They reached the path that led to her cottage, and as they approached the gate, Kit Boswell was standing there and obviously waiting for them. A shiver slithered down her spine. Had she conjured him by pondering him so vehemently?
“Miss James! There you are!” His tone was aggrieved, as if they’d had an appointment and she was late.
“Hello, Mr. Boswell,” she said. “This is a surprise.”
He didn’t respond to her greeting, but studied Clara meticulously, providing stark evidence that he was aware of Clara’s paternity. Joanna studied Clara too, thinking she looked like Miss Ralston and not like Mr. Boswell at all. It was as if Miss Ralston had had a miraculous conception, with no man involved in the event.
“She definitely resembles her mother, doesn’t she?” He snorted with disgust. “If questions were raised, it would be hard to deny a relationship.”
Clara hadn’t previously met Mr. Boswell, and at his snide comment, she shrunk away so she was partially shielded by Joanna. She’d never been particularly shy though, and she asked, “Are you acquainted with my mother, sir?”
Mr. Boswell snorted again, and Joanna was afraid of what he might reveal. She was frightened too as to why he’d arrived. In all the years she’d lived in the cottage, he’d never visited, and his sudden appearance boded ill.
She cut off any chance he might have had to answer Clara. “Clara, this is Mr. Boswell. He’s Captain Ralston’s friend and estate manager.” She spun to him and asked, “May I help you? What do you need?”
“Shall we go inside? I have several delicate issues to discuss with you”—he glared at Clara—“and I’d rather not address them out here in the yard.”
“That’s fine. Please come in.”
She urged Clara to continue on ahead of them, then she and Mr. Boswell followed. He leaned in and murmured, “We shouldn’t talk in front of the girl.”
“Her name is Clara.”
“I know.”
He smirked in a manner that made Joanna eager to slap him. Mutt had been off in the forest, and he loped up. When he saw Mr. Boswell, he skidded to a halt, and he growled viciously, his hackles up.
Clara rushed over to pet him, and she said, “He doesn’t like you, Mr. Boswell, and he usually likes everyone. Isn’t that funny?”
“It’s absolutely hilarious,” he tightly replied.
Joanna wasn’t sure Mutt would let Mr. Boswell pass on by. What if he lunged at Boswell? What if he nipped flesh or ripped his trousers?
She said to Clara, “Why don’t you play with Mutt for me? Mr. Boswell and I must have a private conversation. I’ll shout for you when we’re finished.”
“I’m never permitted to listen in on adults,” Clara complained.
“I’ll tell you about it after we’re done.”
Clara was too polite to quarrel. She snapped her fingers at Mutt and gestured to the woods. The dog hesitated, as if he didn’t want to leave Joanna unprotected, and Joanna had to admit she wasn’t keen to chat with Boswell.
Whatever he intended to impart, it could never be to her benefit.
“Go,” she sternly commanded Mutt, and she motioned to Clara. Clara marched off, and Mutt reluctantly obeyed and trotted after her.
After they vanished, Joanna opened the door and entered the house. She could have guided him into the parlor to the sofa, as if it was a social call, but she was fairly certain there would be nothing social about it. She stepped to her left, to her kitchen. She pulled out a chair at the table, indicating he should sit, and she took the chair across from him.
He peered about, scrutinizing the room, as if wondering how much money he could get for her possessions if he sold them.
“I’m trying to recollect if I’ve ever been in this cottage before,” he said. “If I have, I can’t remember.”
“It’s been a good spot for me.” Joanna offered naught more. She stared at him, waiting for him to mention his purpose.
He snickered and asked, “How much do you charge to cast spells?”
“I don’t cast spells.”
“Why can’t you oblige me?” he mockingly inquired. “I’d love to have you turn a few people into toads.”
She imagined it was his idea of a joke, and she scowled with exasperation. He viewed himself as being very important, but there was no chance his ego would be stroked in her kitchen.
He finally realized it and said, “I’ll come straight to the point.”
“I appreciate it. I assume your message is dire.”
“Not to me, but I don’t suppose you’ll like it very much. Captain Ralston has been recalled to duty. He departed yesterday.”
“Oh.”
Somehow, she managed to exhibit very little emotion, but at the news, she was so shocked that he might have physically punched her.
She’d been planning to sneak away from Ralston Place, but so far, it had been mental wrangling. She hadn’t accepted the notion that she’d never see Jacob Ralston again. She struggled to hide her distress.
“It was very fast,” Mr. Boswell said, “but then, he’s a navy man. He’s used to a brisk change of circumstance. He thrives on it.”
She had to exhibit scant interest in Jacob. “Is there a reason I’m being notified? I’m barely acquainted with Captain Ralston, so his arrangements with the navy are none of my concern.”
He laughed in a cruel way. “Yours is a humorous attempt at innocence, Miss James, but unfortunately for you, you have no secrets from me.”
“Meaning what?”
“Roxanne Ralston is the Captain’s fiancée. You’re aware of that fact, aren’t you?”
“I dare say the whole neighborhood is aware of it.”
“Well, she is aware too—of your affair with him.” Joanna would have refuted the allegation, but he held up a hand to stop her. “It’s futile to pretend. She caught him creeping home at dawn, after he’d spent the night with you. She confronted him, and they had quite a discussion about you and what
