Chapter 1
Chapter 1: Karolina Inn Runes
Karolina Runes hated her name.
Not the whole of it—only the way people said it. Karo, they called
her, rounding the second syllable until it sounded soft and
foolish. She corrected them every time.
“Kara,” she would say, clear as a bell. “With an a.”
It was a small rebellion, but Karolina had been born into a house
where even small rebellions were counted.
The rest of her brothers had been born properly in Michigan,
under the carved ceilings and heavy curtains of the Runes estate.
Karolina, however, had arrived in Columbia, South Carolina,
because her father insisted that his wife accompany him on
business even when she was too far along to travel comfortably.
Her mother had gone into labor two weeks early, and Karolina
had entered the world somewhere her father had not planned.
That, she sometimes thought, had been her first mistake.
Ryan Prescott Runes was a wealthy man, despite the unfortunate
sound of his name.
The family pronounced it Runes, though half the town whispered
ruins behind their gloves, as if the joke were too easy to resist. He
owned land, shipping interests, mills, and enough political
friendships to make lesser men careful. He had five sons and one
daughter.
Unfortunately for Karolina, she was the eldest.
She had spent most of her life trying to prove that birth order
should matter more than sex. Her father disagreed. To him,
daughters were not meant to inherit authority. They were meant
to marry it.
When Karolina asked to study at the university, he looked at her
as though she had asked to command a regiment.
“You are too headstrong,” he told her. “Education will only make
that worse.”
“What you call headstrong,” she said, “I call having a mind.”
“A dangerous thing in a woman without a husband to temper it.”
She had not forgiven him for that.
Not entirely.
Their last great argument began, as most of their arguments did,
with him seated behind his desk and Karolina standing before it
like an accused prisoner.
“Stop treating me as if I am inferior to your sons,” she cried.
Ryan poured himself a brandy with maddening calm. “I see you
have your mother’s temper.”
“And she accuses me of having yours.”
He lifted the glass. “Then we are both right.”
She ran from the room in tears, but Karolina could never stay
angry with him for long. That was part of the cruelty of loving
him. He frustrated her, wounded her pride, dismissed her
ambitions—and still, she wanted his approval more than
anyone’s.
She was not trying to be difficult. She was trying to be worthy.
Her brothers were encouraged to study, travel, invest, argue,
inherit, and fail. Karolina was expected to sit prettily in drawing
rooms and wait for some suitable man to decide what shape the
rest of her life would take.
She wanted more.
She wanted the university.
She wanted medicine.
She wanted the right to be useful.
Her father called that embarrassment.
Women could not properly practice business or medicine, he
reminded her. The world was not made that way. Nursing,
perhaps, was noble enough. Teaching, too. But noble professions
were rarely profitable, and Ryan Runes had very practical views
about poverty.
Karolina begged anyway.
Then the war reached Lake Erie.
Her mother, Faye, frightened by the nearness of battle, persuaded
Ryan that sending Karolina away might be safer than keeping her
at home. He yielded at last, though not for the reason Karolina
wanted. If she went to the university, he said, perhaps she might
meet a respectable physician and marry him.
Karolina went to learn.
Her father waited for her to return with a husband.
She came home with neither.
At dinner that night, Ryan announced that she had broken his
heart more efficiently than all five of his sons combined.
Karolina did not flinch. She folded her hands in her lap and
stared across the table while her brothers pretended not to listen.
“If you wish to be treated like one of the boys,” her father said,
“then I shall show you no favoritism.”
She understood his meaning before he said it.
“If you do not marry by thirty, you will be cut from the greater
portion of my fortune. You may work as a nurse, since you
admire labor so much, and live by the independence you insist
upon.”
“Tough love?” she asked.
“Practical love.”
The will was changed in secret before he died.
The family expected the revision to favor Karolina. They believed,
foolishly, that illness had softened him. They thought he had
included her equally with her brothers, whether she married or
not.
Instead, when the will was read, the condition was laid bare.
Karolina would receive the largest share of her father’s personal
fortune—but only if she married by thirty. If she did not, that
portion would return to her brothers.
She left the room in tears.
The rest of the family sat stunned.
Only Theodore followed her.
Of all her brothers, Teddy had always been the kindest. He was
only a year younger than she was, and as children they had stood
back-to-back against the others when games turned vicious. He
found her in the side hall, one hand pressed to her mouth, trying
not to sob loudly enough for the servants to hear.
“What will you do?” he asked gently.
Karolina straightened. “I shall certainly be married in time to
fulfill the conditions of Father’s will.”
“Is that such a difficult task?”
“Finding love has proved extremely difficult.”
“I am sure you have had offers, dear.”
His tone was kind, which made the lie worse.
Karolina was pretty—striking, even—with a full figure, green
eyes, and an otherworldly expression that made men look twice
and then hesitate. She gave the impression of a woman whose
body belonged in society, but whose mind had wandered
somewhere society could not follow.
She was also angry.
That, Teddy suspected, did not help.
“When a woman remains unwed,” he said carefully, “one begins
to wonder whether there exists a man suitable for her at all.”
Karolina looked at him for the first time.
He had not meant to wound her.
He had done it anyway.
“I will know him when I see him,” she said.
“So there is hope.”
“Hope springs eternal.”
Teddy smiled, but it faded quickly. “The rest of the family is
foolish enough to think you will refuse to marry for money. I
know better. You will marry—but knowing you, you will do it
too late or choose a man with no fortune of his own.”
“That would be my luck.”
“Your portion is the lion’s share of Father’s holdings. The estate
remains separate, but the personal fortune is considerable. If you
fail to meet the condition, it will be divided among us.” He
hesitated. “I can place my share in trust for you, privately, so you
may at least supplement your income. It would not make you
comfortable, but it would help you remain independent.”
Karolina loved him for offering.
She also knew his wife would never allow it.
Vera had red hair like Karolina’s, but where Karolina’s coloring
held warmth, Vera’s beauty was cold and polished. Her blue eyes
could turn any room into a witness stand, and her mouth carried
a little feminine smirk that made kindness look like a weapon.
Karolina could already hear her.
She has no children. We have three. Why should your father’s money be
stolen from our own household to support a woman who defied him?
The thought alone made Karolina’s jaw tighten.
Vera had already tried to be helpful once.
At tea, with the servants moving silently around them, Vera had
leaned close and said, “Marriage is not always the blessing people
pretend it is. I could introduce you to a lady friend of mine who
feels the same way.”
Karolina understood the implication at once.
Vera had been circling the family suspicion that Karolina’s
difficulty with men had less to do with standards and more to do
with desire. It was not a new suspicion. Pretty women who
remained unmarried were never allowed the dignity of privacy.
Karolina reached for the bell cord.
When Alfred, the butler, entered, she said calmly, “Alfred, my
sister-in-law will be leaving now. Please have her carriage
brought around.”
“Very good, madam.”
His face did not change, though he knew exactly what had
happened.
“I did not mean to offend you,” Vera said, her eyes shining with
crocodile tears. “I beg your forgiveness for being presumptuous.”
“You are forgiven,” Karolina said, rising.
The forgiveness was a dismissal.
Vera smiled anyway. “Do not give up hope. There is someone for
everyone.”
Karolina did not answer. She only watched Vera leave and
wondered how many women had been ruined by advice
disguised as concern.
The following Sunday, Aunt Winnie was sent in.
That was different.
Aunt Winifred Runes was Ryan’s eldest sister and, in Karolina’s
opinion, the most dangerous woman in the family because she
rarely needed to raise her voice. Winnie had outlived one
husband, rejected another, buried three scandals under flowers,
and still appeared at every social function with her gloves
spotless.
She sat across from Karolina in the drawing room, straightened
her skirts, and asked, “What went wrong, dear?”
“Wrong?” Karolina said, wide-eyed. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I think you know.”
“With my studies? Nothing. My grades were excellent.”
“You passed your examinations and failed your objective.”
“And what objective was that?”
“Finding a husband, of course.” Aunt Winnie smiled over her
teacup.
Karolina looked toward the window. “There was a man I wanted
to marry.”
“Was there?”
“He was already engaged.”
“You could not steal him?”
“I did not try.”
“Pity.”
“Aunt Winnie.”
“No one says you cannot have your fun.”
“That is scandalous.”
“Better memories with regrets than regrets without memories.”
Karolina had both.
She lowered her eyes before her aunt could see them fill. Winnie
saw anyway. She always did.
“Dear,” Winnie said more gently, “it is fine to have your
schooling. It is fine to have a profession. No one can take your
education away from you, and I know your independence
matters. But there comes a time when a woman must stop being
romantic and become practical.”
Karolina’s cheeks heated.
“You mean settle.”
“I mean survive.”
“I do not want a loveless marriage.”
“There are worse things than being in a loveless marriage.”
Winnie set down her cup. “Poverty, for instance.”
Karolina said nothing.
“And do not pretend pride will keep you warm. Your father left
you a fortune with a lock on it. If you refuse to turn the key, your
brothers will spend it. Vera will smile while she does.”
Karolina’s mouth tightened.
“There she is,” Winnie said. “Now you are listening.”
“I have no intention of surrendering what is mine.”
“Good. Then marry.”
“So simple.”
“Most difficult things are simple. They are simply unpleasant.”
Karolina almost laughed despite herself.
“You still have time,” Winnie continued. “But years pass like
days when everyone else is arranging your future.”
Karolina bit the inside of her cheek. She had less time than
Winnie knew.
Her courses had not been the only thing she brought back from
the university.
One missed month could be dismissed.
Two could not.
Before Karolina could answer, Winnie leaned back as though
recalling something trivial.
“I encountered the Duke of Hanover recently.”
Karolina grimaced. “The Pretzel King?”
“The bakery heir,” Winnie corrected.
“He sells salted pretzels from carts.”
“And has made a fortune doing so. Mock the pretzel if you like,
dear, but salted dough has been kinder to him than romance has
been to you.”
Karolina gave her aunt a look.
Winnie smiled. “He is recently widowed.”
“So I heard.”
“One person’s misfortune may become another’s blessing.”
“That is a hideous thing to say.”
