She’d assumed he’d be standing in the window and frowning down at her, but he wasn’t there. She whirled away, wondering if she’d ever see him again, and wondering too why she’d ever want to.
Janet heard someone knocking on her door, but she didn’t answer. She was seated on her sofa and too lost in thought to worry about who it might be.
A maid stopped by in the mornings to tidy up and cook the day’s food, but she’d left already. Other than her, it could only be Blake, but he’d visited earlier and wouldn’t stop by twice.
There wasn’t another person in the world she was interested in seeing except for him. His furlough was over in a week, so he was about to climb onto his navy ship and sail away. He would be posted to the Mediterranean and based out of Gibraltar, so it wasn’t as if he’d be on the other side of the globe. But still, it felt as if he was about to fall off the edge of the Earth.
He couldn’t guess when he’d be back in England, and she suspected—if it was months or years—he’d have trifled with a hundred different girls and likely wouldn’t even remember her.
The prospect was depressing and galling. She no longer wanted to be a lonely spinster with no husband to share her life. She wanted to be Mrs. Blake Ralston, but she couldn’t imagine how to achieve that conclusion. Blake snuck in frequently, and they’d immediately rush into her bedchamber and misbehave in decadent ways, but they never discussed private issues.
He never mentioned heightened affection, so she didn’t mention it either. He was about to leave, but he hadn’t evinced the slightest indication that he would miss her. He hadn’t suggested they wed or even that they correspond after he departed. She was sick with dread and regret and growing terribly afraid she might be with child.
She wasn’t positive of the symptoms, and it wasn’t as if she’d had a mother in her home to supply those sorts of details. But she was nauseous in the morning and smells made her queasy. Weren’t those pertinent signs?
What if she was increasing? What then? Dare she confide in Blake? What if she apprised him, and he shrugged off her condition? Or what if he learned of it and refused to marry her?
The knock sounded again, and she ignored it and sifted through a stack of documents she had balanced on her lap. She’d spoken to an attorney Blake had recommended, and she’d received a letter from him that she didn’t understand.
She’d been eager to investigate her inheritance from her grandmother. She had to remove her father as trustee so he couldn’t cut off her money.
Her attorney had researched the matter, and he insisted there was no record of Janet having a trust fund. According to court records, the only trust attached to her family was one created by Caroline’s deceased father, and it had been filed as the Caroline Grey Mining Trust.
There had never been talk about it, and she’d never been informed that Caroline had any money. Caroline had joined them as an indigent orphan, and Janet’s father had regularly teased her about being a financial burden they were happy to assume.
Janet simply had a bank account rather than a trust fund—as her father had always claimed—and she was sent monthly stipends from it. It wasn’t a trust disbursement, which was very perplexing, and she was frightened by it.
The account was listed in her father’s name, so he could shut it down whenever he wished. It meant she was in enormous fiscal jeopardy.
The knocking became more incessant, and she tossed the papers aside and stomped over to find out who was so adamant. She pulled the door open with a particularly irritated yank, and her jaw dropped in astonishment.
“Caroline!” she said to her cousin. “What are you doing on my stoop?”
“I hope you’re glad to see me,” Caroline replied. “Please tell me you are.”
They fell into each other’s arms, and Janet began to cry.
“Am I wrong to be angry? I’m not, am I?”
“No. You’re not wrong.”
Caroline gazed at Janet and said, “I’m so confused. I thought he and I were in love, but now, I’m not sure of what occurred between us. How should I proceed?”
“Let the problem fester for a few days. Once you’re calmer, we can settle on the best course.”
“That’s very wise advice and much more logical than my plan. My solution was to buy a pistol and shoot him dead.”
“It wouldn’t necessarily be the worst ending.”
“With how Gregory and your father treated me, then with Caleb turning out to be so depraved, I’d like to sail off to an island where there were no men. It would be marvelous to simply live around women.”
They were in Janet’s apartment and seated on the small sofa. There were three rooms: a sitting room, bedroom, and dining room. The ceilings were high, the windows big and facing south so plenty of sunlight filtered in.
Caroline couldn’t get over how quickly and easily Janet had landed on her feet, but then, she’d had Blake to assist her, and a man always provided a buffer against catastrophe.
“Can I mention something awful?” Janet asked, and she looked very glum.
“You’d better. Considering our dicey circumstances, we shouldn’t have any secrets.”
“Blake and I. . . that is. . . he and I have been. . . ah. . . we’ve. . . ah. . .”
Janet couldn’t spit it out, and Caroline said, “Apparently, it’s too humiliating to voice aloud.”
“Maybe.” Janet flushed bright red and peered down at her hands.
“Should I guess what’s happened? Blake is a handsome scoundrel, and with how he prances about in that uniform of his, I suspect he hasn’t behaved honorably.”
“It’s my own fault,” Janet hastily insisted. “He’s just so. . . so. . . amazing, and I couldn’t resist.”
“What now? What future are you envisioning?”
“I’d like to marry him,” Janet admitted, “but it’s probably never crossed his mind.”
“I’m certain it hasn’t. As I’ve
