There was so much to grieve for: the loss of her father, her home, her school and her friends. She sobbed freely and remembered the game they played in the dormitory at lights-out with the aid of a torch. There were four of them: Alice, Paula, Mary and herself. They drew a circle on a large sheet of cardboard and divided it into four sections, one for each of them, then they had spun a coin and if it fell tails up in your space, you had to do a forfeit. They’d got up to all sorts of innocent things, like creeping up to the head’s door and leaving finger marks on the highly polished brass handle, or squeezing through a window at night to bring back a flower or leaf. Leaving the dorm at night was strictly forbidden, and they’d had great fun carrying out the forfeits.

She dried her tears and sat up, hugging her knees. The coin had spun into her space and fallen as tails. Everything stable and secure in her life had been forfeit. She was so frightened!

2

An hour later Eugenie was still sitting in the same position, no nearer to deciding what to do and fearful for her future. If only she were a few years older it might be easier, but at sixteen she was still considered a child by her family and society in general. She stood up and turned round to face the mirror. She was quite tall and could probably pass for nineteen – well, seventeen at least – but what could she do? Her aunt was right about one thing: as lovely as the school had been, it had taught nothing that might be useful in the outside world. You had money if you attended the Templeton School, so you were expected to move in the circles of the wealthy. But she no longer belonged to that section of society. She’d better start trying to sort herself out, because there were only three days and she would have to decide quickly.

She washed her face and combed her long dark hair, all the time fighting to clear her mind. If she panicked, she would end up with that dreadful man. She couldn’t let that happen.

The tears welled up again, but she brushed them away. She had to think. Her father was dead, and, painful though it was, that was something she had to accept. They were also penniless. Her mother was too upset to help, and that left Aunt Gertrude, their only relative, in charge. Her aunt was, with obvious reluctance, going to take her sister in and give her a home, but she’d never had any time for Eugenie. That left Albert Greaves. Because he was immensely rich, her aunt and mother had always fawned over him, but there was something about him that made her stomach churn when she was near him.