“Fifty thousand,” Worthington frowned.
“Is that all?” Dempwolf chuckled facetiously. “And what say we were to comply with her request. Who can believe she’d honor such a bargain?”
“I can,” Worthington said.
“Oh, Terrin,” Dempwolf sighed. “Tell me she’s not got hold of you that tightly.”
Worthington looked down again and Dempwolf shook his head.
“Do you know, I worried about entering into a partnership with you when we were first introduced,” Dempwolf said. “But the way people spoke of you… it was clear you’d established yourself a competent businessman, so I let my concerns about you go.” He poured himself another drink, still chuckling a little. “And when we were granted the Selaria charter, I had no hesitations handing the bulk of its operations over to your capable hands. But when it came to your little discovery I had doubts about you still. Whether you were the type of man who could be trusted to do the right thing.”
Capping the brandy he returned to his seat, taking two slow drinks before continuing.
“You should have known better than to boast in bed,” he warned. “Nothing can be gained from it. Fortunately for you, however, this little mishap is not so great a problem as you’ve made it out to be. It is an inconvenience—one that can be corrected.”
“Then what should we do?” Worthington asked.
“I would think that’s quite obvious,” Dempwolf said. “We silence the wench.”
Worthington swallowed hard. “How do you suppose we do that?”
“By any means necessary,” Dempwolf said. “She can’t be allowed to wander freely. Not with what she knows. Nor can she be allowed to hold this over our heads. She could return whenever it fancies her, and we’d be back to square one again. That’s a risk I’m not willing to take.”
“But perhaps there’s something we can do to appease her without—” Worthington began, but Dempwolf cut him off.
“You’re not listening,” he said. “There is only one course of action here.”
“What will you do?”
“What you should have done with her the moment she came to you with her demands. We’ll have to convince her to hand over the letters first. You can leave that to me,” he said. “No one’s going to put much stock in a whore’s rantings if she has no evidence. I’ll see to it that she doesn’t get the opportunity to divulge your little secret and clean up this mess of yours.”
“Perhaps we should just pay for the letters,” Worthington insisted. “It would be the simplest way. Perhaps then we deny her ticket out of the city. Keep an eye on her from—”
“Why pay for something when you can get it for free?” Dempwolf interrupted. But then he gave Worthington a questioning look as though a thought had suddenly disturbed him. “What’s going here? Are you truly so enamored that you honestly hope she’ll still be here for you when all of this blows over? Is that it?”
Worthington couldn’t say anything, but he felt caught out in the open. Dempwolf had struck home. Was it truly so foolish a thought? It seemed so now that he heard it spoken out loud like that. But… still.
“Listen,” Dempwolf said, rising from the chair and joining Worthington. He clasped a hand around his shoulder and gripped him close. “If we’re to be partners after this little hiccup of yours then there’s restitution to be made. As far as the girl is concerned, we do it my way. You’re too close to her to handle this rationally, I think. Otherwise you may walk out of this door and your problems will multiply. However, if she cooperates, then no trouble comes to anyone.”
“But—” Worthington started.
“No negotiations,” Dempwolf insisted. “This is the way it must be.”
He stared long and hard as Worthington struggled with the decision. He was in a bind. He’d played into his advantage so well, but now his moves were catching up with him. Margarete had no idea how many pieces in this game she was threatening. Unfortunately, at this point, Worthington wasn’t sure what he could do. To try to preserve her was to risk exposing himself and all he’d ever earned.
The image of long years locked away in the Steep surfaced in his mind and made his stomach go cold. He let out a long sigh and turned away from Dempwolf.
“Very well,” he said. “I’ll tell you where you can find her.”
PART II
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Breakfast
IT HAD BEEN A REAL disappointment when Emmaline was forced to return home early with Edmond. She’d been having such a wonderful time with Stoddard and to be coerced into a carriage with Edmond against her wishes brought her spirits back down to the ground. He’d been a dull partner at the ball, with almost no interest in Emmaline whatsoever. Strangely, however, Edmond’s demeanor had shifted completely as he made a particular effort in the carriage ride to engage her in conversation.
Emmaline hadn’t reciprocated. She had an inkling his father was behind his sudden change of heart.
But Edmond wouldn’t be discouraged, and so Emmaline had spent the better part of their return staring out the window into the dark as she listened to Edmond speak of his many accomplishments. Despite their efforts, however, her mind lingered on the young mechanist. He’d swept in and somehow managed to redeem her when she had convinced herself she was unredeemable. Not only had he danced with her, but he’d turned the room’s perception of her.
Much to his own misfortune, she realized.
The next morning, Emmaline was in a particularly lively mood. Such a mood, in fact, that she was up just as the first rays of light came pouring into her windows. Unable to wait, she dressed herself in one of the simpler dresses her father had bought. It was still a challenge without assistance, but she managed in time. She was just finishing up when Anne came to her room to wake her.
“My goodness, miss. I would have expected to find you all tuckered out and sleeping like a log after such a long night, what with all your talking and dancing. Where did you stow away all this energy this morning?”
“Nowhere,” Emmaline smiled, skipping past her and looking herself over once more in the mirror to be sure nothing was amiss. “It’s just a beautiful day.”
“Aye,” Anne smiled knowingly. “I suspected as much.”
“What did you suspect?” Emmaline asked, flattening a ruffle at her side and tugging her bow to make it as luscious as she could manage. It was difficult without Anne’s help, but Anne noticed Emmaline’s fretting and offered a hand.
“The young miss has her mind on a boy,” Anne teased.
“Hush!” Emmaline scolded, though she had to fight hard to contain the smile which blossomed on her face and the color which rose in her cheeks.
Anne smiled too. “It is a boy then,” she winked.
Emmaline realized Anne had only been guessing and felt quite foolish that she hadn’t held onto her secret longer. But, to her defense, she’d never been one for keeping secrets. She wouldn’t even say she had anything worthy of keeping all her life until last night.
“It’s as plain as the glow in your face,” Anne said. “I could have spotted it in your smile a mile off. There must have been quite a bit of dancing then. What is the young man’s name?”
“I don’t think I should say,” Emmaline defended.
“Oh, come on now,” Anne urged. “You can’t leave me like that. It’ll be difficult trying to think about anything else if you don’t stop bouncing about across the room. Did your father introduce him to you? Or was it someone else who caught your eye?”
“It’s nothing,” Emmaline insisted, trying to slip away as she made for the door. Anne was clearly enjoying herself as she chased after her.
“Do tell!” Anne begged, laughing.
But Emmaline had already stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her tightly to bar Anne from following. She giggled a moment to herself as Anne tested the knob, but she soon stopped trying and Emmaline skipped on through the hall and down the grand staircase.
Something
really was different about her. She felt different, as if the many butterflies she’d been carrying with her had been let out. Replaced with… well, Emmaline wasn’t quite sure. Something beautiful. Something precious.
A secret.
The feeling dwarfed anything she’d felt before. It felt more significant than all her fretting about the ball or any of her fancy dresses—even her attachment to her shell necklace. It was a peculiar possession, and it brought a rich smile to her face.
The smell of breakfast wafted through the house and Emmaline’s attention was drawn toward the dining room. She felt particularly peckish after her long night, and it beckoned to her. A few of the other servants gave her surprised looks as she hurried past. It was odd to see her up so early. Usually she was coming down the stairs about the time her parents were finished with their meal.
This time, however, when she entered the dining room she found her father, mother, and uncle sitting quietly while they ate. Her father had a morning paper laid out next to him though he didn’t seem particularly interested in it. He was bent over his food, his eyes heavy and his expression grave.
Emmaline wasn’t certain where he’d gone last night, but she sensed it had not been a pleasant call. She reigned in her enthusiasm a little.
“Would you look at this?” Uncle Lewis said with pleasant surprise. “Look who’s up with the crow.”
“Good morning,” Emmaline smiled at him.
“Good morning,” he smiled back. “We could use a ray of sunshine about now.”
“Good morning, father. Good morning, mother,” Emmaline greeted in turn. “May I join you?”
Her father waved his hand and Geoffrey came forward quickly to set a place opposite her uncle. Emmaline took the seat and soon her plate was filled with a hot meal. She dug in with enthusiasm.
“And she has an appetite!” her uncle added, peering over his glasses. “Aren’t you perfectly pleasant this morning.”
He said it with a glance at her parents, and Emmaline’s smile wavered as she noticed the strained expressions on both their faces. In fact, a grim atmosphere hung over the entire table on what otherwise should have been a perfectly enjoyable morning.
“Perhaps you can be of some assistance,” Uncle Lewis said. “I’ve had a business idea I was just putting past your father. However, he doesn’t seem to find it as plausible as I do.”
“What’s the idea?” Emmaline asked.
“A new type of shipping vessel,” Uncle Lewis explained. “The first of its class. One that can travel well out of reach of both storm and pirate.”
“That sounds good.”
“It is! Isn’t it?” Uncle Lewis smiled. “Consider a capsule in which men could float beneath the water. No way to spot it as it crossed the sea. No waves to break against its hull. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“It would,” Emmaline agreed. “But wouldn’t that be a little…” She struggled to find the word.
“Daring?” Uncle Lewis probed.
“Expensive,” Worthington interjected.
“Cramped?” she said. “To go so long underwater like that. How would you breathe?”
“Perhaps,” her uncle conceded. “I still have to figure out the air issue.”
“It would never work,” Worthington said. “Your men would suffocate before they’d left harbor. And even if you were able to find some way to store enough air for a crew, the ship would have to surface as often as they needed to breathe. You would lose as much time as you gained. Far more, in fact. Men were not meant to troll the ocean depths.”
“Shortsighted men said the same things about the skies,” Uncle Lewis countered, “yet now we have fleets of ships touring the skies. What makes this any less possible?”
“It would take years to develop the kind of technology you’re speculating,” Worthington said. “Well before you’d ever see a return on your investment of both time and money.”
“But with a wealthy benefactor,” Uncle Lewis pointed out, “who could shoulder that burden for a time without suffering unnecessarily, perhaps it could be done. And the victory would be divided in equal shares.”
Worthington huffed a heavy breath through the fibers of his mustache. He cut into his food with determination and Uncle Lewis took the cue and let the topic go for now.
Emmaline didn’t know what to think of her uncle’s idea. It was a peculiar thought, to be sure—men sailing under the water. Yet, it reminded her of the conversations she’d had with Stoddard while they danced. The way he talked about his plans and ideas, it appeared simultaneously impossible and compelling.
Had someone told her when she was still in Sorrento that a man existed with a mechanical arm she would never have believed them. But that had been proven true. What other wonderful and strange things could exist? Emmaline honestly couldn’t say, but in that moment the world appeared open to nearly any possibility.
“And how was the rest of the ball?” her father asked.
“Oh, yes,” Mary said, seizing her opportunity to join the conversation. “The ball. I’m sure your father is dying to hear how it went, since he clearly couldn’t find enough reason to stay and find out for himself.”
She glanced daggers at Worthington and Emmaline felt the last of her pleasant mood run out of her toes. Clearly her mother knew about her abandonment. Emmaline knew she was expected to resent him for it, but secretly she was rather pleased that he’d not stayed. It had given her the freedom to spend her time with people of her own choosing. She’d actually enjoyed herself.
“The ball was lovely,” she said. “I’ve never seen such a grand hall in all of my life.”
“I trust that Farley showed you around,” Worthington said.
“No,” Emmaline said. “Not really.”
Her father looked up with a severe eye. “No?”
“After I sprained my ankle dancing, there was little they could do for me but let me rest,” Emmaline explained. “I didn’t want to ruin their evenings as well.”
“They should have sent you home then,” Worthington said. “Were you not introduced to anyone else?”
Emmaline shook her head.
“What about Bevin? Or Matterfield?” Worthington asked. “Sinclair?”
“Come, Terrin. You can’t be too upset with them for not doing their duty,” Mary smiled, though Emmaline saw no warmness in it.
“He very well should have,” Worthington said. “What was he doing all that time?”
“You would know that if you’d been there,” Mary snapped.
“I was detained,” Worthington barked.
“And just whose fault was that?”
There passed a moment of unpleasant silence and Emmaline and her uncle exchanged concerned looks. Her parents’ glared at one another, their haggard expressions boring into one another.
Was it really so bad that her father had been called away? Emmaline wondered.
“And… how is your ankle,” her uncle asked.
“It’s fine,” Emmaline said.
“Not only was Farley useless but his son maimed my daughter,” Worthington huffed.
“It wasn’t his fault, father,” Emmaline explained. “I lost my footing while I was dancing. Farley and his son were perfectly accommodating.”
“He should have sent you home sooner,” Worthington insisted. “It’s no good for you to be useless where everyone could see you.”
“I was alright,” Emmaline insisted. “And Stoddard stayed with me until I was recovered.”
“Who?”
Emmaline’s stomach lurched into her throat when she realized what she’d said. Her father would not be pleased if he knew she’d spent the majority of the evening with someone outside the meritocracy.
“Well?” her father asked. “Who is this Stoddard?”
“He’s…” she started, scrambling for the words. “He’s… a doctor!”
“Oh?” Worthington said. “Farley sent for a doctor? Good. At least he had some sense last night.”
Emmaline didn’t correct him. Her heart beat quickly in her chest as she realized how dangerously close she’d come to revealing her secret to her father. How would he take it if he knew she’d spent the entire evening with a common tradesman? Yet, even as she thought it, she knew he was no common tradesman at all. As far as she was concerned he was the most gentle man in the entire room that night.
“Well, we will need to arrange more opportunities for you to be seen out in society,” Worthington concluded. “A sprained ankle is excusable, but it won’t do to have you dismissed as clumsy. Your governess should have prepared you better.”
Emmaline’s mother pursed her lips, but didn’t argue with him further.
“Tomorrow we have been invited to attend the festival races,” Worthington said, lifting a letter from a stack beside his newspaper. “And I have been informed that Edmond is particularly anxious that you attend.”
“Oh?” her mother asked. “That sounds promising. Perhaps not all opportunities were forfeit then?”
“Evidently,” Worthington sighed as he set the letter down.
Emmaline sank a little in her chair. She’d been wrong. The day didn’t seem so cheery after all.
There’s no reason for this to be more difficult than it has to be, Terrin. You have obligations you must see to, and I should leave you to them. Should I stay here now I would only complicate the matter.
—Excerpt from Margarete’s Notice to Worthington
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Threat
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU haven’t decided where you’re going yet?”
Faye walked with Margarete on their way back from the plaza, the two of them laden with parcels and baskets. Along with their routine chores they’d been sent to visit the seamstress for a new pair of dresses for Hetty. One for work and one for… well, work. It was one of the gestures Charlotte made for each new girl who came under her care. Their livelihood was all about the impressions they made, and if Hetty could attract the right people early, then she would be all the better for it.
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