Wrong. This was wrong. It had to be.
“What else?” Flint demanded. “There has to be something else.”
She was already shaking her head. “Nothing. I was the governess. I did not interact with any of the adults except to bring the children down in the evening for the requisite viewing. No one spoke to me. I ate alone. I made my report to Mrs. Lassiter once a week in her sitting room. I didn't even make up an even number at dinners, since Mrs. Lassiter's aunt lived with them.”
“Then how did you know Brent visited?”
“He would be there sometimes in the evening. He and Mr. Lassiter enjoyed debating...oh, I don't know. Philosophy. Politics.”
“What kind of politics?”
She shrugged, trying to remember. “I was more focused on making certain the children behaved. Mr. Lassiter was a Tory, but he always seemed unhappy with the government. Bucky did a lot of nodding. Other than that...” She shrugged again and looked up for some reassurance. “Sometimes the children would stay to hear Bucky play. He is a very talented pianist. That is all. Truly.”
“That's all? You sure you're telling me everything?”
“Why wouldn't I?”
“That's what I need to find out. If you don't know why you were almost shot, then who does? And if we don't find out, then you're still in danger. Everyone on this estate is in danger.”
She wanted to get up and pace, but she wasn't certain her knees would hold her. “You're bleeding again,” she said, pointing to the new blood staining the linen.
“I'll live. There must be something you know, Felicity. Something that would cause someone to come after you. I want to know what it is.”
Felicity looked up at him, even more off balance. “And you believe I don't? Who do you think I am?”
“I don't know, damn it!” That seemed to stop him cold. He seemed to lose color. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then shut it.
Felicity lost her breath. He was up again, shoving a hand through his hair.
“Well,” she said, her voice still unforgivably weak. “At least that makes us even. I don't either.”
He waved her off. “Of course, you do. You might be an orphan, but you have had twenty years to form your own character. To have your own experiences and make your own opinions.”
“And yet, here we are with no answer.”
He swung around again, and she was struck by the intensity of his eyes, the green eerie, like clouds presaging a summer storm.
“Whoareyou?” he demanded.
She was on her feet without realizing it. “I'm nobody!” she all but shouted back. “A school teacher. Nothing more.”
He was just as suddenly standing over her. “Not nothing more. If it were nothing more, you wouldn't be in danger. If it were nothing more, I wouldn’t….” He stopped abruptly, looked away. Took a breath. “I think Teesdale is the key. Your time in that house. You must know something, or you saw something you obviously don't remember.”
“Something what?”
He shook his head. “I don't know. Something illegal. Something treasonous. Something....unsavory that could be used to blackmail someone. One of the Lassiters might know.”
“The Lassiters left for the Continent not long after I was let go.”
That seemed to bother him even more. He nodded absently. “Could you have left with something that didn't belong to you?”
She shook her head. “No. The Lassiters were very careful about that. No thieving governesses for them.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Because my portmanteaux were sitting on the front step. I decided it would do me no good to let them go without me.”
That stopped him. “Why?” He’d obviously run out of patience.
