“Oh, he will.” Mr. Gerard scooped up the deck and shuffled. “Ashbrook hasn’t decided on what he wants, old or new money.” The butler stared at him with wizened eyes of ash and gold.
Old money meant Lady Lavinia had been chattering about Daniel.
New money was an odd phrase. Were there rumors about him and Mrs. St. Maur?
A rumbling laugh came from the hall. Bill Richmond, Prinny’s favorite pugilist stood at the door. His hulking shadow, with arms thick like a blacksmith’s, the ebony man cut a dashing figure. Pity he was seldom late unless he ran into trouble. “What did I miss?”
“Not sure,” Daniel said. “A seat is always here for you. All is well?”
The big bruising man sat, adjusting his elegant emerald coat underneath him. “Yes. Had a few errands.”
A collective breath released. No trouble was good.
Card play continued, but Mr. Gerard kept smiling at Daniel.
He might’ve seen him gentling another girl, a big one with amnesia. Everything would be better if Mrs. St. Maur went on with her life and put to sleep those ideas of digging into the past. Her delicate hands could ruin everyone’s future.
CHAPTER 11
JEMINA—RESTLESS ANDQUESTIONING
Midnight.
Tossing about in my bed, I turned from the window and tried again to find a comfortable spot on the mattress. I hugged my pillows and wondered if I’d always preferred the left side. Had I always needed to be near a window to sleep?
Did I curl into Cecil’s chest when storms gathered?
Had he said he loved me in those last moments of theMinerva?
Did I, could I have offered the same to him?
I hated I saw nothing when I closed my eyes. No husband, no lousy boat, just the shadow of something missing. My only comfort if one could think it a comfort was that my nightmares of rushing water, consuming water was true.
One answer out of a hundred questions.
Two weeks passed since our burglary and being caught by my barrister. I still couldn’t understand why he’d keep this from me.
A soft rap sounded on my door, and I welcomed the distraction. “Come in.”
Patience leaned inside. “I wanted to check on you. I know you haven’t been sleeping.”
“Still the same. Restless.”
A silvery robe flowed about Patience as she floated inside. Her bare feet made little sound as she came to my window and leaned against my white table, the place where I drew.
“Lady Shrewsbury sent a note. The information we found looks good. She hopes it’s enough to save Widow Cultony.”
My shoulders shrugged as I climbed out of the bed. “I hope so. I don’t think we can break into the Lincoln’s Inn again. Could we?”
Patience clasped my hand. “No, Jemina.”
“There has to be more. Ashbrook has secrets about me. He has to have more information on Cecil St. Maur. I owe my husband something, but all I’m thinking of is the earl.”
“Oh.” She turned to my sketches or the dull whitewashed wall. “Keep confessing to what I already suspected.”
“I’m hating how comforting his embrace was and that I remember every one of his hugs, the way he smelled, the starch of his cravat. It tickles my nose. I hear the sound of his voice whispering poetry.”
“Oh, oh.” Her face claimed the biggest smile, something cheeky anduzimmie. She saw me, understood my fretful mind.
