Susan’s traitorous heart gave up on calming down. She told herself it was fear, not misplaced lovesickness. Luckily, he did not yet realize she knew the truth of his involvement with treason. She would have to act as if nothing had changed. She would have to act as if she... cared.
A distressingly easy charade.
“You ran from me.” A brief wince indicated this was not the statement he’d meant to open with.
“Good afternoon,” she answered inanely, her twisting hands incapable of portraying casual indifference.
Silence stretched between them.
He had changed clothes. He looked a perfect gentleman about to pay a call to atonsoiree, not a conscienceless rogue equally at home aboard a pirate ship. He brushed idly at his waistcoat. Probably to keep his hands close to his pistols.
If the situation were different, she might never have guessed the truth. Part of her longed for her previous innocence.
“Have you spoken to Timothy today?” he asked at last.
She hesitated before answering. Eventually, she decided to take the question at face value. It might be a non sequitur, but at least they weren’t discussing piracy or her wanton behavior in his bedroom. Speaking to spirits was reasonably safe ground. Susan wished his acceptance of her dubious talent didn’t bring such a strong sense of relief. She didn’t need his approval or his understanding. She didn’t need him at all.
“No,” she said aloud, and shook her head slightly. WherewasDead Mr. Bothwick? Had he borne witness to whomever had removed the Runner?
The still-living, still heart-stoppingly handsome Mr. Bothwick shifted his weight as if uncomfortable in his boots. He remained just outside of touching distance and turned his gaze to the sea.
“I wish he would’ve come to me.”
Harrumph. Of course he did. What pirate wouldn’t have wanted advance notice that his non-pirate brother was about to turn him over to the Crown for a hanging? But since she didn’t dare ask such a question, Susan hoped the cynicism didn’t show on her face.
She forced a one-shoulder shrug. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t ask for this ability, remember? The accident—”
“I mean before,” Mr. Bothwick interrupted, shifting his gaze from the sea to her face. “I wish Timothy would’ve come to me while he was still alive. I wish... I wish we could’vetalked.”
“Yes, well...” Susan faltered uncertainly. What could she possibly say in response to that? “Perhaps he had reasons to keep his thoughts to himself.”
“Oh?” Mr. Bothwick’s brows lifted, his expression overly bland. “And is it your opinion that it’s fine to keep something like ‘investigating pirates’ a secret?”
“Yes,” she answered honestly. She certainly wouldn’t have told him, if she’d been Timothy. The man had still ended up dead. She imagined he would’ve been murdered all the quicker if he hadn’t kept his mouth shut.
“Wouldyoukeep secrets from me?” Mr. Bothwick asked, entirely too casually. “Areyou, even now?”
She stepped back a half-step, caught herself, and forced her feet to stand ground. He knew nothing about the missing body. Nothing about her complicity in the Runner’s arrival or her further missives to their headquarters. He also had no reason to believe she knew a single thing about his involvement with pirates. She had to keep it that way. Stay calm. Look innocent and trusting.
“I—”
“What are you doing out here?” he interrupted. Something in his tone made her believe he’d waited for her delayed response just so hecouldinterrupt. His fist rose slowly, face up, something small clutched inside. “Have you... lost something?”
Susan froze.
The glove. He must have found the glove. His questions had nothing to do with piracy and everything to do with the man who’d bled to death on the sand beneath her feet. Perhaps by Mr. Bothwick’s own hand.
He didn’t take his gaze from her face. She couldn’t tear hers from his closed fingers.
“I believe,” he drawled, “you may have dropped this.”
She couldn’t force her lungs to breathe.
He smiled and opened his hand.
Chapter 40
Susan stared at the object in Mr. Bothwick’s palm for far too long before it finally swam into focus.
