Chapter 1
“Give me your youngest daughter, and I will consider your debt paid,” Lord Montague declared, his voice smooth as polished obsidian, slicing through the heavy air of Lempster Estate.
Camelia froze in the shadowed corridor, and fought the urge to brush aside a loose curl as she tiptoed to the library door.
At five-and-twenty, the second daughter of the Earl of Lempster bore the weight of her family’s honor, and that burden had been feeling heavier than ever. When she had overheard Lord Montague’s arrival, a sense of dread had filled her gut. And now his words confirmed her suspicion.
He must be demanding to marry Margaret.
Margaret, the youngest of the three sisters, was still unseasoned in judgment, though her tongue was by far the sharpest. She alone remained a true choice for any gentleman seeking a debutante, for Camelia was already shunned as a spinster, and their eldest sister, Iris, had recently been widowed.
“Y-You surely cannot mean this?” her father stammered, his voice thin with unease. “My daughters… they are not meant to be bartered.”
“How quaint, Lord Lempster,” Lord Montague responded dryly. “You speak honorably, yet your debts choke you like a noose. Do you think the ton will forgive an earl who cannot pay his creditors? Your name will be mud and your daughters unmarriageable.”
Camelia’s breath caught. She glanced at her sisters, who stood nearby, their faces pale and beautiful in the weak sunlight. Iris clutched her shawl tightly, her dark eyes wide with fear, while young Margaret stood with her chin tilted defiantly, though her hands trembled.
Camelia’s gaze lingered on them as they both turned to her with curious looks.
I must protect them all.
She had to do something because she was sure that there was a sinister motive behind Lord Montague’s demand. Ever since their mother’s passing, her sisters had turned to her for counsel in every trial, and she had never failed them.
I cannot fail them now.
“Never!” The Earl’s voice rose to an unfamiliar pitch.
Her father had rarely expressed anger; it was a rare sight to behold.
“I would sooner see us all in the poorhouse than sacrifice my child for my own sins.”
Camelia held her breath in fear of Lord Montague’s reaction to her father’s defiance, but to her surprise, Lord Montague laughed, the sound low and mocking. It carried through the slightly ajar library door. She noticed her sisters lightly stepping towards her and the commotion.
“Come now, Lord Lempster. Let us not pretend. Your debts tower higher than your pride. One daughter—your youngest, Lady Margaret—will suffice to preserve your name and your estate. Refuse, and ruin shall claim you all. The ton spares no mercy for a bankrupt earl.”
How dare he threaten my father?
“You speak of ruin as though it were nothing.” The Earl’s voice broke. “It is true, you hold my notes, but surely… surely you would not go so far as to claim one of my daughters. I cannot believe you would.”
Camelia could bear no more. She pushed the door open and strode into the library ignoring the shuffle of her sisters footsteps behind her.
Her honey-colored curls bounced around as she commanded the room’s attention.
The veins at her neck pulsated with fury when she fixed her eyes on Lord Montague, who stood by the fireplace with a glass of her father’s finest brandy in hand.
“Lord Montague.” Her voice trembled, but she quickly steadied it. She stepped closer, her gaze lifted to the towering man. “If a daughter is required, then let it be me. I am not the eldest or the youngest, and I would rather be chosen to pay my father’s debts.”
She heard a low gasp behind her and turned to see her sisters watching her.
“Camelia, no.” Her father rose from his chair, his face ashen. “I will not permit any of my daughters to be bartered like—”
“Oh, Lord Lempster, do not be so hasty,” Lord Montague cut him off with a smirk. “Your daughter’s offer is intriguing, I’ll give her that, but I desire no spinster.”
Camelia flinched at the insult.
Lord Montague’s gaze shifted to Margaret, who was scowling at him from the doorway. “Lady Margaret’s fire intrigues me. Such a spirited creature would make a fine… companion.”
“Companion?” Margaret spat, stepping in front of Iris, who grabbed her arm to stop her. “You mean a victim! You will not lay a finger on me, Lord Montague! Name your price in coin, not my flesh!”
“Margaret! Hold your tongue!” Camelia warned.
Margaret pressed her lips together, her glare unwavering as she faced Lord Montague. A heavy silence settled over the room, broken only by his abrupt bark of laughter. Without so much as a glance at her, he turned his attention back to the Earl.
“Ah! You see, Lord Lempster? Such boldness Lady Margaret possesses. Poor girl does not know that money is precisely what her father lacks.” His brown eyes slid to Margaret.
“One fiery daughter will settle the matter. Refuse, and I shall see your family cast out into the streets, your name whispered in scorn from London to Bath.”
Margaret’s eyes flashed with indignation.
Camelia’s chest tightened, while Iris grasped Margaret’s arm, gently pulling her back.
“Hush, Margaret. I will handle this,” Camelia whispered urgently, her eyes pleading.
Margaret shook her head, her eyes blazing.
“No, Camelia! I will not stand silent while he treats me like a trifle! And you, Lord Montague,” she added, turning sharply to face him, “if you expect me to marry you, it will only be on the terms that my father’s debts are cleared in full and that I retain my freedom. ”
Lord Montague laughed—a sharp, cruel sound that echoed through the room as he approached and leaned closer to her.
“You dare to give me conditions? The audacity of youth!” His voice dripped with amusement.
“Such spirit is precisely why I desire the youngest. You will learn obedience, mark my words.”
Camelia stepped in front of her sister before she could retort, her stance protective. “There will be no need for that, Lord Montague. I will raise the money and settle the debt myself.”
“Oh?” Lord Montague said, a thin, mocking smile playing on his lips.
“And how do you propose to do that, Lady Camelia? Your father cannot pay his own debts, so how would you do it? A spinster with no husband to provide for her…” He stepped closer, lowering his voice until it was almost a hiss.
“And if you fail… remember, I make the terms, and the consequences of unmet terms will only grow harsher.”
He brushed past Camelia towards the door, where Iris stood wide-eyed and silent. Margaret huffed behind her.
“Stay still, Margaret. I will protect you, I promise,” Camelia murmured.
“But it is not your burden alone, Camelia!” Margaret whispered back, still trembling with indignation.
Their father, shaking with fury or fear, swallowed hard. “Please… Lord Montague, surely—”
“Silence, Lord Lempster,” Lord Montague interrupted smoothly as he stopped in the doorway. “Tomorrow evening, one way or another, I shall claim either Lady Margaret or every shilling owed. I encourage you to choose wisely.”
The Earl’s face darkened as his frail fists clenched.
Camelia watched as the last of her father’s defiance crumbled. It did not surprise her; he had always been a gentle, almost guileless soul. She recalled, with a faint pang, how her mother had once declared with pride that he was a rare gem among the rough stones of the ton.
If only Mama were here. She would know what to do.
Camelia drew a steadying breath.
“I shall find the means to repay you, Lord Montague. I beg you to grant us a little more time,” the Earl pleaded.
But Lord Montague’s smile was chilling. “Bold words, but empty ones. Tomorrow, I expect an answer.”
With a mocking bow, he swept through the doorway, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
The front door slammed shut, and the rumble of his carriage faded with his departure.