“Yes,” Joan agreed. “Do you know of such a place? A hall that might be available?”
Timothy’s expression became something almost cruel in its amusement. “Oh, there’s a hall all right. Perfect size for what you’re describing. Used to hold town assemblies there, years back.”
“That sounds ideal!” Joan said eagerly. “Who owns it? How might I approach them about using it?”
“It belongs to the Duke,” Timothy said flatly.
Joan felt her enthusiasm falter slightly. “The Duke?”
“The Duke of Ashcroft. He owns most of the land around here, including that hall.” Timothy’s smile was cold. “You want to use it, you’ll have to ask him.”
“Very well,” Joan said, squaring her shoulders. “Then I shall call upon him and make my request.”
Timothy’s laugh was genuinely surprised this time. “Call upon him? Miss, I don’t think you understand. The Duke is…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “He’s reclusive. Hasn’t been seen in the village in over a year. Stays locked up in his estate like a hermit. And from what people say…” He lowered his voice. “He’s not a kind man.”
“I understand your concerns,” Joan said. “But I still must try. If there is any chance of securing that hall for the children, I have to take it.”
Timothy shook his head slowly, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “You’re either very brave or very foolish, Miss. I can’t decide which.”
“Perhaps both,” Joan admitted with a small smile. She looked down at Percival, who was watching her with shining eyes.
Timothy’s expression softened slightly. He reached out and offered Joan his hand.
“Timothy Andersen,” he said. “And this is my son, Percival.”
Joan shook his hand firmly. “Joan Sinclair. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Andersen.”
“If you truly mean to approach the Duke…” Timothy released her hand and sighed. “I wish you the very best of luck, Miss Sinclair. You’ll need it.”
He placed his hand on Percival’s shoulder and began to guide his son away.
Peters appeared at her elbow, looking thoroughly disapproving.
“Miss Sinclair,” he said in a low voice. “We really must be going. We still need to purchase supplies, and it’s getting late.”
“Yes, of course,” Joan murmured, still watching Timothy and Percival disappear into the crowd.
They returned to the carriage, and as Peters helped her up, she settled into her seat.
“Peters,” she called up. “This Duke of Ashcroft. Have you heard anything about him?”
Peters was silent for a long moment. “Nothing good, Miss. He keeps to himself mostly. But folks say he’s got a terrible temper. That he’s… unpredictable.”
“But surely he must have some good qualities?” Joan pressed. “No one is entirely bad.”
Peters clicked his tongue at the horses and they began to move forward. “Perhaps, Miss. But I wouldn’t count on finding them.”
Joan leaned back against the worn velvet seat and considered this.
“Peters,” she said, making her decision. “I want you to take me to the Duke’s estate tomorrow.
She heard Peters sigh heavily. “As you wish, Miss Sinclair.”
Joan smiled to herself and turned her attention to the passing scenery, already composing in her mind what she would say to the Duke of Ashcroft.
He can’t be that bad,she thought.Can he?
CHAPTER THREE
