“The two do not have to be mutually exclusive,” she argued calmly, even as desperation knotted in her belly. She would not give up without a fight. “Family should run the company, not outsiders. It was what Grandfather wanted.”
“And I promised to raise you into a proper lady,” Papa countered. “It was what your mother wanted.”
His words sliced through her like a knife, cutting down to her heart, and she flinched, unable to answer.
She turned her head away as the tears became dangerously close to falling and blinked furiously. She would never let Papa see this weakness in her.
“And that is exactly what I intend to do,” Papa promised. “What is best for you and for the company. Which is why I chose Carlisle.” Hiding his chagrin over the argument they’d just waged in front of the man, her father forced a smile and tapped his glass against Carlisle’s. The clink echoed through the silent room and teeth-jarringly rattled all the way down Mariah’s spine. “He’s the best man to do both. If he can prove himself.”
If. Hope sparked inside her. Then the partnership wasn’t final? “How?”
“By helping me with a new real estate venture I’m undertaking,” her father answered. He leveled his gaze on her, the intensity of it clearly stating that he would brook no argument. “And by giving you a proper season.”
She gasped at the unexpectedness—and sheer absurdity—of that. “Pardon?”
“My mother is the Dowager Duchess of Trent,” Carlisle offered helpfully. “Your father thought you’d appreciate having her support this season.”
“Dowager duchess,” she repeated, not knowing how her numb lips were able to form the words. Her blood turned to ice, chilling her where she stood.
So Lord Robert Carlisle was the son of a duke. Her father’s choice of him for a partner now made sense. Horrible, horrifying sense.
“Mother enjoys helping young ladies with their seasons,” Carlisle continued with a smile, unaware that she’d figured out why him. “Once I heard that you had no female relatives who could provide introductions, I was certain she’d be willing to assist you.”
“I understand.” And she did. Perfectly. “How clever of you, Papa,” she said quietly, her eyes stinging with fresh tears. What mattered how deep—or shallow—Carlisle’s business mind if his connections stretched all the way into the Lords? And to a duke, no less. Her father was doing what was best for the family business, all right. By bringing in the family of a peer.
“Two birds, one stone.” Her father gave her a satisfied look, as if he’d arrived at the answers to the world’s worst problems. All encapsulated right there in the dashing, golden form of Robert Carlisle. Her father lifted his glass to toast his solution. “Winslow Shipping gets young blood in a much-needed partner, and you get a proper London season at last.”
But she didn’t want a season. She wanted a role within the company, the chance to work side by side with her father. While this—this interloper came waltzing in with his sapphire-blue eyes and his duke of a brother to snatch her dream away.
“To what end?” she asked quietly, too angry and frustrated to think clearly.
Her father blinked, as if the answer were obvious. “Marriage, of course.”
The world tilted beneath her, her breath dying in her throat. She reached for the back of a nearby chair to keep from losing her balance and falling to the floor.
“You cannot be serious,” she whispered, unable in her surprise to find her voice.
“Very serious.” His face turned grim. “Your latest antics proved that I have not raised you properly, but I will no longer fail you as a father.”
She stared at him, stunned. Was that truly what he thought—that he’d failed her, when all she’d wanted was to capture his attention?
“No,” she whispered, her heart aching with pained misunderstanding, “you haven’t failed. That wasn’t at all what—”
“And I will not fail your mother,” he added firmly. “She wanted her daughters to be the fine ladies that she could never be as the daughter of a sea captain. And that is exactly what I plan on giving her. Proper ladies with respectable husbands.”
“But I don’t want that,” she protested softly, her voice barely louder than a breath. Oh heavens, how much it hurt to defy her mother’s wishes! But Mama would also want her to be happy, and nothing in the world would bring her more happiness than being at her father’s side.
“Carlisle will make that happen, both for you and your mother,” he continued, although Mariah couldn’t tell if he’d not heard her or if he’d heard and chosen to ignore her. “Arrangements have been made. It’s done now.”
“Papa, I will not participate in this,” she announced calmly, forcing her voice to remain steady even as her insides roiled with fury and betrayal. And more anguish than she wanted to acknowledge at openly defying him, when all she’d ever wanted was to make him proud of her.
“You do not have a choice.”
The sickening realization sank through her that this was the serious punishment Evie had warned her about. Her own special banishment, right into the hell of society.
“You will involve yourself fully in the season—introductions, balls, breakfasts, soirees…all of it—whatever Carlisle and the duchess decide is best for you.” His gaze never wavered from hers. “Or I’ll cut off your allowance.”
The air rushed from her lungs. Her allowance, and with it, all the help she provided to the Gatewell School and the children of St Katharine’s, children in need just like her mother had been. If Mariah lost the school, dear God, she’d lose her mother all over again!
“You wouldn’t,” she whispered. Her hands clenched into helpless fists. The same powerless frustration swept over her that she remembered from when she’d been sent away to school, away from Evie and Papa and everything she loved.
Her father said nothing but turned away and tossed back the rest of the bourbon with a gasping swallow. It was impossible to say if the flicker in his eyes came from guilt or resolve.
Mariah stared at him, her chest burning so fiercely that each beat of her heart shattered through her like a hammer against glass. Oh, she’d certainly gotten his attention this time, but the result wasn’t at all what she’d hoped. Instead of allowing her to work at his side, he’d turned the distance between them into a chasm.
And right in front of a stranger, no less. At least Carlisle had the decency to say nothing, staring down into his bourbon rather than watching them. Or gloating that he’d won.
A soft scratch sounded at the door. “Excuse me, sir.”
Bentley, the butler who had run the household for her family as long as Mariah could remember, stepped into the room.
“What is it?” Papa seemed grateful for the interruption.
“There’s a caller at the door, sir.” Bentley glanced warily between all three of them, clearly sensing the tension that hung over the room as thick as London fog. “Mr. Ledford from the shipping office.”
“I’m afraid I have to see to this.” Papa set down his glass and gestured at the two of them. “I’ll be gone only a moment. You two need to discuss the upcoming season anyway. Why not get started immediately?”
As her father strode from the room, Mariah narrowed her eyes on Carlisle, turning all of her anger and frustration onto him. Then she smiled slowly, calculatingly…
Why not, indeed?
CHAPTER THREE
Robert gazed at Mariah Winslow over the rim of his glass as he took another swallow of bourbon. He certainly needed a drink after witnessing that familial battle of wills.
He’d anticipated that the Hellion wouldn’t be happy to be harnessed by society’s rules, but he certainly hadn’t expected this. Or that she actually thought Winslow would consider her for the partnership. It might have been a family business, but family usually meant sons and sons-in-law. There were few examples of daughters being allowed into businesses as anything more than figureheads, and even then only with small companies. And none that brought them into contact with sailors and longshoremen.