by Cheryl Holt
“You’re joking.”
“No, and they’re scheduling a reunion. I agreed to participate, so my past won’t be a secret much longer. I thought I should apprise you so you didn’t read about it first. I would hate to make you faint.”
“I can’t believe this!” He physically shook himself. “A shiver just rushed down my spine. There is the eeriest sense in the air, as if Fate is playing with us.”
“Or your father’s ghost.”
“Have you felt him hovering?”
“Recently, yes. He’s definitely been hovering lately.”
“Another shiver just flitted down my spine.”
“The last time I ever talked to him,” she said, “I asked him to watch over me, and I’m of the opinion that he guided me to you.”
“What do you suppose it means?”
“I can’t guess.”
“Would you come to the manor tomorrow?” he inquired. “Would you spend an hour or two with Margaret and me so we can discuss my father? We were so young when he died, and he was never in England. We barely knew him, and our memories are warped by our finding out about his second family. Would you do that for us?”
She wasn’t keen to ever visit the manor again. She was in no hurry to bump into Roxanne Ralston, but she comprehended his yearning to hear what she recalled about his father.
“I will stop by. When would be convenient for you?”
“How about in the afternoon? Around four? You could join us for supper.”
“I’ll meet with you at four, but I’ll have to reflect on supper. Despite how you constantly forget that you have an almost fiancée, I haven’t forgotten. I can’t sit at the dining table with her. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
He laughed off her prim attitude, and he looked happier, as if she’d lifted a burden off his shoulders. “This is such a wild story. My head is spinning. I may grow so dizzy on the trip home that I’ll fall off my horse.”
“I’m glad I told you about it. I’ve been biting my tongue so hard that I’ve practically gnawed it off.”
“You are such a scamp. I keep thinking there were some deep corners with you, but apparently, I had no idea.”
“I’m very different from everyone else. I can’t deny it.”
“That, my dear Joanna, is the understatement of the century.” He blew out a heavy breath, then said, “I should be going.”
“Yes, you should.”
“I shall tell myself that my father’s ghost dragged me to you. If I’d tried to gallop on by, I couldn’t have. It felt as if a magnet was drawing me in.”
He pulled her onto his lap and delivered a stirring kiss. It was awkward, and they were off balance, and they giggled with merriment.
“Would you get out of here before we wake Clara?” she said. “I can’t fathom how you wound up in my bedchamber, and I have no desire to explain it to her. It is not a conversation I ever intend to have.”
He smirked, then slid off the bed. She climbed down too, then they tiptoed out and down the stairs. Mutt was loafing by the fire, and he cast a jaundiced eye in their direction, as if informing them they weren’t fooling anybody as to how they’d been misbehaving.
“Don’t come outside,” he said.
“Let me walk you to your horse.”
“No. Just wave from the window again. I like that.” He enjoyed a final, urgent kiss. “Bar the door after I’m gone.”
“I will.”
They gazed over at the dog, and he said to Mutt, “Will you run with me?”
But Mutt simply sank down, indicating he wouldn’t leave his warm spot.
“Lazy dog,” Jacob muttered, then he smiled at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow. At four.”
“I can’t wait.”
He marched out, and she went to the window to watch him depart. She waved as he’d requested, and long after the darkness stilled, she reached out to him with her mind. She observed him riding through the woods, turning onto the lane, proceeding to the manor. She continued to focus on him until she sensed he’d arrived safe and sound.
Goodnight, she murmured, her silent message winging out. Sweet dreams . . .
He flinched and straightened, as if he’d heard her clearly. Then she chuckled and headed back to bed.
“How was your trip to London, and why are you back early?”
Jacob grinned at his sister. “I missed the estate so much I couldn’t bear to stay away.”
“You were always the worst liar,” Margaret replied. “You’ve never spent much time here, and when you did, you never liked it.”
“Maybe I’m changing.”
“Ha! If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Ralston men, it’s that all of you are stubborn as mules. You never change.”
“Should I apologize and try to be more spontaneous?”
“That would be like asking the grass not to grow. It’s just your nature to be obstinate; you can’t help it.”
They were in the dining room at the manor, having a late breakfast. He enjoyed these quiet conversations with her, and he found himself liking her much more than he had when they were younger. Back then, their home had been filled with bickering and strife due to their mother’s erratic temperament.
He hadn’t bonded with Margaret or Pamela, and he’d escaped most of the discord by leaving for boarding school at age seven. Pamela had escaped when she’d eloped at eighteen. The minute their mother had started naming possible husbands for her, she’d glommed onto an old beau and had fled the country.
Margaret hadn’t had the wherewithal to run away, but had meekly shackled herself to Mr. Howell as their mother had demanded. When the betrothal was announced, Jacob hadn’t even been in England, and he’d only arrived to attend the wedding.
He’d instantly and vehemently detested Bernard Howell and had warned Margaret to cry off, but she hadn’t been brave enough. Nor had Jacob known how to intervene. He’d always feel guilty that he hadn’t stopped it.
“I’ve brought two pieces of news that will amaze you,” he told her.
“Are either of them horrid? If so, please wait until I’m finished eating so you don’t spoil my meal.”
“They’re not horrid; they’re quite incredible. Well, I think they’re incredible anyway. I saw Caleb in London.”
“Has he accepted your invitation to visit?”
“Not yet. He doesn’t like us anymore than we’ve ever liked him.”
“Smart man.”
“Did I tell you he retired from the navy and he owns a gambling club now?”
“I’d heard that somewhere, but I’m not sure if it was from you.”
“The enterprise is thriving, and he’s obscenely rich.”
“Good for him. If I begged him for a loan, do you imagine he’d give it to me?”
He chuckled. “During our meeting, I received the distinct impression that he was braced in case I was about to ask him for money. Once he figured out it was simply a social call, he relaxed and was cordial.”
“Are you certain we’re destined to be friends with him? Is that what you want? I’m terribly afraid you haven’t assessed the ramifications.”
“What can it hurt?”
She shrugged. “I just view it as . . . wrong, I guess. We hated them for so—”
“We’ve been through this, Margaret. We didn’t hate them.”
“What’s he like?” she inquired.
“He’s very much like me: tall, broad-shouldered, and very handsome.”
She scoffed at that. “Is he modest like you too?”
“No. He possesses all the vanity.”
“Does he look like us?”
“He could be my twin, except that he has blond hair and I have black. You realize, don’t you, that he and I are a few months apart in age?”
“Gad! Don�
��t tell me that. Father was such a rutting dog!”
“Speaking of Father . . .”
“Must we?”
“My other tidbit is about him.”
“He didn’t have a third wife, did he? If so, I’ll have to find a cliff and throw myself off it.”
He chuckled again. “No, it’s nothing like that. I was talking to Miss James.”
He halted, recognizing he’d nearly said last night, but he didn’t suppose he should mention that fact.
“Joanna was here? It’s so early. I didn’t see her.”
“No, not this morning.” He ignored the notion of when they’d talked. “You will not believe what I’ve discovered about her.”
“She has to be the most intriguing female in the kingdom, so whatever it is—no matter how odd—I won’t be surprised.”
“Yes, well, this might make you fall off your chair.”
Margaret frowned. “What is it? I like her very much, so if it’s scandalous or humiliating, keep it to yourself.”
“It seems, dear sister, that Joanna James is one of the Lost Girls rescued by Father on that deserted island.”
“That can’t be true.”
“I’m serious as a heart seizure. She is coming by this afternoon at four to chat about it.”
“But she’s lived on the estate for a whole decade, and she’s been tending me ever since I arrived from Egypt. Why has she been silent?”
“Do you know much about her past?”
“No. We don’t have that kind of relationship.”
“There was a private issue with why she and her mother had left England in the first place. Her mother died in the shipwreck, and when Miss James was returned to England, she was claimed by an aunt.”
“Yes, Prudence James. She moved to the neighborhood after I departed. I’ve heard of her, but I never met her.”
“Miss James was traumatized by the ordeal, so they were careful not to stir any nightmares.”
“Why is she openly declaring her connection now? Why after all this time?”
“It’s the twentieth anniversary of the rescue, and she was contacted by a newspaper reporter from London. They are writing a retrospective about it, and she decided she should inform me—so we’d have some warning.”
“My goodness,” Margaret said. “I’m . . . I’m . . . speechless.”
“I thought it would be interesting to have her share what she recollects about Father. We have such negative opinions of him, and it would be nice to have someone paint a fonder picture.”
“Those girls were so little when he stumbled on them. Are you sure she has any valid memories?”
“We’ll find out at four o’clock.”
“I’m actually looking forward to it.”
“So am I.”
He tossed down his napkin and stood. “I should be going. I have a hundred tasks to complete before we talk to her.”
“How could you possibly be busy? Aren’t you an absentee landlord? You have Kit to manage things for you.”
“I have Sandy anyway. Let’s not give Kit more credit than he deserves.”
“I’m glad you’ve noticed who’s really in charge.”
“It took me awhile, but I’m not totally blind. I’ve been thinking I should be a tad more involved in how the property is run. I’m eager to learn about it.”
She scowled. “You want to learn about the estate?”
“It’s mad, I know.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
“Will you please order some refreshments for our appointment with Miss James? She may stay for supper too. Would you apprise the housekeeper?”
“Miss James won’t stay. I’m still trying to figure out how we coerced her into attending our party last week.”
“I wore her down with my significant charm.”
Margaret might have launched an interrogation into how he’d gotten so friendly with Joanna, so he walked on. As he reached the door, she said, “I had hoped to discuss an important topic with you.”
“What is it?”
“Just my . . . ah . . . future and what I’d like to have happen.”
“You must be feeling better.”
“I am, and it can wait.”
“Are you certain? If it’s vital, I don’t have to rush off.”
“Miss James is visiting later, so how about if we focus on that? We have plenty to contemplate for one afternoon.”
“All right, but we’ll make time tomorrow. I promise.”
He continued on, and there was a lightness in his step that hadn’t been there previously. But even as he pranced along, he was scolding himself.
His happiness was due to his reveling with Joanna. If he’d had any sense, he’d have found a thousand reasons to avoid her, but instead, she was coming to the manor at four, and he was giddy as a schoolboy.
He went to the foyer and was about to climb the stairs to his bedchamber when, from the landing up above, Roxanne said, “There you are! My maid notified me you were home early. May I flatter myself and claim it’s because you missed me?”
He felt as if she’d dumped a bucket of cold water on him, and he forced a smile. “I was bored and restless in London, so I left.”
She sauntered down, and as he watched her, his mind was awhirl over the miserable prospect of their pending engagement. Was he ready for it to be official or wasn’t he?
In Joanna’s presence, he suffered such delightful affection, and when he was with Roxanne, he suffered no heightened feelings at all. In fact, whenever he bumped into her, he was temporarily confused, as if he couldn’t deduce why she was there.
Love and deep regard had no bearing on matrimony, but shouldn’t there be a tiny bit of elevated sentiment? If there wasn’t, was it wise to proceed?
He wished he had an older uncle with whom he could debate the issue. His closest chums were in the navy and away on their ships, so he couldn’t confer with any of them. One of his good friends was Luke Watson who’d mustered out after his brother had died. He’d ascended to his family’s title and had become Lord Barrett.
Jacob wondered if he shouldn’t ride to Barrett and have Luke set him straight.
Or what about Caleb? A man who owned a gambling club had to have a shrewd assessment of human nature. Caleb might provide excellent advice that would send Jacob in the right direction.
He was illicitly dallying with an inappropriate girl, and it was skewing his perception. He wasn’t the first dolt in history to immerse himself in such an unsuitable, but fulfilling fling, but it was spurring him to sever a perfectly rational betrothal. It was a betrothal his mother had arranged before she’d perished, so it seemed to carry more weight than it might have otherwise.
Roxanne had traveled from Italy to be his bride, so how could he ponder reneging? What did it say about his character? Why should the match be more imperative merely because it was organized by his deceased mother? What was his duty toward her? What was his duty toward Roxanne? What was best?
He had absolutely no idea, and he was incredibly flummoxed over how to resolve it.
She arrived at his side and took his arm. “I was about to have breakfast. Have you eaten?”
“I just finished.”
“Will you tarry with me while I eat too? I’d like to hear about London. It’s been ages since I was there.”
He hid a grimace. “I have two interesting tidbits to share. Let me join you so I can tell you what they are.”
She grinned, so he had to grin too, and they headed to the dining room where he would have to pretend to be a devoted fiancé.
Margaret was dressed to go down to supper, but her attire wasn’t nearly as fancy as it had been on recent evenings.
For once, there were no guests coming. Roxanne had exhausted every person in
a ten-mile radius who could round out a guest list, so it would be just Jacob, Roxanne, Kit, and Margaret. She didn’t like Roxanne, and Roxanne and Kit didn’t like each other, so meals with them were never pleasant. They bickered constantly and spewed innuendo Margaret didn’t understand.
With her proposing to Sandy—and his accepting—she was happier than she’d ever been, but until he talked to Jacob to receive his blessing, she had to swallow down her secret. Sandy wanted to pick the moment when he would approach her brother, so she was nervous as a cat in a lightning storm.
She had no doubt Jacob would be amenable. He’d known and liked Sandy since they were children, and Sandy was the glue that cobbled the estate together. It definitely wasn’t Kit who kept things running smoothly, but the delay was so difficult to endure! She wished Sandy would get on with it.
She wandered over to the window and stared down into the garden. It was dusk, and she could see across the park to the woods on the other side.
To her amusement, she noticed a couple snuggled in the shadows under a rose arbor, and she focused in, curious as to who was flirting. From how furtive they were being, she suspected the amorous pair shouldn’t have snuck off.
When she recognized who it was, she gasped with dismay and muttered, “You idiot. You blithering, negligent idiot.”
She watched in horror as Jacob dipped down and kissed Miss James. What was he thinking? What was he doing?
He wasn’t free to seduce Joanna James—or any other woman for that matter. He was about to engage himself to Roxanne, and while Margaret wasn’t keen to have him wed their cousin, it was a plan that had been in place for over a year.
That very instant, Roxanne was in her own bedchamber and dressing for supper too. Margaret wasn’t sure of the view Roxanne had out her window, but she hoped to God it wasn’t the same angle provided to Margaret.
She forced herself to observe until the ardent couple separated, then she whipped away, not anxious for Jacob to glance up and see her spying. Her pulse was pounding, her temper soaring, and she was brimming with regret too.
She didn’t really know her brother all that well, but she liked to suppose he was different from their dastardly father. They’d repeatedly sworn they would never behave so despicably toward anyone. They’d learned too painfully how immoral conduct could devastate a family, but she was suddenly terribly afraid that he was a cad.
