your revenge in the snow today.”
She lifted her chin higher. “That was for Caro.”
“Ah yes, my sister, who doesn’t seem to have any issue throwing her life away for a footman.”
Joanna whirled around at that, hot once more at how flippantly he said such words.
“I’m not much more than a servant myself, you know.”
“Joanna,” he said, tilting his head. “I can call you Joanna, as we’ve known one another so long?” He didn’t wait for her response, which most assuredly would have been in the negative. “You are the granddaughter of a viscount.”
“That hasn’t accounted for much,” she said, placing her hands on her hips, refusing to allow him to feel sorry for her. “Now tell me,” she said, desperate to speak of something else, “what happened today?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, turning, his hand rubbing against his lips as though by covering his mouth he could stop anything he might be tempted to say.
“Today, when you were hit by the snowball,” she said, peering at him more closely. “For a moment, it seemed like you didn’t know where you were, that you had been taken somewhere else.”
“That’s ridiculous,” he said, snorting, his hand rubbing his forehead, however, in a sign that he was not entirely at ease. “Of course I knew where I was. I have lived at Briercrest Manor nearly my entire life. I know those fields better than any others. I grew up in them. I was merely stunned, that is all, that a woman would succumb to such violence.”
So he wanted to avoid the subject. Fine.
It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. “Violence, is it? I would call it retribution.”
But it was the violence that had lost him for that moment. Even now, uneasiness swam in his eyes, and Joanna wasn’t sure if she was better to press on in asking him to reveal more, or if it would be best to leave it be.
“You must have faced many horrors over there, my lord,” she said, softly, gently, trustingly.
“Call me Elijah. And I did,” he grunted uncharacteristically. “But no more than any other man.”
And suddenly Joanna hated the war viciously, of all that it was, all that it held, that it could take a man like Elijah, who was so full of life and vitality — as mischievous as it was — and turn him into a man that became closed off at even the slightest notion of sharing some idea of his experience with her.
“Leave your hair down,” he said suddenly, his eyes running over her now, assessing, attracting.
“Down?” she responded with surprise. “I couldn’t.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Well… it just isn’t done.”
“Says who?” he challenged, his eyes glinting as they narrowed.
“Says everyone.”
Her response was thin, but she couldn’t think of anything else. And it was the truth.
He reached out ever so slowly, as though waiting for her to knock his hand away. She should. She really should. But that part of her — the part that seemed to be continually betraying her — waited for him to touch her. Longed for him to touch her.
But it was a tease. He stroked one strand of her hair and said only, “Well, then, leave this one down for me, will you?”
And with a wink, he was gone.
Joanna tried to forget his comment about her hair, but when the maid finally arrived, quite surprised and impressed to find that Joanna had succeeded in dressing herself — “but how did you tie the stays, miss?” she had questioned with wide eyes — she had asked if there were any style Joanna preferred.
Joanna had hesitated, finally telling the maid to do as she pleased.
But when she left, she couldn’t help but draw one tendril from its pin, allowing it to fall next to her face.
It was only because Elijah’s suggestion was likely a preference held by most, she told herself.
That was all.
Even though it wasn’t.
She had just descended the staircase when Ophelia cried out from the adjoining room, “It’s time for the Yule log!” and Joanna stepped back as the front doors opened wide and two of the footmen — including Thatcher, who was quite obviously keeping his gaze to the floor and not anywhere near Caroline — entered carrying the felled tree. Joanna followed them into the drawing room, where they heaved it into the fireplace that must have been emptied shortly before. A bit of light still filtered in through the white, icy windows, but already a slight chill had entered the room, although Joanna wasn’t