Effie screwed up her delicate nose.

Teresa led her toward the parlor. The elderly woman in black sat at the window as always. Teresa whispered, “Sometimes leaving one’s own cares behind and focusing on another’s can ease the unhappiness of both.”

“I’m no unhappy,” Effie said truculently, but she wandered into the parlor and plopped down on the piano bench. She pursed her lips then set her fingers to the ivories and tapped out a tune. It was one of her favorites, sprightly yet with an air of melancholy that made Teresa imagine Highland skies stripped with grey clouds. Effie hadn’t a truly fine voice, but it was clean and sweet enough to please. When she finished, she rested her fingertips on the keys and turned to look at the old woman.

Two identical streaks of tears ran down the lady’s withered cheeks. Effie’s eyes went round. She went and stood awkwardly by the woman.

“Ma’am?” She fidgeted with her skirts. “I wonder if I may offer ye . . . tea?”

“Dear girl.” The woman’s voice was papery from disuse. “My Joseph liked me to play that song to him when he was a boy.”

Effie grabbed a chair and sat on the edge of it. “What does he like to listen to nou, I wonder?”

“He wrote to me of hearing the waltz in a Vienna ballroom. He said it was magnificent.”

“Weel, that must’ve been something, to be sure. I envy him. I’ve no gone anywhere, an soon I’ll be back home without having seen any place but Lunnontown. But, oh, hou I’d like to travel the world!” She sighed.

“My Joseph is an officer in the Royal Navy.”

“Is he yer son?”

“Grandson.” Another tear chased the silvery track. “He is a fine boy. The only family I have left.”

Effie chuckled. “I usually think I’ve far too much family.” Tentatively she reached forward and gave the woman’s hand a gentle pat. “Does he write to ye aften, then?”

“Every week.” The skin on her aged brow was like tissue. Now it crinkled.

“But I haven’t heard from him in over a month. He wrote that he would come home on furlough and that I was to meet him here in London, for his time in England would be brief. I fear something dreadful has happened to him.”

Effie waved a hand in the air. “Ye mustn’t think like that. There’s a guid explanation for it. Mebbe his horse threw a shoe, or the carriage wheel broke, or he left his luggage behind an went back for it.”

“Or the tide was low in port and all the ships I could have embarked upon were grounded for weeks.”

Teresa started. Beside her at the door stood a slim, broad-shouldered young gentleman in a crisp blue and white uniform, a plumed hat cocked beneath his arm.

“Joseph!” The old woman rose and teetered. Effie leaped up and grasped her arm to steady her.

“Grandmama.” He came forward with a warm smile for his grandmother and Effie. The woman grabbed his arms and clung. “How good it is to see you again, my dearest,” he said, lifting her gnarled fingers to his lips. “And how fetching you are in this frock.” His eyes twinkled. “You haven’t aged a day since we were together last Christmas.” He turned his attention on Effie. “And who is this lovely lady who has so kindly kept you company in my absence?”

Effie stammered and blinked pretty eyes and said nothing. The naval lieutenant smiled and made her laugh and regarded her with warm appreciation.

Later Effie told Teresa that her heart was so full at that moment that she could not even remember her name. And by the time her sisters entered the parlor an hour later for tea, she could not in fact remember that she had ever known the world without Lieutenant Joseph P. Caruthers in it.

9

Calling upon her the morning after the picnic, Mr. Waldon informed Teresa that she must cut her new friends and return to Harrows Court Crossing or risk unpardonable social censure for allying herself with a family of besmirched reputation.

Apparently word had flown to Cheshire via Mrs. Biddycock’s gossipy London cousin that Teresa had been seen in the company of the penniless half sisters of the scandalous Earl of Eads. Mr. Waldon insisted that the situation was unacceptable and warned that if she did not relent in her pursuit of social ruin he would inform her mother and father who were as yet ignorant of her mésalliances.

Teresa ignored his threats. Even if he sent a letter to Brennon Manor, her parents could not force her to return home unless they actually came to town themselves, by which time the wager would have already come to an end anyway.

Nevertheless he remained in town, insinuating himself into nearly every outing with the Eads sisters and regularly urging Teresa to return home at once. After days of resisting telling him exactly what she thought of this presumption, when he deigned to sit in judgment on the joyful announcement of Effie’s betrothal to Lieutenant Caruthers, and used Lady Elspeth’s disapproval of the match to support his case, Teresa exploded.

“It is insupportable,” she said between gritted teeth to Sorcha and Una as they walked along the Serpentine. Lily, Moira, and Mr. Baker-Frye strolled behind them, with Lieutenant Caruthers’ grandmother on Lord Eads’s arm.

Teresa practically felt the earl’s gaze on her. She’d spent a horrid sennight longing for more caresses that he would not willingly give her. Being infatuated with a fantasy from a distance had been tortuous in its own manner. But that was nothing to being in love with a man at close range and coming to the conclusion that she should not be.

“No everybody thinks marriage is the be-all to life,” Sorcha said, her steps on the path like everything she did, firm and confident. Teresa envied her attitude.

“But when the parties involved are so ideally suited”—unlike her and the Earl of Eads—“it seems criminal to discourage it.” The earl did not want her and she did not now know what she wanted, but it wasn’t this feeling of helplessness. “The lieutenant is an excellent person and he and Effie are besotted with each other.” Their union was proceeding precisely as it should, from tea with his grandmother to walks in the park, while Teresa was foundering in confusion. “He adores her spirit and she is eager for him to haul her across the oceans to God knows where for the rest of her life. They are thrilled with each other.”

“Elspeth thinks Effie’ll make a poor sailor’s wife,” Una said, her parasol shading her cheeks from the sun.

Teresa came to a halt. “I think marriage to him will in fact be the making of her.”

“Agreed,” Una said. “She needs adoration, amusement, an a firm hand all at once. Lieutenant Caruthers is weel suited to give her those.”

“Gird yer souls, leddies.” Sorcha folded her arms. “Here come the righteous.”

Ahead, Mr. Waldon and Elspeth passed Effie and Lieutenant Caruthers on the path. Lieutenant Caruthers tipped his hat, took Effie’s hand securely on his arm, and drew her away. Effie’s light laughter tripped behind her.

“Miss Finch-Freeworth,” Mr. Waldon said as he approached. “As Lady Elspeth desires a moment’s rest, may I take you on my arm now?”

She could not decline. They moved away from the group.

“I am disappointed that you have not yet returned home, Miss Finch-

Freeworth,” he said.

“I have not yet finished what I came to London to do,” she said honestly.

Lately it was not amusing to tell tales. Telling tales, after all, had gotten her here: confused and aching. It was not that the tales did not still occur to her, only that she was coming to see that they were much better confined to her stories for Freddie than spoken aloud.

Dreams were quite another thing altogether. She could never shut them away in a drawer. But they were not reality. The clergyman standing before her was reality. The future. Her future.

“I see,” he said pensively. “I had hopes for you, Miss Finch-Freeworth.”

She clamped down on the nausea in her stomach.

“I knew you to be lovely and well bred,” he continued, “and although the childish stories with which you enjoy amusing our neighbors caused me distress and concern, I knew that in time I could mold you into an enviable wife. But now my mind and heart have taken another turn.”

She released his arm but could not reply; her astonishment was too great.

“Lady Elspeth informed me of the matchmaking program upon which you have embarked,” he said. “I have visited some acquaintances in town this week who assure me that this program has brought you under unflattering scrutiny in society. In my position as leader of our humble community, I must choose my wife so that she reflects upon me in the greatest light. It is with regret, therefore, that I must inform you that I have transferred my affections to a more worthy candidate, a lady of moral and social rectitude who will add to my happiness and consequence rather than subtract from them.”

Teresa struggled to find her tongue. “Mr. Waldon, I wish you the very best in your newfound happiness.” She refrained from shouting in joy. She was free! She would live with her parents for the rest of her life. But she was free!

Mr. Waldon frowned. “I had hoped for more than that.”

“I assure you, I know that feeling well.”

“Lily! Everybody!” Effie came skipping down the path, dragging a smiling Lieutenant Caruthers by the hand. “Joseph has asked me to marry him!”

Teresa’s gaze met the earl’s. She saw in his beautiful eyes that he already knew.

Four sisters betrothed. With six days left to the wager.

He knew she could not win. He liked her. He liked her lips and he liked to touch her and he seemed to enjoy her company. That only she felt an ache in her chest when they were together and an equally fierce confusion over it was a fate she must accept.

But must she?

He was a lord. He needed an heir. She didn’t see why she couldn’t be the one to help with that.

As though he knew her thoughts, his eyes narrowed. She looked at his three un-betrothed sisters. Lady Elspeth’s lips were predictably tight as the others celebrated Effie’s news. And Sorcha had resisted every opportunity to meet eligible bachelors. But Una . . .

Tomorrow when she met Tobias for lunch she would finally broach the subject. She had respected his silence on the matter but she hadn’t the time for playing his game now. Her game was about to come to an end, and she intended to win it.

Teresa was taking breakfast the following morning when the footman opened the door and Sorcha strode in.

“What a lovely surprise.” She went to her. “May I offer you tea or breakfast?”

“I’ve come to talk,” the Scotswoman said with her usual forthrightness.

Teresa’s stomach did a somersault. “All right.” She dismissed the footman then went to the sideboard and poured two cups of tea. “Do sit.”

Sorcha’s face was grim. “I dinna wish to marry, Teresa. I think ye ken it, but ye’ve niver asked me why.”

She had avoided doing so. Knowing Sorcha’s reason for avoiding marriage might make her task more difficult, and her brother intended her to marry anyway.

Just as her parents had intended her to marry Mr. Waldon.

An obstruction seemed to lodge in her throat. She shook her head.

“I’ve so many ideas for our family’s land. We anly lack the capital to make the improvements.” Sorcha sat forward till she was on the edge of the chair.

“But that’s all changed nou. Mr. Baker-Frye wants to invest in ma brither’s estate. He says he’s always had a yearning to be a gentleman farmer, but his family’s business came to him an he’s got to keep it going. Moira told him aboot the troubles we’ve had an he’s gone to talk wi’ Duncan this morning.”

“This is wonderful news!”

“But dinna ye see? I wish to continue as steward o’ our family’s lands. I’ve worked so hard. To be sent away nou to be housewifie to some laird . . .” She shook her head. “I canna do it.”

Teresa nodded slowly, heaviness surrounding her heart. “You must tell your brother.”

“I’ve long since told him. He willna listen. Ye’ve got to convince him that he mustn’t force me to wed.”

“He thinks I’m too meddlesome. My intervention would be more likely to hinder your case than help it.” But looking into Sorcha’s entreating eyes now she knew that even if the earl did not relent in his wish for his sister to wed, she must change her course. She could not be the reason that any woman did not live her dreams, even if it meant abandoning hers.