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her freedom and forces his every whim—”
      “As I have informed you, my dear Faith,” her father interrupted, his voice strained to the point of exploding, “should you ever find yourself in possession of so great a fortune, I have promised not to arrange a marriage against your will.” The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes seemed to fold together as he stared at her.
      “Then I hold you to our bargain.” Faith squared her shoulders, daring to hope that she could indeed fulfill her end of it. “If I amass this fortune you speak of, you will force neither me nor my sisters into marriage?”
      “Yes, of course.” The admiral dabbed his mouth with the edge of the tablecloth. “But time runs out. With your mother gone and me so often at sea, I may have no choice but to ensure your future happiness. The sooner you are all married, the better.”
      “And pray tell, Miss Westcott, how do you intend to procure such a fortune?” Sir Wilhelm asked with a hint of sarcasm.
      “I have started a soap-making business, which I can assure you will be quite successful.” Faith stiffened her jaw and focused on her uneaten plate of food.
      “Which I have yet to see any evidence of, I might add,” the admiral said with a chortle.
      Sir Wilhelm joined in his laughter, and Faith reached for her side where her cutlass normally hung but found only her beaded sash. Not that she would have stabbed the horrid excuse of a man, but it would have been amusing to see his face if she had tried. Instead, she rubbed her fingers over the smooth beads.
      Grace leaned toward Faith, her mouth pinched in concern. “Marriage is a blessed union of God and should be honored.”
      With a sigh, Faith returned a gentle smile to her sister. Sweet Grace. So young and naive, but with such a heart of gold. Faith sometimes wished she had been born with so agreeable a nature. But alas, that was not to be. “It is a union not meant for all.”
      “Nevertheless,” the admiral began, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his belly, “I believe I have been more than generous with you girls. In the five years since your mother…since your mother has been gone, you could have chosen any one of the fine young men clamoring for your attention in Portsmouth.” He raised a cynical brow toward Faith. “All of them in possession of a good fortune, I might add.”
      “Oh pish, Father. They were naught but pompous bores.”
      The admiral shifted his inquiring gaze to Hope. “And you, my dear?”
      “There were far too many of them. I simply could not choose.” She waved her hand through the air.
      Pursing his lips, he gazed at his youngest daughter. “What say you, fair Grace?”
      Grace played with her fingers in her lap. “Like Faith, I do not wish to marry. The apostle Paul instructs that ’tis best to serve the Lord wholeheartedly without the distractions of a husband.”
      “Ah yes,” the admiral sighed. “Grace’s pursuit of holy living has kept many possible suitors far away, I am afraid. There’s the rub, if you will.” He shifted a stern gaze over his daughters. “I fear my only mistake has been in giving any of you a choice. Despite your fallacious opinions, I made a fine match for your sister Charity, a man of title and wealth. I only delayed in procuring the same for you because of your constant bickering and complaining.”
      “Father.” Faith dropped her fork on her plate with a clang. “Despite his title and wealth, Lord Villement is naught but a—”
      “Enough!” His roar echoed across the room, silencing all noise save the patter of rain on the window. Then, composing himself, he smiled at Mr. Waite. “So you see my dilemma?”
      Sir Wilhelm’s salacious gaze slithered over Faith. “Not so daunting a dilemma, Admiral,