I can’t believe you’d agree to a picnic without even consulting me,” Josephine complained the next morning, as they dressed for Mass. “If you don’t want to go, I’ll make your excuses for you, but I’m going,” she said firmly. “Mr. Hollingsworth is being very hospitable by inviting us to a picnic and tour of his plantation. The least you can do is join us.” Josephine muttered something under her breath as she put on her dove-gray bonnet. She looked older than her thirty-six years in the outfit. “What did you say?” Rebecca picked up Lucas unable to hide the grin that crept to her mouth. She knew her aunt well enough to know the woman stewed behind her cool demeanor. “I’ll go, but if my headache returns then I will insist we leave.” She headed toward the door. “Come along, Charlotte. Don’t dawdle.” “Yes, Miss Josephine.” The maid hurriedly followed her out the door. During Mass, Rebecca went through the motions of the service, but her mind was on Mr.
