“I am most intrigued by the variety of reasons that could have brought a trio of London ladies to Craster,” he said, leaning over to replace his book on a nearby shelf. “Are you running from someone? Are you in danger?”
I narrowed my eyes. He could not fool me into mistaking his prying curiosity for concern. “I am not from London. I am from Hampshire.”
“Even so. You look like you belong in Town.” His eyes flitted over me. “You present yourself too well to belong here, that much is certain.”
I lifted my chin. “To answer your question, no. We are not in immediate danger—only in danger of running out of food. What is this suitable employment opportunity you have been taunting us with?”
He drummed his fingers on the table, staring at my face for several seconds. “Is that all you would like to know?”
“No, but it’s a good place to start.”
He chuckled, but I didn’t crack.
His expression smoothed over, but the striking green of his eyes was still somewhat unnerving. “Very well, Miss Lyons. Why did you leave Hampshire?”
I searched frantically for a response. I couldn’t tell him of our entire situation. My plan had been to tell him only the vague details, since I didn’t trust him with any information that could spread to Lord Trowbridge and ruin my chance of winning him. It was already a remote chance, and I didn’t want it to shrink.
I settled on telling half the truth. “To escape the disgrace of a relative.” When he raised his brows for me to continue, I added, “A gentleman would not pry into the subject.”
He dropped his head and chuckled again.
“What do you find so amusing?” I clenched my fists under the desk.
He raised his eyes to mine. “You never considered me a gentleman before today. So why should I be one now? When I ran after your stolen reticule, or fed you for a week, I was not a gentleman because I wasn’t dressed in the latest fashion, strutting about like a peacock in search of spectators. It is your prejudice I find so amusing,Charlotte.”
The way he emphasized my Christian name hardened my resolve not to give this man anything he wanted. He was hateful and disagreeable, and I could not stand him. “My prejudice, as you call it, is aprecaution.”
He shook his head. “Think of what you might miss if you overlook so many people. If you assume the worst, you’ll never see the best. Wealth and title are on the surface, easily seen and easily desired.” His features fell for a brief moment, but the expression was quickly shaken away. “I assure you, anything you tell me in confidence will remain discreet.”
I held his gaze. “Why do you wish to know so badly?” I repeated my question from outside.
“It is aprecaution.” He smirked. “For an acquaintance of mine.”
My heart pounded. “Do explain.”
His eyes bore into mine as he leaned across the table. “It would not be the first time this acquaintance has been pursued for his title and fortune—beautiful ladies coming to steal his heart with no interest in giving him one in return.”
My stomach dropped. Did he suspect my true motive? I swallowed and smoothed one of my curls. I didn’t know if it was a nervous habit or an attempt to look my best under his unwavering gaze. “You assume that is why I have come to this tragic place?” I laughed under my breath. “How ridiculous.”
He studied me carefully, and I managed to hold his eyes. After a moment, the firm line of his mouth softened. “You came from a household of high regard, did you not?”
I nodded, so subtly I wasn’t sure he noticed.
“Did your parents send you here to make a match? Or has your family been faced with a financial burden, so they chose to abandon you to a place where you might cost less to maintain?” His voice had lowered.
I was angry that he was prying into my life and asking so many questions. But the gentleness in his eyes undid the threads tying my delicate emotions together. Tears stung behind my eyes. I hoped he couldn’t see them glistening. I thought my anger would counteract every emotion, but it seemed to onlypropel me into an even more uncollected state. A tear fell from my eye. What on earth was wrong with me?
Mr. Wortham reached into his jacket and withdrew a handkerchief. As he extended it to me, a small square of parchment fluttered out of its folds and landed on the desk between us.
He noticed it quickly, a look of panic widening his eyes. Seizing the opportunity, I snatched it and stood from my chair, taking a step back.
He stood too, making the desk shake as he pushed away from it. I clutched the square in one hand. I stared at him. Silence lingered thick between us like a tangible thing.
“Give that to me, please.” His eyes were fixed on the parchment, and I thought I detected a flush to his cheeks. Out of anger or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell.
My heart beat quickly in my chest. I was hesitant to look away from Mr. Wortham, expecting him to rush at me at any moment. But too curious, I dared to flick my gaze at the parchment I held. It was distressed at the creases, as if it had been folded and unfolded many times. Small tears marred the edges like trim. I could see marks of ink showing through, writing evident within. Why was he so protective of this document? I smiled inwardly. This could be the thing I had been searching for—a way to gain the upper hand.
I took two steps back and hastily unfolded the square.
