There were secrets in his eyes boiling beneath his skin. If I could goad it out of him I would. Maybe I should try.
I stepped into his path. “You rescued me from Bedlam. I don’t think I ever thanked you.”
“No thanks. You shouldn’t have been there. Never should’ve happened. Now, be a good girl and go—”
“You never said why you found me. Typically, a widow’s blood family will come to Lady Shrewsbury. Did my family?”
“Happenstance. It was happenstance that I came.”
“Happenstance with paperwork? What do you know of my family? Who are the St. Ma—”
“You are getting a bit loud now. Ma’am, my carriage will be here soon.”
“You don’t want me to talk of my family. This isn’t the first time you’ve changed topics on me. Any time I get you alone to discuss my past, you distract me, tease me, anything but tell me the truth.”
His hand slipped to my shoulder, then to my hurt arm, stepping so close that I could smell the bay of his cologne, a good Jamaican fragrance. That I did recall.
“Your life is before you, Mrs. St. Maur. You can be anyone you want. You don’t need to remember anything.”
“You make amnesia sound pleasing.”
“There are many things I’d like to forget. Now go inside. I don’t want the heiress of the Season accosted.”
“I’ve forgotten everything but the condescension in a man’s voice. I will go in when I wish, when I’m done interrogating you.”
“Interrogating? Trying to match wits with me, Mrs. St. Maur?” He bowed his head and stepped around me. “Where’s Mr. Anthon?”
“Do you run from battle so easily? What about me or my past makes you a coward?”
“This is no battle. We’re allegedly on the same side.” His back was to me, and he rubbed at his neck. “Woman, you wished to be outside and you left the dinner. I’ve no control or responsibility to advise you on anything. It’s not a coward’s path to wish you would think of your safety.”
“Do you wish to have control of me?”
This made him pivot. A hint of his gap peeked over his lower lip. “You have a way with words, Mrs. St. Maur, even when you’re not trying. It’s . . .”
“Daring? Powerful?”
“Unsettling. Where is my driver?”
“My Lord Ashbrook, if I were to give you power over me for a moment, what would you want me to know?”
His eyes darted, then closed. “ ‘To soothe the griefs, which thou didst once deplore. May heavenly grace the sacred sanction give. To all thy works, and thou forever live.’ ”
“I . . . I was just hoping you said you liked me.”
He chuckled. “It’s a few lines from the poet Phillis Wheatley, and it is to say go on with your life. Don’t grieve anymore over what you’ve forgotten.”
“I could say that to you. Lady Shrewsbury says you’ve been a widower for years, but you rarely take part in society.”
The torch lights showed a full frown. I’d poked too much. Or maybe not enough.
“My circumstances do not matter, ma’am. I just don’t want you hurt.”
I dimpled. That was the care I’d seen beneath his lectures. I wasn’t crazed . . . crazed about him liking me.
“Go on, Mrs. St. Maur, before rumors spread of the bell of Lady’s Bodonel’s ball taking time with the dark Earl of Ashbrook.”
There was a tinge of bitterness, the way he said the last, but I didn’t get a chance to ask.
