After seating his wife at the end of the table opposite Mosey, Daniel went to the right closer to Willingham. “You admit to having her committed?”
Willingham slipped away and dropped into a chair in the middle of the table.
“No need to answer. Dr. Scottson of the Royal Hospital Haslar remembered you and your horrid tailor.”
“So I committed her. She was a loon, a danger to herself. So what?”
“Ol’ Jancros, the thief who tried to steal my life isn’t sorry.” Jemina’s whisper was loud.
Daniel kept his hands to his papers and not fisting. “Sir, you worked with the St. Maurs since living in Jamaica. You served as Cecil St. Maur’s witness on his marriage contract to the former Jemina St. Maur.”
Willingham nodded. “Yes. And Cecil St. Maur and I were good friends.”
Daniel cast a document from his coat. “You knew of his will and the provisions. I recently procured a copy at my wife’s insistence to keep looking for the truth. Quite unusual provisions for patriarchal fools.”
Willingham grunted. “It’s all that woman’s fault. Cecil St. Maur was supposed to sell off everything as a condition to marry her. The viper doesn’t even remember my poor friend.”
Daniel chuckled. “Principled even in Jamaica, Lady Ashbrook.”
Then he leaned over and took another document out of his leather pouch. Leafing through Jemina’s marriage contract to St. Maur, he fingered a section for Mosey to look at. “Lady Ashbrook is owed four thousand pounds as her dower.”
Willingham shook his head. “She received twenty thousand. She’s owed no more.”
“The twenty thousand pounds is not from the St. Maur estate. That was from a mysterious, swarthy benefactor.”
Mr. Mosey looked at the paperwork. “I’ll have funds drawn from the St. Maurs’ London accounts to pay this. Sorry for the oversight.”
Willingham pounded the table. “We’re not here to enrich her. She needs to sell her interests in the shipping business.”
Daniel raised his hand. “In due time. We must make sure everything has been accounted for.”
“Agreed,” Jemina said as she scooted her chair closer to Daniel.
Mr. Mosey didn’t look up but furiously nodded as he made notes. “I agree too. Mr. Willingham, being a witness and a friend to Cecil St. Maur, why didn’t you see to this?”
“She wasn’t asking for it and had said she wanted none of the St. Maur’s dealings.”
Daniel played with the bone buttons of his waistcoat. “Cecil St. Maur’s will has so many complicated provisions meant to protect his widow. Amazing. He must’ve loved you dearly.”
Jemina’s face went blank. The poor dear had no memory of him.
“It’s too much paperwork, gentlemen. It must be why I hate solicitors.” She clasped her finger together. “Hate them.”
Mr. Mosey looked up, his frown seemed to tighten, but Jemina was mostly harmless. Mostly.
Before she became distracted and did something that might reopen the sanity question, it was time to get the toughest answers to the questions she most wanted to know. He’d press to liberate the secrets about Hope and prayed that his skill wouldn’t put their greatest miracle at risk.
CHAPTER 60
JEMINA—TRUTH ORDARE
Daniel stayed within striking distance of the fool Willingham, and all I could think of was my love laying battered in Lady Shrewsbury’s hall. This brute did it.
I wanted to protect my husband. “ ‘Proceed, great chief, with virtue on thy side,’ ” I said in a voice that wasn’t so loud but wasn’t a whisper.
He smiled at me, his shiny eyes sparkling with the recognition of Miss Wheatley’s words. “You have been studying, Lady Ashbrook.” He turned away. “Mr. Willingham, I believe you had a hand in cheating my wife, like in snatching away an engraved fob.”
“The man is a thief. Ol’ Jancros probably sold off my ring from Cecil.”
