Mrs. Ollerton’s voice swam groggily through my mind. “Have you, Miss Sedgwick? Perhaps he lives in close proximity to your family?”
After a long moment of silence, I realized she was addressing me. My vision cleared and I took a deep breath, afraid to raise my glass for a drink to moisten my dry throat. My hands were shaking far too much. “His name does sound familiar, yes, but we are not acquainted.” To my dismay, my voice betrayed my shock.
Mr. Hill studied me from across the table, and I cast him a small smile, hoping to dispel the concern on his face. Mrs. Ollerton, thankfully, didn’t question my odd behavior. Surely she had seen enough of it over the last several days to believe it was a common occurrence.
I stared at my plate. Mr. Joseph Baker was the man who had accused my father.
He was the man who had put him in prison.
The conversation shifted to Miss Coppins and her own uncle, the one who had died on account of his over-exerting himself, a subject which I was already familiar with. I continued staring down at my soup, watching a film solidify on the surface as I left it, untouched. My stomach could not tolerate it with what had just been revealed to me.
Mr. Hill was the nephew of the man who had put Papa in prison? I squeezed my eyes closed against a sudden sting in my forehead. How could it be? Did Mr. Hill know what had happened? Had he already heard of my family? What lies had he been told by Mr. Baker?
Papa had been arguing with Mr. Baker for weeks over the expansion of the Baker family’s property line, and where it truly ended. It was all for an alcove, a pretty sanctuary in which I was caught by Mr. Baker, reading a book. It had been my favorite place, and Mr. Baker claimed it was on his property, not my father’s. Mr. Baker’s servant had forced me off of it and threatened to harm me if I was ever found there again. Papa had always been far too protective, and I should never have told him what that man said to me. He confronted Mr. Baker about it, and he was just as unrelenting. Papa’s temper got the better of him, and their relationship as neighbors only grew more hostile. One night, Papa sneaked into his great room and stole the prized elephant tusk Mr. Baker had often boasted of from his excursion in India. When it was discovered that Papa was responsible, Mr. Baker had stopped at nothing to have him locked away to await trial. With far greater connections, Mr. Baker had easily achieved his aims. And it was my fault. If I had not told Papa of that day at the alcove, he might not have done what he did. Our house and living might not have been torn away by a distant male relative, leaving us alone in our disgrace. I could only imagine how Mr. Baker reveled in his success.
When the last course was cleared away, I hurried to the drawing room. My heart had finally slowed, but the calmness brought with it a new wave of uncertainty. If Mr. Hill was Mr. Baker’s nephew, then how could I continue to avoid him?
This could be my one opportunity to save Papa.
The realization spilled over me like cold rain, unwelcome, yet inescapable. I had promised myself I would do anything to help him. I would be a fool not to use my connection to Mr. Hill to give Papa a chance to be free again, to avoid years behind bars, or worse, an execution. There was nothing I wouldn’t risk. Not even my livelihood, not even my heart.
Everything had changed tonight. I could no longer avoid Mr. Hill, nor could I drive him away with false flirtations. I couldn’t try to become invisible. It was no longer his antipathy or disregard I was trying to earn, but his trust and friendship. Only then could I ask such a favor as bold as asking him to speak with his uncle about releasing my father, who I would have to pretend was my maid’s father. I had already told so many tales for the sake of keeping my identity a secret, so what were a few more? There was no greater cause to lie than seeing my father free and my family complete again.
Still, guilt gnawed at my stomach. Would I really make