Albert was a thin man with dark eyes, so unlike her father’s vivid blue eyes. He frowned over his account books, but he raised his head when he heard her approach.
“Ah, there you are. Remember to make yourself scarce today. It is imperative that these meetings go well.”
“Yes, Uncle Albert.”
“Oh, and about the ball in three weeks—I shall have to escort you myself. We cannot afford a chaperone. I hope that does not upset you?” Albert’s gaze was cool, as though he expected her to throw a tantrum.
“That’s fine, Uncle Albert. Thank you. I should be glad of your company.” She meant it. She and Albert may not have chosen to live together, but the tragic consequences of her parents’ death now bound them, and only Albert stood between her and the world.
Emily looked down at the worn carpet of her uncle’s office, feeling wretched and hating that feeling more than anything. She loved life and wasn’t afraid of the world. Her parents had raised her in high spirits, and she naturally longed for a life of adventure. With a head for mathematics, a tongue for languages, and actual cleverness, Emily had hoped her life would be so much more fulfilling. But now it all seemed so dark, so hopeless. Her uncle’s clear disdain for her only deepened the melancholia that had taken over her spirits in the last year.
Her mother and father had given her the gift of unconditional love, and Emily was only now beginning to realize how rare such a thing was. There was no one in the world now who loved her so completely. Now she felt utterly alone.
“Well, so long as you aren’t bothered by my attending, we can stay at the ball for a few hours that evening. That should give you a chance to snatch up a few dozen hearts.” Albert’s eyes softened slightly, but then they turned hard again. “Just make sure you find a man whose pockets are well lined. I won’t have much of a dowry for you, and that bloody fool Garrity won’t likely provide you with anything until you’ve got a man properly leg shackled, assuming the tight-fisted man will even approve of your choice.”
“Yes, Uncle,” Emily replied, but the words left a bitter taste upon her lips.
“Now, go and make yourself invisible.” He waved his hand, dismissing her.
Emily headed down to the kitchen to see what she could do to assist her uncle’s cook. After two hours, she believed it was safe enough to venture upstairs again. But the moment she stepped into the hall, she froze at the sight of her uncle and a man speaking to him not ten feet away.
“Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” Her uncle was almost pleading with the man. “At least give yourself a few days to decide.”
The man’s voice was cold. “Silver mines are a nasty venture. I don’t believe the markets will hold them up.”
Emily knew she needed to leave, but the door to the servants’ stairs had creaked loudly, drawing the attention of both men. Her uncle paled as the other man, whose back had been to her, turned to face her.
He was tall, middle-aged, and his once relatively attractive face was marred by an underlying cruelty that seemed to glow out of his beetle-black eyes.
“Who is this, Albert?” the visitor asked. He stared at her in surprised fascination.
“My niece . . . My brother’s child. He and his wife passed away a year ago. I’m sorry she intruded upon our discussion.” Albert shot Emily a glare, jerking his head to the side to signal her to leave.
“No, she’s not intruding at all. Come here, child. I wish to look at you.” He waved to a spot on the floor only a few feet away from him, summoning her like some sort of dog.
Emily obeyed, to avoid seeming rude and causing further damage to her uncle’s meeting.
The man caught her chin and raised it up so their eyes met.
“You are a pretty thing,” he murmured to himself. Then he turned to Albert. “She favors her mother, I assume?”
“Yes, very much. Clara was a veritable beauty.”
Emily wanted to look away from the man, but it was hard to avoid his gaze without jerking her chin free of his hand.
“Clara . . . I knew her once. Such an extraordinary likeness.” The man spoke to her uncle as though Emily were a portrait, or a sculpture. A possession.
Albert fidgeted behind him. “Er . . . Yes, well, I’m in the process of trying to marry her off.”
The man’s possessive gaze held her frozen as he swept his eyes over her. “Are you, now?” His fingertips lingered at her throat. “Parr, I changed my mind. I shall invest with you after all. Double the number we originally discussed.”
The man smiled, and Emily’s instincts screamed at her to run, but her training as a lady held her in place.
The man dropped his hand and turned away from her. Emily took the chance to run then. She scampered up the stairs like a frantic child and rushed to the small library, closing the door behind her. The shelves of books inside whispered comforting words of distraction to her. She wasn’t a fool. That man had changed his mind about investing with her uncle only after he’d seen her. She knew what that meant. She needed to find a husband, and soon.
Albert escorted Mr. Blankenship to the door, an uneasy mixture of pleasure and dread warring within him. Blankenship was wealthy and had many influential contacts at his disposal. An investment from him was a huge boon, one that would help Albert stay afloat another year.
But Albert wasn’t an idiot. He had seen the way the man had stared at Emily. He desired her, and Parr had heard whispers of Blankenship’s cruelty toward women.
Once, years ago, Emily’s mother had caught his eye. Albert pretended to know none of this, but his brother, Robert, had told him of another suitor vying for Clara’s hand. He said the name Blankenship only once, but Albert, while not as clever with investments as he wished he could be, had a brilliant memory.
It was one of the reasons why he’d wanted Emily hidden away. The two men he had invited here to speak about business opportunities were both frightening in their own respects. Blankenship had a terrifying reputation and a darkness about him, while the Duke of Essex, a hot-tempered young man, was said to duel upon any slight disagreement. The last thing Albert wanted was to have either of those men interested in Emily.
He did care about the girl, but the unexpected financial burden of caring for her was entirely unwelcome. The frustration from his inability to deal with that burden had made him unkind to her at times, something he was both ashamed of and unwilling to acknowledge.
He had sought in vain for support from Clara’s distant cousin, Mr. Garrity, but the man sent only a meager amount of her trust to Albert each month, not even enough for the child, let alone him. Only a marriage would see the child off his hands. He had no designs or illusions that he could marry her to someone who would share a bit of her inheritance with him. No man would willingly give up money he claimed as a husband, but at least Albert would no longer be responsible for her.
Albert peered through the curtained window as he watched Blankenship climb into his coach. Once he was safely away, Albert let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Then he returned to his office to prepare for his meeting with the Duke of Essex later that afternoon.
A sleek sloop sailed into London Harbor at midday. The Pool of London was teeming with vessels carrying goods from the West Indies, like sugar and rum, their aromas mingling with the dirty air hovering above the Thames. Other boats carried tea and exotic spices from the East, wine from the Mediterranean, and even furs, timber, and hemp from Russia and the Baltic.