by Cheryl Holt
“It’s not alarming. I don’t deem it to be anyway. I’m here about Margaret.”
Jacob scowled. “What about her? She’s been in a low condition, but I’m not sure you and I should discuss it.”
“It’s not that. You were never around much as a boy, so I’m not certain how much you recollect of what occurred.”
“It depends on the circumstance. With some incidents, I recall every detail. With others? Not so much.”
“Were you aware that Margaret and I were good friends.”
Jacob pondered, then said, “I guess I remember that.”
“Did you ever notice we were more than friends?”
Jacob froze. “What do you mean?”
“When we were adolescents, we were very much in love.”
Jacob chuckled—when he shouldn’t have. “You were not.”
“We were, and my relationship with her was the main reason your mother betrothed her to Mr. Howell. Mrs. Ralston was determined to yank her away so we couldn’t behave foolishly.”
“Are you claiming you’d have run away together?”
“Yes. We had it all planned out, but in the end, Margaret couldn’t proceed. After how your sister, Pamela, had eloped, she decided she couldn’t shame your mother. So . . . she married Mr. Howell.”
“Why are you telling me this? After so many years have passed, perhaps it should simply fade away.”
“Well, that’s a bit tricky because I’ve never stopped loving your sister.”
Jacob winced. “Don’t confess to that.”
“I have to. You should understand the strong feelings I’ve always possessed for her. When she wed Mr. Howell, I truly thought I’d die from heartbreak. My parents intervened and forced me to move on and heal. I wed a local girl, and I have my two sons.”
“What are you saying, Sandy? Would you spit it out?”
“Margaret is a widow, and she did her duty to your family, and she paid dearly for it. I did my duty to mine as well, and my wife is deceased. I’m widowed too.”
Finally, Jacob grasped where this was leading. “Could you halt right there? I’m terribly afraid of where you’re going, and we shouldn’t arrive there.”
“I have to. Margaret and I are more devoted than we ever were when we were younger.”
“You and Margaret have been pursuing an amour? Are you mad?”
“I don’t like that we’ve been hiding it from you, and it should be out in the open. Margaret and I would like to marry, and I’m asking for your blessing.”
“Oh, Sandy . . .”
Jacob felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. He’d been expecting Sandy to talk about the farm or the horses, about Kit or the estate’s many problems. He hadn’t expected declarations of love for his sister.
How was Jacob to respond? Sandy was staring in that calm, steady way he had, daring Jacob to be condescending, and it was exasperating to realize that Sandy knew him so well. There were so many snobbish, patronizing comments rolling around in Jacob’s throat that he was practically choking on them.
“As I mentioned when I first began,” Sandy said, “this isn’t a subject you were anticipating, so I’ve shocked you. A thousand replies will have flooded into your mind as to why you should refuse my request, but I beg you to consider Margaret.”
“You’ve discussed it with her?”
“Of course. She and I have been contemplating this since she was sixteen and I was eighteen. Back then, we bowed to family pressure and stepped away from the brink, but we’re adults now. In the past, we behaved as was demanded of us, and we both wound up miserable. We’re ready to choose our own path, but I told her we have to have your permission.”
“Gad, you’re putting me in an untenable position.”
“Not really. Why would you care if she and I wed? You’re rarely here, and she’s been despondent for years. You’ve never been particularly close to her, so you can’t appreciate how difficult those years have been.”
The remark was galling. “I don’t need a lecture from you about my relationship with Margaret.”
“I’m not giving you one. I’m merely pointing out that this is what she wants. It’s what she’s always wanted, and it would make her so happy. Can’t you find it in your heart to furnish her with the thing she’s always desired? Your mother wouldn’t, but how about you?”
It seemed as if Sandy had thrown down the gauntlet and challenged him to a duel. If they were fighting, it was definitely a low blow for Sandy to have dragged Jacob’s mother into it. He didn’t like to ever be compared to her.
As evenly as he could, he said, “Without ever having had the chance to confer about it with my mother, I can assure you there were many reasons she wouldn’t have consented.”
“I know. I’m not an idiot. I’m the hired help, and Margaret is a daughter of the manor. She’s a Ralston, and I’m the stable manager. It’s like a backward version of Cinderella.”
“What would people think?” Jacob muttered before he could swallow the words.
“It doesn’t matter what they’d think. She and I would like to live a quiet, contented life together. If there are neighbors who don’t like it, why would it concern her or me?”
Jacob sat very still, struggling to figure out how to explain his rationale without sounding like a complete ass.
Two weeks earlier, Margaret had relentlessly chastised him for his flirtation with Joanna, so he’d broken it off. He’d been rude, abrupt, and callous about it too.
Every minute since, he’d been kicking himself. He’d nearly saddled up and ridden over a hundred times, but he’d constantly told himself that Margaret was correct. He had to save Joanna by leaving her alone.
Yet while Margaret had been so viciously haranguing at him, she’d been pursuing a secret engagement with their horse trainer!
It would have been humorous if he wasn’t quite so angry.
His temper was flaring, and he was loathe to insult or offend, but honestly! Margaret couldn’t have thoroughly pondered the ramifications.
The gossips would have a field day. Their relatives would have a fit. Acquaintances would shun them. The servants especially would be furious. There was no more bitter person than a servant who’d had one of their own up-jump to a higher spot he didn’t deserve.
Underneath it all, there was Jacob’s very British belief that every man should stay where he belonged. The men of Sandy’s family had worked for the men of the Ralston family for generations. They didn’t slip in a side door and abscond with the master’s daughter.
It was a terrible attitude to have, but it underscored how he was guided by the rules of the society that had bred him. How could Sandy assume he’d be amenable? No doubt Margaret had egged him on, and in an odd way, he felt betrayed by her.
She’d placed Jacob in an impossible predicament, having sent Sandy to embarrass himself, so it seemed as if she was deliberately trying to make Jacob hurt her.
How were any of them to escape the morass unscathed? If he didn’t allow them to forge ahead, Margaret would never forgive him, and he couldn’t imagine how he’d interact with Sandy in the future. He might even quit and move away, but how could that help the situation?
He sighed, being forced into an agonizing choice, as if he were a king in the Old Testament. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as wise as those ancient fellows. He had to open his mouth and speak, but despite what words emerged, he would humiliate Sandy and crush his sister.
Sandy was tired of waiting for a reply. “Well? Put me out of my misery, and tell me your opinion. Before you begin, let me admit that I have loved Margaret all my life and will love her until I draw my last breath. I hope that will count for something with you.”
Jacob rippled with regret. “I’m sorry, but I can’t agree to this. My parents would have been mortally opposed, and according to you, my mot
her already intervened once to stop it. I just can’t give her to you.”
“Why? Because you’re so grand? Because you’re Miles Ralston’s son? Because you’re a naval captain?” Sandy’s tone was very snide. “I recognize how far you are above me, but I’m not asking to wed you. I’m asking to wed Margaret, and I wish you’d think about her rather than yourself.”
“I need to talk to her about this.”
“Why?” Sandy sneered. “Will you remind her of how lowly I am? How inappropriate a candidate to be her spouse? It will simply ignite a quarrel. You can’t want that.”
“I’ll clarify my objections. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“You’ve just emphasized how little you know about her.”
“I know what kind of husband she should have, and we should end this conversation or we might utter comments we don’t mean and can’t retract.”
“That’s probably a good idea, but what now? I told her we had to obtain your permission. You’ve refused to provide it, so where does that leave us?”
“At the moment, I can’t answer that question.”
Sandy scoffed with disgust, then rose to his feet. “Just so you’re aware, I could have eloped with her—without any warning. But I didn’t because it would have driven an irreparable wedge between the two of you. The discord would have killed her, so I couldn’t proceed. That’s how much I care about her. What can you say? How much do you care?”
He whipped away and marched for the door.
“I feel awful about this,” Jacob called to his retreating back.
“No, you don’t.”
“I hate that the world is like this. I wish it were different.”
Sandy halted and glared. “Save your lies and justifications for your sister. I’m not gullible enough to swallow them.”
He stormed out, and Jacob slumped down, sick at heart and filled with dread. How would he ever explain himself to Margaret?
“You bastard!”
As Margaret slammed into Jacob’s bedchamber, she hurled the derogatory term for what had to be the first time ever. He was in his sitting room, over in the corner and pouring himself a drink.
She hadn’t knocked, but had barged in, and she’d caught him dressing for supper, as if he’d blithely prance downstairs, and they’d have a cordial meal together. His hair was wet, his shirt off, and he had a towel draped over his shoulders.
“Hello, Margaret.” He sighed with what sounded like remorse. “I take it you’ve spoken to Sandy.”
“You pompous swine! You dog! You cur!”
“Would you calm down?”
“Why should I? I’ve been angry for twelve years, and every second of those years, I’ve had to bite down my fury. I’m finished bowing down to my Ralston relatives.”
“I won’t discuss this with you when you’re shouting at me.”
“Won’t you?” she mockingly retorted. “You poor baby! You’ve behaved like a conceited, contemptible ass, and I’m calling you out for it. Oh, the horror!”
He downed his drink in a quick gulp, then smacked the glass down on the tray. His eyes sparked with ire. “You couldn’t have bothered to apprise me of what was coming? You couldn’t have given me a hint? Why send Sandy to plead your case? You had to realize I’d be opposed. Why would you put me in such a hideous position?”
“Why would you refuse him? I could have sworn you and I were finally becoming friends. I could have sworn you’d want me to be happy.”
“Sandy could never make you happy.”
“Ooh, you idiot! You say that to my face? He’s the best man I know. Don’t you dare belittle him!”
“I’m not maligning his character.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“I’m just pointing out that disparate people shouldn’t wed. It never works.”
“Thank you for that stirring pot of wisdom, Brother, but here’s a tiny morsel you obviously haven’t considered: I was married—at my mother’s command—to a dolt from my own rank and station, and it produced the most nauseating union ever contracted. I was constantly criticized for my flaws. I was repeatedly shamed and disrespected. I was ridiculed for being stupid, useless, and lazy. Once in a great while, I was even slapped around for my own good.” She was delighted to see him wince. “Perhaps you could find me the same kind of despicable fiend to be my next spouse.”
“You’re deliberately failing to understand me. Sandy is a fine person, and I like him. I’ve always liked him, but he is an employee, which means he is totally inappropriate.”
“According to who?”
“To Mother—who I’m told already declined to allow it. Why should I feel differently?”
“You never gave two figs for Mother’s opinion on any topic, and she’s dead! Why would you care what she thought a decade ago?”
“In this instance, she was correct, and if you’d climb down off your high-horse, you’d realize that you share the same view.”
The comment stopped her in her tracks. “What are you talking about.”
“Did you—or did you not—recently lecture me about my flirtation with Joanna James?”
“So . . . ?”
“You were quite adamant that I shouldn’t involve myself with her because she was too far beneath me. And I was merely flirting! That’s it. Imagine my surprise when I discover that you’re not only flirting with the hired help, but you’re eager to wed one of them!”
“Miss James was a bit of . . . of . . . fluff who enticed you when she shouldn’t have. You were fascinated by her, so Father’s wicked tendencies burst out. You would never have married her, no matter how disgracefully you acted. Don’t pretend I was wrong about that.”
He rolled his eyes, as if she was being hysterical. “Could we not hurl these repugnant accusations? I’m nothing like Father, and I won’t listen to you insisting I am.”
She ignored him and kept on. “You were trifling with Miss James, curing your boredom at her expense, and in the process, you were perfectly willing to imperil your betrothal. But I have been falling in love with Sandy all over again. In fact, I’ve never fallen out of love with him.”
“Bully for you,” he snottily said.
“We’ve known Sandy forever. He’s loyal and dedicated, and he runs the place for you, but you’ve never figured that out. You pay Kit an exorbitant salary, but Sandy does all the work.”
“That’s starting to become clear to me.”
“Sandy is the reason you have money in your purse, yet you scoff and claim he’s worthless.”
“I never said that!” he fumed.
“Didn’t you? You strut around as if you and I are so magnificent, but you need to speak for yourself. Not me. I’m twenty-eight, and I’ve wound up a dispossessed widow who’s barren and penniless, but Sandy is willing to wed me anyway. He’s willing to supply me with a home and two boys to mother. What is my other option? Shall I never remarry? Shall I spend the rest of my life, wandering the halls in this bloody mansion with only Roxanne for company?”
“There will be other matrimonial choices.” He was so ludicrous! “There will be other men—suitable men—who will be glad to have you.”
“Suitable men!” she spat. “You actually presume there are men more suitable than Geoffrey Sanders?”
“You haven’t been in England that long. Why don’t you take an extended trip to London? I’ll fund it for you. If you’d just socialize a bit, there’s no telling who you might meet. Why must you declare Sandy to be your sole option?”
“Will you pay attention for once? Sandy is my great love, and you will not wreck this for me. Mother wrecked it in the past, but I’m not a trembling, terrified girl who can be bossed and threatened. I will not be treated that way ever again!”
She was next to a decorative table, and she smashed her fist down on it. It collap
sed and crashed to the floor with a loud bang. They froze, stunned by her vehemence, then the door was flung open, and Roxanne raced in.
“Why are you shouting?” she asked. “What’s happened?”
“Get out of here, Roxanne!” Margaret said.
Roxanne didn’t listen and wasn’t cowed. “I can hear you down in the front parlor. So can the servants. Both of you need to calm down.”
Margaret’s temper soared to an even hotter degree—if that was possible. “I am having a private discussion with my brother. It doesn’t include you. Now go away!”
Roxanne simply turned to Jacob and asked, “What is your quarrel about?”
Jacob smirked scathingly. “Margaret wants to wed our stable manager, Geoffrey Sanders. He asked me for her hand, and I refused to give them my blessing. She’s a tad . . . upset about it.”
“Of course you had to decline.” Roxanne took Jacob’s side immediately. “You couldn’t have done anything else.”
“Since she’s a widow,” Jacob continued, “she believes she should be able to marry whomever she pleases.”
Roxanne clucked her tongue with offense. “Honestly, Margaret. Mr. Sanders is the hired help. You can’t think we’d approve. You’ve been despondent, but I’m afraid your melancholia has disordered your mental capacities to the point where you’re acting like a lunatic.”
Margaret studied Roxanne, then she rudely gestured to her and said to her brother, “Is she the example of the type of stellar spouse you deem appropriate for us? We’re such top-lofty people, aren’t we? And she fits right in. Good luck in your own marriage. I’m sure it will bring you exactly what you deserve.”
She stormed out, feeling as if she might explode into a thousand pieces that could never be put back together.
Jacob knocked on Joanna’s door. It was late, nearly midnight, but there was light emanating from the inside. He figured she was still awake.
He understood that he shouldn’t be at her cottage, but after his brawl with Margaret, he hadn’t been able to stay away. Once Margaret had stormed out of his bedchamber, he and Roxanne had gone downstairs and had tried to have a normal supper. A dozen guests had been invited, so he’d had to suffer through the meal and pretend there was no crisis occurring.
