Samantha James Read Online Free Page B

never would.
    “Very well then.”
    His tone was decidedly cool. Had she offended him? A sliver of guilt shot through her.
    “Thank you for stopping, sir,” she said quickly. “And please, tell your coachman ’twas not his fault.”
    He inclined his head, then spoke very quietly. “I’m very glad you came to no harm, Miss Sherwood.”
    Three steps and he’d disappeared into the shadows. Though she strained to see, she could not. She could only hear the jangle of the harness as the coach rolled off.
    She released a long, pent-up breath. Ravenwood , she thought shakily. ’Twas a fitting name, for a fitting master. For there was something dark and mysterious about Dominic St. Bride…
    Or did the midnight hour—and his Gypsy soul—but fuel her foolish fancies?
     
    Her heart was still beating hard by the time Olivia arrived at the small cottage she and Emily now called home.
    Should she tell Emily of the encounter? No. Emily would worry—for the first time she gave thanks that Emily was blind, that she could not see the cut upon her cheek.
    She threw open the back door, calling out a gay greeting that shielded her turmoil.
    “Emily? I’m home. Where are you, love?”
    “I’m here.”
    Emily’s voice sounded from the parlor. Olivia’s footsteps took her through the kitchen. The parlor was filled with shadows, but she managed to make out the shape of her sister’s form sitting in the rocker by the window. Briskly she set about lighting the candles. “My, but it’s frightfully da—” Hurriedly she revised what she’d been about to say.
    Emily now lived in a world of darkness.
    “It’s frightfully cool for a summer night. Why, I thought I should freeze to death on the walk home.”
    “It’s only June, and still early, at that.” Emily’s fingers twitched at the fabric of her skirt. Her lovely brow was pleated with a frown. “Olivia, you’re rather late, aren’t you?”
    “I am, and I’m terribly sorry, love. I fear it couldn’t be helped.” She gave a quick laugh. “You must be feeling neglected, I suspect. Have you eaten yet?”
    “I had bread and cheese some hours ago.” Emilyturned her head in the direction of her voice. “Olivia, you sound…different.”
    “Of course I don’t. I simply feel the wretch for having to leave you alone so long.”
    “You needn’t feel guilty, Olivia. Esther stopped by and we went for a walk earlier.” When Olivia had begun working at Ravenwood, she’d hired a woman from the village—Esther—to help out with Emily’s meals and take her out for a bit each day.
    “It was his fault that you were late, wasn’t it? The new Gypsy master.” There was no denying the disapproval in Emily’s tone.
    Olivia sighed. The less she talked about the new Gypsy master of Ravenwood, the better. Emily had had nightmares, reliving the day Papa had been murdered, for weeks afterward. Yet she would not speak of it to anyone—not even Olivia. So it was that Olivia had no wish to stir that kettle anew.
    “No, love, it wasn’t. I fear I was a bit of a sluggard today, and Mrs. Templeton made me polish the grand staircase. ’Tis my own fault, and I’ve no one to blame but myself.”
    “I dislike you working for a Gypsy, Olivia. If only you could have been a governess—or a seamstress.”
    If only…But there were no rich households with young children for whom she might hire on as governess, not in Stonebridge. With a seamstress already well established in the village, it wouldn’t have been fair to take business from her. They could have gone to Cornwall, where Mama’s youngest brother Ambrose had lived. But Uncle Ambrose was gone, too, and his widow Paulina had her own dire straits to contend with—four young children to raise. Olivia would not even think ofburdening her further. Nor would she take charity. Nay, she would not let pride be her folly.
    And so she’d had no choice. Money was in short supply, but they had to eat. There was rent to pay. It didn’t