“My—father?” Sophia scoffed. “Sir Mark is not my father.”
Mr. Belvedere’s air of certainty finally faltered. “Is he not? With Lady Marston’s manner toward you, we all had theimpression you were one of his—er—I’m not sure which term is most polite?—”
“Oh, are you to be politenow?” She looked pointedly at the door. “Don’t trouble yourself. I’ve heard them all: by-blow, side-slip, bastard?—”
His eyebrows rose.
“I’ll not beg your pardon for I’m sure you’ve heard worse.”
“I have; but—Sir Mark isnotyour father?”
“No, and I have no desire to discuss my parentage with you. Out you go.” She tried to edge around him, but he put his hand on the door latch, holding it shut.
“Could it be—LadyMarston?” He pursed his lips in a whistle, but then he seemed to recall that they were being quiet and licked his lips. “Of course. It’s hard to believe a dragon like her was so indiscreet—but you look like her.”
“No, I don’t?—”
“It’s not an insult; I heard she was a beauty in her day.”
“You’re trying to flatter me?—”
“I’m not. But I admit I’m confused. I considered it thoroughly, and I decided that Sir Mark had put you up to it.” He squinted at her in the semi-darkness of her one shuttered oil lamp. “The amethysts could be ‘lost’ during this journey, and he could quietly sell or pawn them in Lisbon with Lady Marston none the wiser. That would follow, for I know Sir Mark is in Dun territory.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Why, I can always recognize a man who’s dipped too deep. Why his snuff is so cheap I could hardly bear it, and I have taken somerough sortin my day.”
“Well—I don’t know about that, but neither he nor I have any plan to rob Lady Marston.Neither of ustook that necklace.”
“You’re eitherverygood, or I’m making a great cake of myself.”
She raised her brows.
He grinned. “I’m actually quite adroit; haven’t embarrassed myself since Eton.”
“If you actuallywentto Eton; I begin to suspect that you are a wholesale liar.”
“Forgive me, but I must cut this delightful interlude short. We must finish soon if we are not to be discovered.”
Sophia gasped in outrage. “I’m notkeepingyou.”
“If you truly aren’t in the plot—where did this bruise come from?” He stroked her forehead and temple with his thumb—so lightly that she could barely feel it. “I was certain you must have seized on the opportunity of the storm and come to grief.”
Sophia froze. Not that there was anywhere much to go, the bed was already against the back of her knees. “I—I explained. I fell out of bed.”
“Definitely false. I’m an old hand at this, very hard to fool.” He frowned. “Unless—Sir Mark didn’t strike you, did he?”
“No! No one struck me, nor did I go looking for the necklace.”
“You didn’t fall out of bed either. The storm was rough, yes, but unless you threw yourself out, it was not so violent as to shake you loose. If you were in the corridor, however, or the cargo hold, I could readily believe you might be shaken into the bulkhead. And the crew quarters were cleared out at times when all hands were on deck.”
He touched her bruise again, and it was one of the most deceptively gentle things she’d ever felt. Sophia gathered her wits. “You aredeterminedto profit on this imaginary plot, aren’t you? You mentioned being cut in before, but I didn’t realize the extent you would go to procure this fantasy payoff.”
A flash of guilt crossed his face, and he dropped his hand. “The thought has crossed my mind, but would you believe I’m actually concerned about you?”
“No, I wouldn’t. I know a rogue when I see one. You want the money.”
His mouth tipped up. “What if we said it was fifty-fifty?”
