Something fragile that had been stretched taut in her chest for the years since her sister’s death snapped. She slumped against the door. “Please, don’t do this. I swear, I won’t do a single thing wrong for the rest of my life. I’ll use every penny of my dowry to help others, and I’ll even stay out of London if—”
“Your dowry? It was never yours. And now it’ll be needed as further enticement for the vicar and his son. After all, they’re getting damaged goods.”
The punch of his vitriol landed in her gut. She gathered every last bit of strength she had and yanked open the study door. She lifted her skirt and half-ran, half-stumbled to the staircase and up the stairs, tumbling once and nearly falling backwards. The noise drew the attention of a footman, whom she motioned away with flailing arms as she struggled to her feet and flew the rest of the way to her room. Her room for the moment, perhaps even a for a month, while her father made the arrangements to marry her off. But after that, she’d never be welcome here again.
For the past year, she’d a plan, and with it, a future. And always, woven into the fabric of her life, she’d had her family.
Now all those things were gone.
Every dream and scheme she’d carried in her heart for so long had evaporated during those brief, terrible minutes in her father’s study. And like her dreams, soon everyone she loved would be taken from her, too.
Sorrow bent her in two. She wrapped her arms over her belly and crumpled to the floor in the middle of the room. Finally, tears came, tears that had been pent up for two long, lonely years. She lay on the floor sobbing. No one came to hold her. She watched dusk rise outside her window, then witnessed its disappearance into the dark of night. No one was there to share her grief.
No one came to see her, to comfort her, to so much as acknowledge her existence. As she’d feared would happen since the day of Eleanor’s death, she was now utterly alone in the world.
* * *
Days after the dreadful evening at the opera, Daniel sat uncomfortably in the leather chair behind his father’s desk in the Hallsworth London townhouse. He finished reading the paperwork Granville had brought for him to review, regarding the used ocean-liner they’d just added to the fleet, now the largest ship they owned, and the first one capable of transatlantic voyages. It would be the last deal he would complete on English soil.
He’d spent enough time trying to convince himself he wanted all of this—his parents’ country properties, the London townhouse, the study that used to belong to the marquess—and that the restoration of his title and redemption of the Hallsworth name would make him into a proper English peer. Securing a respectable marriage to one of England’s better families to do it, a family like that of Lady Anastasia, would have been the jewel in the crown of his accomplishments.
Unfortunately, he’d made quite the cock-up of that two days earlier, informing her after just one visit with her family that he was leaving England after all. He’d finish his redemptive journey, receive the title from the Committee, and leave behind a well-managed estate, as well as an endowment for charitable causes. But he wouldn’t stay here and play lord of the manor. Now he only need break it to Granville and Swimmer, who sat across from each other at the gaming table Daniel had bought for future evenings they’d spend together, evenings that would never materialize now.
“Is there a problem?” Granville asked.
Daniel shook his head. “No. The accountants have done a thorough job. I am wondering why you’re joining us in this purchase, though,” he said to Swimmer.
“Always looking for good investment opportunities,” Swimmer said.
The man could spend the rest of his life making terrible investments and the dukedom would still be worth a fortune. Quite a large fortune. Daniel quirked an eyebrow.
“I suggested it,” Granville said. “There’s something I want to discuss with the two of you. Once the ocean liner up to Grayhall standards, I plan to take her to Argentina.”
He didn’t finish, as he was interrupted by a knock at the study door.
“Yes, Keats.”
The butler opened the door and bowed in Daniel’s direction. “Viscount Meriden to see you, sir.”
“Show him in.” As he steeled himself to deal with whatever threats Meriden had determined should be delivered in person, Daniel tossed back a slug of cognac and set it down on the desk.
“You’re a bastard, Hallsworth,” Meriden announced as he stalked into the room.
Daniel waved his hand to dismiss the butler, who closed the door behind him.
“Hell of a way to speak to a man in his own home,” Swimmer said.
Meriden turned toward Granville and Swimmer, surprise showing on his face.
“Go on,” Granville told him.
Meriden shook his head. “This is between Hallsworth and me.”
Granville and Swimmer looked at Daniel, waiting to follow his cue. He glanced at the glass doors leading to the back garden.
“The rain has stopped,” he said to his friends. “It might be a good time for you to get a breath of fresh air.”
Granville glanced at his shiny black shoes. “But I just had these—”
Swimmer glared at Granville as he walked past him.
“Fine.” Granville scowled, but followed Swimmer outside.
The two men didn’t go far, keeping Daniel in their sightline. They didn’t trust Meriden, and neither did he. In all the years of being friends and foes, Daniel had never seen such a look of blind rage on the man’s face as he saw now.
He circled around to the front of his desk. If he was going to take a punch, he’d damn well do it standing up. “Is Emme all right?”
“No, she is not all right. She will never be all right again.”
Was it true, was she destroyed by their night together, by what he’d done to her? They’d both faced that morning heartbroken, but she’d seemed to move on. She was finding peace. She’d found her purpose, and before Daniel left for Spain, he’d give her a gift that would support that purpose for the rest of her life.
“Are you trying to destroy my sister’s life because my father refused to accept you all those years ago?” Meriden asked. “Or is she your enemy because she turned down your marriage proposal, despite your nearly reclaimed title?”
“You don’t know anything about why she refused me. And I’m not trying to destroy her. I’d never hurt her. I’m doing everything in my power to protect her, to give her the life she wants, a life that doesn’t include me.”
“Then explain this.” He drew papers out his pocket and threw them in Daniel’s face.
As he unfolded the pages, he recognized his own seal. “The paperwork for my purchase of the building on Bond Street. This was to be kept private. How did you get this?”
“The owner sent it to my solicitor.” Meriden began pacing. “In case I saw fit to best your offer.”
“That bloody cheat. And after I offered him top dollar.” He had also demanded the scoundrel’s utmost discretion. Were word to get out that Daniel was behind the trust that would own the mercantile run by fallen women, his shiny new reputation would be tarnished once more.
“So you admit it! You admit you stole my sister’s dream out from under her, putting her in such a state that she...”
Cold dread settled in Daniel’s belly. “She what?”
Meriden didn’t answer. Just paced. And shook. And paced some more.
“Meriden, what did you mean about me destroying your family? What do they have to do with any of this?”
“On the day of the opera, I learned the building owner wouldn’t lease the storefront to us.” Meriden scrubbed his hand over his eyes. “Emme knew I couldn’t secure the funds to buy the building, so she decided she’d do it. She asked my father for her dowry, and when he insisted she marry and forget about the Spinsters’ Club, she told him she couldn’t marry and why. Told him she’d made a terrible decision, and what it was.”
“No. Dear God, no.” Daniel leaned forward and
propped his head in his hands until the nausea passed. “She should have come to me. Or laid it all at my feet. She should have sent her father here to call me out, not take the blame herself.”
“You?” Meriden went still. “What are you blathering on about? She told him about Sanderson.”
At the instant Daniel wished he could snatch back his words, their meaning dawned on Meriden, and his face went from red to purple.
“You really are a bastard, aren’t you? In every sense of the word.”
And there it was, what his former best friend truly thought of him. What he would always think of him. “Watch yourself, Meriden.”
The fist to his jaw came so fast, Daniel teetered backwards before his mind even registered the attack. “Bloody hell.” He pulled his kerchief from his pocket and blotted blood from the corner of his mouth.
The garden doors swung open and Granville and Swimmer dashed back into the room.
Granville scowled as he looked at Daniel’s face. “Really, Meriden, I know he’s an ass, but was that necessary?”
Swimmer angled himself between the men.
“I’m not planning to hit him again.” Meriden gripped his right fist in his left hand. “I think I might have broken a bone.”
“Come on.” Swimmer took Meriden by the shoulder and pulled him toward the garden. “There’s a fountain of cold water that’ll feel like heaven on that.”
“Is he really more concerned about that son-of-a-bitch’s hand than he is about my face?” Daniel asked as Swimmer led Meriden to the garden.
Granville rolled his eyes. “We’re all duly worried about your pretty face, Hallsy, but you’ve been goading him since you set foot back in the country. And while I’m not sure exactly what else you’ve done to raise his hackles, I can hazard a few guesses. I’d do the same if you had designs on one of my sisters.”
“Designs? More like dreams.” Daniel dropped into the leather chair behind the desk. “Dreams you’d think I would have relinquished in the past five years.”
“So, it was the dream of Lady Emme that brought you home. Not your parents’ dream for you after all.”
Daniel nodded slowly. “I suppose that’s the best way to put it. I didn’t know it yet when I was hanging off that sail rigging over the Bay of Biscay.”
Granville shook his head. “I had visions of me explaining to your solicitors that they’d worked so hard all those years to restore your title, only to have the future marquess end himself and his lineage with one stupid plunge into the sea, from a docked ship no less.”
“I seem to recall you said the fall wouldn’t kill me.”
Granville shrugged. “It could have gone either way. I wasn’t about to tell you that.”
“But you understand, don’t you? Without Emme, there’s nothing left for me here. Maybe someday I’ll half-heartedly marry and produce an heir for my mother’s sake, and send him back to England when he’s old enough for Harrow.”
“Heaven help him.”
“Speaking of help, it turns out you were right all along—I’ll need yours.” Admitting that to Granville hurt Daniel more than his throbbing lip. “And Swimmer’s.”
Granville frowned. “What can Swimmer do for you that I can’t?”
“Call the Committee for Privileges to a meeting at his club,” Daniel answered. “I’ve had enough of their games. It’s time they reinstate my title.”
Then he could tell the solicitors to stop dallying about setting up an anonymous trust and just buy the storefront for the women’s mercantile outright. Emme’s dire circumstances meant he no longer had the luxury of hiding behind anonymity to keep his name separate from the fallen women the shop would employ. But to hell with it. If England mattered little to him with Emme no longer in his life, his reputation mattered even less.
Granville clapped him on the back. “It’s about bloody time you stood up for yourself.” Granville poured a cognac for each of them and lifted his glass. “To the marquess. And to the duke, for helping him.”
Daniel sipped his drink and grimaced when the alcohol stung his split lip. “Speaking of the duke, why did you ask Swimmer to invest in a transatlantic shipping line with us? Grayhall has the assets to make the purchase without him.”
Granville took a swig of his own drink. “I thought it would do him good, that we’d be a positive influence on him. Though given your recent behavior, I might have misjudged it.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to leave him in your hands now, Granville, God help the man. But perhaps you should stay in London a bit longer, keep an eye on him.”
Granville cocked an eyebrow. “And if I happen to see Steady Eddie’s sister about town and send you regular missives about her, that would suit your purposes as well, I suppose.”
“It’s a thought.”
“Not a bloody good one,” Granville said. “I didn’t talk you and Swimmer into buying that gorgeous bit of American engineering so I could turn her over to another man. As I said earlier, I plan to take her to Argentina as soon as she is ready to go.”
Remembering how leaving on an adventure to Spain had saved him five years earlier, Daniel was seized by nostalgia. “Perhaps I’ll join you. How long will it take to get her up to Grayhall standards?”
“A few months.” Granville pursed his lips as he pondered the idea. “Now that thought is not a half-bad one, Hallsy. Settle your affairs here and in Spain, then we’ll be off to conquer the New World, like explorers of old.” He frowned. “But when our little adventure ends, promise me you’ll come back to England and give your life here another go.”
If five years hadn’t made England feel like home, another five months—or ten years—wouldn’t do the trick, either. “That’s a promise I can’t make. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to keep it.”
Voices in the garden made both of them glance at the back door.
“Now, for what I need to ask of you,” Daniel said.
Granville raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “A captain’s work is never done, is it?”
“Yes, woe is you. But seriously, do you recall mentioning that I might someday need Steady Eddie’s help? Turns out, I need Steady Eddie’s help.”
“I warned you. Now that you’re acting less like an ass and he’s had the opportunity to punch you in the face, I think Swimmer and I can convince him to be of assistance.”
For at least the thousandth time in his life, Daniel wondered what he’d done to deserve friends like his, who—despite their many, many flaws—were some of the best men he’d ever known. “Thank you, mate.”
Granville tossed back the rest of his drink and set his empty glass on the desk. “But I’ll warn you now, I won’t give up trying to convince you to return here someday. You might not believe this now, Hallsy, but Mother England always finds a way to bring her native sons home.”
Chapter 19
In the days since her father had disowned her and vowed to marry her off to a country vicar’s son nearly twice her age, Emme had gotten her emotions in check and her affairs in order. Now she stood in the bedroom that would be hers for only a few more hours, surrounded by trunks and valises.
She brushed down the front of her buttercup yellow skirt, which might not suit for the traveling she’d do this evening, but would be perfect for the last things she had to do in London before she left the city for good. She’d begun the day in one of her comforting gray mourning dresses, but when she’d looked at herself in the glass while the maid had buttoned it for her, she hadn’t see Eleanor’s sister. For the first time in a very long time, she’d seen only Emme, and dark gray didn’t suit Emme.
Standing beside her, Aunt Juliana took Emme’s hand. They’d seen each other every day for more than a year, and as hard as it would be to say goodbye to her mother, it would be nearly as difficult to part ways with her great-aunt.
“You’re sure there’s nothing else to be done for it?” Aunt Juliana asked.
“I’m sure. Even Edward says it’s for the
best, and you know he’s the last person who wants me to leave again.” Emme squeezed her aunt’s hand. “I worry, though, about what my father will say when he learns I won’t marry the vicar’s son and have run off to your house in Cambridge.”
“Let him say anything he wishes, the old windbag. And if he sees fit to put me out on the street as well, I’ll join you there, drafts or no drafts.”
Emme hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Her aunt’s old bones might do fine in the dilapidated old house during the summer months, but once the cold, damp winter set in, she’d be twisted up with joint pain. For the thousandth time, Emme wished Aunt Juliana and she had never returned from Spain, that Mother and Edward and her two best friends had moved to the sunny seaside town with them. There she went again, being a foolish child, the very thing her father always accused her of being.
She blinked fast to stave off the tears. She’d become pathetic. How had it come to this? She’d once had hopes, dreams, a future, no matter how lonely it might have been. Even without the companionship of a husband, she’d expected to spend the rest of her days surrounded by love. Maybe her father had never been able to love her the way he’d loved Eleanor, but her mother, brother, and aunt had loved her just as much, she was sure of that.
And Daniel…Why had she doubted him? Why had she thought he’d wanted to leave her five years ago? Why hadn’t she found some way to see him, to run away with him instead of Sanderson? And how would she ever survive this punishment for her cardinal sin?
Tomorrow would be the day the punishment became truly real. Tomorrow, she would begin her new life, exiled and alone.
A knock at the bedroom door startled both her and Aunt Juliana both out of quiet reveries. A footman announced that the carriage was ready, and Emme prepared herself for the final thing she would do before leaving London for good. With one last hug and a kiss to the cheek, she bid her aunt adieu.
“Remember to give Mother my letter when Edward arrives home without me.” She gave Aunt Juliana one last hug and a kiss on the cheek, then bid her adieu.
One Kiss From Ruin: Harrow’s Finest Five Book 1 Page 21