her. With such a treasure to recommend her, and her dowry besides, she would undoubtedly attract a great deal of suitors when she came out. Surely among the crush of a London Season, she could find the one. The one who made her heart trip and her skin tingle. The one who would love her throughout their lives, come what may.
“To marry only for the truest love,” Daphne said into the quiet that had settled upon their gazebo. “A love that withstands every challenge and trial.”
Isabel’s eyes grew serious. “To men who treat us as equals.”
“Who can make us laugh even on the worst of days,” Phoebe added.
“Who would stop at nothing to win our hearts,” came Lavinia’s soft voice.
Daphne looked at Marah—they all looked at Marah, who only stared at her feet. “Love is a luxury some cannot afford,” she said.
Lavinia leaned across and took her hand. “Come, Marah, we are dreaming right now. Tell us what you want in a man.”
Marah hesitated a moment longer then let out a long breath. “If I could have a man who sees me not for my economic value, but simply for me, I think I should be happy.”
Daphne smiled wistfully. That was the trick, wasn’t it? Her own parents, after all, had married for money and convenience. Sometimes it was difficult to believe there was a man out there who might see beyond those things. But she had to trust her heart, that she would know love when she felt it.
And she had to hope Mother would agree with her.
Phoebe looked around the circle of girls, meeting their eyes in turn. “We must promise to try.”
Lavinia held out the bracelet, the red beads a glimmering circle in her palm, reflecting the weak moonlight. Daphne did not waver; she reached out and touched the bracelet, Isabel and Phoebe following soon after, their warm hands comforting around hers.
Marah watched them all, some unknown battle occurring behind her eyes.
“All of us,” Daphne said gently.
Marah sighed, then scooted forward to touch a tentative finger on the bracelet.
“A pact for love,” Isabel said, “for each other, and the men we choose to stand beside us.”
They nodded together, a solemn and binding moment as they looked at one another. Daphne swallowed. Was this the last time she would ever see her friends all together? Would they ever again laugh and tease each other, comfort and help whoever was in need?
She had to believe this was not the end, but rather the beginning of their next grand adventures. She could only hope the future would be kind to them all, that they might find the happiness they longed for.
“Give me your hand, Marah,” Lavinia said, and they all sat back save for Marah. Lavinia slipped the bracelet around her wrist, securing the gold fastener. Then Phoebe uncovered the Chelsea buns. Marah smiled for the first time that night as they laughed, their hands becoming sticky messes as they ate their stolen treats. Well worth it, in Daphne’s opinion, since Cook’s Chelsea buns were quite the best she’d ever tasted.
As they settled back onto the blankets, Isabel once again held up their prized leather book. “Huddle close, ladies. The Love of Count Rudolph, the final chapter.”
Lavinia put an arm around Marah, and Phoebe scooted closer to Daphne, wrapping a spare blanket about both their shoulders. They watched Isabel expectantly as she opened the book and paused dramatically. Daphne grinned, already anticipating what would surely be a heart-stopping and blush-inducing ending.
“The clouds over Mount Morocco made the silvery moon seem like a ghost,” Isabel began in a low voice, “and Esmerelda heard the howl of the wolf pack from afar off and shivered. Where was her handsome Count? Would he come for her? She fingered the battered locket at her chest. He’d promised his love would stretch across oceans. Was a mountain too far?”
Chapter 1
Four Years Later
Of course it would rain today.
Daphne should not have been surprised, really. Not after her hair had refused to hold a curl at the inn that morning, or after she’d caught her hem on the nicked edge of the coach door and ripped an inch-long hole. Still, she’d hoped her bad luck would not be so extensive as to affect the weather.
But the rain had started an hour before and had yet to let up, ferociously pelting the windows and roof of the coach. Of course.
“Do you think we’ll arrive afore dark, Miss Windham?”
Daphne gave a long sigh. “Yes, I imagine so, even with