Robert gaped at him. The man was mad.
And utterly serious.
“A partnership,” Robert sputtered, echoing his words to make certain he understood him, “in exchange for marrying off your daughter?”
Winslow nodded curtly, frustration evident in every inch of him.
Robert stared at him, incredulous. The offer was preposterous. A test to prove his abilities wasn’t out of line, but this? Good Lord.
“There seems to be a mistake,” he drawled, forcing a half grin and doing his damnedest to keep his own aggravation from showing. Even now, with the partnership flung down onto the table for him to simply pick up, he felt the opportunity slipping through his fingers. “You’ve confused me with a matchmaking mama.”
Winslow shook his head. “Mariah’s behavior has to stop, for her own good, and I am at my wit’s end. Finding her a husband is the best way to save her from herself.” He pinned Robert beneath a hard gaze. “And you’re the man to do it.”
Not at all the way he wanted to prove himself. Yet he was tempted. So very tempted. Especially when Winslow put it like that.
Mariah Winslow certainly wouldn’t find a good husband on her own, and he’d be doing only what other men had done for their female relatives for centuries—ensure a good marriage. And yes, to save her from herself. If she kept on as she was doing, remaining unmarried would be the least of her worries, because her antics would turn her into a social pariah. He’d seen women’s lives destroyed over far less scandalous things. It would be a damned shame if that happened to the Hellion.
A much-needed marriage for her, a partnership for him…He’d be a fool to let his conscience interfere. Yet uncertainty gnawed at his gut that this might be a step too far in pursuing his goals.
“Seven months to secure a suitable match doesn’t strike me as unreasonable for a man of your connections,” Winslow challenged, misreading his hesitation. “If you truly possess them as you claim.”
His eyes narrowed. “Be assured that I do.”
“Then come by the house tomorrow at eleven, and you’ll have the chance to prove it.”
Oh, he could certainly meet this challenge. Easily. After all, Winslow’s daughter might be the Hellion, but she was also a shipping heiress with the beauty of an Incomparable. And he had his mother to help him, a dowager duchess longing for something more interesting to do this season than attend the same boring events. A few balls and teas, some new gowns, and even Mariah Winslow would be offered for by March. April at the latest. The partnership would be his, and he would finally prove himself worthy of the Carlisle name.
“Agreed,” Robert said. “I won’t let you down.”
Winslow dubiously arched a brow, even as the two men shook hands.
But Robert was confident, both in himself and in his mother’s matchmaking abilities. After all, if Sebastian and Quinton could be sent packing into matrimonial bliss within three months of each other, how hard could it be to marry off the Hellion by season’s end?
CHAPTER TWO
Mariah Winslow pressed her ear against the study door, but she could hear nothing of the conversation her father was having with her sister. Or rather, the scolding he was undoubtedly unleashing upon poor Evelyn. With a sigh, she sank onto the chair in the hall to wait her turn.
Another morning, another chastisement from Papa…as predictable as the tide on the Thames. Lately, it seemed as if they spent every morning this way, with Papa demanding that she and Evelyn act like proper young ladies and them promising to behave, while wholly unrepentant for their societal sins.
This time, however, she feared that she and Evie might have gone too far.
Certainly, racing Hugh Whitby’s phaeton down St James’s Street seemed like a good idea at the time. Something daring and bold, Evie had assured her, that would get their hearts pumping and destroy the boredom of a winter’s afternoon. Something to make us feel alive, Evie had pleaded. Mariah dearly loved her sister and found it difficult to deny Evie anything. Not when she knew how much their mother’s death still affected her, even fifteen years later. And certainly not with that adventurous spirit of hers that was simply contagious. So how could she have refused? After all, if she hadn’t joined in, God only knew the trouble her younger sister might have gotten into on her own. So she’d conceded, and they’d launched into the madcap adventure that had proven to be as exhilarating as Evie predicted.
Yet Mariah would also never forgive herself if Evelyn were ever seriously punished by Papa for doing something in which Mariah had taken part.
Pressing the edge of propriety was one thing, but if the two of them ever went too far, there could be dire consequences. Evie might be sent away, most likely back to Miss Pettigrew’s School for the Education and Refinement of Young Ladies, which seemed populated more by scandalous daughters whose families wanted them exiled all the way to Cornwall than by young ladies seeking refinement. How would Mariah bear to remain here in London without her sister, especially when Papa barely spent any time with her lately, except to chastise her for her unladylike behavior?
It hadn’t always been like that. There was a time when Mariah had been his constant shadow, following after him on the wharves and spending more time at the shipping offices than at home. But then he’d sent her away to school, and when she returned, everything had changed. While she still longed to be at his side, Papa was equally determined that she would lead the life of a fine lady. And reputable ladies didn’t work in business.
Which was why Mariah didn’t care a fig about becoming a lady. What she wanted—what she’d always wanted—was a true partnership in Winslow Shipping. And she was determined to have just that.
The study door opened, and Evelyn slipped into the hallway, looking as unrepentant as ever.
Mariah darted to her feet. “Is he terribly angry?”
“I should begin packing my things for Miss Pettigrew’s,” Evie answered matter-of-factly, repeating Papa’s words.
A knowing smile tugged at Mariah’s lips. “So the usual threat, then?”
With a frown of distraction, Evie nodded. Then she captured Mariah’s hands in both of hers, with worry darkening her face. “I’m so sorry, Mariah! He blames you.”
Of course he did. But he wasn’t completely wrong. As the older sister, wasn’t it her responsibility to keep Evie from harm?
Evie’s bottom lip quivered with guilt. “He’s talking about punishing you this time. Seriously punishing you.”
“It’s all right.” She squeezed Evie’s hands reassuringly. “What can he do to me? I’m too old to be tossed over his knee and spanked.”
Most likely, he would forbid her to spend any time during the next fortnight at the Gatewell School in St Katharine’s, where she donated the better share of her time and allowance to keeping the doors open, instructors in the classrooms, and food in the children’s hungry bellies. Oh, how she loved St Katharine’s! It was the same parish where her mother had been born and raised. The same narrow, winding streets where Mariah had often walked hand in hand with her as a little girl. Now, every time Mariah walked through those streets, she felt connected to her mother. Mama was so distant now that Mariah could no longer remember what she’d looked like, knowing her beautiful features only from the portrait in Papa’s study. But in St Katharine’s, she could remember her mother as clearly as if she still walked beside her.
She wouldn’t like being kept away from the school, certainly, but it would be a fitting punishment, both for her and for Whitby, who assisted her at the school and would miss having her help. After all, he was complicit for letting them borrow his phaeton in the first place.