by Cheryl Holt
“Everything’s fine. I . . . ah . . . I just wanted to chat, but it’s obvious you’re busy.”
“We’re done eating. I’m not busy.”
Another boy popped in too, and Sandy said to her, “Have you met my sons?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“This is Tim who answered the door—and who was so rude about it. He’s the younger, and this is Tom. He’s the older.”
“Hello, Tim and Tom.”
They didn’t respond to her greeting, but gaped at her as if she had purple skin or five legs.
Sandy’s affection for them was clear. He snorted with fond exasperation. “Have you two idiots been struck dumb? Haven’t you been taught how to act when we have company? You make me look as if I’m rearing a pair of heathens.”
In unison, the boys chirped, “Hello, Miss Ralston.”
“That’s more like it,” Sandy grumbled, “but she’s not Miss Ralston. She’s Mrs. Howell.”
They murmured her married name, as if tasting it on their tongues, then Sandy gave his towel to Tom. “Finishing cleaning up while I talk with Mrs. Howell.”
“May we have pie?” Tom asked.
“One slice each.”
“Am I in charge while you’re away?”
“No one is in charge. I won’t be gone that long.”
Sandy gestured outside, and they went out together. She distinctly noted that he hadn’t been keen to have her tarry in his home, and she couldn’t decide if she was irked by his attitude or not. With his sons there, they couldn’t have discussed much that mattered, so it was probably better that they’d left.
He led her out into the park where there was a bench positioned under a rose arbor, but they didn’t sit on it. The interval was very awkward. They trudged forward like strangers, or if not strangers, then as if they didn’t like each other very much.
They turned to face one another, squared off like pugilists in the ring.
“Are you married?” she asked.
“I was. I’m a widower.”
The admission cut through her like a knife, and she scolded herself. Of course he’d have wed. He was thirty, and she’d been away for over a decade. What woman wouldn’t have grabbed hold when he proposed?
She was the only one who’d been conceited enough to refuse.
“I didn’t realize,” she said.
“She died several years ago. I’m raising the boys on my own.”
“It’s just the two of them?”
“Yes, and they’re a handful.”
“Did I know her?”
“No.”
“What was her name?”
“Actually, it was Margaret, but we called her Maggie.”
“Was she like me at all?”
“No, she was nothing like you.”
There was scorn in his voice. Had she been insulted?
“When did you start courting her?”
He studied her, his expression irritated. “I can’t have this conversation with you.”
“Were you happy?”
His reply was very brusque. “What is it you need, Margaret? I don’t mean to be rude, but my day begins very early, and I have a ton of chores to complete before my evening is over.”
He was glaring as if he’d never been her dearest companion, as if he was a servant—which he was. But she’d never thought of him that way, and she’d never treated him that way, except for that terrible night when she’d parroted her mother’s condescending words to inform him that she had to wed according to her class and station.
Obviously, he hadn’t forgotten the comment. Nor had he forgiven her for it.
“You’re so upset with me,” she said, “and I don’t blame you. I’ve been back for two months, and I should have sought you out sooner, but I was confused about what to say.”
“What is there to say? And what would be the point of saying it?”
“I’ve been so despondent.”
“I appreciate that you have been. I hear plenty of gossip, and I hate that your road has been so bumpy, but I can’t help you. If you require some healing, I can send for Miss James.”
“Weren’t we friends in the past? I assumed we were. Could we be friends now?”
He scoffed with derision. “We weren’t ever friends, Margaret. You’re rewriting our history.”
“We were friends. Don’t you dare claim we weren’t.”
“I was a passing fancy, but you moved on. I moved on too. It’s futile to look on that period with any nostalgia.”
“Even after Jacob marries Roxanne, I’m staying at Ralston Place. Can you stand to have me strolling around the property, but to pretend you don’t notice me? Is that a viable option for you?”
“I doubt our paths will cross very often. I don’t ever come to the manor, and you ride so rarely. Why would we be forced to fraternize?”
“Wouldn’t you like to . . . to . . . fraternize?”
Her cheeks heated, and she felt like a needy beggar. Why, precisely, had she visited him?
She didn’t want to rekindle their amour. She was twenty-eight, a widow who wasn’t grieving her husband, but who was definitely grieving her marriage. She wasn’t in the market for a beau, yet she craved things from him she couldn’t identify.
“I can’t bear for us to carry on as if we’re strangers,” she said.
“Well, we are strangers. How can you fail to comprehend that fact?”
“You used to know me better than anyone.”
“We were children, Margaret!” He threw up his hands in frustration. “We believed we were so smart. We believed we could bend the world’s rules, but we couldn’t. You’re home, and I’m still here, but so what? What are you hoping to have happen? For the life of me, I can’t deduce what it is.”
“I can’t figure it out either. I’m just . . . just . . .”
Tears swarmed to her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. He appeared stricken, as if she’d hit him with a club.
“Don’t you cry on me,” he said. “I can’t deal with it.”
“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have wed Mr. Howell! You warned me, but I didn’t listen, and I hurt you, and . . . and . . . and . . .”
She stopped talking, thinking—if she didn’t shut her mouth—she might vent so much woe that she would flood the entire kingdom. She was that forlorn.
She saw now why she’d bothered him. She needed him to fix what was wrong. She couldn’t fathom how to repair it on her own, and he was so strong and capable. He had sturdy shoulders, the kind a woman could lean on when she was alone and in trouble, but he wasn’t interested in being her knight, and she shouldn’t have prevailed on him.
It was the height of presumption for her to have assumed he should oblige her. It had been the problem during their prior amour. She’d viewed him as a sort of toy, a sparkly object she could utilize to entertain herself. The minute he’d become inconvenient, she’d cast him aside.
She yearned to revert to the spot where they’d been previously, to ignore the intervening years, no husband for her, no wife for him. She’d like to forget that she’d tossed him away as if he didn’t matter.
She was so embarrassed, and she would have skirted around him and run off, but before she could move, he pulled her into his arms.
“My poor, poor Margaret,” he murmured. “You’ve always been such a pest, and I can’t ever swat you away.”
“Please forgive me! Let me apologize, and tell me my apology is accepted. Don’t act as if you don’t know me.”
“I can’t act that way.”
“Neither can I,” she wailed quite miserably.
He laughed, sounding miserable too, then he was kissing her and kissing her. She was cradled to his broad chest, and her body relaxed against him, and for the first time in over a decade, she f
elt safe and cherished.
She couldn’t guess how long they continued, but it was long enough that the sun set and dusk arrived. They didn’t chat, didn’t pause to consider their wild conduct. They simply held each other like survivors of a shipwreck.
Finally, one of his boys called, “Pa! Where are you? It’s late.”
He drew away and chuckled. “It’s been difficult for them since their mother passed away. They can’t bear to be parted from me.”
“I’m sure you’re the best father ever.”
“I have to get back. Will you come with me?”
She stared at the manor, where lamps were being lit. “I probably shouldn’t. I’m a distraught mess, and your sons would realize I’ve been crying. I would hate to have to explain why I’m so sad.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He squeezed her hand. “Maybe you could join us for supper.”
“I can’t wait until evening. I’ll be too impatient. I’ll visit the stables in the morning. Early!”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
She gazed up at him. Silhouetted as he was against the lavender sky, he was perfectly magnificent. He delivered another stirring kiss, then he started off.
He hadn’t gone ten steps when he peered over his shoulder and said, “I miss you already.”
She sighed with gladness. “I miss you too.”
She sank down on the bench, feeling relieved, feeling as if something good might happen for a change. With this fabulous turn of events, how could it not?
“Hello, Miss James. Fancy meeting you here.”
“Hello, Captain.”
At encountering him, Joanna’s pulse raced, which was incredibly infuriating. He was intertwined in her life in a manner he shouldn’t be, and she couldn’t keep it from occurring. She could command him to stay away, but he was such a vain oaf. He’d never heed her.
They were in the front foyer of the manor, and they’d bumped into each other as she’d come downstairs from conferring with his sister. He’d insisted she have him apprised whenever she was on the premises, but she’d been debating whether to have him informed.
She’d just decided she wouldn’t have him notified, but he’d appeared. Like magic. Evidently, with Fate observing their antics, there could be no avoiding him.
“What brings you by this time?” he asked. “Are you healing the sick? Performing miracles? Making my footmen fall madly in love with you?”
“I was talking to your sister.”
“How is she?”
“She’s well.”
In Joanna’s view, Margaret was merely grieving and lonely. Her tropical fever could be an annoyance, but it wasn’t critical. Margaret didn’t seem to have any friends, and Joanna popped in often, simply hoping she’d feel less isolated.
“Are you headed home?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“We have guests tonight so I can’t escort you.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“Will you let me send you in a carriage?”
“No, thank you. It’s much quicker if I go through the woods. If I went in a carriage, it would take forever.”
“I don’t suppose you’d allow me to supply you with a cart and a horse. You could keep it at the cottage. It would ease some of your burdens.”
“What would I do with a horse?”
“Feed it? Ride it? Have it pull your cart so you don’t have to walk everywhere?”
She tsked with exasperation. He was so silly, and they were so different. She wasn’t about to have him giving her gifts. “I like walking.”
“At least permit me to guide you out to the verandah.”
“There’s no need. I can find my own way.”
“Of course you can, but if I see you out, I get to spend a few minutes with you.”
It was pointless to argue, and she proceeded down the hall that led to the rear door and the verandah. He marched behind her, a towering, irksome, and fascinating presence she couldn’t ignore.
Suddenly, he grabbed her and lifted her into a deserted parlor and, with no warning, kissed her soundly. And with his fiancée and sister both in residence!
She would have scolded him, but she didn’t have the chance. He simply winked, then gestured for her to continue on. She glared ferociously, but he was a cad who couldn’t be cowed. He grinned and took her arm, and they strolled on as if nothing odd had transpired.
Once they exited the manor and were down in the grass, she said, “You have nefarious designs on me.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m very virtuous, and I was raised by my very prudish, very moral aunt who regaled me with sad tales about great lords seducing their scullery maids. If you plan a similar fiendish ploy, you should be advised that it won’t work on me.”
“I have no idea what I plan, remember?”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
Mutt bounded up—to the Captain, not to her.
“Traitor,” she muttered.
“He likes me better than you.” The Captain petted and hugged the dog, as Mutt peered up at him adoringly. “If Mutt is with you, I won’t fret so much.”
“Why would you ever fret? The path is perfectly safe, whether Mutt is with me or not.”
“You’re too trusting, and I’m too jaded. You assume you’ll be fine, but I see catastrophe around every corner. I will always worry about you.”
There was the sweetest affection in his eyes, and it rattled her. She’d never had a man gaze at her as he did, and she was beginning to think she might not be able to live without his delicious attention.
She had told Clara they might take a holiday to Bath someday, and she was wondering if it might not be time to depart for a bit. If she vanished for several weeks, she was sure his ardor would cool.
“I have a question about something I might like to do,” she said, “and I’m curious as to what your opinion would be.”
“If it means I can do it with you, then I’m all for it.”
“Your sister invited me to your party on Saturday night.”
“I’m stunned.”
“Why would you be stunned? Is it that I won’t fit in?”
“No, it’s that Margaret is a snob. In that, she’s like our mother. I can’t imagine her asking you, so she must have changed while she was away. As for me, I’m delighted she’s included you, and I would love to have you come.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Mind? Are you mad? Can you dance?”
She snorted with amusement. “I’m not completely unsocial.”
“Then if you promise to dance with me, I shall be waiting with bated breath for you to arrive. In fact, I’ll send a carriage to convey you to the manor. I can’t have you traipsing through the forest in your best gown and slippers.”
“I might accept your offer. Let me reflect on it.”
“That furnishes me with an excuse to stop by your cottage so I can learn what you’ve decided.”
“You’re starting to seem absolutely besotted.”
“I am, aren’t I? I guess I should be ashamed of myself—but I’m not.”
“I’ll see you . . . when? Tomorrow?”
“I’ll bring some ribbons for Clara to wear in her hair. I’ll bring some for you too. I’ll say they’re for her, but they’ll be for both of you.”
“You are not to give me any gifts!”
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. It’s a waste of energy.”
She smiled up at him. He was handsome, dashing, and amazing, like a comet streaking across the sky. For some reason, he’d noticed her, and she was being bowled over by his obsession. She supposed this was how her mother had become embroiled with her father. He’d pushed and pushed for an affair until she’d relented and had joined in. The end re
sult had been that she’d wound up with a babe in her belly.
It wasn’t surprising that her mother hadn’t been able to resist. Joanna had never experienced anything comparable to what Jacob Ralston was inflicting, and she was alarmed over how she might ultimately respond. Her mother’s blood sang in her veins, coaxing her to behave exactly as her mother had behaved.
He stared down at her, and for a chilling instant, she was afraid he would lean down and kiss her goodbye, but they were right out in the open, and there were servants everywhere.
She motioned to her dog. “Come, Mutt. If we’re not careful, the Captain will tempt us to linger forever.”
She hurried off, but Mutt loafed, looking as if he’d rather stay with the Captain than accompany her. He only raced to her side when the Captain ordered him to go, and she scoffed at how men wielded so much more power than women. It was exasperating.
She walked across the park, and she didn’t glance back until she reached the path into the woods. She turned, and he was still there, but he’d climbed onto the verandah so he could have a better view of her as she got farther away.
She waved, and he waved, then she continued on, feeling lighter than air.
My, oh, my, but wasn’t she in trouble?
Roxanne was having a brandy in her office, enjoying a quiet interlude before she went up to her bedchamber to dress for supper.
When Jacob’s mother, Esther, had been alive, she hadn’t arranged proper meals in the evenings. She’d been so unlikable that she’d never had visitors.
Once Roxanne had sailed in from Italy, and with Esther deceased, she’d immediately begun fixing Esther’s missteps. Supper was served every night at nine, and they carried on as was appropriate for people with their status and breeding. She was determined to be the premier hostess in the area, so they always had guests.
She stood and stretched, then meandered over to the window, and she was a tad disturbed to find Jacob in the garden with Miss James. Normally, she wouldn’t have cared or watched them, but they were huddled together in a way that was extremely vexing. They were much friendlier than they should have been, and sparks were practically visible in the space around them.
