“That sounds fair.”
“If, in the end, you declare that you’re still willing to marry me, Miss James can’t continue to reside in the neighborhood. We’d have to move her far away from here, and you could never be apprised as to where that spot was located. You understand that, don’t you? I’m convinced you haven’t fully considered the consequences of your actions or the steps that will be required to repair this.”
He nearly blanched at the notion of Joanna departing, but he managed to calm down. He’d never deemed himself a fool, but maybe he was, and he found himself being very impressed with Roxanne. She’d been brave to raise the difficult subject, to put her foot down with him, but that didn’t render any of it easier to bear.
“That’s all I had to say,” she told him.
He let out a miserable laugh. “It was plenty.”
“There is another matter for you to address, but on a different topic.” She looked cool and collected, as if she hadn’t been discomposed in the slightest by their discussion. “You’re probably in no mood to be confronted with this, but Margaret and Sandy have vanished. His sons too.”
“What do you mean?”
“A maid mentioned earlier that Margaret hadn’t slept in her bed, and evidently, no one’s seen her since she fought with you yesterday.”
“Uh-oh.”
“And a stable boy knocked on Kit’s door this morning, wondering if he knew where Sandy was. They had a chore he was to supervise, but he never showed up, which was highly unusual. Kit checked on him at his house, but it’s empty.”
“Do you think they simply went somewhere? Or might they have . . . eloped?”
His fury sparked. If they had, he’d wring their bloody necks! Starting with his sister! He’d refused their request to wed. Had they ignored him? Had he no authority in his own home?
“I have no idea what it indicates,” Roxanne stated. “I’m merely passing on the information that’s been presented to me. Now then, if you’ll excuse me? This is my bedchamber, and I don’t care to have you in it. I shall lock myself away as much as I can until Monday when decisions have to be made.”
“You don’t have to hide yourself away. We’re adults, aren’t we? We’re cousins? We’re friends?”
“I don’t have to hide. I want to.”
She stared him down so scathingly that he felt petty and ridiculous. He sighed with regret, then stood and left.
“I thought we’d finally visit Bath.” Joanna smiled at Clara and said, “Would you like that?”
“I’d miss my classmates,” Clara said. “How long would we stay?”
Forever? Joanna had to swallow down the word.
Clara loved her school, her teacher, and her fellow students, and she would be distressed if they weren’t coming back. Joanna couldn’t figure out how to explain the situation in a way that wouldn’t sound alarming.
If Clara was apprised that they were fleeing, she wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, but Joanna’s plan was to quietly vanish. If she didn’t, she truly believed Jacob would track her down and demand she return. If gossip spread as to where she was, she’d spend the rest of her days, peering out the window, hoping he’d be riding up the road to fetch her away. She couldn’t and wouldn’t carry on like that.
She also couldn’t ever have Roxanne Ralston or Kit Boswell learn where Clara had gone, and she couldn’t fathom why her Aunt Pru had moved them to a spot that would put Clara in such danger. Then again, when Pru had taken custody of Clara, Miss Ralston had abandoned her daughter and sailed to Italy to conceal her disgrace.
Who could have guessed she’d bluster to the location where Clara was residing too?
Had Miss Ralston ever notified Kit Boswell he’d sired Clara? Was pompous, pretentious Mr. Boswell aware he was a father? Or did he assume his child had died at birth? Is that what Miss Ralston had claimed? If he presumed Clara was dead, how might he lash out if he found out she was alive and well and living with Joanna?
Joanna doubted he’d be interested in Clara, but hazard seemed to be swirling around her, imperiling all she held dear. Should she tell Jacob what she’d discovered? Would that be appropriate? Would she feel safer?
Miss Ralston and Mr. Boswell were both incredibly arrogant. If Joanna ruined them, how might they retaliate?
She peeked up at the sky, yearning to scold Jacob’s father. If this was Miles Ralston’s idea of watching over her from the afterlife, he wasn’t doing a very good job.
She was descended from a long line of females who’d had to be adept at disappearing. There had been many occasions when her ancestors had run from angry men, angry vicars, angry mobs. Aunt Pru had taught her the necessary lessons: in case something happens . . . in case there’s ever trouble . . . in case you need to hurry . . .
In her mind’s eye, she was already packing. What would she like to have with her? What would she miss? What was vital? What wasn’t?
A woman could get by with very little, but she’d planted roots at Ralston that sank far into the ground. How would she ever pull them out and start over? The whole notion left her terribly weary.
“We should tarry in Bath for a few weeks,” Joanna said. “Once we travel such a distance, it would be silly to arrive, then depart immediately.”
“Could I bring a friend?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have the extra money for it. We can barely afford to entertain ourselves, let alone a guest.”
“While I’m away, the girls will have parties and suppers without me. I won’t be there for any of it.”
“Consider this: When you’re back, you’ll have many amazing stories to share.”
“None of them have ever been to Bath. I’ll be the only one.”
It was Sunday morning. They’d been
