Hopefully, she wouldn’t weep when he threw her out.
She nodded, turned away from him and hiked up her skirts. Good Lord! So much for being a timid wallflower. He could damn well see her ankles.
“Perhaps we should begin with this.” She tugged a tightly rolled scroll from what he could only presume was the thigh belt she mentioned. “Forgive the indecent display, sir, but it was the only way to protect the document from the horrendous downpour.”
“Indeed.”
Evan watched this odd creature whose character he struggled to define, annoyed by the thrum of excitement in his chest. Curiosity danced like the devil, too, as he considered what might be scrawled on the parchment. Miss Hart certainly knew how to hold a man’s interest.
She dropped her skirts and faced him fully. “Perhaps you should sit down. The news will come as a terrible shock.”
Evan stared down his nose. “Madam, nothing could be more shocking than discovering the woman I thought was a wallflower is a teasing scamp.”
He expected her to gasp upon hearing the cutting remark, but Miss Hart laughed. “You see. You’re already agitated. No doubt you’ll fly into a rage when you learn of our ancestors’ devious deed.” She handed him the rolled parchment secured with a black ribbon. “My father broke the wax seal many years ago, but had no need to stake a claim.”
“Stake a claim?” Mild panic fluttered in Evan’s throat. He couldn’t tug the ends of the ribbon quick enough.
“Before you begin reading, sir, allow me to offer some advice. One should not label a person without knowledge of their character. I’m no more a wallflower than I am a mermaid.”
For a
heart-stopping moment, Evan thought he’d misheard.
“Did you say mermaid?” Shock held him rigid. “Have you spoken to D’Angelo or Ashwood?” Evan’s colleagues at the Order sought every opportunity to torment him. “Did they encourage you to tease me about my fondness for sea nymphs?” When a man lost his mother in childbirth, was it not natural to fantasise about being rescued by an immortal woman?
Miss Hart frowned. “No, I noticed your mermaid fountain and used the mythical creature merely as a comparison.”
“Mythical?” he mocked. “Livingston Sloane claimed a mermaid rescued him when he was shipwrecked off the coast of Malta.”
“That is a myth. My grandfather rescued Livingston Sloane near Malta, and though I never met him, I’m confident he did not have a tail or fins.” She gestured to the parchment in Evan’s hand. “The heroic deed is documented. It’s the sole reason we’re standing here this evening.”
“Then give me a moment to examine the testimony, so I am not battling blindly in the dark.”
“Of course.”
Miss Hart faced the fire and continued warming her hands.
The document, written in Latin, dated 1756 and bearing an official Spanish stamp, raised an important question. “You read Latin, Miss Hart?” Perhaps she had struggled with the translation and there was nothing startling about the information.
“My father insisted on it, sir. When a family is owed a debt of this magnitude, there can be no room for error.” She glanced over her shoulder and cast a mischievous grin. “Do not think to dupe me, Mr Sloane. My lawyer confirmed it is a legally binding inter-generational contract.”
Inter-generational contract?
Was there such a thing?
The hairs on Evan’s nape prickled. With some trepidation, he read the agreement made between Livingston Sloane and Lucian Hart. It appeared Mr Hart had rescued Evan’s grandfather when the French attacked his ship during the Seven Years’ War.
“Why mention the war when my grandfather was a marauding pirate?”
Miss Hart continued to stare at the amber flames. “Our grandfathers were privateers, not pirates. The British Admiralty commissioned the men to attack French vessels in the Mediterranean.”
Evan snorted. “Perhaps your family embellished the tale to spare you the shame.” To make her ancestor seem like an honourable gent. “Livingston Sloane looted and pillaged and would never have served the Crown.”
Miss Hart glanced at the painting of the young bearded man with a devilish twinkle in his eye. “If you believe that, why display his portrait?”
Oh, the lady was as sharp as a blade.
It would be easy to lie, but he suspected Miss Hart knew the answer.