Page 11 of The Secrets of Roan Island

Shemaiah hums another note. “Not particularly.” The crinkle of a turning page cracks the silence. “But should youneed anything, I am your humble servant.” His tone contradicts his words, expressing his disinterest in the entire endeavor.

“Do you not have anything better to do?” I run a finger over the book spines. “I’m quite capable of selecting and reading books on my own.” I certainly don’t need a chaperone. Though I suspect Shemaiah was specifically given the task.

“I’m enamored with reading,” he says before slipping back into silence.

I continue about the room, skimming the titles for something more in line with what I’m looking for. I need something that will restore my reputation after David tore apart my last paper. I need credibility, not texts that reinforce the very beliefs I’m trying to dismantle. Something about the history of the Crimson Quarter, perhaps. Or the most recent attempts to “clean up” the district. Or maybe something about the Roan family themselves that would give me some insight into how to get Hammish Roan to open his purse strings. My best friend Lucy would know how to charm him. She’s always been better at convincing people to do things.

A sharp pain of loneliness pinches my gut. This is the day the CWS usually meets each week. It’s very likely that they’re all having tea and crumpets at this very moment, while I’m getting nowhere in this damp old house surrounded by strange men whose intentions I can’t read. I wish I could have brought my friends with me.

Another page shouts its completion, pulling me from my thoughts and reminds me Shemaiah is in the room. If the books won’t tell me anything of interest, perhaps it’s time to fish for information more actively. “Do you spend a lot of time here, then?”

“Enough,” Shemaiah replies.

I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. “How is it organized?”

“What?”

“The library. How is it organized?”

“Are you looking for something specific?”

I look over my shoulder at him. “I’d be interested in books on the Crimson Quarter if you have them, or perhaps old copies of the Daily Essik, ones that might talk about the women who disappeared fifteen years ago.”

There was a series of five disappearances around that time—all of them prostitutes. Some of the women I’ve spoken with regarding my work claim those sorts of disappearances still happen, but no one has reported on it since those first five.

Shemaiah’s book slams shut, and he holds it in his lap while dark eyes take my measure. “We don’t keep tabloids here.”

The Daily Essik is far from a tabloid, but the fact that he calls it one makes me think there’s something he’s trying to dismiss. Or outright hide. “Well, then, it would be nice to learn more about your family—not for my research, of course, but because you’re one of the founding families of New Essik and the colony has such an interesting history, don’t you think?”

He stands and slowly walks across the room. His gait is similar to Noah’s when he stalked towards me earlier, though Noah’s made me shiver with anticipation. Shemaiah’s approach makes me want to shrink in alarm. When he’s standing before me, he reaches over my shoulder, and it’s all I can do not to flinch. He pulls a book from the shelf and holds it out to me.

“This is a good one about the island. A history of the area.”

I take it, careful to avoid his fingers. “By Graham Miliken.”

Shemaiah turns and walks back towards his chair. “I found it quite diverting.”

“Diverting?” Jafeth says, surprising me with his reappearance. He’s leaning against the frame of the door that leads back into the hallway. “I am the definition of diverting.” His grin creates a small dimple in his right cheek. I wonderif Noah has one. What would it take to get his lips to curl in delight? I’m not sure I’ll ever know.

Shemaiah changes course and makes his way directly past Jafeth and through the door, disappearing from view without another word.

“Dinner soon,” Jafeth calls after his brother.

I can’t hear Shemaiah’s response, though I wait for it, the book clutched against my abdomen.

Jafeth’s dark gaze assesses me as his brother’s had, but his eyes hold perpetual amusement in their depths, as if the world is a source of fun and games and he’s but its master. “Have you solved the world’s ills then, Professor?”

I glance at the shelf once more, wondering if this is a geography section, and deciding I’ll need to study the system further to find what I’m after. Perhaps I’ll try to come back at night, when I’m not under such careful watch. “You know quite well I have not.”

He chuckles and holds out his elbow. “If you’ve had enough for the day, I’m here to escort you back to your rooms so you can prepare for dinner.”

I take hold of his offered arm. “Right. Yes. Because it takes so long to make one’s self presentable for men.”

He laughs, then, bright and loud. “But the effect is so diverting! As are your charms.” His gaze roams from my head to my toes.

“I thought you, sir, were the definition of the word.”

“‘Tis true. I’m afraid I have the attention span of a gnat and the patience of a candle in a stiff breeze.” He leads me from the room and into the dark hallway.

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