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If only you could be more like your sister. Look more like her. Act more like her. Wasn't that what a younger sister generally heard instead of the older one?

Elena sighed again. What good was it to wallow in regret? Things were as they were. Her father was dead. They had no money. Without someone coming to their rescue, they would lose their house. Her twin brothers would have to leave the academy and find jobs at the tender age of thirteen.

No one could expect her mother to ensnare a rich husband so soon after becoming a widow. That would be scandalous. And dear Ivy was too young, too innocent. That left Elena to save them all. At least that was her mother's plan as she had outlined it to Elena days ago after her mother had been informed they would be given only one more extension on the loans. If payment wasn't made by the end of the year, their property would be confiscated by the bank and sold to satisfy the debts.

"What choice do we have, Elena?" Her mother had not waited for her to answer. "It's not as if you are madly in love with anyone."

"I daresay therein lies the problem." Elena glared at her.

Her mother waved away her words. "You are not looking at the situation as you should. If you were in love with someone without the means to support us, then that would be the tragedy. As it is, you are free and able to embrace this plan to choose a husband with the means to pull us out of this precarious situation your father has left us in. Borrowing money he had no way to pay back." She sniffed and touched her nose with her kerchief. Not a tearful sniff. More one of outrage. "And then that horrid Mr. Carter insinuating that—" She clamped her lips together and stopped talking.

"The bank president? What did he say?" Elena knew her mother had conferred with him a few weeks ago.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." She lifted her chin as she turned stern eyes on her. "What Mr. Carter said or didn't say is of no importance. What is important is what happens this summer at Graham Springs." She had narrowed her eyes at Elena. "You must smile more. Demurely. Perhaps attempt a mysterious look. Men are attracted to that."

Graham Springs. People flocked to the famous Springs Hotel in Kentucky to seek cures for various illnesses. If only drinking its spring water could heal their broken finances.

Now, as she continued to stare at the faded rose petals on the ground, the cat caught her skirt with her claws and mewed. Elena picked her up and rubbed her face in fluffy gray fur to rid her cheeks of the trace of tears. The cat's rumbling purr brought new tears to Elena's eyes.

"Dear Willow, I shall miss you."

Jamison promised to look out for the cat after he returned from taking them to meet the stage to Graham Springs. Willow would be fine. She was a good mouser and had no kittens to feed. Had never had kittens in the four years she had lived in the garden. An implausible spinster cat. Her father said the cat must have some fortunate genetic problem. One cat in a garden was good, but not a dozen cats.

"Elena!" Her mother called her. "We are waiting on you."

When Elena didn't answer, her mother stepped to the garden gate and spoke again, her voice harsher. "Stop dillydallying. It isn't as though you won't see this garden again or that cat. Neither is going anywhere."

But perhaps she would be. Elena might never again sit here among her father's roses to sketch a garden scene while Willow chased grasshoppers. She kissed the cat's head and dropped her. The cat landed on her feet with a soft thud. Cats always landed on their feet. Perhaps Elena could do the same, no matter the fall.

"Coming, Mother." She brushed some cat hair from her black dress, squared her shoulders, and stepped toward her future.

CHAPTER TWO

Climbing into the stage to go to Graham Springs was every bit as dreadful as Elena had imagined. If her mother's grim face was any indication, she felt the same as they and Ivy squeezed together on one of the bench seats. They had to adjust their skirts to make room for the two gentlemen in the seat across from them. At least, Elena prayed they were gentlemen.

One of them, a pale, slender man who appeared to be not much older than she, seemed a bit unsteady as he settled in a corner of the seat. He clasped his hands together but not before she saw how they trembled, as if the effort to climb into the stagecoach had taken all his energy. The other man's gray mustache indicated he might be her father's age. He had an air of importance about him as he positioned his knees among their ruffles with an irritated frown.