“Can’t explain it. It’s not defeat or resignation. But it’s something potent, and I hunger to see what you’ll do next.”
“Please don’t try to charm me. My husband’s whole name is on this paper.”
Stretching, Ashbrook pushed out his legs, then looked at the floorboards. “Do you remember him?”
“No.” My fists clenched; my chest trembled. “My amnesia is complete.”
“Then a name on a list means nothing.”
“Don’t you think . . . think . . .” I started shaking, violently trembling; the next moment I was swept up in my barrister’s arms.
And he whispered more sweet lyrics.
Elate with hope her race no longer mourns,
Each soul expands, each grateful bosom burns,
While in thine hand with pleasure we behold
The silken reins, and Freedom’s charms unfold.
I didn’t know what any of it meant, but I liked the sound of his voice in my ears, the scent of his sweet starch on his cravat and the strength of his arms pressing me to his chest. He held me until the thudding of my heart slowed.
“There, there.” He put his palm under my chin and raised it. “If we’re in agreement, we can discuss things reasonably. Are we on the same side for now?”
“Fine. Yes.”
My voice sounded airy, but I clung to his embrace. I wasn’t ready to let go. “A truce.”
With a nod he moved several feet from hugging range. “Why are you here, breaking into my office?”
“I was sent for another barrister, the one working on Widow Cultony’s charges. Her husband’s family is claiming some type of fraud.”
“My aunt didn’t ask me.” He tugged on his cravat. “I suppose that’s progress. I told her . . . Well, it’s progress.”
Another secret. “You’re frowning, my lord. Have you gained a conscience?”
“Not any more than what I had. Was Lady Lavinia in on this, she kept wanting me—”
“Yes, I overheard.”
“No. She wanted me to go home. Never mind.” He undid his mangled cravat. “Check the desk by the window. I heard my colleague discussing the upcoming Cultony trial.”
The Duchess of Repington tapped on the window. “Can you let me in?”
Ashbrook stormed to the window. “The two of you? Of course.” He threw open the panes and offered a hand to Patience, pulling her inside.
“Your Grace,” he said, “does the duke know you’re climbing trees, breaking into men’s offices?”
“No, but if you tell him, tell him I did it in a dress.”
She tugged at a ribbon about her waist and the skirting of a gown came down over her white breeches, which almost looked like stockings. “See, ladylike.”
“Technicality, Your Grace.” Daniel rubbed at his face, his jaw looking red.
My silver band, one his aunt had given to me and each of her widows, had made a mark.
“Sorry, my lord, but excuse me.” I said with folded arms, tapping my buckled slipper. “You still haven’t told me why you have this list with my name and my husband’s name.”
