Jo Goodman Read Online Free

herself. She made the introductions smoothly and warmly, though for Berkeley the moments passed in something of a blur. She remembered the nod in her direction from Jonna's husband. The man seemed to stand lightly on his feet, as if he were not weighted by the literal and figurative gravity of this meeting. He had a quietly amused expression that was both disarming and distancing. When he took her hand Berkeley understood the look in his eyes immediately. She had faced it, felt it, before. He was not judging her; he had already made up his mind.
    Still, Decker Thorne was marginally less intimidating than his brother. It was outside Berkeley Shaw's experience to make the acquaintance of an earl. Jonna had introduced her brother-in-law as Lord Fielding, the Earl of Rosefield. Berkeley had not missed Jonna's sly, secretive smile as she performed the introduction, as if his title and lofty position were something of an amusement to her. It did not amuse Berkeley. She made what she thought was an adequate, if not particularly graceful, curtsy, and managed to murmur a greeting. Anderson would take her to task later for her backwardness. Hadn't they practiced these social niceties for just this occasion? It didn't matter. Berkeley was not prepared for the opaque, nearly black eyes that seared her with a single glance. When the corners of His Lordship's mouth lifted, only an edge of a smile was produced. Colin Thorne extended Berkeley the same skeptical consideration as his brother.
    The Countess of Rosefield, even with her beautifully solemn gray eyes and grave smile, was infinitely more welcoming and warm than her husband. But then an iceberg would have also met those conditions, Berkeley thought. In fairness to Mercedes Thorne, Berkeley acknowledged that the countess was permitting herself to hope in a way that her husband was not. Her judgment was not fixed yet, but held in reserve.
    Mercedes added her urging to Jonna's request. "Yes, Mrs. Shaw. Won't you hold the earring once more? I've heard this sort of thing is not always accomplished so quickly."
    "Where have you heard that?" Colin asked. He added a shade mockingly, "Gypsies?"
    Another woman might have blushed at Colin's tone. That he thought such an idea was foolish was clearly implied by it. No color washed Mercedes's cheeks. Predictably it was her chin that came up and she stared back at her husband fearlessly. "Yes, as a matter of fact, that is precisely where I heard it. I consulted a fortune-teller at the Weybourne fair."
    "Can I assume you had the good sense to leave our children outside the Gypsy's tent?"
    "And risk that they would wander away while I was occupied? Certainly not. The girls were quite old enough not to be afraid and Nicholas was entranced."
    Colin's dark eyes were raised heavenward a moment. "Dear God," he said under his breath. "Why am I hearing this for the first time now?"
    "Because of the way you're reacting, I suspect," she said in crisp accents. "I can't say that I like you thinking I behaved foolishly. As for why the children never mentioned it, I imagine their silence is the truest measure of how little they were affected by their encounter. I never suggested it should be a secret. They saw and heard dozens of things at the fair, and I recall they regaled you for hours about most of them. Some of them twice."
    Colin was slightly mollified by this. He remembered their stories well enough. Still, it was peculiar that Elizabeth or Emma hadn't mentioned a fortune-teller. Perhaps they had known as well as their mother how he would view that escapade. Nicholas, though, he would talk to. In the future, on matters of Gypsies and fortune-telling, he would have an ally in his five-year-old son.
    Not certain that she had made her point, Mercedes went on. "It really was most innocent, Colin. The opportunity presented itself shortly after Jonna had written us about the Shaws. I thought: What could be the harm? So I asked the Gypsy if the kind of thing Jonna