He tugged free Patience’s rope and rolled it up. “Most widows who’ve been redeemed and handed a fortune do miraculous things like go on with their lives, not burglary. What is it you want from life?”
If I said my dearest wish, he’d laugh or he’d whisper he wished I had my dreams too. The man was good and annoying.
“What is your new goal?” he asked. “I hope you figure out what you want and seize the opportunity. A woman who knows what she wants is fierce, don’t you think?”
“Why do you care? Tell me,Lord Ashbrook.”
“The way you say my title, hot and tight, almost seething, it’s like a sneer or obscenity on your lips.”
“Ashbrook, Ashbrook, Ashbrook.” I puckered, sputtered, then released all my breath.
The duchess smoothed wrinkles from her skirt. “What are you two arguing about this time?”
“My husband, Mr. St. Maur.” I waved the paper. “His withholding information of Cecil St. Maur, Jemina St. Maur, and our demise.”
“Technically, only his.” He bent and picked up his coat. “It’s the list of passengers for theMinerva. You are listed as found. My wife is listed as missing, but she died too.”
I stilled and stared and wanted to cry. No wonder he looked at me so strangely. I lived, and the woman he loved died. “I’m sorry.”
With a quick toss, he pitched his coat to the desk, then snatched the paper. “I prefer pseudo obscenity than pity. I discovered this list when I hoped that maybe my wife hadn’t boarded theMinervain Jamaica, but she did. She’s a victim of the sea.”
Suddenly cold, freezing, I wrapped my arms about myself.
He cleared his throat. “It’s good to have theMinervabusiness out in the open. No more protecting you from it. The shipwreck binds us together.”
The duchess sank to the sofa and studied the Cultony papers. “I don’t recall a Thackery on the list. It’s not fair to confuse my friend.”
“It’s there, Your Grace. Phoebe Dunn was my wife.”
He said the name, and I closed my eyes, hoping for a glimmer of something. Maybe I had a memory to share of his wife, but I had none. My life except for the past two years remained blank.
“Mr.—Lord Ashbrook,” the duchess said, “are you all right? You look a little ashen. I saw her hit you. Jemina does have a good punch.”
“Fine. Quite fine, I assure you.”
He wasn’t fine. That was a lie. His voice was too low. His eyes had drifted to the left. The poor man still mourned his wife.
Ashbrook walked to the door and held it open. “If you two are done ransacking my colleague’s things, we can end this reunion. Go home, Your Grace, to that adorable boy of yours. Little Lionel needs his mother and her dearest friend home safe.”
The duchess headed for the door, but I kept trying to read his gaze.
“Ashbrook,” she said, “come to dine with Repington next week. You and Jemina can practice more than a minute of civility. If you chose to forget we were here, I could have some coconut bread baked for you. Or one of the desserts your aunt says you are fond of.”
“Bribing a servant of the court is inappropriate, Your Grace. But since you are a great baker, exceptions can be made. Good evening.”
I circled to his desk and slid my marriage contract out of the stack. “I’ll have this.”
He took it from me. “No, this is my copy that needs to be with your inheritance documents in case questions are asked.”
“But it’s mine.”
“Go to Jamaica and get another copy, ma’am.” His clipped tone left no room for misunderstanding. He bowed to the duchess and pointed to the hall. When we crossed the threshold, he slammed the door.
Hackling, twisting up my gut. “Patience, he knows more. I can feel it.”
I turned to head back into Ashbrook’s office, but Patience clasped my hand. “Another time. Let’s head to Sandlin Court before His Grace suspects we’ve been on a mission.”
She was right, and I followed her down the steps. But I purposed to find out all Lord Ashbrook knew about me, even if I had to climb every tree to get to him.
