Pieces fell together in Madelina’s mind. “You think it was one of Madam Dequenne’s girls with my father that night.”
“She trades in the best.”
“And that girl, whoever she was, told Madam Dequenne, who passed the knowledge on to Miss White.”
Aunt Aubrey thumped her cane again. “Aye, but what I cannot make out is how Miss White would know you are Little Hook, except as a guess, suspecting because you are related to me.”
Madelina swallowed. She had a very good idea how, but she simply could not admit that she’d permitted Mister Mclintock to see through her disguise.
Her aunt studied her for a long moment. Madelina met her gaze with calm, but her insides writhed. To overcome her shame, she nearly admitted that she’d given the knowledge of her undoing to Mister Mclintock, but she held it in. Maybe she could still fix this. Make everything come out right. Then she would never need to fully explain her ineptitude.
“Go ready for dinner, girl,” Aunt Aubrey said, then limped her way from the room.
Madelina sagged in relief. She stared about the parlor, trying to force shaky limbs to move. She felt as if she’d been trampled by a stampede of horses.
Chapter Twelve
Jasper burst into Clementine’s office but stopped short as three pairs of eyes turned to greet him. Two of the women who worked in the Aspen sat before her desk, expressions surprised. Clementine stared at him, as well. Her eyebrows shot up. She turned back to the young women.
“Are we agreed that the two of you will work to put this incident behind you?” Clementine asked in the light, pleasant tone with which she always addressed them.
They pulled their gazes from Jasper to offer nods. “Yes, Miss White,” they chorused.
“You are excused.”
They jumped to their feet and hurried past Jasper, studying him askance.
Clementine rose. She crossed and closed the office door before turning assessing eyes on him. “You look a sight. Is something amiss?”
“She said no,” Jasper blurted.
“She said….” Clementine’s confusion shifted to surprise. “You asked her already?” She frowned, her eyes screwing into the same thoughtful look as when she did figures. She grimaced.
“What is it?” he asked.
Clementine refocused on him. “Nothing. I wrote a letter I needn’t have written. You know I hate to play my hand too soon. It’s unrelated.” She made a swishing gesture, as if brushing away the interruption. “You truly asked her to marry you, already?”
“I did, and she refused me.” After accusing Clementine of being Madam Dequenne. He studied Clementine again. Was it possible? Jasper raked a hand through his hair, knocking his hat from his head. Realizing he hadn’t shucked his outerwear, he stripped off gloves and coat.
Clementine dipped low to scoop up his hat, which she tossed into the seat of a chair. “You went there already, today, and asked her?” she repeated, incredulous. “You only told me of your plan yesterday.”
Misery, suspicion, and anger warred within. He shrugged. “Why would I wait?”
“You may have wanted to woo the girl a bit more, to start.”
Jasper grimaced. She made a fair point. She also didn’t sound like a devious, cold-hearted trader in women’s flesh, but like the woman he’d once loved enough to take to wife.
“Why did she refuse you?” Pity sprang to life in Clementine’s eyes. “Because of your lineage.” She rested light fingers on his arm. “I’m sorry, Jasper. Even though she’s young and entitled, I’d hoped she would be able to see past your birth.”
“My lineage? No.” He rubbed his temples. He should have better organized his words. He’d the whole carriage ride back to compose them. Only, he’d been too agitated for coherent thought.
“What is it?” she asked. “You look as if the Aspen just burned down.”
He sucked in a breath. “She asked me to cut all ties with you.”
Clementine’s eyes went wide. She opened her mouth as though to speak, but snapped it shut.
“I refused, of course,” Jasper added.
