He shook his head. “That’s ludicrous. Why would I do that?” Was she foxed? Nothing she said made sense.
“I can think of only one reason. You wished to prove to me that I was wrong in my views on education for my peers. But you did far more than that.”
His patience with her outlandish claims waned. “First, I did not talk to any of the women here who are mothers of your students. Second, I have not spoken to anyone of your school at all. Third, if I wanted to prove you wrong, I could have done so in a much easier way. What is all this foolishness?”
“Foolishness?” Her hands at her sides curled into fists. “Yes, it is foolishness. I was foolish to have believed you, trusted you, agreed with you. I thought you were better than my first impression of you, but I have discovered you are far worse. You are well beyond arrogant. You are devious, calculating, malicious, and cruel. You gave me hope then destroyed it, but even worse, you distracted me with a kiss as if you cared.”
A tightness formed in his chest. “Enough. I will not stand here to be spoken to in such a way.”
She pointed to the open doors of the ballroom. “Then go. Go back to Lady Caroline. You two will make a perfect couple, crushing people’s feelings for your own enjoyment. And I,” she pointed to her chest, “I will have my school in the country far from your judgements and opinions.”
At the thought of what waited him inside, his stomach tightened. He didn’t want Lady Caroline. What he wanted was the Jo he’d come to know, not the harridan that stood before him. That she could think he would do something so vicious, pushed him past confusion and into hurt anger. “Yourjudgment of my character is greatly misconstrued. I see no reason to further take this insult.”
He turned on his heel and headed for the house. Inside the doors, the stone doves greeted him. Barely refraining from smashing them to the floor, he stalked through the room, his future seeming to stretch before him as one endless counting of days. Insulted and furious, he stepped into his library and closed the doors, locking them.
The pain in his chest spread with the need to lash out. Stomping to the chair before his desk, he punched it. It toppled to the carpet below but gave him no satisfaction. Spotting the open space on his bookshelf where the missing book, the bookshe’dtaken, should have been, he thrust his hand in it and sent the entire shelf of books crashing to the floor. Breathing hard, he cleared another shelf and another. How dare she?
Still not able to find control, he strode to the side board and opened the decanter of scotch. Filling a glass, he then gulped it down, the liquid fire connecting with the pain inside. He recognized the pain. He’d felt it when his father dropped the note that stated his mother and sister’s ship had wrecked off Fire Island just before reaching America. He felt it the afternoon his father stared at him, and with tears in his eyes, said he could no longer look upon him because it was like looking upon his mother. It was the pain of being rejected by someone he loved.
Pouring another glass, he threw back half, then strode to the window, his heart starting to race. The darkness outside was complete, no moon to shed light on how she could conclude that he would do something so heartless. Joanna had lured him in and rejected him. His own mind wouldn’t work, the emotional pain too much.
His chest tightened, his breaths shortening. The lamp in the room suddenly felt too bright. He moved from one to the other, snuffing them out until only the light from the fire lit the room and still it felt like too much. He strode to the wingback chair before the fireplace, his breaths coming quickly. He dropped into the chair as his chest burned for air. He lowered his head between his knees. He needed to focus on Burhleigh Park, but the image of Joanna in full anger would allow nothing else.
Darkness crept in, beckoning him until he succumbed.
A knock at the door woke him. He was on the rug in front of the fireplace. Sitting up, he stared at the darkness beyond the firelight. As his conscience awoke, so did his mind, and coldness swept through him.
“James, are you in there?”
Aunt Louisa. The ball. Elsbeth. Swallowing hard, he pushed away the encounter with a cruel Joanna and sat in the chair. “Yes, I’m here.”
“Our guests have finished dinner. Will you be joining us soon?” The concern in her voice was obvious.
He slowly stood, wobbling a little as he pulled down on his waistcoat. He had duties to perform and people he was responsible for. That hadn’t changed.
Walking to the door, he opened it. “Yes, I’m here.” Stepping out, he closed the door behind him. Strains of music filtered into the corridor corroborating his aunt’s statement that he’d missed dinner and the dancing had begun again. “But we can tell anyone who missed me that I had to oversee the caring of the new foal.”
His aunt lowered her brows. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I wish to discuss. Shall we return to the festivities?” The distraction would help him get through the rest of the evening. He owed it to Elsbeth. This was her night. He offered his aunt his arm.
“Did you find Joanna? She didn’t come to dinner, and Harrison said the Mabry carriage is gone.”
He forced a smile. “Yes, I did. Now let us make sure Elsbeth continues to have a night to remember.”
His aunt’s gaze searched his, but he refused to reveal the pain she would recognize.
“Very well. We can talk tomorrow.”
As he led his aunt back into the lively ballroom, he perused it, noting where each Mabry was situated and determined to be nowhere near them.
Chapter Eighteen
Joanna sat atthe desk in the library adding numbers to the family ledgers. Numbers were safe. They weren’t good or bad. They didn’t make memories nor make her cry. They simply were. Adding her final column, she set the quill aside and blew lightly. The Mabry family was very comfortable; however, the work she’d contracted on Silver Meadows would make a dent in the funds Aunt Mabry left her with the house. She would have to figure out costs for students and teachers and then determine a price. She’d already mapped out a schedule, though she had no students yet. She doubted Elsbeth would be attending, and Lady Astor must know by now that their friendship was at an end thanks to what James had done last week at the ball.
The spike of pain in her heart made her gasp. The Greek poet Menander said time healed all necessary evils, but her heart hurt as if the ball was yesterday. Every task or conversation made her cry or made her angry. Only planning for her school kept her functioning. Amelia avoided her, Mariel offered empathy, and her father bought her books. But her mother had been her silent champion. Confessing all to her family, who agreed they should not tell Teddy, she’d found some comfort from talking with them. She discussed her plans with her father and admittedly cried on her mother’s shoulder. Her mother didn’t judge her for her own stupidity or lack of foresight. In fact, her mother had purposefully avoided the two events she’d planned to attend, knowing the Huntingtons would be going.
The one secret she kept from her mother had been aboutthe book. She glanced at the cabinet. It had come home with her. Almost every day, she took it out once and remembered what it was like to feel such an intimate connection to a man. Her broken heart still not accepting that James could have been so cruel, but her mind, wrathful, determined to prove him wrong. The first night she almost threw the book in the fire, but it was a book, something to be treasured despite its owner. She was its new owner now. There would be no returning the book. But she would never open it again.
