But the captain wasn’t about to be distracted, focusing all his attention on Mrs. Crozier and ignoring Maddy entirely. “If the wind was howling through the house and you realized the windows were open then why didn’t you do something about it?” His voice was very gentle, and it sent a cold chill down Maddy’s spine, even though she was still sitting close to the fire. He must use that voice when he was at sea to make the rough and rowdy sailors do what he wanted.
Mrs. Crozier’s complexion had gone from ruddy to pale. “She… she locked the door. I couldn’t get in.”
“Then why was it unlocked when you dragged me up here? Where did she find the key when the room is always kept locked?”
“I… I…” The dimwitted housekeeper hadn’t thought that far ahead, Maddy realized with a certain vague relish. Served the old crone right.
“I tell you what I think, Mrs. Crozier,” he said softly. “I think that even though our unlikely maid does all your work for you and you barely have to lift a finger, you don’t like her, and you set this up to get rid of her. Your lies are contradicting your lies, and I’m a very hard man to fool. Some of the best liars and tricksters in the country have tried, and they’ve failed. You’re a schoolgirl compared to them, though I hesitate to use such a term for you. I think it’s past time for you and your husband to leave. You’ll be gone by morning, and presuming you don’t run off with the silver or any more of my very best whiskey, you’ll be paid an extra month and have decent references. I want you gone with the least amount of fuss. Annoy me further and that money will disappear, as well as any possible recommendation.”
“But… but, sir!” Mrs. Crozier protested. “We’ve worked for you for over six years.”
“That’s about five and a half years too long. Go away, Mrs. Crozier. I’m tired of you.”
“And what about the girl?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” he said softly, and another chill ran down Maddy’s back. He’d been ignoring her completely while he dealt with the housekeeper, something that made Maddy perfectly happy. She didn’t want that quiet fury turned on her, but once Mrs. Crozier left she’d be the object of his wrath.
She should get up, Maddy thought dazedly, exhaustion and an empty stomach sapping the last amount of energy she possessed. If she tried to stand she’d probably fall over.
She could feel his eyes on her now, and automatically she turned to look up, way up the length of him to meet his dark eyes. His rough trousers were wet, clinging to his legs, to his…
She knew she should lower her own gaze, but she couldn’t seem to summon the energy. She just sat there, frozen, staring up at him. She’d thought he was dead; she’d seen him at the bottom of the sea. And yet here he was, vibrating with equal parts energy and fury. “Did you leave the windows open?”
“No, sir,” she said, sounding perfectly meek and servile.
“And you’re going to believe her?” Mrs. Crozier shrieked. “She’s no more a maid than Queen Victoria.”
The captain shrugged, never taking his eyes from Maddy’s. “True enough,” he said. “But she didn’t leave the windows open, you did. I suggest you leave before I lose what little of my temper I have left. You wouldn’t like to see me when I’m truly angry.”
Maddy could thoroughly agree with that sentiment. She heard the door slam as Mrs. Crozier departed, and the captain continued to stare at her for a long moment before moving to the fireplace. There was no reading his dark, enigmatic gaze, and she didn’t want to try. “You did a good job of organizing my papers,” he said mildly enough. “You seem to have a talent for understanding the shipping business. Did you learn anything interesting?”
She was on a slippery slope, and she wasn’t sure she had enough of her wits about her to play this particular game. “Beg pardon, sir,” she said. It wasn’t much of an effort to sound faintly dull-witted—she was feeling slow and clumsy. “I just tried to put things together that talked about the same things. I’m not a great reader, but I tried my best.”
Again that shuttered look. “Where did you learn to read, Mary?”
Mary? Who was Mary? She felt as if she were trying to fight her way through spider webs—nothing was making sense. And then she remembered. She was Mary. “I learned in the parish schools, sir.”
She couldn’t tell whether he believed her or not, and desperately she glanced around her, trying to think of something to say. It was a study much like her father’s, filled with books that no one ever read, bought in bundles from the warehouses. Except these books looked different. Not the same perfect, uniform rows, everything matching, the shiny leather bindings uncracked. This was a room full of books that people had read. She glanced behind him, and saw a pile of them on the floor, one left open as if someone had set it down in the midst of reading it, and she could see it held charts of the ocean depths. Her father had taught her to read such charts, even if he himself had never opened a book if he could help it. Clearly the captain was a very different sort of man. “Where did you learn to read?” The moment the impertinent question was out of her mouth she followed it with a silent moan of dismay.
Fortunately he didn’t appear to notice how inappropriate such a question was. “Billy Quarrells taught me the basics, and for the rest I learned myself. Sea voyages can be very long, and you need some way to spend the time. I prefer reading.”
She wanted to know what kind of books he read. She hadn’t had time to even glance at the shelves—they had been out of the path of the rain and she’d concentrated on the papers. Did he read scientific treatises? Philosophy? Novels? She looked around her, fascinated, but he forestalled her next question.
“We can discuss literature another time. Do you have any idea why Mrs. Crozier hates you so much?”
“No, sir.”
“That, at least, I believe.”
“Sir?”
“I think you’d better go to bed,” he said, suddenly sounding weary. “It’s been a damned long day for me, and I’m not in the mood to deal with you.”
She should be alarmed. He knew she was lying, and yet he’d dismissed Mrs. Crozier, not her. She could think of only one reason he let her stay, and she should have found it terrifying. He was her enemy, a villain, he’d killed her father and stolen his ships, and if he put his hands on her she wasn’t sure she could tell him no. At least, not right now, when she felt so abysmally weak.
“Go on, then,” he said when she didn’t move. “Before I change my mind.”
Escape was a good thing, she thought, gathering her strength. There was nothing to hold on to, but she managed to pull her legs underneath her and rise unsteadily.