A Hearth in Candlewood by Delia Parr Page A

time, she remembered he was now putting himself in a position to gain control of much more than one parcel of her land.
    His assumption that simply because she was one of the wealthiest residents of the county she would be vain enough to be tempted by his offer sent her pulse into a gallop. Struggling for self-control, she braced both feet flat on the floor. ‘‘Are you quite sure this is legal?’’
    ‘‘It’s all explained in the letter. There is proper documentation, as well, in the rest of the paper work.’’
    She cocked a brow and fingered the letter. ‘‘I wasn’t aware that titles in England were for sale.’’
    ‘‘There’s little in this world that’s not available, given the right price,’’ he noted confidently.
    She nodded. ‘‘I’m sure you’re aware that my grandfather came to this area from England as a young man and that he spent five years of his life fighting against England in the War for Independence, are you not?’’
    His eyes widened. ‘‘I’m not sure that I—’’
    ‘‘And that I lost my eldest brother, Samuel, when he gave his life for the same cause in the second war against England?’’ she asked as she placed the letter back onto her desk.
    His cheeks reddened.
    She sighed and shook her head. ‘‘My family’s dedication and loyalty to this country have always been beyond question, just as our loyalty to the people of Candlewood has been a valued tradition. If I agree to your proposal, accept an English title, and move to England, I’m afraid I’d be turning my back on everything my family has worked so hard to achieve. I hope you understand that I must honor my family, regardless of how fervently I might wish to claim the life you’ve offered to me.’’
    She folded the papers together into a neat parcel again and held them out to him. ‘‘I’m so sorry. I wish you had discussed this matter with me in advance. You see, even if I did want to accept your offer, I could not. For the truth of the matter is, the parcel of land you so desperately want to buy is no longer mine to sell.’’
    He pitched forward so abruptly his spectacles slipped and landed on his lap. ‘‘N-not yours to sell?’’
    She dabbed at a tear she forced in the corner of her eye. ‘‘I’m afraid not.’’ She left the papers on her desk, rose, walked to the door and opened it, then turned to face him again. ‘‘I’m afraid I do need to get back to work. I trust you’ll find some way to change the tenor of your day, just as I must try to forget that I let the opportunity to become Lady Garrett slip through my fingers.’’
    He snatched the papers from her desk as he got to his feet. ‘‘Might I inquire as to who the new owner might be?’’
    She sighed. ‘‘You might inquire, but I’m not sure divulging that information to you will do much good. You see, there was a bit of a restriction attached to the sale. Given the price I was offered, I had no choice but to agree.’’
    ‘‘Restriction?’’
    This time she did not have to force a smile. ‘‘The land itself has been placed in trust for twenty years. Until then, the land cannot be sold or developed or altered in any way. It’s all perfectly legal, which I’m certain your lawyer will confirm when you consult him. In the meantime, I’m sure you’ll find other ventures far more interesting to occupy your energies.’’
    Langhorne grabbed his hat from a peg on the wall, plopped it on his head, and stiffened his back. He left without saying another word.
    The moment he stepped out onto the porch, she shut the door, latched it, and leaned back against the solid wood before closing her eyes and whispering a prayer of gratitude that once and for all, Mr. Langhorne was gone.
    ‘‘He’s left? Already?’’
    Emma’s eyes popped open and she smiled at her mother-in-law. ‘‘Yes, he’s gone.’’
    Mother Garrett narrowed her gaze. ‘‘What’s that you said about maybe he’d be back to see me?’’
    ‘‘If