Page 11 of Meet A Rogue At Midnight
“The Captain thinks your father works with you here in the tower.”
Warming both hands on her skirt, she faced Jonas. “Because Mother and I need everyone to believe it. At least until this book is published and—” she tipped her head to the hearth “—that chair sells. We know we can’t keep up this ruse for much longer.”
“Your father is infirm?”
“Infirm?” A pitiful laugh rippled through her. “This summer, he walked with a cane. Now he’s bedridden.”
“With no chance for recovery?”
“None.” Her eyes squeezed shut and she hugged herself, needing blessed blankness. “Most days, he doesn’t recognize me…his own daughter.”
“An ailment of the mind,” Jonas said softly. “And you are carrying the weight of providing for your family.”
“I do what I can.” Head resting on the wall, she opened her eyes. “It’s why I broke into your bedchamber. I stole his old watch from you.”
“The watch I won in a card game?”
“Yes.” Her voice thinned. “It’s baffling. He doesn’t recognize me, but Father can recall certain personal objects with perfect clarity. He kept badgering Mother about his watch, fixating on it. He didn’t know it was gone. The physician said it’s good to surround Father with things he does remember. Helps his mind. So, when I heard you were in Plumtree…”
“You decided to get it back.”
“I didn’t think you’d miss it.”
“If it brings him comfort, keep it.” He chuckled and set his hands on his hips. “You know you could’ve asked me for it. I’d have given it to you.”
“And risk having to explain why?” She shook her head. “I couldn’t take that chance.”
Jonas smarted as if she’d flung ale in his face. Hands still on his hips, he shook his head, taking great interest in the toes of his boots. She took a half-step off the wall and stopped when blue eyes pinned her.
“Livvy, you know you can trust me, same as ever.”
But I can’t count on you to stay.
“Thank you, Jonas.” She gave him a thin-lipped, obligatory smile. “Please understand, I couldn’t be sure…”
“Because I’ve given you no reason to be sure.”
“There is that. You are leaving.”
“Yes. There is that,” he said, his voice sad and final.
Tucking hair behind her ear, she tried for a cheerier smile. “I am grateful for your help bringing up the chair, but I must get back to work.”
Daylight faded outside. She donned her shawl and walked stiff-limbed to the hearth. Crouching low, she touched a taper to an ember. Behind her, she expected Jonas to gather his things and leave the tower. She was graceless when it came to social niceties. Elspeth would know what to do. Her sister always did. But, really, was there a pleasant way to do this? Dismiss a long-lost friend?
Jonas bored holes in her as she lit candles set at intervals on the work tables. Globs of dried wax mucking up the table attested to long nights in the tower. At her desk, she lit an iron candle stand. Her side vision caught Jonas kneeling in front of the curule chair.
“Are you restoring all these artifacts?” he asked.
“The smaller pieces, yes.” She blew out the taper. “It’s the larger items like that chair that bedevil me.”
“I can fix this.” He bent lower, inspecting the joint where ivory attached to wood. “Since I’m not leaving until Twelfth Night ends, I may as well do some good. It’ll give me something to do.”
“Won’t the Captain miss you?”
“He’ll miss the chance to harangue me about taking over the family business.” Jonas tested fragile hinges on the chair. An eye to the rusted metal, he shrugged off his coat. “Take this, will you?”
She held the blue velvet, a mute witness to Jonas bending this way and that. A touch to another hinge. A thoughtful hum as his fingertips ran the length of all four chair legs. Capable hands testing, poking, skimming ancient wood with the gentleness a surgeon gave a desperate patient. Last night, her senses sung a different tune when studying those hands.
