Of course, she didn’t mean it literally since the man had been dead a number of years, and she was probably hoping he had left a clue as to where the treaties could be found.
“Nothing? Really? You are going to make me search?”
She asked the questions as if her great-uncle were here, which they both knew was impossible.
In this state, Miss Miranda reminded Wesley much of his grandmother and her conversations with Captain Vail. Maybe they were both losing their mind.
“Bother it.” She settled into the chair behind the large desk. “I wonder if you were this difficult alive or only came to be after you were dead.”
Wesley frowned. Miranda didn’t really think he could hear her, did she?
Then again, she believed in ghosts so maybe she thought with persistence she could conjure the spirit of her great-uncle back from the dead.
“Well, if you are going to be of no assistance, I’ll start with your journal.”
Wesley needed to say something before she forgot he was there and carried on a one-sided conversation, much like his grandmother.
Bloody hell! As things were progressing, Wesley was fairly certain he’d be Bedlam bound before the bride and groom recited their vows.
“Journal? Like the ones on the desk?” He picked up one of the worn, leather journals.
“Those are from Uncle Jonathan’s travels. I’ve already read them in their entirety and there is no mention of agreements or treaties between Bocka Morrow and Laswell.” Then she grinned and bent to the side of the desk and Wesley could only see the top of her head.
“I was thinking this might be of more assistance, or at least more interesting.” She straightened and placed a similar looking journal on the desk. “I found it by accident a few days ago. I’d just gotten to the part where Uncle Jonathan had stopped your grandmother’s ship, but was interrupted before I could read further.”
“Should we really be reading his private journals?” Wesley asked, though he supposed it really no longer mattered since the man was dead.
“It’s our only choice since I have been through everything at least once already and there are no agreements within his papers.”
Chapter 9
If Uncle Jonathan got upset about her reading his private journal then he only had himself to blame. He could just tell her where the documents were, but he hadn’t even bothered to follow her up here, which was quite irritating since he knew how important this was.
Though not much could be done now the agreement was broken, and apparently the previous one, it was important to know what they contained.
Oh, if only this would have occurred during that magical week in June, or anytime in the three years that they’d been friends, Miranda would not be worried about the journal or any treaty, instead, she’d be hoping that Epworth would go about kissing her. Nobody had ever kissed her as Epworth had that day, and the memory still warmed her to her bones. Sadly, she’d never be kissed by him again, and worse, he might have ruined her chance of enjoying kisses from other gentlemen in the future. The ones from her earlier seasons certainly paled in comparison, not that she’d been kissed all that often, just a few stolen in gardens at balls, and it was depressing that she might be reduced to inadequate lips for the rest of her life.
With a sigh, she settled into the chair and opened the journal on the desk. Epworth came around to stand at her elbow. Heat radiating from his body warmed her, but not in an uncomfortable manner, and she detected a light scent of Sandalwood, which had been his cologne of choice in June. The fact that he was behind her, close, made Miranda nervous and she chastised herself for such silliness.
But, as much as she tried to block his presence, Miranda found it difficult, especially when he leaned forward and braced his hand on the desk. It was all she could do not to lean into him, to be even closer, but she’d not do so. He’d made it clear last night that he wanted nothing further to do with her when he’d stomped away and all because she’d told him the truth about Barnaby. She knew he didn’t believe in ghosts, but why would she lie about her reasons for not being at the ball. She’d never tell Epworth a falsehood and hadn’t in the three years they’d been friends. And with that, she