As the Devil Dares (Capturing the Carlisles #3)(57)
“And Robert Carlisle?” she asked, unable to resist. “You gave him that project, so you must think he’s showing promise.” It stung to say that, when Papa had never given her an opportunity to demonstrate her own worth.
He grunted affirmatively. “He is.”
Her shoulders sagged. Of course. Robert was capable and hardworking, with solid connections and a sharp mind that would help the company thrive. She couldn’t begrudge him this chance to prove himself. She just didn’t want him to keep her from being able to do the same.
She held her breath. “So you think he’s doing well enough for a partnership?”
“We’ll see,” he answered noncommittally.
But her foolish heart didn’t leap with hope at that dangled carrot. Instead, she sucked in a deep breath and tried to hold on to the resolve that had been driving her since Papa’s mad scheme for her season had been unleashed. “You still think I should find a husband, then?”
“A husband would be good for you.” His voice softened. “And what your mother wanted for you, to have your own family and home.” Oblivious to the distress his comment spiraled through her, he looked up and met her gaze. Affectionate worry darkened his face. “You are enjoying yourself this season, are you not?”
More than she would have thought possible, but that was only due to the duchess. And to a certain extent, she realized grudgingly, to Robert. She had enjoyed his company at the soirees and dinners, and even when he’d accompanied them shopping, he’d shown more patience than most men would have. And his kisses…she very much enjoyed those.
“Yes,” she answered honestly, “I am.”
He nodded curtly, looking back down at the papers, satisfied at her answer. But then a frown creased his brow. “Speaking of potential husbands…Burton Williams came to the house this afternoon to call on Evelyn.”
“Oh?” Unease pricked at the backs of her knees. Evie had spent quite a bit of time with Williams recently, talking alone with him at all the events they’d attended. While Mariah couldn’t say exactly what it was about him that she distrusted, she didn’t like that he was now calling on her sister. Evie certainly deserved suitors, but Mariah would have preferred someone else.
“I think he plans to ask my permission to court her.”
Her chest tightened with worry. “And what will you say?”
“Yes, I suppose,” he sighed out heavily. “Evelyn likes him. Although to be truthful, I don’t really care for the man. There’s something about him that doesn’t sit right.”
“Yes, there is,” she confirmed quietly, glad that she and Papa agreed on this. But Evie was intelligent and knew to be cautious, and she wouldn’t let Williams take advantage.
At least Mariah hoped not.
“Does he know that he won’t be brought into the company if he marries her?” Papa asked. “I won’t allow a repeat of what happened with your aunt Charlotte and that man she married.”
That man. She smiled to herself. The years were mellowing Papa. His descriptions of her scapegrace uncle used to be much more colorful.
“I don’t know.” Mariah shook her head, not knowing what—if anything—her sister had told Williams. “But I don’t think we need to worry about that.” Williams had never struck her as the kind of man who was eager to work on the quaysides. For that matter, to work at all.
Papa answered that with a faint humph. Then he asked, “You have plans for the evening?”
“I’m staying in.”
“Looking forward to a night in front of the fire with a good book, are you?”
A good book…Robert. She bit back a frustrated sigh and swallowed the last of her bourbon, then set the glass down and turned to head upstairs. She was more than ready to put this day—and Carlisle—behind her.
“Be nice to Carlisle,” Papa called out in gentle warning.
“I will,” she answered. Although, considering what they’d shared that afternoon, she doubted it was possible to be any nicer to him and keep from being ruined.
She stopped in the doorway as a desperate urge rose inside her. One that told her that it was now or never. Turning to face him, she inhaled a deep breath to find the courage to finally put voice to her dearest dreams.
“I’ve always wanted to work with you, Papa.” She looked away when he glanced up at that soft and unexpected declaration, unable to face whatever shock or recrimination she might see in him. Or utter disappointment. “Since I was a little girl, I wanted to be part of Winslow Shipping. A real part of it,” she rushed out quietly, afraid that if she stopped, the words might never come. After all, how could she continue to press Robert to talk about his father, if she didn’t have the courage to talk with hers? “Is there any way—any way at all—” Her voice choked.
With her fingers twisting nervously in her dirty skirt, she forced herself to look up at him. The regret and pain she saw in him nearly undid her.
“Oh, Mariah,” he murmured, his shoulders sagging. “I wish things could be different, I truly do.” He looked away, but not before she saw the glistening of tears in his eyes. “But shipping is a dangerous world, not at all fit for any woman, let alone the lady you deserve to be. The one your mother wanted you to be.” He shook his head. “I was never able to deny your mother anything she wanted. It seems I still can’t.” Clearing the knot of emotion from his throat, he looked down at his hands as he folded them together over the stack of papers, interlacing his shaking fingers in a failed attempt to hide his emotion from her. “Can you understand?”