LITMIR.BIZ

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the French doors.

      Emilian moved forward. “Wait!”

      The young Rom whirled and started to run.

      Emilian ran after him. “Don’t go!” he cried. Then, in Roma, “Na za!”

      The boy froze at the sharp command. Emilian hurried forward. Continuing to speak in the Romany language, he said, “I am Rom. I am Emilian St Xavier, son of Raiza Kadraiche.”

      The boy appeared relieved. “Emilian, Stevan sent me. He must speak with you. We are not far—an hour by horse or wagon.”

      Emilian was stunned. Stevan Kadraiche was his uncle, whom he had not seen in eight years. Raiza traveled with him, as did his half sister, Jaelle. But they never traveled farther south than the Borders. He could not imagine what this meant.

      And then he knew. There was news—and it could not be good.

      “Will you come?” the boy asked.

      “I’ll come,” he said, lapsing into English. He steeled himself, but for what he did not know.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ARIELLA STOOD BY the fireplace, wishing she could leave the supper party and return to her room. She would much prefer curling up with her book for the evening. Pleasant greetings had been exchanged and the weather had been discussed, as had Amanda’s famous rose gardens. Dianna, who was very pretty in her evening gown, was now mentioning her mother’s upcoming ball, the first at Rose Hill in years. “I do hope you will attend, my lords,” she said sweetly.

      Ariella fixed a smile on her face and glanced at her father. Tall and handsome, in his midforties, he was still a man who caught the ladies’ eyes. But he did not notice; he remained smitten with his wife, who was as passionate as her husband about the sea, and eccentric enough to stand on the quarterdeck with him even now. Yet Amanda also loved balls and dancing, which made no sense as far as Ariella was concerned. After supper, she decided she would approach her father and see if he might allow a very bold adventure into the heart of central Asia.

      Lord Montgomery turned to her. “You do not seem to anticipate the Rose Hill ball.” He spoke quietly, seriously.

      She could not help herself. “I do not care for balls. I avoid them whenever I can.”

      Dianna rushed to her side. “Oh, that is so untrue,” she scolded.

      “I prefer travel,” she added. She saw her father smile.

      “I enjoy travel, too. Where have you been recently?”

      “My last voyage was to Athens and Constantinople. I now wish to visit the steppes of central Asia.”

      Dianna paled.

      Ariella sighed. She had promised her sister to avoid any discussion of the Mongols. She debated several topics and gave in to one that interested her. “What do you think about Owen’s great experiments to help labor improve its position and place in the economy?”

      Montgomery blinked. Then his gaze narrowed, as if with interest.

      But the younger Montgomery stared at her in shock. Then he turned to her father and said, “An absolute disaster, of course, to consolidate labor like that. But what do you expect from a man like Robert Owens? He’s a merchant’s son.”

      Ariella bristled and said to his back. “He is brilliant!”

      Cliff de Warenne came to stand beside her, putting his hand on her shoulder. He said pleasantly, “I have been impressed with Owen’s experiments. I support the theory of consolidated labor interests.”

      The younger Montgomery had to face Ariella with Cliff now. “Good God, and what will be next? The Ten Hours Bill? Labor will certainly argue for that!” He gave Ariella a dark look that she had received many times. It said, Ladies’ opinions are not welcome.

      Ariella planted her hands on her hip, but she smiled sweetly. “It was a social and political travesty to allow the Ten Hours Bill to be trampled under industrial and trade interests. It is immoral! No woman or child should have to work more than ten hours a day!”

      Paul Montgomery raised both pale brows, then turned aside dismissively. “As I was saying,” he said to Cliff, “the business interests in this country will go under if unions are encouraged and allowed. No one will be foolish enough to so limit the hours of labor or to support consolidated labor.”

      “I disagree. It is only a matter of time before a more humane labor law is enacted,” Cliff said calmly.

      “This country will go under,” the younger Montgomery warned, flushing. “We cannot afford higher wages and better work conditions!”

      Amanda smiled and said, “On that note, perhaps we should all go in to dine? We can continue the fervent debate over supper.”

      A debate over supper, Ariella thought with excitement. She would hardly mind!

      But then she caught her sister’s eye. Dianna looked at her with an obvious plea. Why are you doing this? She mouthed, You promised.

      “I am too much of a gentleman to debate a lady,” the young Montgomery said stiffly, but he looked terribly put out.

      His older brother chuckled, and so did Cliff. “Let’s go in, as my wife has suggested.”

      Suddenly a terrific round of shouting could be heard, coming from the front hall of the house, as if a mob had invaded Rose Hill.

      “What is that?” Cliff exclaimed, already leaving the salon. “Wait here,” he ordered them all.

      Ariella didn’t even think about it—she followed him.

      The front door was open. Rose Hill’s butler was flushed, facing a good dozen men who seemed to wish to throng inside. When Cliff was seen, shouts began. “Captain de Warenne! Sir, we must have a word!”

      “What is going on, Peterson?” Cliff demanded of the butler. “For God’s sake, it’s the mayor! Let him in.”

      Peterson rushed to open the door and the four foremost gentlemen rushed in. “Sir, Mayor Oswald, Mr. Hawks, Mr. Leeds, and your tenant, Squire Jones. We must speak with you. I am afraid there are Gypsies on the road.”

      Ariella started. Gypsies? She hadn’t seen a Gypsy caravan since she was a small girl. Maybe her time at Rose Hill would not be so uneventful after all. She knew nothing about the Gypsy people except for folklore. She vaguely recalled hearing their exotic music as a child and being intrigued by it.

      “Not on the road, Captain. They are making camp on Rose Hill land—just down the hill from your house,” the rotund mayor cried.

      Everyone began to speak at once. Cliff held up both hands. “One at a time. Mayor Oswald, you have my undivided attention.”

      Oswald nodded, jowls shaking. “Must be fifty of them! They appeared this morning. We were hoping they wouldn’t stop, but they have done just that, sir. And they are on your land.”

      “If one of my cows is stolen, just one, I’ll hang the Gypsy thief myself,” Squire Jones shouted.

      The others started talking at once. Ariella flinched, as they began describing children vanishing, horses being stolen and traded back to the owners so disguised as to be recognizable, and dogs running wild. “No trinket in your home— or mine—will be safe,” a man from outside the house cried.

      “The young women were begging in the streets this afternoon!” a man said. “It is a disgrace.”

      “My sons are sixteen and eighteen,” someone said as fiercely. “I won’t have him being tempted by Gypsy trollops! They already had one girl read their hands!”

      Ariella looked at her father, stunned by such bigotry and fear. But before she could tell the throng that their accusations were immensely unfair, Cliff held up both hands.

      “I

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