It was the same at Ralston Place. He was recognized as the lord and master, but he stumbled in so rarely that people tripped over themselves to please him. Yet she wasn’t impressed in the slightest. Nor did she comprehend their disparate positions.
She should have been eager to conduct herself in any manner he requested. She should have been flattered to have the chance to tarry with him, and the fact that she wasn’t was galling and bewildering.
He was absolutely enthralled by her. What might she do next? What might she say next?
A shiver slithered down his spine. He felt bewitched, as if she’d shoved an odd burst of energy into his anatomy. He peeked down at his palm, fully assuming she’d have left a mark on his skin, but there was no indication of her mischief.
He scoffed at his foolishness, then headed off too. He wouldn’t lurk in the forest, fretting over an insane woman. He had ledgers to read, a fiancée to charm, and a sister with whom he needed to become reacquainted. What ailed her? He definitely had to inquire so he could pitch in to improve her condition.
He was as busy as exasperating, snooty Miss James. Or, at least, he could pretend to be busy. He stomped off, and he decided he wouldn’t watch for her at the manor. He wouldn’t gaze out the windows, wondering if she was about to arrive. He wouldn’t obsess over her!
But even as he warned himself to ignore his fixation, he was reviewing every comment she’d uttered, and he was anxiously excited to bump into her again—and soon.
Joanna strolled down the lane, headed for her cottage. Clara was with her, which was always enjoyable. With her white-blond hair and dark black eyes, her slender physique and pleasing manner, she was very fetching. She was nine already and growing up so fast.
She attended school in the village, with seven other girls. Her teacher was an older widow, and three of them boarded with her. Clara went four days a week, and occasionally, she stayed overnight when there was a birthday or other event to celebrate. Joanna was keeping track of the years they had left together, and they were passing much quicker than she liked.
Clara had come to live with them as a newborn. Aunt Pru had delivered her, and it had been a difficult and very secretive birthing, to a young and unwed mother, the father not named.
The grandmother had been so incensed about the situation that Pru had worried over Clara’s fate. She’d offered to take Clara, to dispose of her so she’d never be found, and she’d often tormented herself over what Clara’s relatives had assumed she’d meant to do with the child.
Had they thought she’d kill Clara? Had they thought she’d dump her in an orphanage? Had they thought she’d smother her, then bury her in the forest?
She’d brought Clara home, and Joanna was raising her. Clara’s grandmother had given Pru a purse of gold coins to buy her silence. The money paid for Clara’s schooling and clothes, so she didn’t have to stagger about like an orphaned pauper.
There would be a bit of it remaining when she decided to marry, so she’d even have a small dowry to entice a local boy into matrimony.
“What is your opinion about Captain Ralston?” Clara asked her.
“He’s vain, bossy, and very set on himself.”
“You would say that about any man.”
Joanna chuckled. “Probably.”
“Is he handsome?”
“Yes, he’s very handsome—but he knows it too.”
Everyone was talking about Captain Ralston. He was so rarely at the estate, and speculation was rampant as to what he was like. Clara and her fellow classmates were particularly intrigued.
“He’s betrothed to his cousin,” Clara said.
“Not quite yet, but he will be soon.”
“Have you met her?”
“No. I haven’t had the chance.”
Thank goodness, Joanna silently added. She had no desire to discover what sort of gorgeous creature had tantalized him.
“She’s incredibly beautiful,” Clara said. “That’s the rumor anyway. I hope she’s worthy of him.”
Clara and her classmates had gossiped about Jacob Ralston to an exhausting degree. They viewed him as a prince who’d been searching for a princess, but Joanna had heard depressing stories about his cousin—stories she shouldn’t have heard—in the kitchen at the manor. The servants didn’t like her. She was snooty, rude, and never satisfied with any service they provided. She was also swift to lash out verbally if they failed to rise to her exacting standards.
Once she was the Captain’s bride, she’d take charge of the household, so it would become a very different place, and Joanna couldn’t abide awful behavior. She understood that England was a country of status and station, but she could trace her lineage back a thousand years—on her mother’s side and her father’s—and she didn’t feel as if she should have to bow down to anyone.
It was a dangerous attitude to have though, so she spent as much time as she could around common people and none around the more exalted. It was best not to tempt Fate and get herself into trouble by being too uppity.
They left the lane and walked down the path toward their cottage. It was an old gamekeeper’s hut where the lord’s men had watched for poachers and brigands. The woods surrounding it were thick and dark, and unless a person was specifically shown where it was hidden in the forest, it was hard to find.
The house was cozy and snug and a perfect haven for her. There were three rooms on the main floor—a kitchen, a parlor, and a work room—and two bedrooms up above. There was a white fence to enclose the yard, and flowerboxes under the windows. The thatch was thick, the walls sturdy, and the windows blocked the wind and the rain.
It seemed like an enchanted spot, one where a virtuous maiden might be imprisoned under a wicked spell. She liked to envision herself as the virtuous maiden, but she was in no hurry to
