Loving a Lost Lord Read Online Free PDF Page A

that perhaps it was worth considering Burke’s offer. Though she had been admiring the vicar, that was mere daydreaming. Burke had made her a genuine offer, and being a wife would give her more standing in the community. He would likely spend much of his time in London, leaving his wife free to run the estate. And he was undeniably good-looking. One could do worse for a husband, and many women did.
    Besides, she was so lonely knowing that her father would never come home….
    At this point in her ponderings, Mariah would tell Sarah that she couldn’t possibly be lonely with an imaginary sister living in her head. Burke was a gamester and would make his wife’s life hell. He’d probably gamble Hartley Manor right out from underneath Mariah’s feet. She had craved stability for too long to place her welfare in unreliable hands. Far better that Burke believe she was married and out of his reach.
    Yet Burke persisted in his attention. One night Mariah awoke shaken by a vivid dream that she was marrying him. They were pronounced man and wife, he took her hand—and squeezed it painfully hard, trapping her with him forever. She knew why she’d dreamed that: he’d visited again that afternoon and hinted about lawsuits between his compliments. His noose was tightening around her.
    She buried her face in her hands and whispered, “Oh, Granny Rose, what should I do? If Burke keeps coming around, in a moment of weakness I might say yes.”
    While Sarah was a product of her imagination, Granny Rose was an indelible part of her memories. Dark, calm, and loving, she had raised Mariah, teaching her cooking and riding and laughter. Though Mariah had waited breathlessly for visits from her father, it was Granny Rose who had been the center of her life.
    There were some people in their small village of Appleton who had called her grandmother a witch. That was nonsense, of course. Granny Rose made herbal potions, read palms, and gave wise counsel to girls and women of the village. Occasionally she performed rituals to achieve particular ends, though she always said there was no magic involved. Rather, rituals focused the mind on what was desired, and that made goals more likely to be achieved. Like prayer, but with herbs added.
    Mariah needed a good ritual. She thought back and decided that a wishing spell would be best since she could ask for whatever would best solve her problems. Her grandmother had always cautioned Mariah against being too explicit with her wishes, because sometimes the best solution was one that she’d never thought of.
    She had some lucky incense that she and her grandmother had made together years earlier, and tonight the moon was full, a good time for a ritual. Since she couldn’t sleep, she might as well try a ritual. At the least, doing so would strengthen her resolve to keep George Burke at a distance.
    She tied a robe over her sleeping shift, slid her feet into slippers, then wrapped a heavy shawl around her shoulders. After collecting a tinderbox and a packet of lucky incense, she descended the stairs and went outside toward the sea. The night was cool and clear, and moonlight silvered the fields and the sea.
    The garden included an open gazebo with a stone patio and a sundial. Thinking this a good place for her ritual, she closed her eyes and thought about her lost loved ones until she felt their friendly presences.
    She started by setting the incense on the brass top of the sundial. After striking a spark and setting it ablaze, she silently asked for help through this difficult time. Healing, protection, strength, luck…
    For an instant she imagined a real husband—not Burke but a man who fit her dreams. Ruthlessly she suppressed that image and concentrated on asking for mental and emotional strength.
    As the pungent scent of the burning incense faded into the wind, she stepped into the gazebo and sat on one of the stone benches that circled the interior.