“All of that occurred to you while you were riding to Scotland?”
“Yes, and I can’t fathom my purpose. I’m sorry I was so horrid to you. Have I missed the ceremony?” He pointed to her ring. “It seems as if I have. I would have liked to attend.”
“My goodness,” she murmured. “You’re being so gallant. I suppose I have to retract every insult I hurled over the past week.”
“I suppose you have to too, and if I inquire nicely, would you wed again once we’re back at Ralston Place? Could we have a second ceremony? I’d like to walk you down the aisle. Father would be glad about it, and I’d like everyone at the estate to be there—for you and for Sandy.”
She did burst into tears then. The boys had pushed her to the brink, but Jacob had shoved her over.
“Don’t weep,” he muttered. “Please! I didn’t think I could possibly feel any worse, but if I’ve made you cry, I might have to throw myself off a cliff.”
“I can’t help it. This whole exploit has been so draining. I’m thoroughly exhausted. I don’t have an ounce of sense or energy remaining.”
He dug a kerchief out of his coat so she could dab at her eyes.
“Are you happy though?” he asked. “You look happy. Well . . . except for the tears. You’re definitely sending me conflicting messages.”
“I’m very, very happy.”
Noise erupted out by the front door, and Tom stomped in, calling, “Mother Margaret, are you still here?”
“Yes, Tom, I’m here,” she called back. She explained to Jacob, “That’s the name my boys have picked for me: Mother Margaret.”
“Pa says to tell you ten minutes.” Tom strutted over, but when he saw Jacob, he halted and dubiously studied him. Then, his tone a tad cool, he said, “Hello, Captain Ralston.”
Margaret said to Jacob, “This is Sandy’s older son, Tom.” She smiled and added, “He’s my son too.”
“Hello, Tom,” Jacob said.
“He’s planning to join the navy in a few years,” Margaret said. “I told him he could talk to you about it, but we’ve been so busy running away that there hasn’t been any time.”
“I would love to talk to you about the navy,” Jacob said. He could be very charming when the occasion required it. “It’s a fabulous career to have, and it would be perfect for you.”
On the trip north, Sandy hadn’t spared the boys from the truth, so they were aware that Jacob had been vehemently opposed to the marriage. Margaret had piled on plenty of snide comments she shouldn’t have voiced, so Tim and Tom had no illusions about what had transpired.
Tom scowled at Jacob and dared to ask, “You won’t cause trouble, will you? For if that’s why you’ve arrived, my Pa and I won’t let you. My brother either. Margaret belongs to us now, sir, so we have to always protect her.”
“I’m not about to cause trouble,” Jacob insisted. “I was furious initially, but I’ve calmed down, and I’m delighted that you’re fond of Margaret. She deserves protecting, and I’m sure you and your father will take good care of her.”
“We will. Pa says she’s not too good at taking care of herself, but we’ll get her squared away.”
Jacob raised a brow and grinned at her. “It sounds as if the new men in your life know you quite well. From this moment on, I suspect you’ll be in excellent hands.”
“Dammit.”
Sandy mumbled the curse, then glanced around to be certain no one had heard. He never liked to use foul language, but he was standing outside the coaching inn’s barn, and who should strut toward him, but the exalted, pompous Captain Jacob Ralston.
Where had he come from? And why would he slither in when everything was over? It was too late to stop them.
Sandy and Margaret had endlessly debated whether her brother would bestir himself to chase after her. Sandy had assumed he would simply because he was such a conceited ass, and he’d be eager to put Sandy in his place.
In the past, Sandy wouldn’t have risked absconding with Margaret, but he’d had about all of the Ralston family he could abide. For thirty years, he’d been denigrated and snubbed by them.
He’d tolerated their awful mother, Esther—because he’d had to tolerate her. He tolerated their ward, Kit Boswell—because . . . because . . .
Why had he? In his dealings with Kit, he’d had to ceaselessly degrade himself merely to keep his job so his boys would be safe, but he was widely respected in the community, and—when he attended auctions and horse races—he was repeatedly offered better positions at higher salaries.
He tolerated Jacob Ralston because he was never present to throw his weight around. With his exhibiting some of his mother’s worst traits, Sandy had had enough.
He’d stayed at Ralston Place because he’d always worked there. It was habit. It was loyalty. It was . . . stupid. A few days earlier, when he’d stood in the manor as the Captain had complained that he was too lowly for Margaret, he’d suffered a flare of temper that hadn’t burned out.
Normally, he viewed himself as a very placid fellow, but the Captain had lit a spark under decades of umbrage, and Sandy couldn’t tamp it down. Margaret was his now, and that fact couldn’t be changed. Not even by a pompous, angry brother.
He braced his feet, fists gripped behind his back so—if the arrogant oaf insulted him—he wouldn’t pound the man into the ground. He supposed the Captain was a brawler, but so was Sandy. If it came to blows, they were the same size, and it would be a fair fight.
“Hello, Sandy,” the Captain said as he sauntered up. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Captain.”
“I just talked to Margaret.”
“We’re wed, so if you were intending to berate me, you should think again. I should first explain that I quit.”
The Captain scowled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I resign from my post. Since you don’t believe I’m suitable to
