Luck Is No Lady(11)

“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?”