Page 44 of The Truth Serum
Maybe. “Probably just broken a leg.” Though he’d seen a sailor fall from the lowest spar once. It was a small height, one that he’d often jumped. But there’d been water on the deck, the man had hit his head, and the result had been gruesome. And fatal.
“You also kept me from stealing chickens to release in church,” he continued. “From blowing peas at people through a blow gun, and baking sawdust into tarts.”
“You stopped yourself with the tarts,” she corrected.
Had he? “Oh yes! Too much work to make something I couldn’t eat.”
“No.” She relaxed back in her chair as she chided him. “You couldn’t manage the oven. Burned everything into an ugly mess.”
Oh yes. “Cook made me clean all the pots as punishment.”
He chuckled at the memory as did she. It was a softening of her attitude, and he touched her bare foot at the sound. He had to touch her somewhere, and this was the most polite thing he could do from down here.
Still she stiffened. “Nate—”
“You stopped me from doing so many things,” he said, trying to distract her from his touch. “Many, many stupid things.”
“And we still did so much.” She bit her lip, her gaze skittering away in shame.
“Yes. We read books, taught the village children their letters, and fought over economics.”
She snorted. “You encouraged me to read things that no girl should learn,” she said. “Just so I could argue with you.”
He shook his head. Didn’t she remember? “You read them because I had to study them in school. You kept asking me what I had learned, what did I think.” As if he wanted to remember any part of his education during the summer months. But she had been interested, and so for her, he’d looked back at his textbooks. He’d remembered them enough to teach her. “The only reason I know anything now is because of you.”
She frowned as if trying to reconcile what he said with her own memories. “I did want to know,” she said softly.
That was why he’d worked hard to learn things he could teach her. Her mind was always active, always seeking something more than what her family allowed. It was a damn shame that women weren’t educated better. If she’d been given a decent education, she’d be an Oxford don by now.
Instead, she was waiting hand and foot on her mother while trying to avoid Fletcher’s insanity.
“Why haven’t you married before now?” he asked.
Her brows shot up. “What a question!”
“You’re attractive, titled, and an heiress. You should have taken in your first Season.”
“I couldn’t go to London until after we were out of mourning. That was a blessing, I think. I was so young then.”
He’d spent that time learning how to sail on the Thames as a waterman. And then he was sailing back and forth to Spain, learning too much about war, and trailing after Sir Benedict so he could ferry messages to the Foreign Office.
“I wasn’t in London during your come-out. What happened then?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. There was attention, of course.” Her expression softened. “There was a boy I really liked, but then he lost interest.”
“Who?” The word came out harder than he intended, but he was jealous. He didn’t want her to have that expression for anyone but him.
“Jonas Gaynesford. He ended up marrying my friend Eunice. They’re very happy now.”
She didn’t sound particularly upset. “Did you ever ask him what happened?”
“Goodness, no. That would be rude. But of course, Mama says it’s always the same thing.”
“The same what?”
She shot him a heavy look. “My purity is in question,” she said.
His mouth dropped open. “We never… I didn’t…”
