“Touch me,” Stephen threatened, “and I’ll break your arm.”
The tailor pursed his lips. “I’ll have to report back to Lady Veronica’s mother. I’ll have to inform her that you’re being totally uncooperative.”
“You do that.”
“I can’t predict what the consequences will be.”
“I’ll risk it.”
The man trembled with affront and began gathering up his supplies. As he stomped away, a maid peeked in.
When he and Nicholas had first arrived in England, they’d hired no staff, but on their return from Stafford, Stephen had sought out an employment agency and had brought in several people to cook and clean.
Gad, Lady Veronica was about to be living in the accursed residence! While the condition of the place had improved, Stephen doubted she’d deem it acceptable.
“Lt. Price?” the girl said.
“Yes?”
“You have a visitor.”
Stephen frowned, unable to fathom who it might be. They had occasional callers—female callers—but they all came to see Nicholas.
“Who is it?”
“A Mrs. Josephine Merrick.”
Stephen cocked his head as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “Who?”
“It’s Mrs. Josephine Merrick, from Stafford village. Are you at home?”
Jo had traveled all the way from Stafford? Why would she have?
They’d said all there was to say, and he couldn’t imagine what remained.
Though his brother had temporarily delayed him in his plan to bring Annie to Stafford, by summer’s end, she would be at the estate.
In the meantime, Stephen would find himself a wife, and she wouldn’t be any of the silly London debutantes who were suddenly throwing themselves at him simply because he was now an earl’s brother.
He’d select the first decent woman he encountered, marry her, and settle at Stafford. He’d grow old there, surrounded by his family.
Jo would suffocate in the vicarage, being denigrated and harassed by her brother.
A vision flitted by, of the two of them elderly and wizened. He’d bump into her out on the lane. She’d be hunched over and worn out, while he’d be vital and thriving.
Which of us made the right choice? he’d ask her. Don’t you wish you’d picked a life with me instead of with your pious, ridiculous brother?
“What should I tell her, Lt. Price?” the maid inquired. “She mentioned that she’s come a long distance and that it’s urgent.”
“Urgent?” he scoffed.
There was no subject that could be urgent, except the possibility that she was increasing. But it wasn’t soon enough for her to discover that she was with child, and besides, she insisted she was barren. She’d nearly been divorced over it.
What else could she want?
The only other likely topic was a rehashing of their abbreviated affair, but he’d slit his wrists before he’d discuss it again. Couldn’t she just let the past lie? Must they argue over it like a pair of angry washerwomen?
“I won’t speak with her,” he decided.
“She was afraid you might refuse, so she wrote you this letter.”
The girl held it out, and he walked over and took it.
He studied it, tapping the corner on his palm. Without a doubt, if he opened it, he’d be sucked into her pathetic world. He’d always regret it.
“It doesn’t matter what she’s written,” he said. “Whatever her problems, I don’t care to hear about them.” At his heartless statement, the girl couldn’t hide a scowl, and he added, “I’m scarcely acquainted with her, and I have no idea why she’d seek me out.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Please advise her that I am not at home.”
“What if she asks when you’ll return?”
“Inform her that I’ve already gone back to the army, and you don’t know when I’ll be in England again.”
The maid nodded and left, and he went to the hearth and pitched the letter into the fire. In a few seconds, it was consumed by the flames and reduced to a pile of ash.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Merrick, but Lt. Price isn’t here.”
“Where is he?” Jo asked. “Could I track him down somewhere or should I wait until he comes back?”
“He’s not in London. He’s been recalled to his regiment.”
“Really.”
“Yes.”
Silent and incredulous, she stared with exasperation. The girl was a bad liar, and her cheeks flushed bright red.
A servant always knew if the master was in residence or not. And a servant especially knew if the master was in England or not. If Stephen was on his way to Europe, why had the maid bothered to ask if he would see Jo?
“May I have my letter?” Jo inquired.
“Ah . . .” The maid flushed an even deeper shade of red, and she shuffled her feet. “It’s upstairs. I’ll keep it for him until he’s home again.”
“How long will that be?” Jo snidely said. “Two years? Five years? My news will be a bit dated by then.”
“Probably, Mrs. Merrick.”
Jo grumbled with frustration. “Did he even read it?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Why wouldn’t he talk to me? Have you a message?”
The maid shook her head. “No.”
Jo sighed. What had she expected? Where Stephen Price was concerned, she’d made her mistakes, and obviously, he was more rigid than she’d assumed. She’d hurt him, and he didn’t easily forgive.
Previously, Jo would have slithered away, defeated, but the little mouse he loathed had vanished. It had been replaced by a lioness who was roaring with aggravation.
She was ready to push her way inside, being perfectly amenable to storming through the house until she located him, but she was distracted by a horse leaving from the rear stable. She glanced over to find Stephen cantering off down the street.
“Coward!” she shouted, and her word seemed to strike him. He stiffened as if she’d hit him with a rock, but he kept going.
She peered at the maid.
“I apologize, ma’am,” the girl said.
“Do you suppose he’ll return later?”
“I don’t have any idea. He’s very rarely here.”
“Is his brother at home? Could I speak with him instead? It’s dreadfully important.”
“We haven’t seen the earl in days. It’s been awfully hectic, what with the wedding and all.”
“What wedding? Who is getting married?”
“The earl.”
“When?”
“This Friday. It was to be held at the end of August, but they’ve moved up the date.”
The earl was engaged? He was about to be married?
According to
