oston, Massachusetts

February 1816

"You're sending me away?" Emma Dunster's violet eyes were wide open with shock and dismay.

"Don't be so dramatic," her father replied. "Of course I'm not sending you away. You're just going to spend a year in London

with your cousins."

Emma's mouth fell open. "But... why?"

John Dunster shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I just think that you ought to see a little more of the world, that's all."

"But I've been to London. Twice."

"Yes, well, you're older now." He cleared his throat a few times and sat back.

"But—"

"I don't see why this is such a hardship. Henry and Caroline love you like their own, and you told me yourself that you

like Belle and Ned better than any of your friends in Boston."

"But they've been visiting for two months. It's not as if I haven't seen them recently."

John crossed his arms. "You're sailing back with them tomorrow, and that's final. Go to London, Emma. Have some fun."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you trying to marry me off?"

"Of course not! I just think that a change of scenery will do you good."

"I disagree. There are a thousand reasons why I simply cannot leave Boston at the present time."

"Really?"

"Yes. There is this household, for example. Who will manage it while I'm gone?"

John smiled indulgently at his daughter. "Emma, we live in a twelve-room house. It doesn't require much managing. And I'm

sure that the little that is necessary can be most ably performed by Mrs. Mullins."

"What about all of my friends? I shall miss them all dreadfully. And Stephen Ramsay will be most disappointed if I leave so suddenly. I think he's on the verge of proposing."

"For God's sake, Emma! You don't care two figs for young Ramsay. You shouldn't raise the poor boy's hopes just because

you don't want to go to London."

"But I thought you wanted us to marry. His father is your best friend."

John sighed. "When you were ten I might have entertained thoughts of a future match between the two of you. But it was

obvious even then that you would never suit. You would drive him crazy within a week."

"Your concern for your only child is touching," Emma muttered.

"And he would bore you senseless," John finished gently. "I only wish Stephen would realize the fruitlessness of it. It's all

the more reason for you to leave town. If you're an ocean away, he might finally look elsewhere for a bride."

"But I really prefer Boston."

"You adore England," John countered, his voice bordering on exasperation. "You couldn't stop talking about how much you

loved it last time we went."

Emma swallowed and caught her lower lip nervously between her teeth. "What about the company?" she said softly.

John sighed and sat back. At last, the real reason why Emma didn't want to leave Boston. "Emma, Dunster Shipping will

still be here when you get back."

"But there is still so much more for me to know! How am I going to take over eventually if I don't learn all I can now?"

"Emma, you and I both know that there is no one I would rather leave the company to than you. I built Dunster Shipping up

from nothing, and Lord knows I want to pass it on to my own flesh and blood. But we have to face facts. Most of our clients

will be reluctant to do business with a woman. And the workers aren't going to want to take orders from you. Even if your last name is Dunster."

Emma closed her eyes, knowing it was true and nearly ready to cry over the unfairness of it all.

"I know that there is no one better suited to run Dunster Shipping," her father said gently. "But that doesn't mean that anyone

else will agree with me. Much as it angers me, I have to accept the fact that the company will falter with you at the helm.

We'd lose all of our contracts."

"For no other reason besides my gender," she said sullenly.

"I'm afraid so."

"I'm going to run this company some day." Emma's violet eyes were clear and deadly serious.

"Good Lord, girl. You don't give up, do you?"

Emma caught her lower lip between her teeth and stood her ground.

John sighed. "Did I ever tell you about the time you had influenza?"

Emma shook her head, confused by the sudden change of subject.

"It was right after the disease took your mother. You were four, I think. Such a tiny little thing." He looked up at his only

child, warmth and affection shining in his eyes. "You were very small as a child—you're still small as an adult, but when

you were young—oh, you were so, so tiny I didn't think it possible that you'd have the strength to fight the illness."

Emma sat down, deeply moved by her father's choked words.

"But you pulled through," he said suddenly. "And then I realized what saved you. You were simply too stubborn to die."

Emma wasn't able to suppress a tiny smile.

"And I," her father continued, "I was too stubborn to let you." He straightened his shoulders as if banishing the sentimentality

of the moment. "In fact, I may be the only person on this earth who is more stubborn than you are, daughter, so you may as

well accept your fate."

Emma groaned. It was time to face it—there was no way to avoid going to England. Not that a trip abroad could be considered punishment. She adored her cousins. Belle and Ned were the sister and brother she'd never had. But still, one had to think of

the serious things, and Emma didn't want to neglect her self-imposed commitment to Dunster Shipping. She glanced back over

at her father. He was sitting behind his desk, arms crossed, looking implacable. Emma sighed, resigning herself to a temporary setback. "Oh, all right." She got up to leave—to pack, she supposed, since she'd be leaving the next day on one of her father's ships. "But I'll be back."

"I'm sure you will. Oh, and Emma?"

She turned around.

"Don't forget to have a little fun while you're there, all right?"

Emma flashed her father her most mischievous smile. "Really, Papa, you don't think I would deny myself a good time in London just because I didn't want to be there?"

"Of course not. How silly of me."

Emma put her hand on the doorknob and opened the door a few inches. "A girl only gets a London season once in her lifetime,

I suppose. She might as well enjoy herself, even if she's not the society type."

"Oh marvelous! Then you got her to agree?" Lady Caroline, John's sister, exclaimed, suddenly barging into the room.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that eavesdropping is impolite?" John asked mildly.

"Nonsense. I was walking down the hall and I heard Emma speaking. She had the door slightly open, you know." She turned

to Emma. "Now that we have this settled, however, what is all this I hear about you punching a thief in the nose today?"

"Oh, that," Emma said, pinkening.

"Oh what?" John demanded.

"I saw someone trying to take Ned's wallet. He and Belle were bickering about something or other, like they always do,

and he didn't notice that he was being robbed."

"So you punched him? Couldn't you have just screamed?"

"Oh, for goodness sake, Papa. What would that have accomplished?"

"Well, then, did you at least throw a good punch?"

Emma bit her lower lip in a sheepish gesture. "Actually, I think I broke his nose."

Caroline groaned audibly. "Emma," she said softly. "You do know that I am very much looking forward to having you in

London for the season?"

"I know." Caroline was the closest thing Emma had to a mother. She was always trying to get her to spend more time in England.

"And you know that I love you dearly and would not want to change a thing about you."

''Yes." Emma said hesitatingly.

"Then I hope you won't take offense when I say that proper young ladies really don't go about punching unsavory

characters in the nose in London."

"Oh, Aunt Caroline, proper young ladies really don't do that sort of thing in Boston, either."

John chuckled. "Did you by chance get Ned's wallet back?"

Emma tried to throw him a haughty look, but she couldn't stop her lips from turning up at the corners. "Of course."

John beamed. "That's my girl!"