Daniel had ruined this. There had to be a way to salvage this, to protect her from a life that couldn’t possibly be hers, not now. She wasn’t the woman who left Jamaica. He couldn’t let her be of that world again.
He spun her one more time, his hands guiding her waist. They were one, in a rhythm of the violin. “I know you possess the same crazy feeling about me. Your heart is beating hard against my chest. Let me distract you. I could be so good to you.”
“Good would be helping me find out every last fact.”
She pushed away, and he let her go.
“Dinner should be getting ready to start,” Jemina said. “I’ll pretend we had a horrible tiff. That should spur rumors of our break.”
“I apologize, Jemina . . . Mrs. St. Maur. Seems, I’m always apologizing, but I’ll protect you from hurting yourself.”
“Like a restraint at Bedlam? My ankle still has marks from those kindly chains. I just hate that the man I fancied thinks I’m too fragile for the truth.”
“You’ve chosen who you are every day. The past doesn’t matter.”
“It’s my past. Mine. It matters to me.” Stomping to the threshold, she turned. Her face was beyond pain. It was beautiful with rage, raw and red with that avenging anger that comes from the breath being knocked from someone. “Tell your aunt I couldn’t stay. Enjoy the white soup. It’s delicious.”
“Forget my offer, Jemina. Let’s go back to being friends.”
Her fingers tightened on the doorframe. “We were never friends. I would remember being friends with you.” Head held high, she left him on the patio.
Maybe not friends, but he was her benefactor in ways she must never know. A hurt Jemina St. Maur was dangerous, dangerous to herself, to his secrets and his heart. Daniel needed to protect her someway, somehow before all was lost.
CHAPTER 22
JEMINA—PLANB
Sandlin Court was quiet as our carriage arrived. Patience had that distant look on her face, and I had Ashbrook’s offer ringing in my head. Why did he have to be so thick and yet kiss so well?
Mr. Gerard greeted us at the door. “Your Grace, Mrs. St. Maur,” he said, “I’m glad you’ve returned before midnight. I think that prohibits something called plan B from coming to fruition.”
“Plan B?” Patience’s cheeks glowed, her lips wiggling into a smile, her first of the night. “That’s serious.”
Part of me wondered what would happen. Deference to her husband’s concerns should be expected, but I couldn’t help thinking this was all unfair. We should be out late if we wanted, and I should expect the truth, even it was awful.
I tugged and straightened my wrinkled skirt. “My silk has wrinkled so badly. Ashbrook’s fault.”
“From what I saw from my walk of the grounds, you helped.”
Chubble deh a bush.Oh, so much trouble. “Your Grace, we must delay inspection.” I put my arm about Patience’s. “May I see you a moment?” I spun her from the light fawn painted walls of the hall and headed her into the parlor.
“Jemina, are you finally going to confess?”
My sleeve caught on a rough part of the door, and I thought of Ashbrook caring for my palm, each embrace, each kiss.
“Jemina, you’re all red in the face.”
“If you saw us, did you hear what was said?”
Patience sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “That he wants you to be his mistress, that your Cecil St. Maur was an investor in the slave trade, and the St. Maurs owned people who looked like me.”
Speechless and shamed and sickened to my stomach, I bent over like my stomach had been kicked in again.
Then I felt coconut-scented fingers lifting my face and holding me, like I was still good, not a part of the evil my soul detested.
“You listen to me, and you listen well. I don’t care who you were, but I know in my heart who you are now. I would trust my Lionel to you.” She brushed back my flopping curls, found a spot on my brow and kissed me. “You are my sister. Nothing changes. I choose you like you chose me. Nod if you understand.”
I nodded.
