Rivals of Fortune / The Impetuous Heiress by Jane Ashford

expression as she descended showed more resignation than anticipation.
    Jonathan Erland was talking to her mother in the drawing room; he rose when Joanna entered. His gray eyes were appreciative, and indeed, Joanna made a charming picture in her rose-pink habit. Her eyes looked almost black against the bright background, and they seemed large in her heart-shaped face.
    Her mare had already been brought round, and they set off immediately, Erland’s groom following behind. The day was warm but not hot, and the scents of summer filled the air. Before long, Joanna began to feel glad to be out and trotting through the country lanes, and she smiled at her companion happily.
    â€œAh, that is better,” he said. “I had begun to fear that you didn’t want to go riding after all.”
    â€œOh, no, I love it.”
    Erland smiled. “Indeed? I would scarcely have credited it, seeing your face when you came into the drawing room. You looked like a child reluctantly doing some onerous duty.”
    Joanna colored a little. This came a bit too near the mark. “Nonsense,” she said airily, “I was simply thinking of something else.”
    â€œThank God for that. I should hate to think I was the cause of such an expression.”
    Joanna was unused to this sort of banter. “Why?” she asked.
    Erland laughed, throwing back his head and letting his hands drop. “You are the most refreshing girl I have met in England,” was his only reply. “You know, after living in Canada, one finds most English girls very stiff and starchy. But you are not. I like that.”
    â€œAre the girls so different there? What are they like?”
    â€œAh, now I am caught in my own snare.” Erland grinned. “Well, they are not all alike, of course. And I am wrong to make sweeping generalizations about them, especially since I am not at all expert on the subject. But I do think that the women who have had the courage to cross the sea show a freer spirit.” He paused, thinking. “That does not sound precisely right. I do not mean to imply any criticism.” He shook his head. “I am certainly making a mull of this. Let us say only that girls I met in the territories seemed less hypocritical and fenced round with foolish restrictions. While not at all improper, they seemed freer.” He smiled again. “And with that, you must be satisfied, Miss Joanna, for it is the best answer I can give.”
    Joanna’s interest was caught. “I suppose they lead a very different sort of life. More exciting and dangerous.”
    â€œA few of them, perhaps. But most men would never take their wives and daughters into the real wilderness. I do not speak of the natives, of course.”
    The girl’s eyes widened. “Did you meet Indian girls, too?”
    The skin around Erland’s eyes crinkled. “Yes, you may say so. Although one does not exactly meet Indian girls.” When Joanna looked inquiring, he continued, “There are no formal introductions in the forest, Miss Joanna.” Something seemed to amuse him, and he laughed again. “It is difficult to explain that world to you. But I have talked with Indians of both sexes on occasion.”
    â€œWhat are they like?”
    â€œWhat an interrogator you are. Frankly, I cannot answer that question. I doubt there are five men in the West who could, truthfully. I know only enough to know that I cannot.”
    â€œOh.” The girl considered this. “Well, I suppose it is all more complex than it appears. That is what my father always tells me, when I don’t understand something or can’t explain what I mean.”
    â€œThat is exactly it,” agreed Erland appreciatively. “But let us talk of you. Tell me about yourself.”
    Joanna dimpled. “Well, that is not complex, at least. It may be done in a moment.”
    He looked inquiring.
    â€œThere is really nothing to tell,”