“Ah.” Alex turns to me, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Yet your posture and manners are those of a gently bred woman. A lady. I watched you, last night, when we dined together. Absolutely impeccable, wiping your mouth before every sip of wine.”
I stumble over my words, trying to recover my wits. “Papa was an officer. He could afford a governess. She taught me proper etiquette. Dancing.”
“So, an officer who could afford a governess for his daughter, but died without leaving her either a pension or a guardian? You’re hardly the street urchin you’ve made yourself out to be, Miss Jones.”
I freeze, taken aback by his return to formality. “What do you mean?”
“Whoareyou? Really?”
Panic steals my breath, my tongue suddenly dry and useless in my mouth. “I ... I’m not—”
“Are you married? Is that it? Ill-used by your husband?”
“No. Not—”
“Is it the law, then? Have you done something wrong? People don’t take to the marshes unless they’re desperate, or on the run.”
I grip the railing, my breath coming faster. This is what I feared. Why I isolated myself. To avoid these kinds of questions. “No. I ...”
He fixes me with his steady, keen gaze, one dark eyebrow arching upward. “I see. You don’t trust me. How old are you? At least be honest with me about that.”
“Four and twenty.”
“And your real name?”
“Mary. I swear it.”
He smirks. In the distance, Fort Moultrie’s cannons ring out, as they always do at sunset, an apt counterpoint to Alex’s volley of questions.
“I’m not feeling very well, Mr. Mayhew,” I say. “I’m going to go lie down.” My head is woozy, a tumble of nausea running through my gut. I turn to go back to my room, leaving Alex on the piazza. As I pass the library, I see that Ruby is already gone. Once in my chambers, I splash cold water onto my face to calm my flushed skin, and turn down my bed, drawing the covers over me. I’ll need to leave soon. Abandon this place of fragile respite. But I don’twantto. I’ve grown accustomed to the comforts of Angel’s Rest. The purpose I’ve found with teaching Ruby. The pleasure of Alex’s company and the thoughtful way he looks at me. Against my better judgment, I’m smitten. My misplaced affection could cost me everything. Still, I consider what might happen if I told him everything. Perhaps, if I were honest, he’d understand. Ruby and Noah trusted him with their secret, after all, and they have just as much at stake as I do.
Instead of sleeping, I war with myself as the hours grow long. Alex brings food and leaves it at my bedside. I pretend to be asleep. After the house goes completely silent, and the moon glows through the windows, I rise and pace the floorboards in my room, my thoughts disjointed. I go back and forth with myself, arguing in hushed tones. I could tell Alex the truth. All of it. Or I could sneak out, tonight, and find another haven. Some remote hummock of an island where I can disappear. But how long will it be until the past catches up to me again?
I wonder about the murderer, and whether he still stalks the streets of the Peninsula. Whether there’s still a bounty on my head. It’s been over a month since I fled to the marshes. Ignorant of the news as I am, out here in the hinterlands, I’ve no knowledge of the wider world.
A sound interrupts my harried deductions. I still, listening. Footsteps, coming down the hall, then descending the staircase just outside my room, followed by the creak of the entry hall door. I rush tothe window, parting the drapes ever so slightly. A woman descends the front steps, long blond hair streaming loose down her back. She wears a low-cut ball gown, her slippered feet quick on the tabby path. She glances furtively over her shoulder, her rouged lips pursing, and then disappears between the oaks.
I step back from the window, surprise and jealousy stealing my breath. So, he has a woman, then. Paid company, from the looks of her. My hands clench and unclench. I imagine them together, Alex’s mouth tracing kisses down her slender white neck. I might have known. A man’s loneliness craves succor. Bachelor though he may be, Alex is no celibate. My jealousy is fierce, radiating through my body and stealing any chance of sleep.
As the sun rises, I dress, buttoning my borrowed calico bodice with trembling fingers. I don’t wait for Alex to bring my breakfast. I swing open the door to my room and head decisively for the stairs. Though my leg protests, my spite helps me manage the descent. I find him in the front parlor, reading the newspaper. He lowers it and looks up at me.
“You should have waited for me,” he says steadily. “You may have gotten down the steps on your own, but your leg hasn’t healed well enough to climb them again.”
I glare at him, my breath heavy from my exertions. “Then I suppose I’ll stay downstairs, won’t I?”
“You’re upset about something, Mary. It’s all over your face.” He folds the paper and lays it aside. “Have I offended you in some way?”
“I saw you had company last night,” I say.
I note the brief look of surprise that flits across his countenance.
“So. You saw Varina.” He clears his throat. Crosses his right leg over his left knee.
“Who is she?”
“A friend.”
“I see.” I say nothing more. I merely stare out the lace-curtained window over his shoulder and blink rapidly against the tears threatening to spill over. As much as I want to lash out, I hold my tongue. He’salready suspicious of me. I have no right to feel jealous. I’m a guest in this house, here by his grace. He could turn me out in an instant.
