Jo knew a few things about amour that Emeline hadn’t had the chance to learn. If she’d involved herself with Nicholas Price, only heartache would result.
What was Emeline thinking? She wasn’t thinking; that was the problem. Jo’s reasoning had become muddled too. They were two ordinary females whose lives had been turned upside down by two extraordinary males. She and Emeline resided in a small town in the country, and their backgrounds and experiences were no match for those of the Price brothers.
The pair would be at Stafford for such a short time. What havoc would they wreak before they moved on?
“How can you tolerate him?” Jo asked Lt. Price as he dismounted.
“He grows on you.”
“You got the charm in the family. What did he get?”
“The title and the money.”
Jo laughed as Emeline made her goodbyes and left. Then Jo and Lt. Price started for the village. They were side by side, strolling companionably, her skirt occasionally brushing his trousers.
She was cataloguing every moment of the encounter so she would never forget a single detail. She wanted to always remember the way he looked, the way he smelled, the way his boots crunched on the gravel.
All the while, she was calculating the distance remaining, trying to decide when they had arrived at the final safe point. Oscar had been very clear in his warning about Lt. Price, and she wouldn’t tempt fate.
If he discovered that she’d defied him, there was no predicting what he might do, and while Jo had flirted with the idea of carrying on their torrid liaison, she simply couldn’t. The risk was too great.
“Would you call me Stephen?” he asked.
“When we’re alone, and if you promise to call me Jo.”
“I will—when we’re alone.”
It was a sweet gesture, and over the next several minutes before they parted forever, she would say his name as many times as she could.
“Stephen, why is your brother being so kind to Emeline?”
“Guilty conscience. He has a conscience. He just doesn’t heed it very often.”
“Does he fancy her?”
“In a manly fashion?”
“Yes.”
He scoffed. “His taste in women runs in quite a different direction.”
“What direction is that?”
“Not one I can describe for your virtuous ears.”
“Would he take advantage of her?”
“No. Why are you worried about him?”
“She’s not very sophisticated, and she doesn’t have her father to protect her. He bought her clothes, and she’s living at the manor. I’m a tad anxious about his intentions.”
“Don’t be. He doesn’t chase after innocents. He doesn’t need to. Women throw themselves at his feet. They always have.”
“What about you? Do women throw themselves at your feet?”
“Not usually, but lately, I’ve been luckier.”
He leaned in and stole a kiss before she could ask him not to. For the briefest second, she dawdled, relishing the warmth of his lips, then she sighed with regret and eased away.
He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to tell you something.”
She gazed into his handsome face, memorizing the color of his eyes, the slant of his nose and cleft of his chin.
“About . . . ?”
“I can’t continue our affair, Stephen.”
“Why not?”
“The better question is: Why did I participate in the first place?”
“Because we enjoy a potent attraction, that’s why.”
“We’re not animals. We have to control our worst impulses.”
“Speak for yourself.” He grinned, but she didn’t grin back, and his smile faded.
“What’s happened?” he inquired.
“My brother saw us the other afternoon, out in front of the vicarage.”
“So?”
“He’s very strict, and he doesn’t feel it’s appropriate for us to fraternize.”
“You agree with him?”
“It’s not up to me.”
“For pity’s sake, I’m not some beggar in a ditch. I’m the earl’s brother. We were merely walking down the lane.”
“Appearances matter to him. I reside under his roof, and I have to abide by his rules.”
“Why?”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go. You know that.”
“You’re twenty-five years old, Jo. You’re a widow. It’s not as if you’re some green girl I seduced off a street corner. Show some backbone. Tell him we’re friends and he has to deal with it.”
She sighed again. It was so easy to be a man, to be independent and in charge of your own life, to have your own money so you could do whatever you wanted.
Stephen Price could never understand what it was like to be her, to be without options, without hope, and at the mercy of someone like Oscar.
She constantly straddled a tightrope, eager to evade his wrath, while managing some semblance of a normal existence. She would give anything to escape, but to where? How?
“It’s not possible for me to defy him,” she solemnly said.
“I’ll talk to him for you.”
“No, you won’t. I can’t have you interfering.”
“He serves at Nicholas’s pleasure. I’ll remind him of that fact. You’ll be amazed at the change in behavior that will follow.”
“You don’t know my brother.”
“And you don’t know mine.”
“It wouldn’t help to speak with Oscar. It would just stir more trouble for me.”
“More trouble? What’s he done?”
He tensed, as if he might march to the vicarage and pound Oscar into the ground. The notion was tremendously satisfying, and she was thrilled that he could be so incensed on her behalf, but she would never encourage him to reckless conduct.
What if Stephen learned how Oscar truly treated her? What if he had Oscar dismissed from his post? Then what? She and Oscar would both be tossed out with no income and no shelter.
“Oscar has done nothing to me,” she calmly lied, “except to request that I remember my position in the community.”
His temper flared. “Bugger your position. Bugger this community.”
“Stephen, please. There’s no need to be crude.”
He reined himself in. “No, there’s not. I apologize.”
Suddenly, his demeanor altered. His fondness was carefully concealed, and he could have been a stranger. She couldn’t bear to see him upset—not when she’d been the cause of his distress.
“Don’t be angry,” she pleaded. She wrapped her arms around his waist, but it was like hugging a log.
“I’m not angry.” His own arms were locked at his sides as he restrained himself from hugging her back.
“What else
