The Headmistress of Rosemere by Sarah E Ladd

successful, he would require every inch of land, every corner. For horseflesh. Not textiles.
    Riley stood, crossed the room, and propped his elbow on the stone mantel. “The way I figure it, I have money to invest, but no land. You have . . . er, limited access to money, but you are sitting on land waiting for commerce. Am I right?”
    William shifted uncomfortably at the directness of the question.
    “I appreciate that you don’t want to sell Latham Hill. But let it to me until we can establish something more permanent. Partner with us. Carlton will bring the knowledge, I will provide funds, you bring the land, and we will go from there. We shall build the mill, and if it should fail, what harm is done? We will dismantle and your land will be yours, hardly worse for the use. If it should be successful, then we will need to find a bigger location. At which time your land will still be yours.”
    William glanced up at the portrait of his father above the mantel with his focused eyes and the determined set of his mouth. His father would never approve.
    But then again, when had his father ever approved of anything he had done?
    William snorted. “I suppose the more pertinent question would be, what do I have to gain?”
    A wild, eager light shone from Riley’s black eyes, and he shifted his weight, as if the excitement of what he was about to say had begun flowing through his veins. “We shall become equal partners—you, Carlton, and me. If it fails, what have you to lose? Your land reverts back to you. If it succeeds, then, well, you will be plump in the pocket.” He stared down at the fire, his tone shifting. “We’ve known each other a long time, you and I. It pains me to see you like this, it really does. I would not bring this to you unless I thought it had a chance to succeed.”
    William studied his longtime friend, his face showing what was likely genuine concern. He wanted to believe Riley. But Riley had proved to be as reckless and wild as he himself had been. Would this really be successful, or would this be yet another example of his misguided ventures?
    “I would need to think about it.”
    “Well, we don’t have long. Carlton’s visiting Ambledale Court at week’s end. Will you at least meet him?”
    William shrugged. “I suppose there is no harm in that.”
    “Good. Ride out on Saturday. He’ll be there.” Riley rubbed his hands together and rocked on his heels. “Trust me, Sterling. You’ll not regret this.”

7
     
    F IRE!”
    The urgency in the word sliced the murky space between dream and consciousness.
    Patience bolted upright in bed, heart pounding, pulse racing.
    Was she awake? Dreaming?
    With her next breath, her nose burned and tears stung her eyes.
    Smoke!
    Through her bedchamber window, eerie shapes of amber and black cast shadows against the painted walls. She ran to the pane and yanked aside the thick curtains. Holding her sleeve up to her mouth, she squinted, struggling to see through the smoke’s misty vapors. A crash echoed from the stable. A panicked cry followed.
    Charlie! Charlie sleeps in the stable!
    Plumes of fire reached into the night sky from the stable. Thick, black smoke curled even higher, lapping nearby trees and blocking the moon. Figures dashed around the glowing stable. A shout. Someone threw a bucket of water. A small body was mounting a horse.
    She reached for her robe and stuffed her stocking feet into slippers. Her legs, tangled in her linen nightdress, fought to obey her mind’s order for urgency. Stumbling in the dark and struggling to maintain balance, Patience stuffed her arms through the robe’s sleeve, then the other, and grabbed the doorknob. She had to get downstairs.
    Patience ran down the hall, pausing only to fling open her mother’s bedchamber door.
    “Mother!” she shouted, squinting to adjust to the darkness. In the white moonlight she spotted her mother’s form beneath a mound of blankets. Patience ran to her, grabbed her shoulder, and