I wanted to go to her, to congratulate her. To ask why she went with me to climb trees, but Daniel intercepted me, and the door thudded as soon as Gantry and Patience passed into the hall.
He leaned against it and stared.
Chubble.Defensive words readied on my tongue until I saw his eye.
Bruised and slightly puffy. I wanted to touch it, but being distracted would mean I’d lose my argument to the best barrister I knew.
Jerking my hand down, I retreated. “I’m not done looking through your drawers.”
“By all means reach in them. And you’re very cute in my pantaloons and favorite shirt.”
Back at his desk, I went into one I’d already searched, hoping he’d make an expression to let me know I was nearing the truth, but his beautiful lips stayed pressed in a line.
He sat on the edge of the desk close to his blotter and my riffled stack. “Mind telling me what you’re looking for. I might be able to help.”
“If I said, Daniel, you wouldn’t believe me.”
He scooted closer, his breath heated my neck. “Try me. I’ll listen very carefully to your testimony.”
“My testimony?” I folded my arms and tapped my buckled slippers. “You’re going to give weight to what I say? You haven’t had a chance to soften it for my delicate ears.”
“Your ears are delightful, particularly this spot right here.” With his thumb, he stroked behind the lobe, the delicate skin. “Talk to me.”
It was hard to string cohesive thoughts with him touching me. I moved out of reach. “The passenger list. Find it.”
“You sound out of breath.” His half smile showed.
If it became full, I’d be lost.
“Tell me your secret, Jemina. I’m listening.”
“The passenger list. Please.”
He nodded and went to his bookshelf and pulled the paper from one of his leather spines. He put it in my hands and held them for a moment, smoothing my wrists.
The page was old and tattered, but the ink remained good and legible. Stepping closer to my candle, I scanned the names and found nothing new. “What happened to your eye?”
“The duke.”
“Oh. For a smooth talker, you get hit a lot.”
“Only since meeting you.”
“Why did he punch you?”
“For hurting you.” His palms curled tightly about the desk’s edge. “Sorry for what I’ve done or not done. Said or not said. Tell me, my Lady Ashbrook, how to fix us?”
“You’re talking to me? Could be any one of your Lady Ashbrooks. We are interchangeable mothers to Hope. As interchangeable as middle names?”
“No. Technically there’s only one Lady Ashbrook. My elevation is a few months old. My first marriage . . . Sorry.”
“Technically, we don’t know if I am Jemina St. Maur, do we? It’s just a name on this passenger list, unless we accept men talking in shadows, the ones who committed me as character witnesses.”
“You are Jemina St. Maur. The St. Maur family attested to who you were. Why they never asked about your daughter, I don’t know, but they should have. It would have spared you such pain.”
He looked up to the ceiling, then down at me. “I know you are Jemina St. Maur. I believe you were on theMinerva, one of its two survivors, and I think you are Hope’s mother.”
My mouth fell open, and I shoved it back onto its hinges. “Have you known from the beginning? I came here believing that you were in the dark, too. That you were the man who saved Hope and then me.”
