Luck Is No Lady (4 page)

It was almost two o'clock in the morning by the time the Chadwicks got home from the Hawksworths' ball. From the first week of the girls' debut, they had gotten into the habit of gathering in Emma's bedroom after each social event, regardless of how late it was, to discuss their progress. After readying herself for bed, Emma did not have long to wait before Lily and Portia arrived.

The girls had also changed into their nightclothes, and they settled on the bed while Emma sat at her vanity.

“So tell me, how did you enjoy the Hawksworths' ball?” Emma asked without preamble.

Portia groaned. She sat with her arms wrapped around her bent legs and her chin resting on her knee as Lily kneeled behind her, braiding her hair. “Dull, as expected. Why do the men in this town seem so intent on talking about nothing but themselves? They could all take lessons on how to conduct an interesting conversation.”

“What would you have them talk about?” Lily asked. “Is it not the purpose of conversation to get to know each other?”

“Yes, but I do not particularly care about how many estates they have spread across Britain or how many horses are in their stables. I would rather discuss something with a bit more substance.”

“That will come later,” Emma assured, sympathetic to the girl's frustration. “Has anyone in particular inspired a desire for more in-depth conversation?”

“I don't know.” Portia's brow furrowed. “The older gentlemen seem so lifeless and the younger gentlemen are clearly not interested in marriage. In truth, I am not sure I have any interest in it either.”

“How ridiculous, Portia,” Lily exclaimed as she tied off the braid she had finished plaiting into her sister's hair. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. “Of course you want to get married.”

Portia turned to fall back against the bed pillows, tucking the billowing length of her cotton nightgown over her bent legs. She threw her sister a look of exasperation. “Not everyone desires a husband as much as you, Lily.”

Lily blushed and replied quietly in her defense, “A husband is rather essential to starting a family.”

Emma smiled. “I noticed Lord Fallbrook sought you out for a dance tonight. He has been quite attentive lately. Has he given any indication of his intentions?”

“He is certainly effusive in his flattery,” Lily said after a thoughtful moment, “but I get the impression he talks that way with all women. He has not brought up the topic of marriage, if that is what you are asking.”

“If he continues to seek you out as he has,” Emma replied, “it should not be long before he declares himself.”

Lily kept her gaze lowered and did not provide a response.

Emma glanced toward Portia with a brow raised in question, but the girl just shrugged and gave a gentle roll of her eyes. Lily had a tendency to keep things to herself. The adage about still waters running deep applied perfectly to their middle sister. While Emma respected Lily's desire to hold certain thoughts and feelings private, she worried about the girl's tender heart.

Not for the first time, Emma wondered if she was doing the right thing by thrusting her sisters into society. Then she thought of the growing stack of bills in her desk drawer and Hale's additional threats, and she shored up her resolve.

In the near seven years between his wife's death and his own, Edgar Chadwick had lost himself to an infatuation with gambling. He would be gone from the house for days on end only to return bitter and depressed for having lost again. But it was her father's wins Emma had feared the most, knowing every pot he managed to claim shoved him only deeper into his obsession. She had done her best to counter his destructive behavior, squirreling away money when she could.

Clearly, it had not been enough.

Knowing how deep her father had gotten into his compulsion to risk every extra coin on another game of chance, she shouldn't have been surprised to discover evidence of the exorbitant personal loan tucked into the pages of an account book. Handwritten on a scrap of paper and dated just two days before her father's death, the note had barely looked legitimate.

She had to assume it was, considering the missives she had since received from Mr. Mason Hale.

Seeing her sisters both married to gentlemen of proper means was the only way to ensure they would be insulated from the damage their father wrought prior to his death. She rose from the vanity stool to join her sisters on the bed. Perching at the edge, she looked at them with an encouraging smile.

“Well, there are still several weeks left in the Season, and many more balls and soirees to attend.” She ignored Portia's groan of dismay. “I am sure there are gentlemen out there who are just right for each of you.”

Portia's expression remained doubtful, but this time, she did not argue.

Lily, however, cocked her head to the side with a studied expression. The gray eyes they all shared were warmer, deeper somehow, in the sensitive gaze of this sister. “And what about you, Emma?”

Emma stiffened.

“Indeed,” Portia added, a mischievous smile tilting her lips. “Is there a gentleman wandering the ballrooms of London who is a perfect match for you, as well?”

Narrowing her gaze, Emma looked between her younger sisters. Then she stood. “Do not be ridiculous. My Season came and went years ago. You know that.”

“Just because you are no longer a debutante does not mean you cannot meet someone and fall in love,” Lily insisted.

Emma smiled at Lily's endless optimism. “That is exactly what it means. I am twenty-five, an old maid. It is my job to see you both settled. I have neither time nor inclination for anything else. You two need to focus your attention on your own futures. Leave mine for me.”

“Well, it hardly seems fair,” Portia said with an emphatic scowl. “You have had years to fuss and plan for all of us. Not only Lily and me, but Papa. And before that, you took care of Mother. I would say it is time we returned the courtesy.”

Emma felt a sharp clenching of her insides at the thought of how ineffectual she had been in caring for her parents. Their mother's health had deteriorated unremittingly after she fell ill. The doctors had been unable to do much, and Emma had barely been able to keep her comfortable. And their father—Emma's stomach turned—he had been nearly impossible to reach after his wife's death. All of Emma's attempts at saving him from his destructive behavior had been for naught.

She had failed her parents. She could not fail her sisters.

“I do not think it would take much for you to garner a few dance partners, Emma,” Portia stated earnestly. “Perhaps if you made some attempt to look like you actually
wanted
to socialize… Ow!”

The youngest Chadwick's fondness for plain speaking earned her a none-too-subtle pinch from Lily.

Emma smiled to disguise her own heavy thoughts. “It is my duty to make sure you and Lily do not get into trouble. That is more than enough to keep me occupied.”

“I just think you would enjoy a dance or two,” Portia continued to argue. “Angelique can keep an eye on us.”

Emma and Lily looked at their younger sister with matching expressions of disbelief. After a moment, Portia gave a snorting chuckle. “Yes, well, perhaps not.”

Lily shook her head with a grin. “Do you know what she said to me just this morning? She asked if I had ever thought of dying my hair red. When I said I hadn't, she asked if she should consider it.”

“I do hope you dissuaded her from such a notion,” Portia said through her chuckles. “The ink black she colors it now is theatrical enough—can you imagine a garish red topping her head?”

“I would rather not,” Emma replied in full honesty.

Lily caught her gaze. Her gentle features were fixed into an earnest expression. “We just want to see you happy.”

“You know me,” Emma replied. “I am never happier than when I am sorting details and solving problems. Planning for the two of you to be presented to society, and witnessing your success, has been extremely rewarding.”

The girls glanced at each other. The look that passed between them was impossible to miss. They were not convinced.

Emma sighed, then firmed up her resolve and looked at both girls in turn. “We have all been rather isolated since Mother's illness. I expect the two of you to take full advantage of this opportunity to enjoy yourselves. Have fun, make friends with other girls your age, dance with interesting gentlemen.”

“And hunt for husbands,” Portia added irreverently.

Emma threw her youngest sister a look of mild reproach. “Yes. That is part of it.”

“What will happen with you once we marry?” Lily asked.

“Perhaps Angelique will have me to stay on as a companion,” Emma suggested.

“You expect us to allow you to hide away, barely more than a servant, while we cheerfully traipse off to new lives?”

“Portia,” Lily admonished.

“Well, it bothers me,” Portia argued, tossing her braid over her shoulder with an emphatic flip of her wrist. “I hate to think what you might be sacrificing in order to launch us into society.”

“As I told you before, I had some savings.” Emma smiled in an effort to put them at ease. “We are managing fine. Neither of you need to be concerned with such things.”

Portia eyed her with a hint of suspicion while Lily maintained an expression of calm curiosity.

“This whole situation is just so unfair,” Portia insisted.

Emma smoothed her features. It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that very little in the world was fair. But such a comment would do no good.

“There are no other options,” she answered simply.

“So we are just to flounce about town while you struggle to manage everything on your own?”

Emma smiled. “You hardly flounce, Portia.”

The girl snorted. “Well, of course I don't, but that is far beside the point, and you are prevaricating.”

“Are you certain there is nothing else we can do to help?” Lily asked gently.

“You can help by making the most of this Season,” Emma said. “Trust me to take care of the rest.”

“You are being awfully stubborn, you know,” Portia observed with narrowed eyes.

“Not stubborn. Sensible,” Emma replied, folding her arms across her chest. “I have everything in hand. There is no reason to pick apart the details.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake,” Portia exclaimed. She swung her feet to the floor and rose abruptly. “It is too late in the evening to go around and around with you, Emma. I am going to bed.”

Emma felt a twinge of guilt as her youngest sister strode from the room, Portia's dark braid swinging angrily against her back. If she thought it would do any good, Emma would tell her sisters everything. Unfortunately, the Chadwicks' circumstances were growing more dismal by the day. The best she could hope was that Portia and Lily might escape it altogether.

She looked at her other sister. Lily returned her gaze with steady patience and compassion. Emma wondered how the twenty-year-old always managed to maintain such a contented attitude. There was very little that could rouse Lily to a temper.

“I am sure you wish to retire as well, Lily,” Emma suggested with a smile. “Tomorrow will likely be busy. You will want to be well rested to receive your callers.”

“Yes, of course. I doubt I will ever get used to these late hours.” Lily slid from the bed and gave Emma a warm smile. “We do trust you, Emma. Good night.”

Tender emotion constricted Emma's chest. “Good night.”

Once alone, Emma slumped back against her pillows and released a heavy breath. The tension she had been hiding left her exhausted and agitated. Her shoulders ached and her stomach turned.

Perhaps she had been naive in believing it would be a simple matter to see her sisters settled with husbands. She certainly had not expected the extravagant costs involved in presenting two young ladies to elite society. The gowns and fripperies necessary to maintain the proper presentation were endless. The funds she had so diligently tucked away in the years after her mother's death were nearly depleted and her fear of their father's creditors was growing.

With trepidation, she shifted her gaze toward the small writing desk set in front of the window.

Most concerning of all were the continued demands she received from one Mr. Mason Hale.

Emma had done what she could to investigate the mysterious personal loan, but her father had been a terrible record keeper. Even after a thorough search of his personal documents, Emma found no additional reference to Mr. Hale at all.

Then, with all the preparations needed to launch her sisters into society and the move to Angelique's house in Mayfair, there had not been any time for Emma to clarify the issue further.

Just a few weeks into her sisters' debuts, a note arrived through the post. It had been forwarded from their prior address and was directed to the family of Edgar Chadwick. While Mr. Hale acknowledged Edgar Chadwick's passing, he also asserted the continued debt.

Emma penned a brief but polite response. She agreed to put forth the necessary diligence to see the matter rectified, but noted it would take some time.

The whole affair had planted a strong seed of anxiety in Emma's mind. Considering the dubious company her father had kept in the last years of his life, there was no telling what manner of man this Mr. Hale was.

The issue became even more concerning when she received another note written in a tone of increasing impatience. This one was dated only two weeks after the last but had taken much longer to reach her. Mr. Hale apparently did not have their new address in Mayfair, which was quite fine with Emma.

In the note, Hale stated he was not inclined to accept a delay in repayment, but reluctantly agreed to allow some time. How much time was not clarified.

That had been nearly two months ago and she had received nothing more since.