“And I refuse to marry that man!” Margaret scoffed.
As she sat on the edge of the armchair and stroked their father’s greying hair, tears spilled from his sunken eyes. Camelia squeezed his hand, and Iris rubbed his shoulders gently.
“What of your friends, Father? They have wealth and influence. Could we not ask for their help?” Camelia asked.
“My only trusted friend is abroad,” their father replied, shaking his head. “And even if he were here, he owes me no favors. The sum is too great, Camelia. No one will lend money to a man already drowning in debt.”
“We cannot let Margaret go to that… that monster,” Iris said quietly, her tears spilling over, too. “His intentions are not those of a gentleman. He spoke of breaking her spirit. Camelia, you heard him!”
“I did,” Camelia said fiercely. “And I will not allow it. Margaret, you must understand that he does not simply seek a wife. I do not believe he will offer you any freedom. He is not a good man.”
“I am not afraid of him,” Margaret declared, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly. “I could face him. I could make him honor my terms. Why do you all treat me as a child? I am nineteen, not helpless!”
“Margaret, you do not understand!” Camelia snapped, her patience fraying. “He does not seek a wife! He seeks to make you a pawn in his cruel designs. A form of payment. You heard him—he wants to ‘tame’ you and ‘break’ you. Do you not see the danger?”
“Then what do you propose, Camelia?” Margaret asked sharply, her voice rising. “Shall we all be cast into ruin? I am not witless. If I can save us, why should I not try?”
“Because you simply cannot,” Iris interjected. “Camelia, tell her! Men like Montague are not swayed by courage; they thrive on destroying it. He will ruin you, Margaret, and laugh while doing it!”
Margaret’s eyes flashed. “And what would you have me do, Iris? Hide behind Camelia’s skirts all my life? If we do nothing, we lose everything. Our home, our name, and our future!”
“Enough! We will not lose anything or anyone.” Camelia rose, her hand still holding their father’s hand. “We will not tear ourselves apart. Margaret, your bravery is admirable, but it is our job to protect you from men like him. We will find another path.Iwill find another path.”
“But what path, my dear daughter?” their father asked so quietly that she almost missed it. His eyes were weary, and he looked older than usual. “We have no allies near enough, no funds to draw upon. Lord Montague has us ensnared like foxes in a trap.”
Camelia let go of his hand gently and paced the room, her mind racing with ideas.
Her father sighed loudly, and the sound made her stop and gently step towards him.
“Papa,” she began softly. “May I ask you something?”
He nodded slowly, uncertainty etched on his features. “Anything, my dear,” he murmured.
“How did it come to this?” She searched his face.
His shoulders sagged. “I… I misjudged a simple card game, Camelia. I thought I could manage… I believed I could handlethe debts, but I did not foresee…” His words faltered. “I only ever wanted to provide for you all, to keep you safe. And yet—” His voice broke. “I would never allow Margaret to be taken from us.Never.”
“We believe you, Papa.” Margaret put her head on his shoulder to ease his trembling.
Camelia’s heart clenched at the desperation in his eyes. She reached out and gently placed her hand on his arm.
“Papa, I know you would never willingly give her up,” she said soothingly. “But we must face the facts. Lord Montague does not bargain, nor does he care for what is just or right. He will act as he pleases, and if we cannot find a way to meet his demands… we are in grave danger.”
Her father swallowed hard. “Then what would you have me do? I am an earl, yet I am powerless!”
“You are not powerless,” Camelia corrected firmly. “But we must be realistic. Courage alone will not save us. We must be calculated, careful, and, above all, united.”
He smiled at her, the weight of shame and fear heavy upon him, yet a flicker of trust softened his expression.
Camelia wished that she believed her own words.
She drew a deep breath and turned to face her sisters, letting her voice carry reassurance. “We must remain calm, together. Fear will serve us no good here. I will protect you all, as best as I can. But we must face this with courage and care.”
Her sisters and father exchanged looks.
“What of Mr. Ellison, the solicitor? He has connections in London. Could he not negotiate a delay, or find a creditor willing to help us?” Iris asked.
“Ellison cannot work miracles,” their father replied, rubbing his temples. “And any creditor would demand terms as ruinous as Montague’s.”
