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    much chance that she found a new post as a companion, that's for certain, not without a reference from
    her last employer. So depressing when a young woman squanders her assets." Hmm," Emma said. She
    thought about the references she had written for herself in recent weeks. Sometimes one can invent an
    illusion of assets." Letty's thin, gray brows rose. Wry amusement glinted in her bright brown eyes. If a
    gel's smart enough to do that, then she'd best use the illusion to marry a wealthy old fool in his dotage.
    Take it from me, once that is accomplished, one is free to enjoy life." Emma thought of giving herself to a
    man she could neither love nor respect. She clenched her hands in her lap. She would forge a better fate
    for herself and for Daphne. I do not have any plans to marry, Letty." Letty half closed her lashes and
    eyed her speculatively. Is it that you no longer have your chief asset to barter or is it that you don't care
    for the notion of selling it in the marketplace?" Emma gave her a brilliant smile. If it transpired that I no
    longer possessed my virtue, I would certainly not admit it and risk losing my post as your companion,
    now, would I?" Letty gave a crack of laughter. Very well done, my dear. So you don't care for the notion
    of bartering your assets for a wedding ring, eh?" My fortunes may have fallen quite low of late," Emma
    said. But not so low that I am tempted to go into trade." The London newspapers arrived shortly before
    noon. As was the case with most gentlemen in the country, Basil Ware subscribed to a wide variety,
    including The Times. Emma had spent the past hour alone in the library feverishly await ing the arrival of
    the post. The household was finally astir, but thus far, few of the guests had ventured downstairs. When
    misses Gatten, plump and placid, walked into the room with the papers in her work-worn hands, Emma
    practically pounced on her. Thank you, misses Gatten." She scooped the newspapers out of the
    housekeeper's grasp and rushed to the window seat.
    Yer welcome." misses Gatten shook her head. Never seen anyone so eager to read the papers. Not like
    there's ever any good news in em." Emma waited impatiently until the housekeeper had left. Then she
    jerked off the useless spectacles and set them aside. She tore through the newspapers, anxiously
    searching for the shipping news. There was no new word of the fate of The Golden Orchid, the ship in
    which she had invested nearly everything she had got from the sale of the house in Devon. The vessel was
    now more than two months over due. Presumed lost at sea. Emma had first read the dreadful words in
    the shipping columns six weeks ago, but she still could not bring herself to give up hope. She had been so
    certain that the single share she had purchased in The Golden Orchid would prove to be a shrewd
    investment. Her intuition had never been stronger than it was on the day she had risked everything on the
    vessel. Bloody ship." She tossed aside the last of the papers. That is the very last time I shall follow a
    hunch." But she knew, even as she took the oath, that she was lying to herself. Sometimes her hunches
    were simply too strong to be ignored. Good day to you, Miss Greyson. The name was Miss Greyson,
    was it not? I'm afraid I haven't seen much of you since you arrived." Emma jumped at the sound of Basil
    Ware's voice. She seized her spectacles and shoved them back on her nose. Then she turned to the
    gentleman who stood in the doorway. Mister Ware. Good day, sir. I did not hear you come in." Basil
    Ware was an attractive man in a ruddy, open, outdoorsy sort of way. He looked especially good in the
    riding jacket and breeches that he wore this morning. He was seldom without his riding crop, which he
    carried the way other men carried walking sticks. In spite of his years in America, he was, she thought,
    the quintessential English gentleman, genial and fond of sports, very