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Well, that was nicely ambiguous. Precisely what any fortune-teller might utter.
“Oh?”
“Yes.” Matilda gave a wise nod of her head. “You stand upon them. Down one path are security and a life of comfort. Down the other are turmoil and danger and great happiness.”
Raine gave a lift of her brows, willing to play along. “That seems rather confusing. Should the great happiness not be included with the security and comfort?”
“No, the happiness comes from following your heart.” Without warning the woman leaned forward to touch the locket that Raine had slipped around her neck as she had raced from London.
A sharp fear flared through Raine as she jumped to her feet. No. She had put Philippe behind her. Whatever insanity had briefly brought him into her life was over and done with.
She would never, ever see him again.
“I must go,” she muttered as she turned for the door.
From behind she heard Matilda give a click of her tongue. “You may leave, lass, but you cannot hide from destiny,” she warned.
Raine did not bother to turn around as she fled from the cottage.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JOSIAH TUGGED AT HIS freshly starched cravat as he went in search of his elusive daughter. It was amazing that in a cottage so small the stubborn chit could manage to elude him with such ease.
She always had an ample supply of excuses, of course.
The cottage had to be scrubbed and polished until it gleamed. She needed to visit the local dressmaker. Mrs. Stone needed help in the kitchen. Foster needed to be coached on his role during this night’s charade.
Perhaps reasonable explanations, but Josiah was quite certain that his daughter was deliberately attempting to avoid him.
The question was why?
At last he discovered her in the dining room as she inspected the table that had been formally set with their best china and silver.
“Raine?” he said softly.
She gave a small gasp as she jerked around. Almost as if she had expected to discover a monster creeping up on her.
It was an edgy unease that had smoldered around her since she had returned to the cottage four days ago.
With an obvious effort Raine forced a smile to her face as she smoothed her hands over the gown she had just received from the dressmaker.
She looked stunning. The pale gold silk was m
odestly cut, but the shimmering material brought out the faint ivory of her skin and added a luster to her golden curls, which were pulled into a complicated knot on top of her head.
In the candlelight she appeared ethereal. Like a glimmering angel dropped to earth.
The poor magistrate would be so befuddled he would be fortunate not to spill his soup in his lap and choke on his pheasant, Josiah thought wryly. Which, of course, was precisely the point.
“Good Lord, you startled me, Father,” she gently chastised.
He moved forward, his gaze carefully watching her tense expression. “That seems to happen a great deal lately.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean, that since you so mysteriously disappeared, you have been decidedly tense,” Josiah charged. “You jump at every shadow.”
She turned toward the nearby mantel and adjusted the candelabra that needed no adjustment.
