It was the black eyes that linked them the most. Many women had blond hair, but they rarely had such dark eyes. It was a striking feature that was very unusual.
Clara broke the awkward interval. “Hello, ma’am.”
Miss Ralston didn’t respond to Clara’s greeting. Her tone sharp and rude, she simply said, “Who are you?”
Clara was startled by the brusque query, but she was a polite girl. “I am Clara.”
“How old are you, Clara?”
“Nine.”
“Who is your mother?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know. She died when I was a baby.”
Joanna hurried out to the gate. “This is my niece, Miss Ralston. She’s home from school earlier than I expected. I should get her settled.”
“Your niece?” Miss Ralston scathingly asked. “Clearly, you’re confused. If she was your niece, you’d be able to tell her that her mother was your sister.”
“We took her in after her mother passed away, and we’ve always viewed her as family.”
“Where was she born?”
“I’m not certain of the village,” Joanna fibbed. “My Aunt Pru—God rest her soul—was midwife at the sad event.”
At Joanna mentioning Pru, Miss Ralston blanched, and she was about to unload a slew of questions about Clara, but Joanna wouldn’t discuss any of them. She recalled the line on Miss Ralston’s palm, the one that had plainly shown she’d birthed a child. Could it be . . . ?
No . . . she scolded herself. Don’t even think it. It would raise so many insurmountable issues, and she didn’t want to deal with any of them.
Clara skirted by Miss Ralston and dashed over to hide behind Joanna. Joanna urged her up the walk.
Once Clara was inside, Miss Ralston said to Joanna, “Remember my command: Stay away from the manor. Find some other victim to fleece. Leave Mrs. Howell alone.”
Joanna dipped her head, as if to comply, then she watched Miss Ralston disappear down the path. Then Joanna went into the cottage, and Clara was in the front parlor, peeking out the curtain.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“It was Roxanne Ralston. Captain Ralston’s fiancée?”
“I didn’t like her.”
“Neither did I, but we’ll keep that opinion to ourselves.”
“I’ve been complaining for months that this would happen. Now it has.”
“My answer is still the same.”
“Their kin have lived here for over a century!”
“How is that my problem?”
Jacob was bound for the estate office at the rear of the manor when he heard two men quarreling. He recognized Kit’s voice, but he wasn’t sure who the other one was.
“It’s a widow and six children. Have you any concern for their fate?”
“None,” Kit said.
“What should I tell them?”
“Tell them what I’ve already told them: We aren’t running a charity.”
“Maybe not, but have we a Christian duty to those less fortunate?”
There was a tense silence, then Kit said, “Are you finished? You’ve exasperated me beyond my limit, and I need to dress for supper.”
“Yes, I’m finished.” The other man muttered, “I don’t know why I waste my breath.”
Jacob was about to bluster in and pretend he’d just arrived, when Sandy stormed out. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes spitting daggers, but as he noted Jacob lurking, he smoothed his expression.
“Hello, Captain. Were you hunting for me? I’m on my way to the stables.”
“I’m looking for Mr. Boswell.”
“He’s inside.”
Sandy marched off, and Jacob listened to his furious strides fading away, then he entered the office.
Kit was loafing in his chair at the desk, drinking a brandy. The liquor tray was by his elbow, and he pointed to it and said, “Will you join me? It’s late enough in the afternoon for us to start imbibing without our feeling like sots.”
If he was dismayed that Jacob had overheard a portion of their argument, he didn’t show it by the slightest twitch of a brow.
“Yes, I’ll have one.” Jacob eased onto a chair and reached over to accept a glass after Kit had filled it. He leaned back, sipping his beverage, then he casually said, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when I was walking down the hall, you two were having quite a row. What’s wrong? Why is Sandy so enraged?”
Kit waved a hand as if their harsh words had been trivial. “He constantly has a bee in his bonnet about some topic or other. He’s never liked how I run things, and we don’t ever agree on methods or solutions.”
“That much was obvious.”
“He disrespects me repeatedly, and I’m weary of his tantrums. I don’t suppose you’d let me fire him.”
“For speaking his mind? Isn’t that a valuable trait in an employee?”
“Not always. Am I in charge or aren’t I? One of these days, you should determine whether you’ve granted me full authority or not.”
“How long has his family served us? Hasn’t it been a thousand years or more?”
Kit smirked. “Yes, probably.”
“And he’s good at his job. You don’t have any criticism about his managing the stables, do you?”
“No. It’s just that he’s surly and impertinent. If he talked to you a single time with the contempt he regularly displays to me, you’d send him packing.”
Jacob shrugged. “I’m more tolerant than you are. I can scold him if you’d like. I can order him to cease his insolence.”
“Don’t you dare! I’m not a baby, and you don’t have to hold my hand.” Kit scowled. “What did you need? You can’t have wandered back here for no reason.”
“I’d like you to get the estate ledgers together for me.”
Was there the briefest hesitation on Kit’s part? “What for?”
“I’d like to remodel the south wing of the manor, so I’ll have to borrow some money. I’d like to have a clearer idea of where I stand financially.”
“I can explain the numbers to you.”
“I’ve hired a London accounting firm. They’ve promised to give me a report in plain English—one I can read and comprehend without my eyes glazing over.”
“Will you take them now? Or would you like me to post them to London for you?”
“I’m traveling to town next week, so I can deliver them myself. Just gather them, so when I’m ready to depart, we’re not scrambling about, searching for lost
