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allow it.
    “If those are the terms for having you in my life then I don’t accept them, or you.” She slipped out the door before he could answer, desperation driving her into the street. The time wasn’t gone yet. She could still save the Marquis. Perhaps one of her father’s old friends could lend her the money in exchange for a share in the pub. It would be trading one debt for another but it would give her more time and another chance to hold on to it and her dreams for John. Her own dreams and the calling of her heart to go back to Charles, to believe in him and his affection, to follow him as she had last night and allow him to share her burdens and her life were drowned out by her fears.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
     
     
     
    “What happened between you and Captain Beven?” Aunt Emily confronted Mary in the back hallway the moment Mary returned. She’d come back lightheaded and dispirited by her failure to raise the money she needed. Once she ate something, she’d set out again to visit more people and inquire about loans. It was humbling work but it kept her from dwelling on Charles’ betrayal and the quickly passing hours. “He left here this morning without telling anyone where he was going. Unlike you, he hasn’t returned.”
    “Captain Beven isn’t leaving, mama, is he?” John tugged at Mary’s skirt while clutching the wooden horse to his chest.
    Mary threw her aunt a pleading expression, not ready to tell John the truth or to break his heart the way Charles had broken hers.
    “Fetch your coat and I’ll take you to get a warm bun at the bakery,” Aunt Emily enticed him. John hurried up the stairs, leaving them alone to talk. “What happened?”
    “Charles didn’t want me, but money from the sale of the pub to purchase his commission. He told me so after Mr. Pratt left this morning.” Her voice wavered as she spoke but she refused to cry. It’d never helped in the past and it wouldn’t now.
    “No, you must be mistaken about his motives. He isn’t so deceitful. After all, to everyone he’s your husband with a legal right to the property. If he’d wanted to sell it he would have done so without asking and left you to prove he didn’t have the right, but he didn’t, because he isn’t that kind of man.”
    “Why are you defending him?”
    “Why are you so quick to condemn him?”
    “What else am I to think?” Mary dropped onto the small stool beside the back door, exhausted. “Look what mother did to me with Paul. I should have been able to trust her but I couldn’t. Why should I trust Charles?”
    Aunt Emily crossed her hands in front of her, her irritation fading in the face of Mary’s anguish. “You’re the only one who can answer that question.”
    No, she couldn’t, not with her thoughts so tangled. The joy and faith she’d experienced with him last night had been destroyed by Mr. Pratt’s threat and Charles’ suggestion. Like him, it wasn’t likely to come back.
    “What will we do now?” Aunt Emily asked.
    “I’m speaking to some of father’s old friends to see if they can loan us money in exchange for a share in the pub.”
    “Times are too hard for you to go begging to them.”
    “So, I’ve discovered.” Not one had been able to help her so far. “But I have no choice except to keep asking. If we don’t raise the money by tomorrow, Mr. Pratt will take the pub and we’ll be in the streets.”
    Aunt Emily removed the gold locket with the miniature of her husband and held it out to Mary. “Then take this and see what you can get for it.”
    Mary pushed it away. “I can’t sell Uncle Walt’s portrait.”
    “I insist. You were so good to take me in after he died and if this can help you then he’d want you to have it.” She pressed it into Mary’s hand then held it tight. “And try and find Captain Beven while you’re out. You need him.”
    “I can’t...” Mary began to protest when her aunt laid a silencing finger on her lips.
    “Sometimes, the bravest