“I do not understand what you expect me to do,” Ophelia whispered as Gertrude took her wrist and led her out of the room. This time, they reached the stairs, and no one made an effort to stop them.

  On the stairs, Ophelia retracted her hand from her stepmother’s grasp, refusing to suffer the pain anymore. “It is out of our control, Gertrude. My father has made his bequest and it is a good one. Is it not? Five hundred pounds a year is very healthy indeed.”

  “Is it?” Gertrude did not look convinced as she hurried down the steps.

  ***

  “Harriet! You should have been there. It was quite absurd.”

  “Gertrude, do be quiet, or your stepdaughter will hear you shouting from her bedchamber.”

  Gertrude could not be quiet, nor still. She paced her sister’s bedchamber, deep in worry. Ever since she had spoken to the solicitor earlier that day, she had been reeling. To think her husband would leave her like this, with so little money to her name, gutted her. The solicitor had gone on at length that it was ample enough for a comfortable life.

  Comfortable? He speaks to me of comfort!

  It was mad to hear how much more Ophelia had been given than Gertrude. After all, Ophelia would marry someday, no doubt. She would have her husband’s estate, but Gertrude was unlikely to marry again. What estate would she have to her name?

  “How can Oliver give so much to his daughter? How could he stand to leave me in such destitution—hmm!” Gertrude was cut off as her sister laid a hand over her mouth.

  “As lovely as it is to have you here, Gertrude, I do not want you shouting my house down.” Harriet slowly lowered her hand, releasing Gertrude’s lips. “Now, be calm, sister. Let us think rationally about this.”

  Harriet took one of Gertrude’s shoulders and pushed her into sitting on a chaise longue at the bottom of the bed. Harriet took her place pacing, though she seemed much calmer than Gertrude had been. She kept clasping and releasing her fingers like a cat with long claws scratching itself. Her brow was furrowed deeply, and her manner was altogether quite calculating.

  “Before my husband died, I made sure he was to leave everything he had to myself and our son, George.”

  “He did as you asked?” Gertrude found the fact made her angrier still. Harriet’s husband had been a viscount, a man who had lacked much wit and intelligence. Harriet had clearly married him for one reason only—the money.

  Still, such a dim-witted man had taken more care to provide for his wife than Oliver had done. Gertrude had always thought Oliver to be a sensible and clever man. She knew he had loved her, but it seemed that love only stretched so far.

  He did not love me as much as he loved his daughter. I see that now.

  “Yes, the viscount was never very good at saying no to me.” Harriet smiled with triumph, her curled hair so tight to her face that it shifted on her cheeks with the movement. “I regret to say that George is not so careful with money. He has a habit of spending it.”

  “Young men. They often do spend in such ways.”

  “Gertrude, if we are to protect you, then we must find a way for you to get your stepdaughter’s money.” Harriet’s words sounded reasonable, yet also impractical.

  Gertrude held her hands up in the air as if pleading to the heavens themselves for help.

  “It is impossible. Yes, Ophelia does not need the money as I do. When she marries, she’ll be well taken care of, but she’s not going to give it up, is she?” Gertrude scoffed at the idea, shaking her head. “She has far too much respect for her father’s wishes.”

  She thought back to the surprise on Ophelia’s face when the solicitor had revealed the news of the inheritance. At first, she had thought Ophelia was as shocked as she was, but the more she thought of it, the more she feared that Ophelia may have known all along.

  “I feel as if I have been duped by my own stepdaughter. No doubt she persuaded her father to do such a thing, to forget the woman he loved, the woman he married, for her.”

  “Whatever the truth of the matter is, it must be stopped.” Harriet moved to join Gertrude on the chaise longue. “An idea has just occurred to me. The more I think of it, the less I think it mad.”

  “Mad?” Gertrude frowned a little. Seeing the excitement on her sister’s face, she could not hold herself back. “Go on, sister.”

  “When Ophelia marries, her wealth will become her husband’s. Well, George is in need of a wife, is he not? Gertrude, do you not see?” she said, moving closer to Gertrude’s side. “My son is in need of a wife.”

  Gertrude didn’t answer for a minute. She stared at her sister, her lips parting, as realisation dawned.

  “If they were to marry, then her money would belong to the family.” Harriet purposefully gestured to Gertrude. “You would have your money back, Gertrude. You would have your home in Cheltenham.”

  “I would.” Gertrude leapt to her feet, overtaken by the idea. “Oh my goodness, Harriet, that might just work. George would automatically have the money, then he could give it to me. Do you think he would marry her?”

  “Do I?” Harriet laughed. “George has a wandering eye. He finds beauty in most women I struggle to find beauty in at all, but when it comes to marriage…” She hesitated, her smile widening. “He will happily marry for money, especially if I tell him it is a good idea.”

  Gertrude had noticed many times before how George had a habit of doing just what his mother told him.

  “My goodness, this might just work. Oh, Harriet! You may have saved me yet.” She returned to the chaise longue. “How are we to begin, though? What must be done? They have not met for months. They must be introduced again.”

  “And they will be.” Harriet nodded, clearly with a resolution in mind. “I have been invited by Lady Canning to a ball this Saturday. George will naturally be there, and I am sure I can write to Lady Canning to ask her to extend the invitation to you and Ophelia. At the ball, they can be introduced again.”

  “Oh, Harriet. You are quite the matchmaker!” Gertrude clapped her hands together, feeling invigorated by their plan.

  I will not be parted from Oliver’s money, after all.

  ***

  “Your horse is leaning to the left,” Harrison observed as he trailed behind Elliot through Hyde Park. Elliot didn’t bother looking back to catch Harrison’s eye, for he knew where his friend was going with it. “He needs reshoeing.”

  “He does, but I can’t afford it.”

  “Do you have another horse?”

  “What do you think?” Elliot asked, his tone coming out a bit snappish. Harrison rode harder, catching up with Elliot before waving his hand at him. The suddenness of the movement prompted Elliot to slow the gallop of his horse, the better to speak to his friend. “I’m sorry. That was harsher than I meant it to be.”

  “I’m hardly going to take offence so easily.” Harrison shrugged, not affected by it. “Tell me instead how you and your sister are faring. That is what I truly wish to talk about, rather than horses.”

  “Ah, you noticed my preoccupation with talking of horses, then?” Elliot asked with a wry smile.

  “I might have noticed you were trying to keep the conversation in a certain direction. Strangely enough, I know you well indeed by now. I probably know your behaviour as well as you know yourself.”

  “That’s disconcerting,” Elliot muttered quietly. He didn’t like the idea that someone could judge his every thought, even Harrison.

  “Tell me the truth, how are you and your sister?”

  “We have been better. My sister has tried these last few months to be happy with her rather more reserved and restricted life, but her moods are as obvious to me as mine are to you, it seems.” He shook his head, thinking of the conversation he’d had with Grace the night before.

  She had grown up accustomed to wealth and what money could afford. She was not exactly spoiled, but this change was a wrench for her, and one she was struggling to cope with. The night before she had bemoaned the emptiness of the rooms, thanks to Elliot selling so much to make some money. She had come to practice the pianoforte, only for Elliot to tell her they would have to sell that soon, too.

  Grace had regressed to her childish behaviour and stormed off to her bedchamber, where she only talked to her maid thereafter. No amount of promises Elliot offered would draw her out of the chamber again that night.

  “I cannot go on like this, Harrison, and neither can Grace.” Elliot kept thinking of all the numbers he’d seen scrawled in his father’s ledgers. “I have paid some of the money back, but it has bankrupted us to do it, and we have barely anything left to sell. The death tax is due in a month. I could sell the townhouse to do it, but—”

  “But then where would you live?” Harrison asked, his voice pitching high.

  “You see my dilemma.” Elliot sighed with the words. Together, they turned their horses down another path through the park. Now, they were not so alone.

  Around them in the park was a myriad of wealthy families. Some gentlemen escorted finely dressed ladies on their arms, as other ladies gestured to the newly sprung flowers of spring with lace parasols and embroidered fans. It all seemed rather like a nonsensical display to Elliot. The people here were flaunting their wealth, rather than going for a walk.

  The ton are just like my parents. Who cares for the real world when you can spend lavishly and put on an ostentatious display, eh?

  “Try not to wrinkle your nose so much, Elliot.” Harrison drew his horse near Elliot’s and bumped his leg. “The ton will notice your hatred of them soon enough.”

  “Let them notice. What do I care for their good opinion?”

  “You are a duke… they want to think of you as an eligible match.”

  “Very eligible! Without a penny to my name.” Elliot scoffed and tried to ride on, but Harrison had paused on his horse. Sighing, Elliot was forced to turn back, riding to a stop beside his friend. “Have you been struck by something? Harrison? You are not moving.” His friend was staring at the people of the ton, his jaw slack and his eyes wide.

  “Perhaps I have seen something you have not, Elliot. I see a myriad of wealthy ladies, with good dowries to their names—so much money, in fact, that a death tax could be paid like that!” He snapped his fingers in emphasis. “Look again.”

  Elliot did as his friend asked. It was true there were many wealthy ladies there today, some who seemed to glitter in jewels and be draped in lace. They wore money as if it were an accessory to them.

  “What if you were to wed, Elliot?”

  “Wed? Pah! Like that will work.” Elliot laughed heartily, until Harrison waved his top hat in Elliot’s direction, urging him to lower his voice a little. “The dismissal of my staff was enough to start the gossip months ago. The people of the ton know I lack money. What parent would marry their daughter to me now?”

  “Maybe a parent who wants their daughter to be a duchess?”

  “With no money!”

  “Do you wish to shout it so loud for everyone to hear?” Harrison asked between gritted teeth. Elliot fell silent and looked around the women before him, thinking of what Harrison was saying. “Do not dismiss it outright, my friend. This could be yours and your sister’s salvation. One wealthy dowry and your money concerns could vanish, instantly.”

  Elliot gulped, looking between the ladies’ faces. When he’d thought of marriage in the past, he had thought of marrying a lady he was fond of, but such an opportunity had not arisen. He would hardly be the first gentleman to marry for convenience, nor would he be the last.

  “Do you think it possible?” he asked his friend after a minute of thought. Across the park, one lady waved at him with her fan.

  “I think it very possible indeed.”

  Chapter 3

  “I should not be here.” Ophelia fidgeted with the long gloves on her hands, feeling very out of place in Lady Canning’s ballroom. “Gertrude, I am not ready for a ball.”

  “Do you expect to hide at home forever? No. A ball will do you good.” Gertrude spoke with a kind smile. There was something in that expression that made Ophelia soften a little.

  Earlier in the week, her father’s will had clearly been a shock to Gertrude, but Ophelia was relieved to see her stepmother seemed to have moved past that shock. She was content once again, and kind to Ophelia, as she had always been.

  “Your stepmother is quite right,” Lady Chester said, taking Ophelia’s arm and drawing her into the ball. “My sister and I know how good it is to distract oneself after mourning.”

  “After mourning? I have not finished mourning yet. I wonder if one ever is.” Her melancholy statement was not responded to well, and both sisters looked away from her, deep into the ballroom.

  “You must look to the future, my dear.” Gertrude offered a wide smile with the words. “It is not something that is pleasing to hear at this moment; I know it must be difficult, but you must look to the future. You will someday marry, after all. Look how many eligible gentlemen there are here this evening.” She waved a hand at the ballroom, gesturing to the men as if they were actors on a stage, gathered for Ophelia’s benefit.

  “Must I marry?” Ophelia asked, wrinkling her nose. “After all, my father’s bequest has made me financially secure. It is not imperative I marry now.” Her words seemed to shock Gertrude and her sister. They both stared at her, wide-eyed, their dark hair flicked around their ears. “I see the idea of a lady wishing to be a spinster shocks you both.”

  “Do you wish to stay unmarried?” Lady Chester asked, then turned away, shuddering. “To think of it! What would the ton say?”

  “I do not have to hear what they say.” Her persistent dryness made both sisters step away, moving deeper into the ballroom.

  “Come, Ophelia,” Gertrude pleaded, “let us find something to drink.”

  Ophelia followed, though she felt her head was a little downturned compared to her stepmother’s and Lady Chester’s. She was in no mood to be here and would have much rather stayed at home. There was only one good thing that would surely come of tonight, and that was to see her friend, Miss Margery Blakely. They had been young in Cheltenham together, but Margery had been brought to London for the spring and her debut this season.

  Ophelia was so busy looking for Margery that she nearly lost Gertrude and Lady Chester as she followed them to the drinks table. In the end, Margery found her.

  “Ophelia,” Margery said, gushingly, as she reached Ophelia’s side. “How are you, my friend?”

  “Margery.” Ophelia clasped her friend’s gloved hands, delighted to see the bright face and green eyes that were always so full of life. “It is so good to see you again.”

  “I am glad to see you, too. I did not know whilst you were in London you would be attending these events.” Margery purposefully looked over Ophelia’s clothes. “May I be permitted to say how beautiful you look and how glad I am that you are no longer dressed in mourning?”

  “You’re too kind,” Ophelia said. “Though in truth, I’d rather be wearing my mourning clothes. This gown is really rather itchy.” Her jest prompted them both to laugh. “There is much I need to acquaint you with.” She longed to tell Margery of what had happened with her father’s will, but Gertrude cleared her throat, getting her attention and beckoning her forward. “It seems I am being summoned. Come with me, Margery. I’ll need a friend tonight.”

  “I had noticed.” Margery winced a little.

  “Am I squeezing your hand a little too tight?”

  “Just a bit!” They laughed again before they fell silent, coming face to face with Gertrude and Lady Chester standing by the drinks table.

 

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