mistaken.”
“You were not with anyone?”
“Oh, as to that she is correct—in a manner of speaking. But it was most certainly not Armand. What reason could I have for meeting my own groom on the moor? And why, too, would he not return to Mannerby—if he was alive?”
Sarah smiled with equal honey sweetness. “Why indeed?” she murmured.
But Paul was not concerned with Armand now. He thought only that his sister might have behaved indiscreetly. “Who was he then?”
“Your friend James Trefarrin. I was riding back to Mannerby on the Bencombe road when I happened to encounter him. I remember it well. It was, as Miss Stratford said, the day after the funeral.”
Paul was smiling again and Sarah was amazed at his apparent willingness to believe without question everything Melissa said to him. Perhaps it had been this James Trefarrin, but he and Melissa had certainly not been on the road; they had been among the silver birches, hidden and secret.
Sarah poked at her trifle thoughtfully, ignoring the drift of conversation as Paul left the topic of his sister and the man on the moor. The jelly wobbled and a whirl of cream slid down it slowly. Sarah glanced at Melissa from beneath lowered lashes. She felt almost convinced that it had been Armand—simply because Melissa said it was not.
“Yes, how Holland extricated himself from that particular situation I’ll never know.” Paul’s voice intruded sharply and Sarah forgot Melissa immediately.
“Holland?”
His brown eyes were patient. “Yes, haven’t you been listening? I was saying that he was released some time ago. I heard only this morning. All charges were dropped and he is a free man, riding high in the Prince Regent’s favor again.”
Sarah’s spoon dropped and confusion took her. Jack free? Melissa’s little pink tongue licked the jelly from her spoon neatly and her eyes were wide and so innocent, as if she had never heard of Jack Holland or of his connection with Sarah.
Paul leaned back in his chair. “With it all blowing over so excellently I have no doubt your father will want you home again, Miss Stratford.” He spoke indifferently but Sarah could still feel that he held her responsible for everything that had happened at Rook House.
“I was innocent, you know!” she said suddenly, hardly realizing that the angry words were coming.
He blinked with surprise. “I—”
“You have said nothing, Mr. Ransome, but still I realize full well where you place the blame for Ralph Jameson’s death.”
“Miss Stratford!” He glanced at Melissa. “ ‘Lissa, will you leave us please?”
Without a word Melissa stood and left the room, closing the door behind her. They could hear her humming as she walked toward the stairs. Paul looked at Sarah’s fiery face. “Miss Stratford, my opinion could hardly matter less. I said only that I presumed your father would send for you now.”
“Yes, that’s all you said, Mr. Ransome, but I’m no fool. You knew Ralph and you naturally feel yourself in a position of loyalty to him. I wish only to tell you that your loyalty is misplaced.”
He pursed his lips and looked at her steadily. “Very well, Miss Stratford, you leave me no choice. I do blame you, fairly and squarely, for what happened to Ralph. Your little act has not fooled me for one moment. Ralph sent a letter here telling of the grand progress he was making with Stratford’s daughter, and of the forward manner in which you behaved with him. What you told Jack Holland I don’t know, but I do know that Ralph’s story of what happened in the woods was the true one and that he died unjustly! Now will you put an end to this air of injured innocence, for I swear it makes me wish to puke!”
Sarah could only stare openmouthed at him, but at last she managed to find her voice. “He was lying in that letter. I don’t know why, but he was. I did nothing, I tell you, nothing!”
He flung down his napkin and stood. “Madam, that’s all I’d
“You were not with anyone?”
“Oh, as to that she is correct—in a manner of speaking. But it was most certainly not Armand. What reason could I have for meeting my own groom on the moor? And why, too, would he not return to Mannerby—if he was alive?”
Sarah smiled with equal honey sweetness. “Why indeed?” she murmured.
But Paul was not concerned with Armand now. He thought only that his sister might have behaved indiscreetly. “Who was he then?”
“Your friend James Trefarrin. I was riding back to Mannerby on the Bencombe road when I happened to encounter him. I remember it well. It was, as Miss Stratford said, the day after the funeral.”
Paul was smiling again and Sarah was amazed at his apparent willingness to believe without question everything Melissa said to him. Perhaps it had been this James Trefarrin, but he and Melissa had certainly not been on the road; they had been among the silver birches, hidden and secret.
Sarah poked at her trifle thoughtfully, ignoring the drift of conversation as Paul left the topic of his sister and the man on the moor. The jelly wobbled and a whirl of cream slid down it slowly. Sarah glanced at Melissa from beneath lowered lashes. She felt almost convinced that it had been Armand—simply because Melissa said it was not.
“Yes, how Holland extricated himself from that particular situation I’ll never know.” Paul’s voice intruded sharply and Sarah forgot Melissa immediately.
“Holland?”
His brown eyes were patient. “Yes, haven’t you been listening? I was saying that he was released some time ago. I heard only this morning. All charges were dropped and he is a free man, riding high in the Prince Regent’s favor again.”
Sarah’s spoon dropped and confusion took her. Jack free? Melissa’s little pink tongue licked the jelly from her spoon neatly and her eyes were wide and so innocent, as if she had never heard of Jack Holland or of his connection with Sarah.
Paul leaned back in his chair. “With it all blowing over so excellently I have no doubt your father will want you home again, Miss Stratford.” He spoke indifferently but Sarah could still feel that he held her responsible for everything that had happened at Rook House.
“I was innocent, you know!” she said suddenly, hardly realizing that the angry words were coming.
He blinked with surprise. “I—”
“You have said nothing, Mr. Ransome, but still I realize full well where you place the blame for Ralph Jameson’s death.”
“Miss Stratford!” He glanced at Melissa. “ ‘Lissa, will you leave us please?”
Without a word Melissa stood and left the room, closing the door behind her. They could hear her humming as she walked toward the stairs. Paul looked at Sarah’s fiery face. “Miss Stratford, my opinion could hardly matter less. I said only that I presumed your father would send for you now.”
“Yes, that’s all you said, Mr. Ransome, but I’m no fool. You knew Ralph and you naturally feel yourself in a position of loyalty to him. I wish only to tell you that your loyalty is misplaced.”
He pursed his lips and looked at her steadily. “Very well, Miss Stratford, you leave me no choice. I do blame you, fairly and squarely, for what happened to Ralph. Your little act has not fooled me for one moment. Ralph sent a letter here telling of the grand progress he was making with Stratford’s daughter, and of the forward manner in which you behaved with him. What you told Jack Holland I don’t know, but I do know that Ralph’s story of what happened in the woods was the true one and that he died unjustly! Now will you put an end to this air of injured innocence, for I swear it makes me wish to puke!”
Sarah could only stare openmouthed at him, but at last she managed to find her voice. “He was lying in that letter. I don’t know why, but he was. I did nothing, I tell you, nothing!”
He flung down his napkin and stood. “Madam, that’s all I’d
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