Lily arched a brow above her spectacles. “Of course. I shall find Sir Teakle and welcome another litany of his ancestry.” Lily placed her hand over a yawn and moved away.
“What are you doing here?”
“Thank you for your interest in my well-being. You are most gracious,” he said, but she did not fall prey to his passive expression. “I am in duty to my office−”
“Don’t employ that tale with me. You will not mention−”
“It is trueMadame Blackmon,” he said, reminding her of their relationship. “Do you think I’d slit my own throat−” Devon grinned as he angled his head toward the interest of the people looking at them. “−with your uncle ready at a moment’s notice to set his goons upon me? My luck he’d order a dull blade to make the process more harrowing.”
His admission lessened her fears. She had been remiss to see he had a stake in the situation as well. She cleared her throat. “I see you have new clothes.”
“I stand before you under the patronization of the governor and his wife. Like the servants in their livery, the physician must be well-dressed.” He smiled that rueful, self-deprecating smile that never failed to disarm her. “A thought just occurred to me.”
Curious and with a grudging portion of goodwill, Claire sniffed, “Then do share with me your thought.”
“I desire the fidelity of your promise.”
“Of course you would remind me at this moment.” A merchant strolled by, rather slow in fetching a glass of punch, listening to their conversation so Claire cloaked her response in scholarly discourse. “Indeed, it can be argued that such thoughts tend to be buried in an ocean of insignificance.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment and grinned, his eyes lit with intellectual challenge. “In truthful reflections, a contract broken can weigh heavy on avenging inclinations.”
She choked on her punch. How dare he try to intimidate her! She would have none of it. “The nature of one’s thoughts could be considered menacing.”
“One should not fail in being obtuse,” he said carelessly. The merchant moved away, bored with a philosophical conversation.
“Do you dare to threaten me?” She glared at him.
“Merely promising, Madame Blackmon. Except…Ikeep my promises.”
She itched to dump her punch on him. She darted a glance at the crowd watching them.
“Careful, Claire. Best to control your ire. They are regarding the best looking couple in this room.”
“We are not a couple,” she said through gritted teeth. The briefest of moments passed. Aware of their audience, Claire tamped down her anger then smiled prettily up to him. “I promise that neither life nor death, neither angels nor demons, neither present nor the future, nor anything else in creation will make me keep my promise.”
He laughed to spite her. She had enough of his badgering and moved across the room to where Maybelle Meriweather stood with Lily. She avoided the merchant’s daughter. Maybelle tended to be simple-minded and had a propensity for vicious gossip.
What is he like, Claire?” said Maybelle agog. “He’s your slave. You bought him Claire, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Claire confessed.
“So bold and scandalous.” Maybelle proved provocative. Her wide mouth accented a champing mill of strong yellow horse teeth, and her reedy voice grated on Claire’s nerves. “He is devastatingly handsome for a slave and forbidden which makes him exciting,” said Maybelle. “I can never tire thinking up maladies for my mother to require his attendance. Why the other day, he held my pulse. I battled swooning, but the faint got the best of me and I fell into his arms.”
Claire glared at her, thinking someone like Devon would eat her alive. “Have you ever battled with common sense?” A tug on Claire’s arm drew her attention, saving her from Maybelle’s witless remarks.
“Come humor an old woman,” said Mrs. Bennett, pulling her to a private corner of the room where they sat together on a damask settee.
Claire smoothed her skirts. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
Mrs. Bennett laughed. “Poor Maybelle. She is doomed to ignorance. Her mother believes educating her daughter is an implementation of foolishness, thus the fruit of her womb.” She slanted her gray head knowingly then pursed her lips. “Since our meeting at Governor’s House, I have been thinking about your father. He was dashing like that doctor-slave you bought.”
Claire managed to not roll her eyes, refusing to admit there were some similarities. “My father was a good, kind and generous man. He is irreplaceable.”
“I’ve needed to talk to you. With my age, my memories are scattered. I believe you own the plantation.”
Claire blinked. What could she say to a disclosure like that? “I don’t understand.”
“Your father told me he never trusted his younger brother. He was going to leave everything to charity unless he married and had children to inherit. Be aware of that fact, Claire. I doubt Jarvis owns anything.”
