She approached the house, and there was a carriage parked at the gate. Her brother climbed out and motioned to the driver who clicked the reins. The vehicle started toward her.
As it rattled by, one of the Wilson twins popped up in the window.
“Mrs. Merrick!” she cried, appearing terrified. “Mrs. Merrick, we don’t know what’s—”
An older matron lunged up and yanked her away. The curtain was jerked shut, and the carriage kept on.
Jo turned and glared at her brother. He was watching it rumble off, a grim smile on his arrogant face. Unease swept over her.
There had always been rumors of his autocratic behavior, of his stepping beyond the bounds of conduct permitted a preacher, but no lapses had ever been proven. It was all gossip, allegedly stirred by the less-pious members of the community who didn’t like him.
With no earl in residence, he’d seized an enormous amount of authority, and he wielded his power without supervision or restraint. What sort of trouble could such a despot instigate? The possibilities were frightening.
“Where are the twins going?” she asked, hurrying to him. “Who was that woman?”
“Leave it be, Josephine. It’s none of your affair.”
“Tell me.”
“You will not question me! You know better.”
He marched into the vicarage, and she followed, running to keep up.
Ignoring her, he hung his coat on a hook, then went into his study. He poured himself a brandy and sat at his desk. To her assessing eye, it looked as if he was celebrating.
What on earth had he done?
“Is Emeline all right?” She pestered him even though he’d insisted she not. “Has something happened?”
“Josephine!” he snapped. “Be silent.”
“I demand to know what is occurring.”
“If I thought this was any of your business, I would confide in you.”
With her mood being so sour, she was too annoyed to be circumspect. They might have had their first quarrel ever, but any bickering was forestalled by a knock at the door.
The maid answered it, and shortly, Mr. Mason was shown in. He was as smug as her brother.
“Hello, Mrs. Merrick,” he said.
“Mr. Mason.”
She tried to smile, but couldn’t manage it. She wasn’t glad to see him and couldn’t pretend.
Over the past few weeks, he’d invited her on numerous outings, but she’d deftly devised pretexts to avoid him. She hadn’t had to be alone with him a single time, but she couldn’t demur forever. If she wasn’t more sociable, Oscar would order her to fraternize.
“You’re particularly fetching this afternoon,” he told her.
“Thank you.”
He was always unfailingly polite, and it was disconcerting to have compliments spew from his cold, cruel mouth.
“If you’ll excuse us, Josephine?” her brother interrupted. “Mr. Mason and I have important matters to discuss.”
“Certainly.” She was relieved to have a reason to flee the room.
She walked into the hall and pulled the door closed, and as she was moving away, she noted that the latch hadn’t caught. As she reached to shut it again, she realized that it was ajar and their conversation audible. They were chatting quietly, and when they mentioned Emeline, she couldn’t help but listen.
“Is she gone?” her brother asked.
“Vanished like smoke.”
“Any problems? Any witnesses?”
“No. Sheriff Pratt whisked her away so fast that my head is still spinning.”
A sheriff? A sheriff took Emeline away?
“I only deal with professionals,” Oscar bragged.
“Pratt is very good. Emeline kicked and fussed, but she was too small to put up much of a fight.”
“I’m delighted to be shed of her—and so easily too. I should have taken action months ago.”
“What about the twins?” Mr. Mason inquired.
“They’ve been seized, and I’ve arranged transport to the London orphanage tomorrow morning.”
“So . . . all three have disappeared, and it will be ages before anyone notices they’re missing. This has been a fine day’s work.”
“I agree.”
“If any curious busybodies ever come sniffing, we’ll simply shrug. Why would we know anything about Emeline Wilson? I heard she has family in Sussex. Perhaps she went to stay there.”
“I heard the very same,” Oscar said.
They chuckled, and there was a clinking sound as if they were enjoying a toast.
Jo began to shake with fury. Emeline had been arrested? She’d been physically overpowered? The twins were being shipped to a London orphanage?
Decades of repressed rage bubbled up inside her. Every slight, every insult, every abuse surged to the surface, and she was hopping mad.
She laid a palm on the wood of the door and shoved it open with such force that it whipped around and smacked into the wall behind. Both men jumped, but their guilty expressions were quickly masked.
“What have you two done?” Jo seethed.
“Go to your room, Josephine,” her brother commanded.
She focused her livid attention on Mr. Mason. “I will not leave until you confess your behavior.”
“Go!” her brother hissed.
“What if I don’t? Will you call in your sheriff and have him wrestle me to the ground?”
Mr. Mason frowned at Oscar. “Maybe I should explain it to her.”
“No, it would be better if you left. I’ll handle it.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“She’s in a temper,” Mason pointed out, “so she isn’t thinking clearly. We can’t have her blabbing to the whole town.”
“She won’t,” Oscar replied, and it sounded like a threat.
“I saw the twins in the carriage,” Jo said. “I’ll never be silent about it.”
“Dammit, Blair!” Mr. Mason muttered. “You only had to rid us of two young girls. You couldn’t do it without being observed?”
“I won’t be lectured by you,” Oscar huffed. “Now leave us so I may deal with my sister.”
Mr. Mason turned to Jo. “We’ll talk later.”
“I’d rather have the barber yank out all my teeth,” she retorted.
He clicked his heels together and bowed, but didn’t offer a goodbye. She stood, facing her brother, until the front door closed.
A deadly pause descended, then her brother rose, wrath wafting off him.
“Get down on your knees!” he roared. “Get down and beg the Lord God to forgive your vanity! How dare you sass me! How dare you shame me while we have company!”
He started toward her, looking dangerous, as if
