“It’s my life’s work, Daniel. Women need women to advocate.”
“Well, I’m not a woman, just an overprotective, fretting nephew. I’m disqualified.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “Think of tamping things down or—”
“Or what?”
She needed to see his concern, his unsaid fears; he looked straight into her eyes.
“Or end the Widow’s Grace outright before someone dies or I have to choose between aiding you and coming home to Hope.”
Not wanting to wait and give his aunt a chance to change his mind, he left, trudging his way down the hall of gaudy gilded mirrors and on to the portico. Then he stepped down to the circle drive, right into the path of the unusual, alluring Jemina St. Maur.
CHAPTER 5
JEMINA—UNEXPECTEDWOMAN
Isurely startled him. Mr. Thackery, now the Earl of Ashbrook, with eyes the color of the night sky, stood before me. They could be mirrors, older ones with the silvered back worn to show the pure glass.
“Mrs. St. Maur, what are you doing out here? Tell me you’re not on a mission for my aunt.”
With a shake of my head, I held out his glove. “You left so quickly. You dropped this, Mr. . . . my lord.”
He blinked away the small smile that bloomed. “Mrs. St. Maur, how did you make it out here? I was just in the hall.”
“The Duchess of Repington and I have found many routes to escape Lady Bodonel.”
He took the glove, fingered the soft lawn fabric before stuffing it into his pocket. “The Widow’s Grace business makes you all magicians, vanishing and appearing.”
“At least you don’t call us witches.”
“Never.” He clasped my hand for a minute, then released it.
“Some are cruel when they don’t get their way.”
Those secrets I knew he possessed sparkled in his eyes like a candle’s flame. I was helpless in a way, wanting to be drawn to his light.
“It’s very wrong.” His tone wasn’t baritone. It definitely wasn’t pitchy or squeaky but something midrange, solid and dependable. “It’s wrong to call women protecting themselves names. You’re strong. You all are.”
“The families who are against the widows curse us. They hate the information we find. Others hate our means.”
That lip-biting thing happened underneath the glow of a torch. “Oh. You heard my words with Lady Shrewsbury.”
“It’s hypocritical, don’t you think, to be selective in the means for outing truth?”
“Are you calling me a hypocrite? I’m concerned for your safety.”
Raising my bandaged arm, I only let out a small yelp as I folded it about my middle, about the bodice of my simple gown. “Lord Ashbrook, it’s lovely you’re concerned. But you are a hypocrite.”
His mouth opened. Then shut, then opened. “If I must be insulted, at least you did it in a gentle way, not with your loud indoor voice.”
“Since it is you usually adding correction, how could I miss the opportunity to dish some pompous platitudes back?Cack mowt kill cock.” I covered my lips. I’d let one of those phrases from my dreams slip.
“Well, this cock’s mouth won’t kill me, ma’am.” His head dipped. “You win with your Jamaican turn of phrase, Mrs. St. Maur. It’s dark. Return inside and continue to enjoy Lady Bodonel.” He touched my arm, then pulled back immediately like I was flame.
Couldn’t be that, for he was fire. Beneath his structure and lectures burned a passion for justice and a desire to protect everyone in his sphere. I’d seen it. Once Patience and I snuck into the Old Bailey to watch the proceedings for a member of our fellowship. Ashbrook was very good in his defense.
“Don’t give up so easily, sir. I might be convinced if you confess.”
“Confess? That would mean I’ve done something wrong, Mrs. St. Maur. Do you have something to accuse me other than this hypocrite business?”
