Lily (Song of the River) by Aaron McCarver, Diane T. Ashley Read Free Book Online Page B

volatile aunt, Lily was surprised at the reasonable tone of her words.
    A sigh came from Grandmother. “I suppose you may invite him to visit my home, but that is all.”
    “Of course, Mother.” Aunt Dahlia kissed Grandmother on the cheek and turned to retrace her steps back to the porch, her strides long and purposeful.
    “That must be the attorney arriving.” Grandmother’s voice drew Lily’s attention to a carriage that had arrived at the front steps just ahead of Aunt Dahlia. “I suppose we should go in and hear what he has to tell us about your grandfather’s will.”
    After a few steps, however, she turned back to Lily. “I don’t want you to worry about your aunt’s plans. She has no say in the running of the household. I promise you she will not force you into a loveless marriage.”
    Lily nodded, but a new worry took root as she watched her grandmother’s unsteady steps across the front lawn. She might always be welcome in Grandmother’s home, but one day Grandmother would join Grandfather in heaven. While she prayed that day would be far in the future, what would happen to her then? Would her aunt and uncle be as loving toward her? Would they allow her to live with them, or would they expect her to find another home?
    And what about her little sisters? What if they had not yet found men they wished to marry? Would they have to accept the first offers that came their way?
    She would not—could not—allow that to happen. Her sisters had to be protected … no matter what.

Chapter Seven
     
    B lake looked up at the fancy sign boasting a picture of a stern-wheeler with the words Champney Shipping emblazoned below it. It hung on the facade of an equally fancy building and seemed to fit with the self-assured owner he had met so recently. A much more shrewd businessman than the son, Jean Luc. But he was ready for this meeting, ready to describe his plans to his new business partner.
    Funny how things turned out. When he had finally received the deed, he had been disappointed to learn that it represented only half ownership of the
Hattie Belle
—49 percent to be precise. He wondered if it galled Monsieur Champney to be in business with a gambler as much as it galled him to find he was not the sole owner.
    After some time angrily pacing the contours of his room, Blake had realized the situation could be salvaged. Partial ownership was better than nothing. From that thought came an idea to present a plan to Mr. Champney. The man would be a fool to turn down easy profits. With his knowledge of the gaming world, all his partner had to do was sit back and reap the profits.
    Blake twisted the polished brass knob sharply, entering the main room of Champney Shipping with a firm step. His gaze rested on a narrow-shouldered clerk sitting behind a polished oak counter. “Good morning.”
    The man looked up and adjusted his spectacles. “May I help you, sir?”
    “I’m here to see Mr. Champney.”
    The man frowned and glanced over his shoulder toward the door that must lead to the owner’s office. “Do you have an appointment, Mr …?”
    “Yes.” Blake tapped the rolled papers into his open palm. “He’s expecting me to come by with this proposal.”
    “If you’ll wait here a moment.” The clerk slid off his stool and knocked on the door to Mr. Champney’s office. After a moment, he opened it a few inches and spoke to someone inside. When he turned back to Blake, his face held a warmer expression. “You may come in, sir.”
    Blake stepped around the end of the counter and entered the room, his heart beating hard. Was it excitement or dread? Probably both.
    A thick carpet cushioned his footsteps, its rich burgundy and navy colors a pleasing contrast to the oak-paneled walls of Mr. Champney’s office, walls that were interspersed with tall mahogany bookshelves. This was luxury. His gaze wandered over the books and ledgers stored inside the office before finally resting on Mr. Champney’s desk. Ornately