Willingham smiled but didn’t answer.
“If it is proved that you, Ol’ Jancros,” Daniel said with an island accent and his courtroom flare, “aided in fraud with this contract, you shall pay damages.”
“What are you talking about?”
Daniel flung the paper at Willingham, “I don’t see a provision for minor children. We’ve located him. The St. Maur assets you want are his.”
“Now I know this is a ruse, Ashbrook. There was no boy, but a girl from her previous marriage to Philip Monroe, a free half-breed very much like yourself. Though Cecil tolerated the sprat, he did so only to get Jemina Monroe to marry him. So, no money. The boy, whoever you found, isn’t a St. Maur and isn’t to inherit a thing.”
My gaze soared to Daniel, maybe through him, his beautiful silken waistcoat straight to his heart. I touched my stomach, swaddling the wool of my carriage gown. Hope was born of me and she was born free.
With a hand to the buttons of his tailcoat, Daniel preened like there was more. “You are claiming that there was no son or provision for any children between you and your . . .” He counted his fingers. “Monroe; St. Maur, your second husband. Good God, Countess, I’m your third?”
Daniel wasn’t smiling anymore. But I didn’t know what to say to him of the men I didn’t remember.You’re my favorite.
I sat on my hands wanting to shrug, but Daniel’s glance said he loved me and we shared a secret, our Hope.
Mr. Mosey’s fist fell to the table. “According to the documents you’ve given me, Lord Ashbrook, this list of passengers, quitting the colony of Jamaica, indicates that only Mrs. Cecil St. Maur and Phoebe Monroe Dunn survived the sinking. You’re some kind of lucky, Lady Ashbrook.”
“Yes, we are,” Daniel said, “but it appears Mrs. Dunn—your sister-in-law, Jemina, Mr. Monroe’s sister—was never accounted for. The confusion at the docks and the Royal Hospital Haslar was incredible.”
Willingham’s eyes widened, then he reared back, crossing his arms in another ill-fitting baggy coat. “I was there on the docks, hoping Mr. St. Maur survived. He didn’t. Then they found Mrs. St. Maur, a raving loon. She still is. She should be in Bedlam.”
Mr. Mosey’s face drained of the red, his ruddy complexion. He waggled his finger. “No. No. The Lord Mayor has threatened . . . warned me not to mention that again. That last gambit you swore was true almost landed me in Newgate. Stop this. Lord Ashbrook, you can see I’m not a party to that talk, not anymore.”
“Yes, Mr. Mosey. My husband took up a dismissive tone. “Duly noted.”
Sputtering and losing, Willingham pounded the table and pointed. “She was mad, a lunatic. The St. Maur family didn’t want her back. She was trouble from day one. The only reason she turned Cecil’s head was to come to London with her sister-in-law and make sure she was settled.”
Daniel moved back to Willingham, towering over him. “It’s your testimony that you thought Jemina St. Maur was a loon, and that was why you ordered for her to be committed to Bedlam.”
“This woman never liked our business. Always talking abolition and freedom. You were a troublemaker. Your nonsense got to Cecil. Then he died trying to please you.”
Daniel walked behind me and put his hands on my shoulders, pinning me in place. He knew me, knew the words that would stir me and trigger a horrific response.
My slapping hand itched.
“Then why did you try to court this woman, Mr. Willingham? Why ingratiate yourself and try to bore her into marriage?”
The fool laughed. “Twenty thousand reasons, and she’s not so bad to look at. Any man can take a little trouble for twenty thousand pounds and control of Cecil’s assets.” He sneered and looked at me. “Your sister-in-law wasn’t so bad either, as far as those people go.”
My husband’s finger tightened, and I put my palm on his tensed knuckles. “Finish him, my love.”
“Yes, Lady Ashbrook. This is my virtuous wife, so caring and protective. Her St. Maur assets are under my control. Sell your half of the business or buy me out for seventy thousand pounds.”
Willingham’s eyes went wide and stormy. “It’s not worth that, and I haven’t got that type of money.”
“I suggest you figure it out, or St. Maur’s assets will be divested, sold off piece by piece.”
He bounced up, knocking his chair, making the legs screech. “You can’t do that. It’s a thriving business.”
Holding tight, weaving my pinkie with Daniel’s, I turned to the solicitor. “Tell him, Mr. Mosey, tell this belligerent fool what my husband can or can’t do.”
“They’re quite right, Mr. Willingham. They can sell off each ship, even pieces of the hull if they want.”
“Ol’ Jancros, you’ve lost.” Daniel hovered about me, his stance strong and ready to fight. “Mosey can tell you how I sold off all my uncle’s holdings, bit by bit. I’ve learned twenty thousand ways to do it, and I’ll do it again for the St. Maurs. Come along, my dear.”
Willingham flustered; the veins of his neck blued and bulged. He lunged.
