by Laura Landon
“How do you do, Amanda,” the marquess said, bowing again.
“Hello. I’m four and I’m special.”
Josie couldn’t help but smile. Lord Rainforth opened his mouth to speak then closed it.
“Don’t you want to know why I’m special?” Amanda asked her eyes wide with expectancy.
“Why…of course.”
“I’m special because Miss Josie said the angels brought me. Didn’t they, Miss Josie?”
“That’s right, Amanda. The angels left you on our doorstep so you could live with us.”
Amanda looked up at Lord Rainforth with an expression so angelic Josie had to hold herself to keep from hugging the child to her.
“And this,” she said moving to the next child, “is—”
“Enough.”
He’d said the word so softly Josie wasn’t sure she’d heard him. “What?”
“You’ve made your point, Miss Foley. The child is obviously not here or you wouldn’t be making such an effort.”
Josie kept her gaze locked with his. A myriad of accusations lay exposed within the piercing steel-gray of his eyes. She waited, not wanting to be the first to look away. But as each heartbeat stretched on, she realized he would not allow her the victory, no matter how minor. His next words proved it.
“That doesn’t, however, mean you don’t know where the child is. Nor does it mean I intend to give up my efforts to find it.”
“I didn’t for a moment believe you would. We couldn’t have been so fortunate.”
She smiled innocently, refusing to let him intimidate her. He wouldn’t force her to tell him where Carrie Gardner’s child was. The Marquess of Rainforth may be a nobleman by birth, but none of his actions since he’d gotten Carrie pregnant with his child had been noble. And he would not trick her into betraying the child.
She took a deep breath and walked away from him. “Children, go with Mrs. Lambert now. I think Cook has a treat for you.”
There was an enthusiastic cheer as the children scampered to their feet and raced toward the orphanage. “I must go with them,” Josie said, walking past him and up the path. She hoped she could somehow escape him, but she’d only taken a few steps before she realized he was walking beside her. She cast a glance over her shoulder and met his open smile.
“I have my carriage waiting. When you’ve taken care of the children we’ll take a ride and I will attempt to answer any questions you might have concerning the cattle venture I’m proposing. Unless you’ve already changed your mind?”
She shot him a sideways glance. “No. I haven’t changed my mind. And never will. You can’t expect me to agree that your plan is a good one when it isn’t.”
“You already know the plan is good. So does Lady Clythebrook. There must be another reason you are so adamantly opposed to it.”
She stopped in the middle of the path. He stopped beside her. “There is, sir. I am adamantly opposed, as you put it, because you are asking me to trust that you will provide for the children when you haven’t stepped foot on St. Stephen’s to see to its running for the last twenty years and more. How can I in good conscience give over the care of nearly sixty children to you?”
“There were reasons—”
“I’m sure there were. There always are, but they don’t seem very important when you are four years old and your mother has just died and you go to bed alone and frightened every night.”
Without giving him a chance to counter her attack, she spun away from him and watched the children scamper ahead of her.
She only had to keep him from going forward with his plan for one more month. There would be a shipment arriving in a matter of weeks with enough goods to provide for the children through the summer months and into the fall.
She thought of all their needs. Just the amount of food it took every day to feed them was daunting. As well as the clothing the children were always outgrowing. She couldn’t give such a responsibility over to anyone else. Especially the Marquess of Rainforth, who might decide to abandon them tomorrow to go back to London.
Nothing was more important than caring for the children.
Why else would she align herself with a band of smugglers?
Jaded Moon
by Laura Landon
Ransomed Jewels Series Book Two
CHAPTER 6
If ever in her life Josie’s felt as if she were being pulled in opposite directions, it was now. For the past hour, she’d sat rigidly straight in the carriage seat next to a man she vowed to dislike and felt her resolve to fight him shatter into a million pieces. He was such an antithesis. He was a member of the nobility, one of Society’s elite. This alone should be enough to solidify her resolve to dislike him. But it wasn’t.
He wasn’t at all like she’d anticipated he’d be. He wasn’t the least bit arrogant or conceited like most of the titled men she’d met through Lady Clythebrook. He wasn’t rude or toplofty like she was certain he’d be. It would have been so much easier to dislike him if he were. Instead, he included her in his conversation even though she tried to portray disinterest. He was jovial in an almost teasing manner and before they’d reached the crest overlooking the ocean, she’d nearly forgotten how great a threat his plan was to the children.
He asked questions about everything imaginable. Who were the people who lived closest to the area where he intended to put the cattle? How long had they lived there? He was concerned about anyone who might be affected by his proposal as well as anyone who might benefit. And if she were any judge, his curiosity was genuine. Or he was the most accomplished liar she’d ever met.
She talked with him while he drove along the rough, rutted lane that led from Clythebrook Manor toward the cliffs that overlooked the ocean below. More than once, she forgot the difference in their stations. Then, she’d hear a certain turn of phrase or watch him take command of the horses and realize they were oceans apart.
His long, competent fingers held the reins to the carriage as if he’d been born with ribbons in his hands. His control over the team was both gentle and masterful, reflecting hours of training by an expert. His words were elegant and refined, and his voice as he explained every detail of his proposal, cultured. She was mesmerized by him as if he had the ability to cast spells. And to her chagrin, the plan he’d formulated was, if not brilliant, at least remarkable enough that she could envision its success without question.
If only he were someone she could trust. If only he weren’t a member of the nobility. If only he weren’t just like her father. No. She could never give up that much control to someone with his reputation.
She was left with no choice but to keep coming up with road blocks to deter his enthusiasm. And he was, if not enthusiastic, at least confident. She could hear it in his voice. See it in the gleam of his steel-gray eyes. Feel it as if his determination were a palpable thing that had a will of its own.
But stop it she must.
Josie stiffened with new resolve. How could she even consider agreeing with him? This was a man who hadn’t cared enough for St. Stephen’s to take a personal interest in anything that had happened here his entire life. What guarantee did she have that before he put his plan into motion he wouldn’t tire of the country and go back to his wild and carefree life in London? What guarantee that before anyone saw even one pound of profit from the sale of the cattle, he’d decide to use his money elsewhere and leave them without notice? What guarantee did she have he even had enough capital to fund such a venture? She certainly hadn’t seen any indication of abundant wealth.
Oh, no. She couldn’t chance putting the children’s lives in his hand. At least now she had control over the provisions that came into the orphanage. Going along with his plan would change all that. The shipments would have to end. No one would dare bring anything into the coves if there was a risk they might be seen and arrested. And if his plan failed? What then?
She looked over at him and threw out another obstacle. “And just where do you intend
to find the knowledgeable manpower you’ll need to care for the number of cattle you intend to raise?”
“The number of out-of-work soldiers returning from the Crimea is staggering. Not all of them are city-bred. I venture a great many young men were raised on a farm and know a great deal about cattle.”
“But who will contact them and where will they live?”
As if he found humor in her attempt to erect another barrier, he looked down at her and smiled. The broad upturn of his lips caused matching creases to indent on either side of his mouth. They turned his handsome features from simply arresting to magnificent and Josie’s stomach somersaulted.
“I have the means at my disposal to hire as many men as we’ll need. And there’s an old hunting lodge on St. Stephen’s not far from here that can be used as a barracks of sorts. After the conditions most of the soldiers endured in the Crimea, a roof over their heads, a warm fire, and plenty of food to fill their bellies will seem like heaven.”
Josie clamped her mouth shut. He was right. She knew he was. Yet, every clop of the horses’ hooves took them closer to the border that separated St. Stephen’s and Clythebrook. Closer to the broad patch of land near the cliffs where she couldn’t allow him to venture. How long would it be before he discovered what the cove was being used for? How long before the authorities were summoned and they were all arrested?
“This scheme of yours will never work, Lord Rainforth. There are no—”
“Miss Foley.”
He pulled on the reins and the carriage came to an abrupt halt. She had to grab onto the seat to keep from falling against him.
“Before long you will run out of reasons why my proposal won’t work and you will have to admit I’m right. If you can for one minute stop thinking of me as some dangerous villain out to destroy everyone in my path, you will be able to see that bringing in cattle will help not only the tenants of both estates, but the children of the orphanage as well.”
“Can you guarantee without a doubt there is a profit to be made?” she countered.
“My every instinct tells me there will be a handsome profit.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not.”
Josie stopped arguing long enough to hear the growing sound of an approaching rider. They both turned.
“Someone you know?”
Josie lifted her head. “Yes. It’s Baron Lindville. He must have recently returned from London.”
The man sitting beside her changed. Gone was her relaxed companion who’d found humor in her objections. In his place was a wooden replica, complete with his defenses firmly in place.
“Are you acquainted with Baron Lindville?”
“No, I haven’t had the honor,” he answered, but Josie thought from the tone of his voice he didn’t consider meeting Baron Lindville an honor at all.
Before she had time to wonder more, Baron Lindville had stopped and was smiling at her.
“Miss Foley. What a delightful surprise.”
Geoffrey Lindville removed his hat and bowed slightly in the saddle. His golden hair was brushed back to expose a high forehead and sharp, striking features. While his thick eyebrows were not terribly dark, they did serve to draw attention to the piercing blue of his eyes. Lindville graced her with a smile that spoke of a long-standing friendship and years of acquaintance. The smile on his face hardened, however, when his eyes took in the man sitting beside her.
Josie felt the need to speak first. “Baron Lindville. I didn’t know you’d returned from London. Have you been here long?”
“No. Just a few days. I see you’re out enjoying this fine day.”
“Yes. Baron Lindville, allow me to present the Marquess of Rainforth. Lord Rainforth, Baron Lindville of Lindville Grange.”
“Lindville,” Rainforth said, his voice containing a hint of iciness she hadn’t heard since the first time she’d met him.
“Rainforth.” Lindville’s brows arched. “My, what a surprise. Did you…tire of London?”
The Marquess of Rainforth shifted the reins from one hand to the other in a most casual gesture. But casualness was not what Josie felt sitting next to him. There was a tension that sifted through the layers of her skirt and rasped against her skin. When he spoke, his acidic tone only heightened the uncomfortable wariness that settled about her.
“Actually, I did,” Rainforth said. “The drawing room topics were becoming extremely tedious.”
“I’m sure you found them less than palatable, at least the comments that were said to your face.”
Josie felt the blow of Lindville’s words as if his attack had been aimed at her and couldn’t stifle a shocked gasp. Lord Rainforth, however, buffered the assault with nothing more noticeable than the slight lift of a brow. For the first time, Josie wondered how often he’d had to endure such condemnation since the rumor of his father’s traitorous activities had been uncovered. And how many times he’d been unjustly blamed for his father’s crimes.
“I can’t imagine Lady Clythebrook approved of your accompanying Rainforth, Miss Foley. Let alone without a chaperone.”
Josie bristled, unable to let Lindville’s insult go unchallenged. “It’s been several years since I’ve required a chaperone, sir. And even longer since the company I keep has been questioned.”
“Perhaps Miss Foley is not familiar with the reason your presence is not welcomed in London’s social circles,” Lindville said, leaning forward in his saddle. He kept his glaring gaze focused accusingly on Rainforth and didn’t lift it.
The Marquess of Rainforth smiled. At least the corners of his mouth lifted in an outward indication that he was smiling. Nothing else in his features suggested that. “Oh, I think the lady has heard. Have you not, Miss Foley? Are you familiar with the fact that my father sold military secrets to the Russian government during the Crimean War? And that he was an English traitor?”
Josie glimpsed briefly at a raw, torturous hurt Rainforth quickly masked with a blasé look of inconsequence. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. The pain she felt was too acute. A pain she understood all too well.
But when he slowly turned his head to face her, she made sure there was no softness in her eyes. No trace of sympathy. He was too proud a man to accept such a sentiment and every instinct told her he would hate the slightest hint of pity even more than she did. If there was one fact she understood more than any other, it was that the Marquess of Rainforth was no more accountable for his father’s sins than she was for hers. She looked at him with a commanding firmness as if the accusations were inconsequential.
“Did you assist your father in his crime?”
His first reaction was anger. She could see it in his eyes. But when that wore away, there was only surprise at the boldness of her question.
“No.”
“Then I hardly see where your father’s indiscretions have bearing on what you are proposing here.”
She saw an appreciativeness in his eyes before he quickly hid it. Then, he challenged her support as if he wasn’t sure he’d read her right. “I think she knows, Lord Lindville, and has survived under the weight of my father’s sins, horrendous though they be. Does my presence distress you terribly much, Miss Foley?”
“I’ve told you before. It’s your reputation I’m concerned with. Not your father’s.” Josie leveled Baron Lindville a harsh look to indicate her displeasure. She’d always known he considered himself in a class far above tenants and small landholders, which was a result of his mother’s constant pampering and elevating. But he more than anyone should know not to cross the line of proper conduct. To be so overtly rude to Lord Rainforth, a fellow peer of the realm was far beyond intolerable.
Lindville ignored her condemnation. “What brings you to this part of Clythebrook, Miss Foley? Hardly anyone comes this far.”
“Actually, I came with Lord Rainforth to discuss a venture he and Lady Clythebrook are considering.”
“A venture?”
“Yes. Cattle.”
There was a shocked look on Lindville’s face, then he threw his head back on his shoulders and laughed. His laughter died when he realized she hadn’t been joking. “You’re serious!”
“Actually, I am.”
Josie watched the grin from Lindville’s face flatten as his face paled. “Tell me Lady Clythebrook isn’t seriously considering something so foolhardy.”
“Yes, she is.”
Lindville glared at the marquess with a warning that Josie read all too clearly. Rainforth answered the challenge with an attack of his own.
“Perhaps Lady Clythebrook doesn’t consider the idea foolhardy. Perhaps she looks on a venture which could double or perhaps triple her profits as wise. As I was explaining to Miss Foley, St. Stephen’s has a more-than-adequate supply of underground water, and the land on this part of Clythebrook Estate is ideal for grazing.”
The baron’s expression turned serious. “And Lady Clythebrook agrees with this?”
“Nothing’s been decided,” Josie answered, watching the look in Lindville’s eyes turn more threatening.
“Then perhaps I might suggest you explain the drawbacks of such a scheme to Lady Clythebrook.”
“And what would those be?” Rainforth asked, his voice low and questioning.
“Clythebrook and Lindville inhabitants have always had an amicable relationship. Lady Clythebrook’s generosity provides the entire area with easy access to the north and west. Lindville generosity allows access to the east. Without such an alliance, both Clythebrook Estate and St. Stephen’s would be virtually cut off from the rest of the world. The inhabitants of both estates would be forced to go miles out of their way to reach London.”
Rainforth’s reaction was tangible. “Are you suggesting that permission to cross Lindville Grange may no longer be granted?”
Baron Lindville gave out a sinister laugh. “Of course not. I can’t imagine matters going so far. Can you, Miss Foley?”
Josie couldn’t answer. She knew exactly how much was at stake and it had nothing to do with access roads.