by Cheryl Holt
Joanna winced. “You can’t talk to her about this! If you breathe a word, she’ll realize I complained to you. I would hate to ignite her enmity, for I can guarantee I wouldn’t like how it would rain down.”
“I’m trying to figure out why she felt free to harass you.”
“People are compelled to harass women like me. It’s why I live quietly and separately from everyone else.”
“You’re being absurd. You make Margaret happy, and if you ceased caring for her, I’m certain her condition would deteriorate.”
“Maybe.”
She was particularly glum and kicking herself for mentioning Roxanne Ralston. What had she been thinking?
“Don’t be sad,” he said.
“I’m not sad. I’m furious over her gall. I’m not a weakling, and she’s lucky I didn’t turn her into a toad.”
He laughed. “Can you do that?”
“I’ll let you wonder.”
He dipped down and kissed her, then he pulled away and mounted his horse.
“You’re coming to my party,” he announced from up on the animal’s back. “The carriage will pick you up at seven. You’ll revel until midnight, as if you’re Cinderella, then I’ll have you delivered home.”
She bristled with frustration. “You’re not listening to me.”
“Well, you’re being silly, so why would I listen?”
“I’m never silly.”
“You are to me. I doubt I’ll be able to stop by before Saturday. If not, I’ll expect you to be ready when my driver arrives. Don’t disappoint me.”
“You are mad, Captain Ralston.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that about myself occasionally.”
He grinned his devil’s grin, tugged on the reins, and trotted away.
She watched him depart, and she was scolding herself for being such a milksop. She hadn’t agreed to the arrangement, but when his carriage rolled up to fetch her, she was positive she’d climb in.
To her great disgust, he’d become important to her. She wanted to please him, and she couldn’t tamp down the impulse.
She whipped away and went inside. Clara bounded down the stairs, and she asked, “Is the Captain gone?”
“Yes, and guess what? He and his sister, Mrs. Howell, have invited me to a party on Saturday night.”
“My goodness!” Clara clapped her hands with glee. “That’s the prettiest news we’ve had in ages.”
“It is, isn’t it? It’s been such a long time since I’ve been dancing.”
“I have my own party with my classmates that night, so you won’t have to worry about me. This is meant to be.”
“I’ll keep telling myself that it is.”
She crept into her workroom, and she debated forever, then she walked over to the chest in the corner where she had several locked boxes. Some of them contained ancient recipes. Some contained lists of herbs and the remedies they produced.
One was stuffed with private papers. She withdrew an envelope her Aunt Pru had left, and she sat down at the table and studied it, struggling to decide if she shouldn’t relent and read the message.
She’d given it to Joanna when she’d been ailing, her body preparing to pass away. It’s about Clara, Pru had said. It’s about her parents. In case you ever need to be apprised.
Aunt Pru had been sworn to secrecy about Clara’s birth, and she’d taken the vow seriously, but Pru had recognized too that Clara’s lineage might be an issue in the future. For example, if there was a boy who wished to wed her, Joanna had to verify they weren’t related. So Pru had written the letter.
Yet she’d counselled that not all secrets should be revealed. If Joanna didn’t ever have to know, she shouldn’t look.
Finally, she broke the seal, and she froze for an eternity. She wasn’t surprised by the mother’s name, but the father’s name was definitely a shock.
“Oh, Aunt Pru,” she whispered, “if you were aware of this dilemma, why move us to Ralston Place? Of all the spots in the kingdom, why here?”
There was a fire lit in the hearth, and she glared at it, figuring she should toss the damning page into the flames. But in the end, she didn’t. Who could predict how a path might unfold? It might be wise to have the note as proof.
She put it back in the box, but first, she resealed the envelope with her own wax, so no one could snoop. She was extremely disturbed by what she’d discovered, and hopefully, she’d never have to open it again.
Jacob glanced around the ostentatious parlor. He’d bumbled down to supper a few minutes early, so he was alone.
Roxanne had altered their nightly meal into a grandiose extravaganza, where everyone dressed as if they were headed to the theater. There was a constant stream of guests, and he was conflicted in his opinion about the situation.
When his mother had still been alive, supper had been a grim affair, where she’d either stewed in silence over unspecified grievances or she’d quarreled viciously over petty complaints. Jacob was glad that era was over, but he wasn’t persuaded that he liked Roxanne’s plan instead.
Surely there was some middle ground, where the family could dine quietly and pleasantly without a table of strangers drinking all their liquor.
Roxanne had returned to Ralston Place before Jacob or Margaret had managed to stagger in. Once they’d arrived, she’d been in charge, as if she and Jacob were already married. Margaret hadn’t been in any condition to take over, and Jacob was never even in England.
Was there a reason to protest the arrangement? She’d soon be Jacob’s wife, and the manor would be her kingdom. What did it matter if she’d started running things prior to the wedding being held?
Margaret strolled in, and she stopped by the sideboard to have the butler pour her a glass of wine, then she came over to Jacob.
“You’re looking much better,” he told her.
“Thank you. I am much better.”
“Miss James must dispense miracle tonics.”
“It’s not her tonics so much as her encouraging me to quit moping. I’ve been raging over stupid topics. I’m home now, and I need to focus on that and let the past fall away.”
“It’s a terrific attitude to have, and I should have my lawyers harass your husband’s family for a bit. You were notified that he was bankrupt, but I’m betting he’ll have stashed away some assets. If his kin are hiding them from you, you should be entitled to claim a widow’s stipend.”
“I would like to torment them—merely so they realize I’m not a helpless baby. Mr. Howell died suddenly, and I was so stunned that I didn’t stand up for myself in a single argument. I even permitted them to have the rings on my fingers.”
“You were by yourself in a foreign land. It had to have been hard to handle his death on your own.”
“It was very hard.”
“I have a secret I’ve been meaning to share with you,” he said, “but you’ve been so morose, I didn’t inform you. You’ve improved, so I’m debating whether it might send you into a relapse.”
“What is it? And if it’s horrid, how about if you keep it to yourself awhile?”
“It’s not horrid. I simply can’t imagine what you’ll think. I’m quite resolved about it, so even if you’re opposed, you won’t be able to dissuade me.”
She scowled ferociously. “Tell me quick—or I’ll be envisioning dire scenarios.”
“It’s this: I’m having my engagement party in September, and I’m inviting Caleb and Blake.”
“Caleb and Blake . . . Ralston? As in our half-siblings, Caleb and Blake?”
“Yes. What is your opinion of the insane notion?”
“Mother will be rolling in her grave.”
“That’s the sole comment I hear. Will you welcome them? Or will you have to flee the property for two weeks so you won’t have to be sullied by their presenc
e?”
She scoffed with offense. “I like to hope I’m not so thin-skinned that I’d avoid them, but we’ve hated them for so long. I can’t decide how I should view their waltzing into the house.”
“You and I never hated them.”
“Speak for yourself.” She pondered, then said, “I suppose, with Mother deceased, it’s silly to continue loathing them. It wasn’t their fault Father was a bigamist and liar.”
“My feeling exactly. I’d like to have a cordial relationship with them.”
She gulped her wine down to the dregs. “Gad, I need a stronger libation. I’ve been recuperating, but you’re making my nerves flare.”
“There’s one other thing too.”
“Will it be better or worse than your news about my half-brothers?”
“You’ve invited Miss James to the party on Saturday night.”
“I have, and . . . ?”
“I seconded the invitation, but Roxanne cancelled it. Apparently, our cousin doesn’t like her tending you, and she’s warned her to desist.”
“How ridiculous. I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m competent to select who will nurse me and who won’t. Would Roxanne rather I had a drunken surgeon bluster in to bleed and purge me.”
“Probably. Don’t mention this to her. I’ll deal with it, but I figured you should be apprised.”
“Are you sure you should go through with your betrothal?” Margaret uttered the question without much reflection, and the instant the words were out of her mouth, she blanched. “I can’t believe I said that. I’m sorry, but Mother arranged the match. Should you trust her choice?”
“I was glad to have her manage it for me. I couldn’t see me wandering London drawing rooms and searching for the perfect girl on my own.”
Margaret chuckled. “You definitely would have been awful at it. Who could guess what sort of idiotic debutante you might have dragged home? You’d have been ensnared by the first pretty face you encountered, with no thought to any other attribute.”
“You’re correct, but our problem is that Roxanne is here, and she’s seized control.”
“She certainly has.” Margaret sounded aggrieved.
“I haven’t put any limits on what I’ll permit, but I will. Don’t fret over it.”
Margaret might have offered some other frank comments that he ought to have heard, but Roxanne sauntered in.
She always dressed like a rich princess, her wardrobe expensive and flattering. Her jewelry was expensive too, and it occurred to him that he had to have a conversation with her about their finances. She had a suitable dowry that would be his after the wedding, but it appeared she had an allowance from somewhere too, and she spent it lavishly.
He prayed she wasn’t charging to his accounts on the promise she’d be his bride and he’d cover the bills later. His income was mostly generated by his being a navy captain as well as a gentleman farmer. He was thrifty with his money and never saw reasons to waste it.
The notion of talking to her, of explaining to her about frugality and moderation, was too exhausting to contemplate.
Margaret whispered, “Your destiny awaits.”
“I find myself braced for any ending.”
“Did you enjoy supper?”
“It was excellent.”
Roxanne smiled at Jacob. She didn’t usually worry about how others viewed her, but she felt as if she was on a perpetual employment interview. The engagement wasn’t official yet and wouldn’t be until various papers were signed.
They were plodding along according to his mother’s schedule, but Roxanne had suggested they dump it and move up the wedding date. He’d agreed to mull the possibility, but he hadn’t mentioned it again, so she wouldn’t dare mention it either. She wouldn’t want him to think she was too assertive.
She watched the road every minute, anxious that no mail be delivered of which she was unaware. She was terrified gossip from Italy would sneak in when she wasn’t paying attention. People could be so petty, and he had acquaintances around the globe. No doubt one of them would delight in informing him about her sordid history there.
She’d had several paramours in Italy, and two of them had even dueled over her. She refused to be ashamed over how she’d thrived, but she didn’t suppose Jacob would welcome the truth, and she was determined he never learn it.
They were on the rear verandah, leaned on the balustrade and staring out at the sky. It was a cloudy night, so there were no stars to see. The meal was over, their guests chatting inside. There would be no dancing or other amusement. Those would occur at the larger event that was scheduled for Saturday.
She’d been eager to catch him alone, so she’d been furtively observing him. Once he’d gone outside, she’d waited a bit, then had followed him. She’d been keen for it to seem as if she hadn’t followed him, as if she’d stumbled on him by accident.
“I’m thrilled that you were pleased,” she said.
“I was, but you don’t have to try so hard. In fact, we don’t have to have such a feast every evening. It’s fine with me if we just dine with family.”
Was that a criticism? “I like to host big suppers. I hope you don’t mind if I continue.”
“I don’t mind. I simply don’t need constant entertainment, but you’re used to being in Florence. I’m sure this is very quiet by comparison.”
“It is quiet here, and it took me awhile to settle in, but it’s lovely to be back in England. I was away for most of a decade.”
“I’m always away,” he said, “and when I initially arrive, it takes me forever to adjust too. About the time I’ve calmed down, it’s time for me to depart again, so I never get my feelings in the right spot.”
“We have that in common.”
“Have you written to my half-brothers? About the betrothal party?”
“Yes, but I have no idea where to send the letters.”
“I have to travel to London next week. I can bring them.”
“Good. It means I won’t have to hire an investigator to track them down. Are they in England?”
“Caleb is. He owns a business in town.”
“He left the navy to become a merchant? If your father wasn’t already dead, that news would probably kill him.”
Jacob smirked. “Most likely.”
“Why did he quit?”
“He landed himself in some trouble. It was all very hush-hush, so I never found out what happened, but he had to muster out.”
“How about Blake?”
“Last I heard, he was still a sailor.”
The conversation lagged, and she thought he’d head inside, but he turned to her and said, “I have to talk to you about an awkward topic.”
Gad, was it Italy? He looked so serious that her pulse raced with dread. “What is it? From how you’re glowering, you’re scaring me. Have I offended you in some fashion? If I have, I most humbly apologize.”
“Am I glowering? I’m sorry; I didn’t realize I was.” He laughed and physically shook himself. “I don’t know you very well.”
“Maybe that’s beneficial,” she blithely retorted. “I’m not entirely convinced that a man and woman should share too many details before they marry. If they discover each other’s faults, they might never proceed.”
“True.” He stared out at the sky again, as if conflicted about what to reveal.
“Spit it out, Jacob. It can’t be that difficult. I’m a sturdy female. I can bear up.”
“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way.”
“I swear I won’t.”
“You arrived at the estate and immediately began running things. I’m grateful for it. After Mother died, the manor was adrift and required a steady hand.”
“But . . . ?”
“This is my and Margaret’s home, and we will need time to get used to y
ou being here.”
“I understand.”
“It’s odd to have you in charge, to have you making choices that are different from what we would make ourselves.”
“I’m renowned for being very bossy. When I walked in the door, it seemed natural for me to grab the reins.”
“I figured that was the case, so be patient with us as we acclimate. We may have some bumps in the road, but I’m positive we’ll work through them with minimal upheaval.”
“I’m positive we will too.” She blew out a heavy breath, relieved that the subject hadn’t been much worse, but just when she assumed they were finished, he continued.
“That said, I have to mention this predicament. Margaret is very close with Miss James, and Margaret’s condition is much improved because of Miss James’s devoted attention. We’re glad she’s been tending Margaret, and we’ve both invited her to the party on Saturday.”
“Oh.”
Roxanne didn’t add a comment. She merely gaped at him, her expression blank as she valiantly fought not to show a hint of her rage.
“I was apprised that you had cancelled our invitation,” he said, “but I have reissued it. I’m sure that won’t bother you and that you will graciously welcome her to the festivities.”
His gaze grew steely, giving her no opening to complain.
“How did you hear that I had rescinded it?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter how, but it appears to me that you led a very independent existence in Italy. I believe that’s a good trait in a navy wife, but you must remember that I will be your husband, and I will decide what will occur and what won’t. If you have questions with regard to any situation, you should discuss it with me prior to responding. I regret to inform you that my opinion will always prevail over yours.”
“Of course it will, and I’m distraught that I’ve upset you.”
“I’m not upset. As I explained, we don’t really know each other, and we’re staggering forward like a pair of blind people.”
“Still though, I must clarify my dealings with her. There are awful stories circulating about her being a charlatan who delivers false hope, and I was worried about Margaret’s burgeoning attachment. With her being so despondent recently, I was afraid Miss James might take advantage of her.”
