“You’ve indicated he’s someone I might actually know.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me. You top-lofty men live in a small world, and you all seem to be acquainted.”
“Have you ever met him?”
“Never, and I have no desire to. He was horrid to my mother, and there’s not a single topic he and I could ever discuss that wouldn’t infuriate me.”
“Why didn’t he marry her? Was she too far beneath him? Was he a snob about it?”
“If you must be apprised, he couldn’t marry her because he was already married.”
“Oh.” His cheeks reddened with chagrin.
“His wife was extremely enraged about their affair, and my mother and I suffered greatly because of it. He was a coward who wouldn’t lift a finger to protect us. Why would I boast of a connection to a cretin like that?”
“How did you and your mother suffer? What did his wife do to you?”
Joanna studied him, wondering if she should confess to being one of the Lost Girls who’d been rescued by his father in the Caribbean.
As a child, she’d been notorious for a bit—until Aunt Pru had arrived to claim her. They’d carried on quietly after that, with Pru determined that Joanna’s infamy slide into obscurity. Their home had been located near the estate of Joanna’s father, and Pru had constantly worried his wife might learn that Joanna had returned to the area.
Pru hadn’t necessarily expected the woman to lash out at Joanna, but she hadn’t been willing to risk it. When Pru had gotten the chance to move them to another part of the country, she’d jumped at it.
Through the years, Joanna had grown accustomed to burying the past. There was no point in mentioning she was a Lost Girl. It simply generated attention she didn’t care to have focused on her, and because of her odd quirks, she had to be cautious.
Why talk about it anyway? It left her anxious and edgy, and it dredged up enormous melancholia, both about the tragedy itself, but also about the trauma of being separated from Libby and Caro. She’d start to have nightmares, so it wasn’t worth the cost.
“I can’t describe that terrible period,” she said. “It haunts me, and I can’t bear to rehash it. Please don’t ask me to.”
Her old anguish must have been visible because he didn’t press. “I’ll let it go—for now.”
“You’ll never pry out any details you shouldn’t discover.”
“Would you do me a favor?”
“That depends on what it is.”
“Would you hold my hand again? Palm to palm?”
“Why would you want that?”
“You have some strange skills, and they fascinate me. Can you see the future?”
“No one can see the future. It’s not set in stone, and humans have free will.”
It was the accepted answer, intended to keep pious vicars satisfied, but she had many disturbing talents. She just didn’t summon them very often.
She debated forever, then thought, Why not?
He was eager to have it occur, and she was intrigued too. Before she could dissuade herself, she raised her hand and laid it to his. They sat very still, their gazes locked. Her power stirred, heat flowing from her to him, then a myriad of images flooded into their minds.
She saw him at his wedding, standing at the altar and waiting for his bride. He looked handsome, dashing, and very happy. She saw him a few years later, with two young boys—his sons. He’d bought them a pony and was teaching them to ride.
Then, without warning, the perspective shifted from him to her, and she was immersed in the shipwreck. The wind was howling, the ship sinking. There were people in the water, and they were screaming and praying. Her mother was gripping a log, clutching Joanna around the waist as a wave crashed over their heads.
“Hold on, hold on . . .” her mother was urging, but the tempest whipped her words away.
Joanna couldn’t abide the deadly scene, and she yanked away. She was breathing hard, her heart hammering so raucously she was amazed it didn’t burst out of her chest.
“What the bloody hell was that?” he asked. “Were we viewing the same things?”
“Most likely.”
“How is that possible?”
“I can’t explain it. I am possessed of several unusual gifts over which I have no control.”
“How do the visions originate?”
“I can’t guess.”
“Did that incident really happen to you? Were you the girl in the waves?”
“Yes, and with me receiving such a vivid picture of it, I expect I’ll have nightmares for a month.”
He snorted at that. “It’s why you don’t like ships and sailing.”
She shrugged. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“When was that? Where was that?”
“I can’t and won’t discuss it!” She was keen to change the subject. “I saw you at your wedding, and I saw you with your children. I think you’ll have at least two.”
“I saw them as well, but was it a prophesy? Will it come true?”
“I would never claim it will.”
He eased away, as if she’d grown too hot to touch. “You are dangerous, Miss James.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I meant it as a compliment. I’m just flabbergasted. I understood you to be peculiar, but my goodness! Apparently, I had no idea.”
“Could you promise not to tell anyone about this?”
“How long have you had such an odd power?”
“I was born with it. I inherited it from my mother.”
“I can certainly comprehend why your father was so captivated. Did she cast a spell on him? Is that how he was ensnared?”
There was a teasing note in his comment that aggravated her. With her mother’s voice still ringing in her ear, she was in no mood to have her denigrated.
“My mother didn’t practice any magic on him.” Her tone was irked. “My father was a spoiled roué who seized whatever he craved. My mother was foolish enough to oblige him, and I was the result.”
He was scrutinizing her as if he’d suddenly realized she had a disease that was catching, and she could have clouted him alongside the head.
“Stop staring at me as if I’m a madwoman,” she said.
“I
