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I want to learn everything about Ravensbrook’s finances.”
    To her surprise, Riel gave her a steady, considering look. “All right,” he said. “In two years you will be responsible for them. It’s a good idea for you to learn about them now.”
    Lucinda felt a flush of pleasure…and a flare of unease, too. Learning about the books meant she’d have to work closely with Riel. But perhaps that would be a blessing in disguise. Three days remained to discover the chinks in his armor. The time spent together, learning how to run Ravensbrook, would provide her with ample opportunity to discover his weaknesses and use them to her best advantage.
    If all went well, not only would she learn how to run the estate, but she’d discover a way to convince him to leave before he signed the final documents. Lucinda settled back, feeling her first flicker of hope in hours.

     
     

Chapter Four
     
     
     
    Happily, the village modiste had a length of black bombazine silk on hand. She agreed to sew it into a dress immediately. Since she knew Lucinda’s measurements, the fitting did not take long. She promised the dress would be ready in time for the funeral tomorrow.
    Twenty pounds remained when Lucinda and Montclair headed for the parsonage attached to the village church. Lucinda had stuffed the money into her reticule, after snatching it from the seamstress when she’d held out the change to Riel.
    “If it is all right, I will leave you here to speak to Pastor Bilford,” Riel said, offering her an arm to step down from the carriage. For the sake of polite courtesy, her fingertips touched his proffered arm for the briefest moment possible. Even in that fleeting touch, she felt the raw strength of him. It disturbed her. He said, “I need to visit the mercantile.”
    “Very well. I am pleased to take your leave, Mr. Montclair.” She turned away and headed down the pebbled path to the parsonage. Guilt for her dreadful manners assailed her conscience, and she bit back the apology that rose in her throat. Had her rude comment bothered him? No sound came from behind her, as if Riel watched her. And then the sound of boots on gravel reached her ears, and the carriage rolled down the country lane.
    Unfortunately, the idea of prickling under Riel’s skin elicited a wicked feeling of pleasure. Definitely not a good thing, Lucinda thought with a further sting of remorse, and glanced at the church. If only he wasn’t such a thorn in her side. If only he would go away, then she would not have to behave like an annoying fox hound.
    An unexpected thought crossed her mind. If she behaved badly enough—if she managed to infuriate him so frightfully that he couldn’t stand to be near her—would he run from Ravensbrook? What was the saying in Proverbs? Better a corner of a roof than living in a house with a quarrelsome woman?
    Well, maybe not quarrelsome. That did not appeal. Neither did acting like a harridan.
    But if it worked… Would it be worth the cost, she wondered. Could she stomach behaving like a vixen for the next three days? The self-inflicted wounds to her self-respect might prove difficult to mend. Especially since she had struggled so hard over the last year to try to conform to the mature requirements of a young lady. This plot might erase all of her gains.
    In truth, the plan did not appeal at all, but as of right now, she could think of no other way to convince Mr. Montclair to leave.
    She climbed the step and rapped on the parsonage door.
    Mrs. Bilford, a thin, sprightly woman with coiled iron gray hair and snapping black eyes saw Lucinda and said merely, “Lucinda,” before wrapping her in a tight hug. “My child. I am so sorry. Won’t you please come in?”
    Lucinda blinked back tears. “Thank you.” She followed Mrs. Bilford into the crowded front parlor. A secretary desk sat in one corner and a large wooden wardrobe in another. The room also contained a horsehair couch and an armchair. All sorts of