“Will you pay attention for once? Sandy is my great love, and you will not wreck this for me. Mother wrecked it in the past, but I’m not a trembling, terrified girl who can be bossed and threatened. I will not be treated that way ever again!”
She was next to a decorative table, and she smashed her fist down on it. It collapsed and crashed to the floor with a loud bang. They froze, stunned by her vehemence, then the door was flung open, and Roxanne raced in.
“Why are you shouting?” she asked. “What’s happened?”
“Get out of here, Roxanne!” Margaret said.
Roxanne didn’t listen and wasn’t cowed. “I can hear you down in the front parlor. So can the servants. Both of you need to calm down.”
Margaret’s temper soared to an even hotter degree—if that was possible. “I am having a private discussion with my brother. It doesn’t include you. Now go away!”
Roxanne simply turned to Jacob and asked, “What is your quarrel about?”
Jacob smirked scathingly. “Margaret wants to wed our stable manager, Geoffrey Sanders. He asked me for her hand, and I refused to give them my blessing. She’s a tad . . . upset about it.”
“Of course you had to decline.” Roxanne took Jacob’s side immediately. “You couldn’t have done anything else.”
“Since she’s a widow,” Jacob continued, “she believes she should be able to marry whomever she pleases.”
Roxanne clucked her tongue with offense. “Honestly, Margaret. Mr. Sanders is the hired help. You can’t think we’d approve. You’ve been despondent, but I’m afraid your melancholia has disordered your mental capacities to the point where you’re acting like a lunatic.”
Margaret studied Roxanne, then she rudely gestured to her and said to her brother, “Is she the example of the type of stellar spouse you deem appropriate for us? We’re such top-lofty people, aren’t we? And she fits right in. Good luck in your own marriage. I’m sure it will bring you exactly what you deserve.”
She stormed out, feeling as if she might explode into a thousand pieces that could never be put back together.
Jacob knocked on Joanna’s door. It was late, nearly midnight, but there was light emanating from the inside. He figured she was still awake.
He understood that he shouldn’t be at her cottage, but after his brawl with Margaret, he hadn’t been able to stay away. Once Margaret had stormed out of his bedchamber, he and Roxanne had gone downstairs and had tried to have a normal supper. A dozen guests had been invited, so he’d had to suffer through the meal and pretend there was no crisis occurring.
But the entire time, he’d been choking with rage. He never liked to fight with anyone, and he especially didn’t like to fight with his sister. There had been too much of that sort of vitriol during their childhood. He was anxious to smooth over their quarrel, but with Sandy and Margaret both so angry, he couldn’t imagine how he ever would.
The minute the socializing was over, and he could safely escape, he’d snuck away. He’d assumed he was simply riding the country lanes, wandering with no specific destination in mind, but when he’d found himself at Joanna’s gate, he shouldn’t have been surprised.
He was sick at heart and keen to talk to someone who could provide solid advice. He couldn’t discuss the situation with Kit. His solution would be to fire Sandy. Roxanne was already demanding it, but Jacob couldn’t envision terminating him. Apparently, Sandy had loved Margaret forever. How was that powerful sentiment an action that should bring about his firing? Yet what was the alternative?
He was at a loss as to how he should respond, and he was eager to forget about it for a few hours. Or maybe he’d like to be told that the circumstances weren’t quite as dire as they seemed.
Joanna was the only person he could think of who might furnish any solace. She was kind and pragmatic, and she’d likely have insights he hadn’t considered.
That’s what he was telling himself anyway, but if he was being brutally honest, he’d have to admit that he was desperate to be with her. Since his last visit two weeks earlier, he’d been horridly adrift. If he could just wallow in her charming company for awhile, he was certain his condition would improve.
He knocked again, and he could sense her listening, hesitating, debating whether to answer. If she didn’t, he couldn’t predict how he’d behave. Would he kick his way in? He was that determined to speak to her.
Ultimately, she approached, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn’t have to bluster in like a barbarian.
She opened the door and peered out, but she wasn’t glad to see him, and she greeted him with, “You’re like a bad penny. You keep showing up, no matter how I try to be rid of you.”
“May I come in?”
“Why should I let you?”
“Must I state a reason?”
She studied him for an eternity, then scoffed with disgust. “I guess not.”
He entered, and they faced each other like combatants on a battlefield. On the journey over, he hadn’t pondered what he would say to her, and now that he’d arrived, he couldn’t deduce what it should be. What did he want exactly?
Well, he wanted her to fix what was wrong, but she’d have to be a miracle worker to solve any of his problems.
Mutt was lying by the hearth, and he decided it might be easier to reconcile with the dog. He went over and patted the animal, but Mutt didn’t rise or wag his tail. He flashed a definite glare that seemed to ask, Where have you been?
Jacob turned to her and said, “Is Clara home?”
“No. She slept in the village with her classmates. They’re celebrating another birthday.”
He warned himself not to be too excited
