She studied the design for a moment, and then shook her head. “I’ve never seen it before, except for that day in the market, of course.” Her cheeks colored slightly, as if bringing to mind the memory of their first meeting when she’d fallen headfirst into the mud. “What is it?”
Jonathan ignored the food before him as he set his elbows on the table and threaded his fingers together. “I’m told it’s called The Path of Life. A fortune teller gave it to me after I stopped to free one of their traveling wagons from the mud.”
“The Path of Life?” Fanny’s brow creased adorably as she gave the square of cotton back to him. “Sounds rather cryptic,” she murmured.
Jonathan recalled his conversation with the mysterious woman with vivid clarity. The entire encounter had been cryptic to say the least. And while he hadn’t spoken of that day with Elliot, his closest friend, he found the words spilling forth to Fanny now. “She told me that sometimes our paths are intertwined on this journey through life, and that the road to self-discovery has much travail, but how we prosper depends on our determination to succeed. Then she gave me this handkerchief and said that whatever it was I might seek, I would find it if only I was true to myself.”
“She sounds very wise,” Fanny said softly. “And like someone who has been forced to deal rather harshly with life.” She traced a thoughtful circle on the rim of her mug with her fingertip.
Jonathan tucked the handkerchief away. “The cynical side of me believes that she was just very talented at her profession. But I confess it’s caused me to reevaluate my current circumstances.”
Her movements paused. “Is that why you’re trying to revive the mine — because you’re on some sort of quest to redeem yourself?”
He shrugged. “I suppose so. In a sense, at least.”
Jonathan felt he’d said the wrong thing, for he saw Fanny stiffen as she sat back in her chair and allowed her eyes to fall back to her plate. “At least you’re considering her advice,” she replied evenly. She picked up her fork. “We should be getting back on the road before it grows dark.”
He cleared his throat. “Of course.”
After that, they fell silent.
Chapter Seven
FANNY FELT AS IF Apermanent scowl creased her forehead as they rode back to Polperro. She kept her attention on the scenery outside while Lord Castleford attempted the pretense of sleeping after his attempts to engage her in polite conversation had failed. But considering she was rather unsettled, it was likely for the best. She was afraid she might actually speak her mind should he push her too far.
She had been a fool to think that Jonathan was actually trying to do something for the good of the people by reopening the mine. Theyneededthose profits to survive, yet would he even think twice about pocketing the return on his investment, funds that he likely didn’t even require?
Not likely.
She still couldn’t believe that all of this was because he was only acting on the suggestion of a fortune teller he’d just happened to encounter on the road! Did he have no mind of his own? She had known all along that Cornwall held no appeal for him, so of course, this project was merely the perfect solution for a bored aristocrat to collect on a gambling debt gone awry. If it began to prosper, he could return to London and his indolent ways and accept the praise of his good deeds with a clear conscience. But no doubt at the first sign of discontent, he would abandon the project and flee as fast as his horse could carry him there without looking back, leaving the people of St. Austell once again in the lurch without hopeful employment.
Fanny clenched her fists in her lap. She had believed that, after getting to know Lord Castleford a bit better over the past few days, that he might truly be honorable at heart. But after what he’d revealed today, she realized her faith had been misplaced. He was no different from the revenue officers that patrolled the shores around Polperro hoping to place hard-working men under arrest for smuggling. They didn’t give a thought that for some, this trade was the only thing that kept certain families from falling into abject poverty. They only focused on their own glory and how the Crown might reward their efforts.
“Are you ready to tell me what’s bothering you?”
Fanny glanced over at Lord Castleford, who was eyeing her steadily from across the slight expanse of the carriage, his hands resting on his thighs. His hat was sitting on the seat beside him and a lock of dark hair threatened to fall over his forehead. This only angered Fanny further, for not only did he suddenly act like the arrogant son of an earl, helookedthe part.
