Page 39 of A Story of Love

“I should dearly love to set you straight on the matter, my dear.” His lips flexed into a faint smile. “Alas, I am going to strenuously resist the urge to do so.”

Lori cocked her head and stared up at him, desperately wishing she could see beyond Severn’s mask to the man who lived behind it. “Why are you so resistant when it comes to talking about your past?”

“Why do I feel like anything I say to you will end up on the front page of The Mercury earning money for David Parker?” he countered.

She ignored his question. “Your ship operated under a letter of marque, so you are well-known to the government and the Vixen has been mentioned in newspapers—even respectable rags such as The Times—on more than one occasion, so what you’ve done is hardly a secret.”

“The Vixen was never my ship; I merely captained her for the true owner. It is he you should interrogate.”

She laughed. “Come now, I think we can drop that pretense. Everyone knows that the so-called owner of record is just the figurehead, that you are the real power behind the Vixen.”

“What a shame we cannot continue this conversation, Miss Fontenot.”

“Why can’t we?”

He gave her an oddly gentle smile. “Because, my dear girl, the dance is over.”

Chapter 11

“This just came for you, Lori. Lori? Lori.”

Lori’s head whipped up. “More Runners?” she asked, jumping to her feet.

Freddie smiled. “No, my dear.

“Thank heavens.”

“I regret having to raise my voice, but it seemed you were very far away from here.”

Lori yawned and dropped back into her chair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you. I am just… struggling.” She gestured to the pages covered with messy handwriting and rubbed her eyes, which felt like somebody had been sprinkling sand in them. When she looked up again, she realized that Freddie was holding a large pale pink box tied with a silver velvet ribbon. “What’s that?”

“It just came by messenger and it’s for you.” Freddie set the box on the desk, which was covered with failed attempts at an article for David.

“Who is it from?”

“The delivery boy didn’t know.”

“There is no message with it?” Lori asked.

“Nothing but the box.”

“That’s strange.”

“Open it.”

Lori smiled at her friend’s impatience and pulled off the ribbon, lifted the lid, and then peeled back the layers and layers of silvery-gray tissue paper.

“Oh, my goodness,” Freddie murmured. She reached out and stroked the exquisite peacock blue-green gown with reverent fingers. “It’s gorgeous.”

Lori couldn’t resist petting the material before snapping out of her worshipful fugue and glaring at her friend.

“What is the matter?” Freddie asked.

“You bought this, didn’t you?”

Freddie laughed. “This is from Madam Thérèse’s dress shop. I recognize her distinctive pink box and silver ribbon. Even if I were arrogant enough to purchase you clothing without consulting you, I am afraid Madam Thérèse’s is a bit above my touch.

Lori lifted the gown from the box, her heart speeding as she took in the almost overwhelming beauty of the garment.