He turned his attention toward today’sLondon Diaryclipping scented faintly of lavender and sandalwood.
A house for his Queen
Perhaps more than a quick fling?
How soon ‘til banns sing?
It was absolutely about him and Olivia. He should mind, but he couldn’t quite muster the outrage. It might ruin his chances with Miss Fox, as her quick mind would remember Olivia’s mention of Queen Street, but he couldn’t deny, to himself at least, that part of him wanted his chances with Miss Fox to be ruined.
To what end?a voice of reason cut in. He would only have to find another Miss Fox.
The thought chilled him clear through to his bones. Better to stay the path he was on.
The French doors cracked open and into the garden slipped Mina. He crumpled the note and theLondon Diaryclipping in his fist.
“Any stars shoot across the sky tonight?” she asked as she lay on a reclining chair and directed her keen gaze toward the crystalline sky.
“Not one,” he replied, dimming the lamp so they could better see the constellations. He relaxed his hand and let the tight ball drop to the ground, its only sound a single papery bounce.
She held a small, brass telescope to her eye. “The sky here is so different from the one hanging above Singapore.”
He detected a note of homesickness in her voice. “You were born under a sky similar to this one in Dejima.”
Telescope tight to her face, she said, “I would like to return there some day.”
Jake flinched in surprise. She’d never expressed this desire to him before. “Would you?”
“It’s the land of my ancestors. It may sound silly, but I would like to see how I feel there.” A dry laugh roughed her voice, even as her gaze held steady through the telescope. “Likely, I won’t fit there either, but I would like to go all the same.”
Her matter-of-fact tone broke something inside him. “Shall we board the next ship East? It’s not too late.”
She lowered the telescope to her lap and pierced him with a long, measured look. “I am like a puzzle piece that will never fall into place.”
“Mina—”
She held up a staying hand. “I have no true fit in either world, Father. East or West.”
“You needn’t worry about your place.” His hands clenched into fists. “I shall see to it.”
“A piece cannot be forced into place. It either fits, or it doesn’t.” She returned her attention to the ordered night sky. “London is as good as anywhere.”
He wasn’t certain which was worse: her utter acceptance of these facts, or her utter lack of despair. A gut punch from Gentleman Jackson himself wouldn’t have leveled him so completely as did her subdued words, so tolerant of a fate that he refused to accept for her.
“Perhaps,” he began, deciding it was past time to broach the subject, “a stepmother from thetonwould help.”
“Father”—Mina hesitated—“even a stepmother with all the right connections wouldn’t help in the ways that matter.”
“She would see to it that the best of Society welcomes you.”
“On the surface, yes, but truly I care not about those people. Besides, a stepmother for me would also be a wife to you. Please don’t make a pragmatic choice based on me. From everything I’ve read on the subject, I think it’s best to let the heart have a say in the matter. I shall find my way.”
Mina settled back into her stargazing, and Jake controlled the urge to jump up and gather her in his arms. Instead, he reached inside his breast pocket, pulled out a letter, and silently handed it to her.
“What is this?” she asked, setting her telescope on a side table.
“It’s a letter from The Progressive School for Young Ladies and the Education of Their Minds.”
“Pithy, isn’t it?” She leaned over and turned up the dimmed lamp. Her humor was a welcome relief.
