?”
Her brother gave her a baleful look. “Your question reveals your innocence.”
“You can supervise, and I’ll do whatever—”
“No, Emma. I cannot allow it.”
She opened her mouth to argue further, but the door opened.
