Someone to Wed

by Cheryl Holt

  They’d just spent two hours with Miss James, where she’d regaled them with stories about her time on the deserted island after the shipwreck. Throughout the whole conversation, Margaret had concentrated on Miss James, so she hadn’t bothered to note how Jacob was absorbing her information. Had he gazed at her like an obsessed swain?

  Margaret dithered and debated. If he was fond of Miss James, was it any of Margaret’s business? If his affection skewed his attitude about Roxanne, might it push him to cry off? Would Margaret care if the betrothal fell apart?

  Miss James was gorgeous, smart, and fascinating. She had peculiar habits and intriguing talents, so it was easy to comprehend why Jacob would be charmed. But he couldn’t have any honorable intentions. She had no parent to protect her, offer guidance, or warn her to be wary, and while she seemed too astute to be trapped in a romantic quagmire, shrewd females constantly landed themselves in trouble with men.

  Margaret blew out a heavy breath, then exited her room. She marched down the rear stairs, and she got lucky, bumping into her brother as he was coming in from the garden.

  “Is it time for supper already?” he asked. “Gad, I’m so late.”

  “We still have a few minutes. Could I talk to you? Alone?”

  “Of course.”

  They tromped back up the stairs, and his bedchamber suite was closest, so she led him into the sitting room. He shut the door, as she went over to the table in the corner where his valet kept a stocked liquor tray. She poured them both a whiskey, and he took his glass from her. They clinked the rims together.

  “Here is to Miss James,” he said, “for painting such a splendid picture of Father. He’s been denigrated so often in this house that I can’t remember when any of us had a good word to say about him.”

  “Her comments were so interesting. I’ve always wanted to see Miss Carstairs on the stage to hear how she’d describe him, but this was even better.”

  “I agree.”

  He downed his liquor and refilled his glass, then he asked, “What did you need? Can we deal with it quickly? I have to change my clothes.” He grinned. “Roxanne can’t abide tardiness. She might rap my knuckles with a ruler.”

  Margaret sipped her drink more slowly, studying him, worrying about him. She was probably in no position to butt her nose in, but she was his sister, and there was no one else who’d dare.

  They’d had little moral teaching in their life. Their father had died when they were children, and their mother had been a shrew who had liked to shout, hit, and throw things, so they’d practically raised themselves, having to figure out on their own how to be responsible adults.

  “I have to discuss an awkward topic with you,” she said. “Promise you won’t get upset.”

  “I doubt I will. I don’t have much of a temper. In that, I try to never act like Mother.”

  It was a paltry assurance, but she accepted it and forged ahead. “I was looking out my window a bit ago, and you were in the rose arbor with Miss James.”

  “Oh . . .”

  “Would you like to clarify what that was about?”

  “No.”

  “Are you flirting with her?”

  “No,” he said again.

  “What should I take that to mean? You were kissing her, so has it progressed beyond flirting? Have you seduced her? Is that it?”

  “No, I haven’t seduced her. I . . . I . . .” He cut off his remark, appearing bewildered. “I can’t explain what’s happening. I . . . ah . . . like her. That’s all.”

  She snorted with derision. “A man like you can’t be friends with a girl like her. You’re aware of that.”

  “I know.”

  “What does she believe is happening?”

  “I haven’t asked her.”

  “Shouldn’t you—before this goes any farther? I can guarantee she assumes you’re about to tender a commitment.”

  “She would never assume that. She’s not like other females. She doesn’t sit on pins and needles, wondering if a proposal is about to be voiced.”

  “If you’ve convinced yourself of that, then you’re an idiot. All women are the same—when they’re in love. Is she in love with you?”

  “Gad, no.”

  “What about Roxanne?”

  “What about her?”

  His tone was caustic, as if it was out of bounds for Margaret to inquire, and her aggravation ignited. He was being deliberately obtuse, deliberately mocking, and she reminded herself to stay calm, to wade through the conversation without quarreling.

  “Roxanne is expecting to marry you, and she’s so eager that she’s hoping to move up the wedding date to September.”

  “She told you that?”

  “Yes.”

  “She shouldn’t have. I’m not rushing the date.”

  Margaret frowned. “Have you decided not to wed her? Is it because of Miss James?”

  He didn’t reply, but glared mutinously, and she couldn’t read his expression. Was he reneging? Was he still reflecting? Had he reached no conclusion? What?

  “Mother arranged this match for you,” she said, “and Roxanne traveled from Italy on your verbal agreement. At this stage of the game, wouldn’t it be breach of promise?”

  “I’m not about to cry off.”

  “Then what are you about to do? And don’t lie to me. This is too important.”

  He shrugged and stepped away from her. They’d been huddled by the hearth, murmuring quietly, and he addressed her from across the room.

  “My relationship with Joanna has spurred me to evaluate my intentions with regard to Roxanne.”

  “You’re that fond of her?”

  “It’s not that I’m fond precisely. It’s that—if I could grow so besotted—why would I marry Roxanne? Might it not be better if I remain a bachelor? I haven’t answered that question.”

  “In the interim, you can’t suppose it’s appropriate to carry on an affair with Miss James. Not right under Roxanne’s nose. The neighborhood is too small, and she’ll find out. No bride should have to put up with such disrespect.”

  “You’re not telling me what I haven’t already considered.”

  “Will you marry Miss James instead of Roxanne? It’s not that, is it? She’s very pretty, and I like her very much, but she’s so far beneath you.”

  “I understand that, and I’m not picking her over Roxanne.”

  “Are you certain about that? Your conduct is terrifying me. Evidently, you have quite a bit more of Father’s blood flowing in your veins than I ever imagined.”

  “I’m nothing like Father,” he vehemently claimed.

  “Aren’t you? I am sick at heart over this discovery.”

  “I met Miss James after I arrived home on my furlough. We simply have . . . a spark, I guess, and it’s altered my view of Roxanne. I have no spark with her at all. It’s dawned on me that I don’t want a wife with whom I share no affection.”

  “Isn’t it a little late to realize that?”

  “Probably.” He looked incredibly forlorn. “I have no idea how to proceed.”

  “First off, you must stop lurking in secluded arbors with Miss James. It’s stirring your desire for her, so it can’t be helping matters.”

  “No, it’s not helping.”

  “I can’t believe I’m suggesting this, but maybe you and Roxanne should take a trip together. Go to Bath or to London for a week or two. If you spent a private interval with her, it might reorder your assessment.”

  At the prospect, he actually shuddered. “I couldn’t abide the notion of loafing in Bath with her. It’s why I’m vacillating.”

  “I wish we had some competent adults to advise us. I’d like to confer with an older, wiser person who could yank you to your senses.”

  “If I was yanked, where would I end up? Are you encouraging m
e to wed Roxanne all of a sudden? I could have sworn you weren’t keen on the match.”

  “My opinion about Roxanne is irrelevant. You made a commitment to her. I grasp that it’s not official yet, but she deems it to be. I’ve always assumed you were an honorable man, and I can’t accept that you’d treat her this way. And have you thought about the problem you’re creating for Miss James?”

  “What problem?”

  “She’s been here since she was a child. If you marry Roxanne, how could Miss James continue in residence? If she’s your paramour—”

  “She’s not my paramour,” he testily insisted.

  “You can’t guarantee that will be true in the future. If your liaison grows any hotter, she’ll have to move away from Ralston once you have a bride in the manor. Could you force that conclusion on her? Could you ruin her life like that?”

  “This will sound stupid, but I feel as if I have a destiny with her.”

  “What sort of . . . destiny?” She spat the word as if it were a curse.

  “With her being a Lost Girl, it seems as if she and I were meant to cross paths.” More wretchedly, he muttered, “It seems as if Father’s ghost is hovering and urging me to involve myself.”

  “You’re correct: It sounds very, very stupid. We barely knew Father, and he’s not guiding your steps. Don’t imbue this situation with justifications that don’t exist. You’re lusting after Miss James. You shouldn’t ascribe a higher motive to it.”

  He whipped away and went over to the window to stare outside. She’d lit a fire to his temper, and she could practically see heat wafting off his rigid shoulders.

  Ultimately, without glancing around, he said, “Could we consider this conversation finished? I have to dress for supper.”

  She threw up her hands. “How can we sit at the supper table with Roxanne and Kit while this contentious issue is floating between us?”

  “We’re British and we’re Ralstons. We can keep a stiff upper lip through the entire meal. I’m sure of it.”

  He peered at her over his shoulder, and she scoffed with disgust. “So that’s it? Our discussion is over? What about Miss James? Will you leave her alone? If you won’t promise me, I’ll be so afraid for her.”

  “Don’t be absurd. I would never hurt her.”

  “Spoken like the scoundrel you appear to be. What about Roxanne? If you don’t intend to engage yourself, how long will you dangle her on your hook? You don’t appreciate how thoroughly she’s wedged herself into the running of the manor. It’s clear—whatever you’re thinking—she’s not on that same page. If you tossed her over, what would become of her?”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead. For the moment, all I can focus on is that you’ve stuck a knife in the middle of my affection for Miss James.”

  “Someone should have. You’re being an absolute idiot about her.”

  “You’re making my relationship with her seem sordid and wrong, but it’s not.”

  “I’m sorry then—for you and for her. I’m sorry for Roxanne too, and I don’t even like her.”

  He chuckled miserably. “We can talk more later, but for now, I can’t dwell on it.”

  They glared forever, then she sighed with defeat. “All right.”

  “You go downstairs. I’ll follow you in a few minutes.”

  “Don’t you dare mope up here. You can’t abandon me to Kit and Roxanne. They fight like two gladiators in the ring, and I can’t be their referee.”

  “I’ll be there shortly. I swear.”

  She hesitated, then left, and as she marched away, she decided she had to have a humiliating chat with Miss James, and in fact, Miss James probably shouldn’t ever visit the manor again. Margaret would have to be the one to tell her the awful news. How would she bear it?

  “Jacob and I had a little chat before he left for town.”

  “And . . . ?”

  Margaret had just come in a rear door and was approaching Kit’s office when she heard him talking to Sandy. She paused, eager to reveal her presence, but debating whether she should. She’d never been fond of Kit, and Kit and Sandy had the status of boss and employee.

  She figured she should tiptoe away, but she hadn’t spoken to Sandy since she’d proposed. After her quarrel with Jacob about Miss James, she was feeling extremely anxious, and she wanted their engagement to be announced. Sandy had claimed he would confer with Jacob when the time was right, but when would that be?

  Her nerves were spent, and she couldn’t bear much more delay.

  As usual, Kit was complaining. “Evidently, we’re repairing that stupid roof for Widow Barnes and her brats.”

  “Oh, good,” Sandy replied.

  “I could have sworn I told you we wouldn’t waste the money or supplies. Jacob is all hot and bothered about it.”

  “Someone should be. Her husband died, serving the Ralston family. A new roof is the least of what she’s owed.”

  “Would you like to explain how Jacob learned of the situation?”

  “I mentioned it to him,” Sandy admitted. “He asked me why you and I were arguing, and I wasn’t about to lie.”

  “You know,” Kit said, “I don’t have to employ you, and Jacob’s never even in England. If you antagonize me, you shouldn’t assume he’ll be around to protect you.”

  “You and I should discuss my future with him then. I’ll track him down and schedule an appointment so we can debate the issue.”

  Margaret was kicking herself for listening, but she was bristling with offense too. The men of Sandy’s family had managed the stables at Ralston Place for generations. She couldn’t imagine the estate without them, and Kit was an ass.

  She marched over and strutted in. Kit was seated at the desk, leaned back in his chair, his feet up. He was drinking a glass of liquor, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. Sandy was standing across from him, visibly bored, as if this was simply another spat in a lengthy line of them.

  “Hello, Margaret.” Kit exhibited no embarrassment. “Did you need something?”

  “I have to borrow Sandy for a few minutes. May I?”

  “Sandy is his own man.” Kit’s tone was very snide. “Far be it from me to tell him what he can and can’t do.”

  She smiled at Sandy and said, “Can you help me?”

  “I’m at your service,” Sandy responded.

  He joined her, but she didn’t continue on immediately. She glared at Kit and said, “I’ve always thought you were an arrogant prig.”

  “And I’ve always thought you were a frivolous ninny. Your tenure in Egypt didn’t seem to have mended that problem.”

  She ignored the jibe. “As long as I’m alive, Sandy will have his job here. You shouldn’t ever think you could counter that decision.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He toasted her with his drink, and she was so irked by his insolent attitude that she nearly stormed over and smacked it out of his hand. She might have, but Sandy grabbed her elbow and dragged her away.

  They hurried off, and they were silent as he guided her down the hall and up the stairs to an empty guest bedchamber. Once they shut the door, they giggled like naughty children.

  “Ooh, I loathe him,” she said. “I loathed him when I was a girl and he used to pull my hair and tease me about my clothes, and I loathe him even more now that he’s an adult.”

  “Thank you for acting as my champion, but your intervention probably made matters worse for me.”

  “I don’t believe he likes you.”

  “He never has. Even when we were youngsters, I was better at every endeavor. He’s the type who bears a grudge.”

  “Is he always so awful to you?”

  “I rarely see him, so our animosity doesn’t flare very often. He mostly revels in London, so he’s not ever home. For the moment, he’s stuck in the cou
ntry because Jacob is on furlough. He’s trying to pretend he’s actually in charge.”

  “The estate looks in fine shape to me, but then, I’m not much of a farmer.”

  He chuckled. “No, you never were.”

  “Your efforts keep things running smoothly, and everyone is aware of that fact. Except maybe my brother.”

  Sandy was too polite to comment. His answer was a simple shrug. “I can’t gossip about him with you.”

  “Why? Because I’m his sister?”

  “Of course because you’re his sister, and Kit is like a member of your family. If a feud developed between us, it would put Jacob in a difficult position of having to take sides. I won’t force him into that sort of predicament.”

  “What about Kit?”

  “I’ll stay out of his way. That’s how I normally deal with him.”

  He kissed her soundly, and when they drew apart, they both sighed with gladness.

  “I’ve been so busy,” he said. “I haven’t seen you anywhere.”

  “You haven’t panicked, have you? We’re still getting married?”

  He didn’t jump to assure her, but said, “I’m inviting you to supper after all. I’d like you to spend a few hours with us, so you have a clearer idea of how small our life is. I’m terribly afraid—after you view it up close—you won’t like it.”

  “You are such a nuisance. I’m going to be your wife. You can’t talk me out of it.”

  “I’m concerned that you haven’t thought it through.”

  She rolled her eyes with exasperation. “Would you stop worrying?”

  “I will bite my tongue—for now.”

  “I’d appreciate it, and I will absolutely come to supper. If I survive the experience, will you please speak to Jacob? I can’t keep this a secret much longer. I’m about to bust.”

  He snorted with amusement. “Yes, if you survive supper, I will speak to Jacob. I promise, but have you pondered what we’ll do if he refuses?”