"All of Paris raved about Ann's watercolors. She is so talented. All of the best artists wanted her as their pupil. You would not believe how many of the great masters begged to have her study with them."

Indeed, John was sure he would not believe it. He smiled noncommittally and reached once again for his wine glass, in a vain attempt to dull the headache brought on by Mrs. Latimer's shrill prattling. If this kept on he was in danger of becoming very drunk.

"She was certainly the toast of Paris. But we knew it was time to return home. Ann longed to return to Milton. 'Oh, Mama,' she told me, 'I could never marry a man from the continent, or even from London society. No, Mama, we must return home to Milton, for that is where a true man of worth may be found.' " Mrs. Latimer smiled pointedly at John. "Of course, I really could not say who she might have been thinking of."

John's stomach tightened even further. Good Lord, they were all treating his marriage to Ann as an accomplished fact. He had hoped to speak to Latimer alone before dinner, to inform him that John would not be accepting the investment offer. But instead Mrs. Latimer had latched onto him the moment he walked in, and she seemed ready to throw the rice and prepare the nursery.

He glanced warily at Ann, sitting across the table. She had been mostly silent throughout the meal, seemingly content to listen to her mother praise her charms. She gave him a simpering smile, as she had every time he had looked her way. He quickly looked down again.

Dinner had lasted an eternity. His stomach in knots, he had not managed to eat much of the elaborate meal, although he had imbibed plenty of wine. And still Mrs. Latimer's relentlessly gushed over Ann's beauty and talents.

"And of course, you know Ann speaks exquisite Italian. As well as flawless French. Her accent is perfect. Everyone in Paris commented on it. And on her beauty, naturally. I probably shouldn't say so, but she had numerous offers. From very eligible men, too. Naturally Ann would never be so indiscreet as to name names, but… had she wished, she might right now be a baroness…"

A brief pause seemed to indicate that Mrs. Latimer expected a response. John opened his mouth to speak, searching his mind for some suitable remark. Finding none, he instead took another large swallow from his wine glass.

Mrs. Latimer continued her monologue, undeterred.

A touch on his leg startled him and nearly made him spit out his wine. He glanced up at Ann. Her insipid smile had turned rather sly, as what was clearly her stockinged foot crept slowly up his calf, higher and higher... Shocked, he quickly jerked his entire body backwards, knocking over his wine glass in the process. The red wine spilled all over the table.

"Oh, forgive me…" In the confusion, John attempted to wipe up the wine with his napkin, aware of Ann's self-satisfied smirk across the table.

Was this Ann Latimer, the woman he had thought such a pleasant and proper young lady? The woman he had considered marrying? How little he truly had known her, and how close he had come to finding himself bound to her for life. If he had met Miss Hale one day later… He shuddered. it did not bear thinking about.

"Mr. Thornton, no, no, don't worry, the servants will do that. Let me get you some more wine." Mrs. Latimer dismissed John's protests that he did not need any more, and scolded the maid when she entered the room. "Rebecca, you useless thing, see what you've done. Mr. Thornton's wine would never have spilled if you had set the table properly. Clean it up and fetch him more wine at once." She continued to mutter about 'lazy servants' as the thin, bedraggled girl scrambled to follow her instructions. The maid kept her eyes cast down as she filled John's glass, then hurried out of the room.

John firmly avoided Ann's gaze and feet for the remainder of the meal. Fortunately Mrs. Latimer was easily able to single-handedly maintain the conversation for the entire table.

John breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the women rose to withdraw. He would speak with Mr. Latimer, inform him he would not be accepting the investment offer, and be done with the whole affair for good. Then his mind would finally be free to dwell on more pleasant subjects…

"Brandy, Thornton?" Latimer reached for the bottle without waiting for a reply. "Ah, bottle's empty. Stupid girl didn't refill it." He continued grumbling after ringing for the servant and instructing her to fetch more. The young maid returned to refill the bottle. John observed her nervous movements and wary sideways glances. She reminded him of a little bird, easily startled and ready to fly away at the slightest movement.

He couldn't help noticing Latimer also watching the girl. The man's eyes were lazily possessive, raking over her thin form. As she moved past him to leave the room, Latimer's hand subtly reached out to graze her hip. She noticeably flinched and jerked away, and scrambled towards the door. For a brief moment she looked at John. He seemed to see some unspoken message in her eyes, but then she quickly disappeared into the hallway.

"Well, Thornton." Latimer leaned back in his chair and regarded John coolly. "Are you finally ready to talk terms of our arrangement? You've had long enough to consider it." He took a swig of his drink without taking his eyes off the younger man.

"I appreciate your offer, but I am going to have to refuse."

"Refuse?" Latimer set his glass on the table with a loud clunk. "Are you serious, man? What on earth are you about? Refuse?"

"It is a very generous offer, but I have decided not to reopen the mill. I will seek other employment." John met the man's gaze without flinching.

Latimer's eyes narrowed. He stared at John for several moments. "Is this about Ann?"

John looked down. "I will not be offering for Ann."

"Not offering? Why the devil not, Thornton? She's in there right now waiting for your proposal."

John's head jerked up. "Waiting for my – Sir, I have given her no reason for any such expectation."

"Oh haven't you, Thornton? What is tonight about, then, eh? You knew why you were invited here this evening. You think you weren't getting the girl's hopes up? Think every gossip in Milton isn't talking about the two of you? Your own sister being one of the loudest voices."

"What?" John felt a surge of anger and panic. What had Fanny been saying? Had he really given Ann any cause to believe he would propose? No, he knew he had done no such thing. Any expectations could have only come from Latimer himself. "That is absurd. You know very well I only came here to discuss the possibility of an investment. I never agreed to any arrangement. I have not given Miss Latimer any cause to believe I had any such intentions."

Latimer opened his mouth and appeared ready to argue further, then seemed to think better of it. He took another sip of brandy. "Very well then, Thornton," he said calmly. "You must do as you see fit. Why don't you join the ladies in the drawing room. I'll be there shortly."

John rose to exit the room, relieved that Latimer had acquiesced so quickly. He would visit for just a few minutes in the drawing room, as politeness required, then make his excuses as soon as possible. With any luck he would have little need to ever interact with the Latimers in the future.

As he crossed through the hallway to enter the drawing room, he noticed the little maid hovering nearby. He had almost missed her, as she seemed to be attempting to blend in with the background.

When she saw him she took a step forward. "Sir–" she whispered.

John halted, surprised to be addressed by her. "Yes?"

She pushed a strand of straggly dark blonde hair behind her ear. Her eyes darted back and forth, as if to ensure no one was around to overhear. She motioned to the drawing room. "Sir, only Miss Ann is in there. Mrs. Latimer, she left the room already. They planned it, you see."

John felt a cold weight in his stomach. Of course. Latimer had let him go far too easily. He was relying on John's sense of honor if he and Ann were caught alone together, in what they would obviously contrive to be a compromising situation.

Should he just leave now? Walk out the door? It would be considered very rude. No less than Latimer deserved, though. But perhaps he did owe it to Ann to speak with her – if she truly had believed that he would propose. He was having trouble thinking clearly. He probably should not have had so many glasses of wine.

The young maid turned to slip away. "Wait," he whispered. She stopped and looked at him. An idea formulated in his mind. "Rebecca, is it?"


Ann was sitting demurely on a small loveseat when John entered the drawing room. She gazed up at him with an angelic expression. "Mr. Thornton," she breathed. "Do come sit here and give me your opinion on my watercolors. Mama insists they are worthy to be hung in the Louvre, but I am certain she exaggerates." Her eyelashes fluttered beguilingly. She patted the seat next to her. "What do you think, Mr. Thornton?"

John thought he saw a flash of annoyance in her expression when he sat down deliberately on a settee several feet away. "I am certain your artwork is lovely, Miss Latimer."

She took a breath to say something else when the door opened and her maid entered the room. Ann turned to her, surprised. "You are not needed, Rebecca." Her tone was firm and she gave the girl a pointed look.

Rebecca stood near the entrance, nervously wringing her hands together. "Pardon me, Miss, but the gentleman asked me to be here."

John cleared his throat. "I thought it best to have your maid present as a chaperone. For your own propriety, Miss Latimer."

Ann laughed shrilly. "Surely that is unnecessary, Mr. Thornton. Rebecca, you may go."

Rebecca looked again at Mr. Thornton, who subtly shook his head. Instead of leaving, she sat on a small stool at the edge of the room, keeping her head bent down.

Ann stared with shocked incredulity at the girl. Her stiff posture proclaimed her frustration. John was certain it was only his presence that kept her from berating the girl severely.

"No matter." She turned back to him with an insincere smile. "Oh, Mr. Thornton, yes, you were so perceptive to sit over there. The light is so much better." She rose and crossed the room to sit next to him on the settee. Her skirts brushed against his leg as she nestled herself quite close to him. He backed away from her as much as he could on the small seat.

"Miss Latimer, I cannot stay long, but there is something I feel I should say to you."

"Of course, Mr. Thornton." She inched herself closer to him again. "You can tell me anything."

Backed against the edge of the settee, he abruptly rose and paced a few lengths away. He turned back to her. "Miss Latimer–" He broke off, then began again. "Your father informed me–" He stopped again. He really did not know how to say this. "Miss Latimer, if I have inadvertently given you any expectations – I must make plain that I have no intentions outside of friendship." There, he had said it. He hoped he had not been too blunt. Now he would make a swift exit and leave this all behind him.

He glanced up at Ann. He thought he caught a brief glimpse of anger pass over her features, but it was swiftly replaced by an expression of dismay. "Mr. Thornton?" She placed her hand delicately on her neck. "Are you telling me you have merely been toying with my emotions?"

"Toying with–" John's jaw dropped open in shock. "Miss Latimer, I have given you no indications–"

"No indications? Dining with my family? Multiple meetings with my father to discuss the terms of our marriage?" Her lower lip quivered. "Asking for a private audience with me tonight?"

"Miss Latimer, I asked for no such thing–"

"Your mother made it clear to me she approves. Your own sister assured me your intentions were honorable."

"My sister–" John's mind was reeling. What had Fanny done? The conversation was getting away from him. "I do not know what Fanny has said to you–"

Ann began blinking rapidly, and he was startled to see tears gathering there. She covered her face with her hands. "Oh, Mr. Thornton, I thought you cared for me, the way I care for you…" Her words faded into quiet sobs.

Now this was too much for John to deal with. He could argue against false claims, and stand strong against vicious attacks of temper, but a woman's tears… he had no defense.

"Miss Latimer–" He stood helplessly in the middle of the room, watching her cry. After a few moments he slowly ventured closer to her. Her weeping continued, unabated. Desperately he glanced over at the maid for help, but after giving him a troubled look she cast her eyes downward again.

John gingerly sat next to Ann on the settee. "Miss Latimer, please do not cry." He took out his handkerchief and offered it to her. Her sobs slowed as she looked down at the small cloth in his hand. She delicately reached out and took it from him, trailing her fingers along his palm as she did. He pulled his hand back quickly.

"Mr. Thornton–" She lifted her eyes to his, wet eyelashes fluttering, still beautiful despite her tears. "Am I not pleasing to you?"

John felt distinctly uncomfortable. "You are very lovely, Miss Latimer."

She leaned closer. "Am I?" Belatedly, John realized her fingers were wandering down his waistcoat. "Do you not desire me?" She leaned in closer until John could feel her breath on his face. He quickly jumped backwards, propelling himself across the room just as the door opened and Mr. and Mrs. Latimer burst in.

"Mr. Thornton!" Mrs. Latimer exclaimed. She looked confusedly from John back to Ann, still on the settee, as though the scene was not the one she had expected to find. "Why, Mr. Thornton, it is quite inappropriate of you to be in the room alone with Ann, with the door closed! Ann's reputation–"

"We were not alone, Mrs. Latimer." He motioned to Rebecca, who was now standing, eyes downcast and looking quite distressed. "Miss Latimer's maid was good enough to sit with us, so it was all quite proper."

Mrs. Latimer glared at the girl in outrage. She gaped silently for several moments, apparently speechless for once. Mr. Latimer was still staring at John coldly. "Very well then, Thornton. It appears all is above board. I think it is time you took your leave."

Returning his grim expression, John gave him a short nod. He did the same for Mrs. Latimer, who was now turned pointedly away from him. He turned and warily glanced once again at Ann.

Her eyes slowly raised to his. He watched her lips quivering again, and one large tear ran down her cheek. Holding his gaze, she lifted the handkerchief and held it to her lips.

Flushing, John dropped his eyes quickly and walked out of the room.


Ten minutes later, John waited on the corner of the Latimers' street, eyes scanning the dim light. A small figure emerged from the darkness and approached him. "Sir?"

"Did you have any problems?"

"No, sir. I snuck out of the kitchen. I was able to gather my things." She motioned to the small bag she was carrying.

"Good. I was afraid you might run into trouble." He motioned for them to start walking.

"Yes, sir. I thank you, sir. I would have had a mighty thrashing. They were ever so angry."

John looked down at the girl. "You need not fear beatings anymore, Rebecca. You may stay at my home tonight, and tomorrow I will deliver you to your new mistress. I believe you will be very happy with your new position."


"You should have seen little Jacob, covered in strawberry jam from head to foot! His mother nearly had a fit, but he just giggled at her and said, 'Mama funny!' We all laughed so hard! Oh, and the boy has the sweetest little laugh, Miss Hale. It would tickle you to hear it! He really is the most darling child."

Margaret smiled at Mrs. Taylor's recounting of her young grandchild's latest antics. "I am sure he is." Margaret had enjoyed her evening with the older couple. Mrs. Taylor was warm and welcoming, and full of lively conversation. The motherly lady had been instantly delighted by her new young friend and was happy to take her under her wing.

Despite the pleasant company, Margaret was having trouble keeping her thoughts from wandering. She frequently found herself reliving one certain moment from earlier that day, when she had suddenly found herself in the warm, firm grasp of strong arms… gazing into the bluest eyes… When she had heard that deep, soothing voice, and somehow felt at once completely safe and in perilous danger…

"Oh, you must be exhausted, you poor dear. I do like to prattle on, Miss Hale. You really must feel free to stop me or I'll keep talking all night."

Margaret roused herself from her reverie. Her inattention must have been obvious. "Oh, I am sorry–"

"No, nothing of the sort, Miss Hale." Mrs. Taylor gave her a sympathetic smile. "You have had quite the day today. I do wish you would stay here tonight. I don't like the idea of you all alone in that house, without even a servant for company."

"I thank you, but I know I shall be all right. I am eager to begin residing in my very own home." Mrs. Taylor didn't appear completely appeased, but didn't offer any further arguments.

"Mr. Taylor, I did have something I wished to discuss with you before I go." The man turned his head to Margaret and listened attentively. "You see… I would like to make an investment."