Page 58 of Freeing Hook

“That’s too bad,” I say.

“Perhaps you might have another question.”

I don’t know why I say it, why I let it slip out. But I spent weeks trying to get information from Astor in the cave on Neverland, to no avail, and the question has haunted me since that fateful night of the masquerade.

“What do you know of…” I almost say the Darlings, but then again, I don’t know how far news of my Mating Mark has traveled, so I pivot mid-sentence. “Of Captain Nolan Astor?”

I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but it’s as if I can feel Astor’s pointed ears tilt across the room.

“I know he’s a vicious pirate who fancies himself a privateer,” scoffs Lady Carlisle. “I know he’s left bodiless heads up and down the coast of the Shifting Sea.” She takes a sip of wine and, over the edge of the chalice, says, “Repeat customers, too. But he’s as elusive as trying to hold back a waterfall with your bare hands. No childhood to speak of. No parents. No anything tying him to the rest of the world. If you have information on him, I assure you, my husband and I will go to the ends of the earth to get you whatever secrets you want.”

I shake my head, mouth going dry, then pretend to nurse my wine. “No, nothing about him.”

Lady Carlisle raises a brow at my choice of drink. “You can cease pretending. I know you haven’t taken a sip of your wine.”

I chuckle nervously. “It’s not for lack of being tempted.”

My hostess doesn’t bother being subtle about the way her gaze worms its way to my belly. “That’s bound to happen if you never leave the room without one another.”

I flush, but make myself smile all the same. If only so I don’t have to explain why I’m not touching the faerie wine.

“What’s your interest in Captain Astor, darling?” says Lady Carlisle. Again, I’m taken aback by the pet name.

“It’s not really a question about him,” I say as the servant places a plate of blackened salmon and braised asparagus in front of me. Normally, food like this would make my mouth water, but for some reason, I’ve lost my appetite. “It’s about his wife. Do you know what happened to her?”

The lady’s shrewd gaze rakes me over. “You can’t have known her. She died fifteen years ago.”

“She was my nanny,” I say, having no idea whether this information will match up with what Lady Carlisle knows about Iaso, but she seems appeased as she nods her head, looking off into the distance like she’s numbering years.

“Yes, I suppose that makes sense.”

“She disappeared. My parents wouldn’t tell me where she went. But then, years later, they told me she’d married a pirate and died shortly after. But they wouldn’t tell me what she died of.”

“That’s because they didn’t know.” A pleased smirk overtakes the lady’s lips. “I’m afraid that kind of secret is going to take additional payment.”

I open my mouth, unsure of what my soul is about to spill to find out what happened to her, why it makes Captain Astor hate my parents so. Perhaps that’s why I’m so surprised when I lean over to her and whisper the most awful secret I know in her ear.

“Well, darling. That’s quite a secret indeed,” she says, her gaze skating over me.

Down the table, Lord Carlisle clinks his fork to his crystal, readying to make an announcement. I can hardly hear him over the buzzing in my ears as Lady Carlisle leans over and whispers the story of how Iaso Astor met her end.

CHAPTER 23

WENDY

Ihear nothing that happens during the rest of the dinner. When the guest on my right attempts to talk to me, my mouth reverts to my mother’s training. Judging by the man’s pleased smile when our conversation is over, I’ve answered his questions just to his liking.

When a servant escorts Astor and me to our rooms, I don’t mark the path down the hallways. My feet simply follow, and I don’t stop them.

It’s only when the servant shuts the bedroom door behind us that Astor says, “Something’s wrong.”

I offer him a smile, and he sneers.

“I don’t want your mother’s fake smiles, Wendy.” My heart thuds at his use of my given name.

“Right. Of course.” I wander over to the desk in the corner of the room and pull out the chair before collapsing into it.

Astor goes still, his shoulders tensed in his suit coat as he stares at me from across the room. “If you’re worried over the bed, I won’t force you to share it with me.”

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