Page 4 of As the Devil Dares

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.

“Mariah,” her father called out, “I will see you now.”

“Good luck!” Evie placed a kiss to her cheek, then hurried away to her room as she did after every one of these morning talks with their father. Ostensibly to pack for Cornwall, only to be reprieved by dinnertime when Papa always changed his mind.

Drawing in a deep breath, Mariah walked into the study and stopped in front of her father’s large desk. She contritely folded her hands in front of her and awaited the ritual tongue-lashing.

“This time, my dear, you have gone too far.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

He wouldn’t be scolding her like this if she were a man. No, he’d have been crowing with pride that his son possessed the skills to match any of the best drivers among the gentry. On the other hand, if he’d treated her with the same respect and pride that he would have treated a son, she would have been too busy with the business to look for ways to disrupt a dull afternoon in the first place.

She swallowed down the bitter taste of frustration. At twenty-five, she should have already been a partner in the company, fulfilling the dream she’d wanted since she was a little girl. To have a serious role in running the family business. To participate in the merchant trade that was such a large part of her father’s world and that still connected her to her late mother. Instead, he saw her as nothing more than a young miss to be dressed up in furs and silks like a doll, who should be content wasting away her days at silly teas and boring balls.

But Mariah wasn’t like that. Had never been. One good look should have told him that.

These days, however, Papa never truly saw her at all. Unless she was standing in front of him, being scolded. Like now. But instead of gaining his attention, he saw her behavior as simply another act of rebellion.