“Oh. A riding crop.”
A tic came to his jaw. “Why?”
“Because he found out I’d done something of which he disapproved.”
“Go on.”
“I attended a scéance.”
“I see.” He sat beside her. “Well, no, I don’t see, but I’m listening. Let’s hear this mad tale of yours.”
“Do you believe in scéances, sir?”
“Since I’ve never been to one, Miss Sinclair, I cannot venture an opinion, but I suspect my ambivalence is about to be tested.”
Miriam nodded and began her tale. Not once did Daniel Barton interrupt her, nor did his expression betray his thoughts. At least, not until she mentioned the supposed presence of his mother, Alice. He winced and looked down.
“I swear I am not making this up, sir,” Miriam said, trying to keep the desperation from her voice. “When Miss Grey mentioned your mother’s name, I truthfully denied any knowledge of it. Until this morning, when I saw her name etched in marble, I had no idea who she was.”
“I do not doubt what you are telling me, Miss Sinclair,” Mr. Barton replied, his tone somber. “Quite the opposite. It is simply the incredulity of it which is difficult to accommodate.”
Miriam nodded. “I confess I harbored some apprehension right up till this morning. But when I saw your magnificent angel and your mother’s name beneath it, I set aside any and all doubts.”
“So, I am required to believe that your mother and my mother somehow orchestrated our meeting.”
“Yes.”
“From beyond the grave.”
“Yes.”
“And as a result, I am expected to offer you my protection and, how did you put it, sanctuary?”
“Well, not… notexpected, exactly,” Miriam replied. “I was told I would beaffordedyour protection, but you are under no obligation. You are quite at liberty to walk away, of course.”
Mr. Barton cocked his head as he regarded her. “And what, Miss Sinclair, will become of you should I choose to walk away?”
Miriam forced a smile. “There are places I can go.”
He lifted a brow. “Such as?”
She hugged the cloth bag closer to her chest. “Well, charitable houses at first, perhaps. But I am well-educated, so I expect I could find employment. As a governess, perhaps. I like children and I am not afraid of hard work.”
“You would likely need references for such a post,” Mr. Barton replied. “Do you have them?”
Miriam’s smile wavered. “No sir, I do not.”
“I see.” Mr. Barton cleared his throat and got to his feet. “You must admit, Miss Sinclair, these events, these strange circumstances, and my subsequent decision, demand serious consideration.”
“Of course, yes,” she replied, nodding.
“To offer you my protection, for example, implies marriage. You ask a lot, madam. You are, by your own admission, destitute, not to mention that we hardly know each other.”
“That has occurred to me, of course,” Miriam said, “but, while I do have a mind of my own, I am not difficult. I would not be a bother to you, sir. In fact, I’ll be quite happy to keep out of your way if that is what you prefer.”
Mr. Barton frowned and kicked at a pebble. “That wouldn’t be much of a marriage, then, would it?”
“Yet those in the upper echelons embrace such arrangements, Mr. Barton.”
