by Sara Cardon
A blend of voices drew Emmeline’s attention to the door through which the viscount had disappeared. It seemed her peace was to be short-lived. Several matrons, fans in hand, gathered in a tight circle. She was about to move from her hiding place when the conversation became discernible.
“Will he really declare himself this evening?”
“Everyone knows it for a fact.” The woman who answered spoke with conviction, as if daring anyone to question her.
“But who? Who does he plan to offer for?” asked another.
The topic of their conversation roused Emmeline’s curiosity before she remembered she shouldn’t be eavesdropping.
“I don’t think he particularly cares. Rumor has it Lord Anslowe has a list of prospects. Goodness knows there are plenty of women with a dowry to suit his needs.”
“What are his needs?” A timid voice asked the very question Emmeline wished to know.
“Someone with enough money to save his estate, of course. His father’s gambling debts left him barely solvent. All he wants is to be free to pursue his passion for politics.”
Strange how a few gossipers could lay out a man’s life in the course of a short conversation. Did Lord Anslowe feel trapped? She couldn’t imagine it. At least not the way she did.
A scoff. “But why would he wait until the end of the Season when all of the prime fruit has already been picked?”
“He was too busy with his beloved Parliament to be bothered. And he knows he can snap his fingers and have any number of women who fit the bill.”
“I suppose so.”
Emmeline really should be getting back to Mama, though she dreaded it. She fiddled with her glove a moment.
“But who do you suppose?”
“Miss Jennings, with her twelve thousand. Mark my words.”
“Why would he agree to put up with her constant wailing when he could have the pretty Miss Hastings for only a few thousand less?”
Did Lord Anslowe truly not care who he married? All at once, her heart began to pound erratically, as an idea took shape in her mind. Though such an arrangement would fall far short of a love match, at least she would be making her own choice.
She worried her lip, and took a moment to think. What might she say to entice him?
No, it was too bold. Too daring. But she was desperate. Ready to try anything if it meant escaping Mama’s plans for her. The worst he might say was no, leaving her in the precise position she found herself now: unattached and stuck with a mother unwilling to let her forget it. Stowed away into a bleak and miserable future of spinsterhood.
A strange weightless sensation overtook Emmeline at the thought of what she was considering. She slipped around the pillar and moved to the far door, reentering the ballroom.
She surveyed the crowd, looking for someone of Lord Anslowe’s height. His chestnut brown hair that always looked a bit rumpled, as if he couldn’t be bothered to do it properly. There. He hadn’t made it very far into the ballroom. He stood in a small circle with Miss Hastings at his side.
She took the opportunity to study Miss Hastings. She was a far sight prettier than Emmeline, with her golden hair and sparkling blue eyes. But her teeth were crooked and Emmeline’s were straight. She shook her head. What a silly thing to consider.
When she looked next Lord Anslowe was leading Miss Hastings and her ten thousand pounds away. To dance? To the verandah? Where he was planning to propose? It was now or never.
They were coming Emmeline’s way. She stood only a few feet away from the door that led out to the balcony. Her stomach knotted up and her lungs seemed to have forgotten how to draw in air. Closer.
Lord Anslowe leaned toward Miss Hastings. “You have many enticing qualities, Miss Hastings.”
Before she could stop herself, she reached out and laid a hand on Lord Anslowe’s sleeve. He turned and suddenly the full weight of his gaze was upon her. “Pardon me, Lord Anslowe, but I must speak to you.” Somehow she forced strength and purpose into her voice. “It is a matter of some urgency.”
His mouth twisted with a hint of curiosity. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Emmeline noted the perturbed look that had crossed Miss Hastings face, but with Lord Anslowe’s deep brown eyes upon her, she barely gave it thought.
Would he agree to speak with her? A woman he’d never been introduced to? She couldn’t begin to guess what he might be thinking. He turned back to Miss Hastings. “You’ll excuse me a moment, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Miss Hastings gave Emmeline a pinched look before releasing his arm.
Emmeline exhaled. Lord Anslowe fixed his attention upon her, as if waiting for her to do or say something. “Perhaps we could step outside?” she managed. Drat her breathy voice.
He nodded, still staring at her. She preferred enjoying his handsome features when his eyes weren’t boring into her. “Shall we?” he said at last, extending his arm.
This time the cool air on the balcony was anything but calming. In fact, all alone with Lord Anslowe, it seemed rather warm. Her mouth was suddenly dry. When was the last time she’d spoken to anyone outside of Mama’s hearing? With her pulse thrumming in her ears, Emmeline dove right in, afraid she would otherwise lose her nerve. “You’ll excuse me for being so bold, Lord Anslowe. I heard you were in the market for a wife.”
He cocked his head.
She went on, determined to get it all out before he could speak. “My source insisted you weren’t overly particular about who, so long as the woman possesses a large dowry.”
Lord Anslowe swallowed, seeming to overcome his surprise. “And who is your source, if I might inquire?”
Heat rose in her cheeks. How she wished for a fan. “Does it matter?”
A smile brushed the corners of his mouth. “I suppose not, though I’d be curious to know.”
Perhaps easing into her proposal wouldn’t hurt. “Very well. I overheard it from a circle of gossiping matrons.”
Now there was real mirth in his eyes. “I see. Then I may as well confirm what they said is true. I am looking for a wife. And the size of her dowry does matter. I must be practical, after all.”
“Yes, of course,” she agreed. “That is precisely why I wished to speak to you. I am practically-minded as well.”
He inclined his head. “An admirable quality.” Something in the tone of his voice made her think him sincere.
“Yes, well.” She was making a fool of herself and now her little speech had been completely overturned. “But to my point. I would like to propose an arrangement. A bargain, really. You need a wife with a dowry. I would like to offer myself as a willing candidate.”
“Indeed?” he said, almost under his breath.
“I have a dowry of fifteen thousand pounds to recommend me.”
The only indication of surprise came in the form of the smallest lift of his brow. Then he gave a nod, as if in approval. Emmeline’s breath grew stilted. It seemed as though her lungs were trying to inhale and exhale simultaneously.
He leaned back against the pillar, crossing one leg over the other in a casual stance. “I suppose I am fortunate you intercepted me before I offered for Miss Hastings. Is that who the matrons predicted I would propose to?”
“Yes. Better her than the wailing Miss Jennings.”
“But you have a dowry of 15,000 pounds. Why were you overlooked as a possibility?”
Emmeline tried not to flinch at his question. Better to be upfront about the matter. “My father’s money comes from trade, my lord.”
He did the last thing she expected. He laughed. “You should know there’s nothing I like better than upending the old gossips’ expectations, so that counts as a point in your favor. What, exactly, are you hoping to get out of this arrangement? You don’t seem the type to fawn over titles, which is all I can really claim as an enticement.”
Emmeline rubbed her elbow, still sore from Mama’s bruising grip. “I am looking to escape my mother, Lord Anslowe. And the only possible way to do that is
through marriage.”
“A veritable she-dragon is she?”
She gave a little shrug, trying not to show how much depended on this conversation. How her entire future seemed to hang in the balance. “You might say that.”
His mouth pressed into a firm line. Indicating what, Emmeline couldn’t say. “So if I understand you correctly, if I ask you to be my wife you will agree?”
She hesitated. “Well, I think it might be wise for us to come to some sort of agreement about exactly what this arrangement would entail.”
“Besides marriage?”
“Within marriage.”
“It sounds like you have some specifics in mind. Please go on.”
She took a moment to collect her thoughts. There was no sense in rushing through this now that she had his attention. “I know politics are important to you,” she said finally.
One brow went up, and she could practically feel the waves of amusement rolling off him. But she went on doggedly. “You would stay here, in London. I have always wanted my own household. I could live in the country and oversee the matters of your estate.” It was perfect, really. “We would correspond, of course. To exchange any necessary information. And you could come for visits every other month, stay for a day or two while you see that everything meets your satisfaction.”
The whole thing sounded preposterous even to her own ears. Her breath hitched as she awaited his reply.
“And what about an heir?”
She hadn’t expected that, though of course she should have. To speak of such matters to a relative stranger! A fierce blush seemed to burn every inch of her skin. “The pressing reason for you to marry is the dowry, not an heir. That could come…later.”
“In an arrangement like this, I think it is best to be specific.” An indolent smirk. “How much later? One year? Two?”
“Five,” she managed, proud that her voice didn’t break. “I mean, since you’ll be in London and I’ll be…”
“You are practical, as you said.” He was fully grinning now. “Anything else?”
“I think that is all.” Her mouth grew dry under his scrutiny.
“So we have a bargain?”
She could only nod.
He stepped toward her, and Emmeline suddenly questioned the wisdom of proposing such an arrangement with someone so handsome. She needed to keep a clear head. The man was only marrying her for her money. And she was only marrying him to escape Mama’s clutches. Thank goodness the parameters they’d set would help her remember that.
“Well then, if I may?” His warm brown eyes took on a little glint.
She nodded her assent.
He stepped forward and took her hand in his. She could scarcely breathe. Never in her life did Emmeline expect for a man to look at her the way he was looking at her. His gaze was heavy, riveting.
“Will you marry me?” Lord Anslowe spoke low, and the rich timbre of his voice sent a shiver down Emmeline’s spine.
“Yes. I will.” Breathe, she reminded herself.
He leaned closer. “One more question, if I may be so bold?”
Emmeline nodded again, trying to project a calm she didn’t feel.
“Would you be so good as to tell me your name?”
Afterword
Author’s Note
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Dear Reader, thank you for reading this story. I hope you enjoyed it! As I’ve researched the Regency era, I’ve found fascinating historical details that I wanted to include in The Captain’s Lady.
The first is how the British Navy owned the seas. England’s victory over Napoleon can be attributed to the strength of their navy. I was drawn to one commander’s story in particular. Edward Pellew started as an underdog. He was a common sailor from a middle-class family, and without a lord following and promoting his career he wouldn’t have become an officer. But he gained supporters because of one heroic act after another. As a frigate captain, Pellew won the first battle during the Napoleonic Wars. He was offered a knighthood and kindly refused it, in part because he didn’t think he could afford the costs involved. King George insisted, however, and told Pellew’s lovely wife Susan that he would provide a yearly annuity. Pellew had a deep connection with the lower deck. He’s inspired many fictional characters in literature, including my character Jack.
I found the women who owned banks fascinating, especially in a time when few women had financial independence. The good men in their lives made sure these women had airtight legal arrangements to secure their money. And yet, as with all bank owners of the time, if their banks failed, then they faced full exposure—every asset, including property, would be forfeit. Harriot Mellon Coutts started as an actress and carefully saved her earnings until she was financially secure. She married Thomas Coutts and inherited her bank from her husband at his death. Sarah Child inherited from her husband as well, and she left the bank to her granddaughter Sarah Sophia Fane—who became Lady Jersey, one of the patronesses of Almack’s. These women were ahead of their time, and I enjoyed capturing a piece of their history in Lucy’s story.
A special thank you to writers Michelle Higham, Whitney Tolman, and Heidi Kimball for being the first readers and for your valuable feedback. A big thanks to Brooke Lewis for copy editing. And to my friend Shandi Routson, thank you for offering support in both writerly and non-writerly aspects of my life. And as always, I appreciate my family’s love and support.
Finally, thank YOU for reading The Captain’s Lady. I know your time is valuable. I’m thrilled to be a part of the Regency House Party series and to write for the joy of it!
About the Author
Sara Cardon craves happily ever afters. She has four kids, a dog, and a true-blue husband who laughs at her hero crush on George Washington. She and her family are putting down roots near Dallas, where there's plenty of wide-open sky, cattle, and sunshine.
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