Chapter 1

I had taken my husband, Edward Harrington, from my elder sister, Isabelle Ainsworth, even though I never loved him.

At first, he had come to court Isabelle. As a token of his intentions, he brought a casket of luminous pearls.

And that was only the beginning. Crates of rare treasures followed, enough to make me envious.

But Isabelle was unimpressed. She brushed Edward aside and shut the door in his face. "Charles will come to propose soon," she said impatiently. "I won't have him getting the wrong idea."

My gaze lingered on the oversized pearl gleaming on the table. I wet my lips. "You really can't stand Edward, huh? I've got a way to make him stop fawning over you," I said.

Isabelle toyed with the pearl and scoffed with disdain, "Merchants only care about profit, and I wouldn't waste my time on someone like that. I want to marry the realm's finest scholar instead."

I said nothing. A scholar might have talent, but talent did not fill coffers. A merchant, on the other hand, was rich beyond measure. And I had always loved gold.

*****

Edward had truly been taken with Isabelle.

I forged a letter in her hand and sent it out. It was only seven parts convincing, yet that was more than enough to draw him to the meeting.

After being publicly refused, his humiliation became the favorite gossip of the capital. Still, he showed up at the winehouse with a smile.

"Isabelle has her heart set on Charles Preston, the newly crowned laureate," I said.

Edward had come full of expectation, only to find the one he longed for absent. His smile faded, and he looked totally crestfallen.

I caught the edge of his sleeve. "Don't look so down. The wine is on me tonight."

Lowering my gaze, I noticed the brocade box in his hand. "Was that meant for Isabelle?"

Edward tossed it aside without a thought, and it landed in my arms.

I opened it. "A rose-colored hairpin... the sort she always favored."

"Keep it," he said.

I had never cared for pink, but I knew well enough that such a piece could fetch a handsome sum. I tilted my head, smiled in thanks, then shyly looked away. Everything unfolded just as I had planned.

Edward drank the wine I offered, unaware it had been spiked. Between half-hearted resistance and blurred judgment, he ended up sharing my bed.

At dawn, I lay still with my eyes closed, waiting for him to wake. The sounds beside me were hurried and uneven. I could picture his confusion.

After a long while, just as he opened the door to leave, I finally sat up.

"Mr. Harrington," I said calmly, "do you truly intend to walk away? Is that how a man of trade settles his debts?"

He turned back, shock plain in his eyes.

I met his gaze with a steady smile. Did he think I would quietly pretend nothing had happened?

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Marry me," I said.

He drew in a sharp breath, his fist tightening at his side.

I continued to look at him, unflinching.

"Very well." He left behind those words and departed in haste.

I let out a long breath and sank back onto the bed, totally spent. I had not been certain I could bend Edward to my will, but the gamble had paid off.

I was a lesser daughter of the house. My mother had died young. My stepmother ruled with a hard hand, and my father showed me little warmth.

Though I carried the title of a magistrate's daughter, it meant little more than never going hungry. I owned no silks or furs, no gold or jewels, and I had no voice in my own marriage.

The men my stepmother chose for me were all past thirty, widowers seeking a second wife. Each match was meant to smooth my father's stalled career.

I took the hairpin to the pawnshop and exchanged it for small pieces of silver.

When I felt the weight of the coins in my palm, a sense of safety finally settled over me.

Isabelle had resented Edward for drawing unwanted rumors to her door. I had removed her trouble for her. By any measure, I had done her a kindness.

After returning to the estate and changing my clothes, I was just about to present myself before Isabelle and claim my credit.

Edward moved faster than I had expected.

The betrothal gifts that had been carried away the day before were borne once again through the gates of the Ainsworth household. A crowd quickly gathered at the entrance, eager for a spectacle.

"Father, Edward has no sense at all," Isabelle complained, stamping her foot. "Why has he come again?" Her words were sharp, yet her eyes kept drifting toward the great chests in the courtyard.