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exchange for the blue bottle. The paper-wrapped parcel was heavy enough that Emily suspected the contents would last her to London, would see her cocooned in oblivion through her first meeting with her aunt, through her father’s departure to join up with a group of train-mad gentlemen to tour the country’s fledgling railways, perhaps even through her first introduction to her future husband.
    If she was very lucky she might even manage to make it through her first London Season in quiet contentment, might avoid thinking of her future, a future that held no resemblance whatsoever to the one she’d imagined for herself.
    “Now mind me, young miss,” the apothecary cautioned as he handed another, smaller wrapped parcel into her hands. “Every apothecary brews his own variety of laudanum. This here that I’ve given you might be a bit more potent than what you’re familiar with. You be sure to take care with how much you take until you’ve accustomed yourself to it.”
    Emily nodded, barely hearing his words as anticipation shivered up her spine, finding a nest at the nape of her neck where it settled like a faint beat, a warm, whispering tingle.
    It was an odd sensation, anticipation coupled with a sort of jittery restlessness, and one she would come to both welcome and dread in the months that followed.
     

Chapter Three
     
    London nearly shocked Emily from the near stupor she’d been in for the final two days of their journey south. The carriage rumbled through narrow streets lined by tightly packed houses rising three and four stories and seemingly built expressly to block the weak rays of sunlight from landing on refuse strewn streets and the people who scurried over them in every direction.
    “Lord above,” Charles Calvert grumbled from the seat facing his daughter. “I’d forgotten what a cesspool London is.”
    “And yet you intend to abandon me here,” Emily softly rebuked without looking away from the open window and the sights and sounds beyond their carriage. In her elixir induced state, with her eyes heavy lidded and her mind enshrouded in cotton batting, she imagined herself floating over those scurrying masses, invisible and untouched by one and all.
    “You’ll hardly be abandoned,” her father replied gruffly. “Margaret will see you settled, see you introduced to the best people. And I’ll only be gone two months, three at most.”
    “Gallivanting across the countryside while I languish in the stench of coal smoke and unwashed bodies,” Emily accused, her slurred words drifting out the window.
    Da reached past her and wrenched the window closed. With a final look at the streets crowded with people hurrying by in worn, ragged clothing, Emily fell back onto the padded seat to find him staring at her with a frown.
    “This is not Mayfair,” he explained with forced patience. “You will not be surrounded by coal smoke or unwashed bodies. Your aunt’s townhouse is in Hanover Square, one of the finest areas of London. While I am gone Margaret will take you in hand.”
    “I’m to be taken in hand like a child?” Emily whispered as her eyes drifted closed. “I’m not a child.”
    “Then quit acting like one,” Da rumbled. “I’ve tolerated your sulks these last weeks but no more.”
    Emily peered up at him from beneath heavy eyelids before looking away from his angry gaze. The carriage turned a corner and the road widened into a tree-dappled street lined with neat little houses with bright white doors behind small gardens.
    Tilly shifted beside her and Emily turned to watch as the girl obeyed the silent command of her master and rose to trade places with him. Da settled in beside her and reached for her hands, taking them into his big, calloused paws with a gentleness that might have brought tears to her eyes had she not been enveloped in blessed oblivion.
    “Listen to me, Em,” he pleaded softly. “These English aren’t like us. They’re a stuffy, proper lot, puffed up on their