“Must be good thoughts, Mrs. St. Maur, since you seem at a loss for words.”
Pumping my hurt hand, I looked down at the lilies and Mr. Willingham’s cloth. “I’ll have to return his handkerchief, but what new aggravation would that cost?”
“Mr. Willingham is no longer a favorite?”
“I have no favorite, but he’s persistent. He makes time to see me.”
Ashbrook’s smile disappeared. He became silent and looked toward my painting.
I liked the jovial version of the earl better. “Thank you again for the flowers and the fruit, but it’s not enough. You think you can come here and talk me into forgiving you?”
“I’m an officer of the court. The flowers are no bribe.”
“Bribe, maybe not, but you are trying to influence me. Between the two of us, sir, you possess the most secrets. I’m trying to decide if your long silence was on purpose or if you are using it to torment me.”
“You’re very talkative. I can see how silence is a torment.”
“Did you deem me unworthy of knowing about theMinerva? I think your reticence is a type of empowerment.”
“You strung together all those thoughts by glancing at me, ma’am?”
I flung my palm, spreading out my fingers. The pinched skin still stung. “Yes. I must be a pawn to you, to be set aside or squished like a bug.”
“No. Not all.” He approached. His hovering, unlike Willingham, smelled sweet like cedar and starch. It wasn’t odious or fishy or salty.
“Hand me your hand, Mrs. St. Maur.” He lowered his cupped palm. “Please.”
I touched his fingers for a few seconds before I jerked away. “What are you going to do?”
“Examine your injury.”
“Why? Are you a doctor now?”
The heavy sigh leaving his nostrils made me nervous. “Mrs. St. Maur, please. I won’t hurt you. I’d like to make it better.”
“Fine.” I lifted my palm to his.
“We need to be in more light.” He adjusted his spectacles, then led me to the gilded sconce by the mantel. “You’re in possession of a splinter.”
“A splinter?” I drew my hand away and studied the redness.
“Yes, ma’am, let me remove it. You keep talking to distract yourself. Ask me questions.”
This was hard with the earl touching my palm, poking at the soreness.
“Umm. Why have you waited until today to come?”
“My court schedule is very busy. I also wanted you to calm. I’m not partial to being slapped.”
Yank. He tugged the sliver out.
It hurt but much less than having a wooden stake beneath my skin, but the tingle or shock coursing through me remained. Ashbrook still had my hand.
“Keep it balled up tight. It’s very red.”
I did, and he went into the hall and asked Mr. Gerard to bring him a glass of brandy. A few minutes later he returned with a glass of the duke’s fine liquor.
“You were thirsty?”
