Free Marrying the Mistress by Juliet Landon Page B

met your match, at last. Now, where are these other things of yours? Come and show me.’

Chapter Four
    N o expectations, I had said, choosing not to hear the unreality of such a boast. But it was not true. I had expected, and yet again had failed to take into account the uncanny affinity between the twin brothers who, although unlike in many ways, had shared the same birth and the same life.
    To hear that Linas had never owned my home on Blake Street had shocked me. To discover that he had not personally been responsible for its running costs, and mine too, had left me totally bewildered and very angry, making me revise my assumptions about why he had wanted an heir so much when he had so little to leave. A trust fund, yes, but no property. Linas had owned the Stonegate house, but Winterson had lent his property on Blake Street to Linas for my use, and Jamie’s. And now, he was adamant that we should stay there while he made use of the larger one, as well as Abbots Mere. It was going to be difficult for me to escape him or to avoid his promised interference in ourlives, our freedom being the one thing to which I had most looked forwards.
    And the kiss? Well, no more than a reminder, a clever way of exposing my pathetic lie that had been intended to hurt him as he had hurt me. He said we should both start telling the truth, but I had no wish to tell him anything. To do that would be dangerous for a woman in my position. All the same, it was his kiss that kept me sleepless for most of the night.
    Long before dawn, I had reached the decision not to delay any longer my visit to Foss Beck Common. My family’s food situation must now be getting desperate, I thought, though there were other reasons for me to go too. They would not have heard of Linas’s death, and I had to speak to them about the future. Mama would be suffering from the extreme cold, and I also needed to collect whatever Pierre had managed to acquire for my business. There was also money to be taken to him from the sales of my last consignment which, even when shared between us, was almost always a considerable amount. He never told me exactly how much it cost him to pay for these goods in the first place, or even whether he paid in kind and, if so, what kind. But I had recently felt that whatever he paid was nothing like as much as the returns we were getting.
    * * *
    So I had my horse saddled at daybreak, loading the packhorse with gifts and supplies and, wrapping myself thickly with extra shawls, set off along the snow-packed Roman road towards Bridlington. Jamie had not been pleased to be left behind: so unpleased, in fact, that his screaming tantrum was the last sound I heard as Goodyhauled him away with both threats and promises. I knew what Jamie needed most, but my firmness was sometimes not enough, and nor was Mrs Goode’s. Did he really need to see more of me, or less?
    There had been no new falls during the night and, although the wind was still biting hard, the sky was blue and cloudless, the sun’s rays bouncing off the dazzling white of moor and valley. I went alone, sure of the way, expecting to meet very few travellers, and certainly no coaches. Only a mile or so out of York, however, I realised what a big risk I was taking, for the road was treacherous with ice, the snow blown into drifts by the north-easterly against which the poor horses had to battle with heads down.
    The sky was beginning to darken under a full moon by the time I reached Fridaythorpe and found the turnoff southwards to Foss Beck, another three miles of deep drifts and hidden tracks. Then, the land spread out before me like a laundered sheet stained with the dark shadows of trees, and I cursed myself for my impetuosity and foolhardiness while thinking of how I needed to see my family, and how they needed the food. It was quite dark before I made out the squared shapes of buildings ahead, before I rode, exhausted and chilled to the bone into the rambling