“It’s not horrid. I simply can’t imagine what you’ll think. I’m quite resolved about it, so even if you’re opposed, you won’t be able to dissuade me.”
She scowled ferociously. “Tell me quick—or I’ll be envisioning dire scenarios.”
“It’s this: I’m having my engagement party in September, and I’m inviting Caleb and Blake.”
“Caleb and Blake . . . Ralston? As in our half-siblings, Caleb and Blake?”
“Yes. What is your opinion of the insane notion?”
“Mother will be rolling in her grave.”
“That’s the sole comment I hear. Will you welcome them? Or will you have to flee the property for two weeks so you won’t have to be sullied by their presence?”
She scoffed with offense. “I like to hope I’m not so thin-skinned that I’d avoid them, but we’ve hated them for so long. I can’t decide how I should view their waltzing into the house.”
“You and I never hated them.”
“Speak for yourself.” She pondered, then said, “I suppose, with Mother deceased, it’s silly to continue loathing them. It wasn’t their fault Father was a bigamist and liar.”
“My feeling exactly. I’d like to have a cordial relationship with them.”
She gulped her wine down to the dregs. “Gad, I need a stronger libation. I’ve been recuperating, but you’re making my nerves flare.”
“There’s one other thing too.”
“Will it be better or worse than your news about my half-brothers?”
“You’ve invited Miss James to the party on Saturday night.”
“I have, and . . . ?”
“I seconded the invitation, but Roxanne cancelled it. Apparently, our cousin doesn’t like her tending you, and she’s warned her to desist.”
“How ridiculous. I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m competent to select who will nurse me and who won’t. Would Roxanne rather I had a drunken surgeon bluster in to bleed and purge me.”
“Probably. Don’t mention this to her. I’ll deal with it, but I figured you should be apprised.”
“Are you sure you should go through with your betrothal?” Margaret uttered the question without much reflection, and the instant the words were out of her mouth, she blanched. “I can’t believe I said that. I’m sorry, but Mother arranged the match. Should you trust her choice?”
“I was glad to have her manage it for me. I couldn’t see me wandering London drawing rooms and searching for the perfect girl on my own.”
Margaret chuckled. “You definitely would have been awful at it. Who could guess what sort of idiotic debutante you might have dragged home? You’d have been ensnared by the first pretty face you encountered, with no thought to any other attribute.”
“You’re correct, but our problem is that Roxanne is here, and she’s seized control.”
“She certainly has.” Margaret sounded aggrieved.
“I haven’t put any limits on what I’ll permit, but I will. Don’t fret over it.”
Margaret might have offered some other frank comments that he ought to have heard, but Roxanne sauntered in.
She always dressed like a rich princess, her wardrobe expensive and flattering. Her jewelry was expensive too, and it occurred to him that he had to have a conversation with her about their finances. She had a suitable dowry that would be his after the wedding, but it appeared she had an allowance from somewhere too, and she spent it lavishly.
He prayed she wasn’t charging to his accounts on the promise she’d be his bride and he’d cover the bills later. His income was mostly generated by his being a navy captain as well as a gentleman farmer. He was thrifty with his money and never saw reasons to waste it.
The notion of talking to her, of explaining to her about frugality and moderation, was too exhausting to contemplate.
Margaret whispered, “Your destiny awaits.”
“I find myself braced for any ending.”
“Did you enjoy supper?”
“It was excellent.”
Roxanne smiled at Jacob. She didn’t usually worry about how others viewed her, but she felt as if she was on a perpetual employment interview. The engagement wasn’t official yet and wouldn’t be until various papers were signed.
They were plodding along according to his mother’s schedule, but Roxanne had suggested they dump it and move up the wedding date. He’d agreed to mull the possibility, but he hadn’t mentioned it again, so she wouldn’t dare mention it either. She wouldn’t want him to think she was too assertive.
She watched the road every minute, anxious that no mail be delivered of which she was unaware. She was terrified gossip from Italy would sneak in when she wasn’t paying attention. People could be so petty, and he had acquaintances around the globe. No doubt one of them would delight in informing him about her sordid history there.
She’d had several paramours in Italy, and two of them had even dueled over her. She refused to be ashamed over how she’d thrived, but she didn’t suppose Jacob would welcome the truth, and she was determined he never learn it.
They were on the rear verandah, leaned on the balustrade and staring out at the sky. It was a cloudy night, so there were no stars to see. The meal was over, their guests chatting inside. There would be no dancing or other amusement. Those would occur at the larger event that was scheduled for Saturday.
She’d been eager to catch him alone, so she’d been furtively observing him. Once he’d gone outside, she’d waited a bit, then had followed him. She’d been keen for it to seem as if she hadn’t followed him, as if she’d stumbled on him by accident.
“I’m thrilled that you were pleased,” she said.
“I was, but you don’t have to try so hard. In fact, we don’t have to have such a feast every evening. It’s fine with me if we just dine with family.”
Was that a criticism? “I like to host big suppers. I hope you don’t mind if I continue.”
“I don’t mind. I simply don’t need constant entertainment, but you’re used to being in Florence. I’m sure this is very quiet by comparison.”
“It is quiet here, and it took me awhile to settle in, but it’s lovely to be back in England. I
