“Yes, but I wouldn’t necessarily assume it was the truth.”
“How about this Periwinkle fellow?” Fish asked. “Might he be lying?”
“He doesn’t seem to be. He’d like to arrange a reunion for the three of us so he can write an article about it.”
“How would you feel about that?”
“I would like to meet with them, but not with him watching my every move. It would have to be quiet and private.”
“You’re a wealthy young lady these days. If Mr. Periwinkle can locate them, you could probably hire an investigator to locate them too.”
Libby scowled. “Should I?”
“Why not? Your parting from them has haunted you for twenty years. Maybe they could fill in some missing pieces of your memory. Maybe you’d finally garner some resolution about what occurred.”
“Isn’t that a pretty notion?”
She stared out the window, trying to envision what a reunion would be like. She was renowned for being flamboyant and charismatic, but still, she could be nervous and shy. Any discussion about the shipwreck always left her breathless with apprehension. It was an odd twist that she publicly performed tales describing the tragedy, but she never talked about it otherwise.
The stage persona of Libby Carstairs was separate from the flesh and blood woman.
“Do you think Caro and Joanna would like me?” she asked.
Fish scoffed with derision. “Is that a real question?”
“Yes. What if we got together, and they wound up wishing we hadn’t?”
“You can be such a dunce. You’re Libby Carstairs, Mystery Girl of the Caribbean, and the whole kingdom loves you. Caro and Joanna will love you too. I guarantee it.”
“Then perhaps I will hire someone,” Libby said. “I’ll have him begin working on it right away.”
“Stop scowling so ferociously. You’re scaring away our customers.”
Caleb smirked at his partner and sort-of mother, Sybil Jones. When he and Blake had been boys and their mother still alive, Sybil had been their maid. Their mother had passed away suddenly, and soon after, they’d learned that their father had died at sea.
In the blink of an eye, they’d become orphans.
Their vicar had sent them to their relatives in England, but unfortunately, no one in Jamaica had realized that Miles Ralston had a wife and children in England. They were his family, his real family, and Blake and Caleb were simply a pair of unwanted bastards.
At the time, they’d been just five and ten years old, so Sybil had been sent too, to watch over them and deliver them safely to their destination. If she hadn’t accompanied them, Caleb couldn’t guess what might have happened. He and Blake might have wound up on the streets.
She was a decade older than he was, so she’d been twenty when their troubles had commenced. She’d taken her role as their guardian very seriously, and she’d been a fierce warrior on their behalf. Due to her incessant nagging, the navy had negotiated with Miles’s wife, Esther, for Caleb and Blake to attend boarding school. Then, once they’d turned sixteen and their educations were complete, she’d paid for navy commissions.
Blake was in the navy and pursuing the career they’d loved. Caleb was sitting in his posh gambling club and raking in money hand over fist, but when he was feeling peevish, he thought Blake had ended up with the better conclusion.
The main benefit of his current situation was that he’d never have to go begging ever again. And he’d always be able to care for Blake and Sybil. He’d never have to depend on the pricks from the Ralston family to buy them food or clothes.
“Blake tells me you fell in love at Grey’s Corner,” Sybil said.
“Blake is an idiot. You know that.”
“He claims the woman is gorgeous, and you were absolutely besotted.”
“I wasn’t,” he lied.
“You can admit it. I’d be thrilled to have you married and happy.”
“Since when do you believe matrimony makes a man happy?”
Sybil was a confirmed spinster who’d never been interested in having a husband. She was forty and aging well. At five-feet-five in her slippers, she was plump and curvaceous, her brown eyes merry, her brown hair showing just a few strands of gray.
She’d wasted her good years, arguing with various adults to behave themselves, demanding he receive financial support from his father’s estate. She was a fighter, a winner, and she was loyal to a fault.
She’d expended her energy ensuring he and Blake were treated as was appropriate to their station as Miles Ralston’s sons. In exchange, he would spend his life protecting her.
Because she’d exhaustively bickered and pleaded for him and Blake, she’d seen the very worst side of men. Their owning a gambling club hadn’t helped matters. She deemed men to be reckless fools, and he could hardly insist they weren’t.
“I think Blake has a new paramour,” she said. “Have you heard any rumors?”
“He hasn’t mentioned it to me.”
“Apparently, it’s very hush-hush. He might even be keeping her.”
Caleb scoffed. “He is not keeping a mistress. If he considered it, he’d have to request a bigger allowance, and I wouldn’t give it to him for such a frivolous reason.”
Blake had his sailor’s salary, but Caleb furnished him with a hefty stipend every quarter too. He was frugal with it and never liked it to seem as if he was taking advantage of Caleb’s wealth. After all, Blake’s antics were the catalyst for Caleb growing so rich.
“The young lady in question is hiding from her father,” Sybil said. “Blake is assisting her, and evidently, she has some of her own money. He might not have had to seek any extra from you.”
“Is she an innocent miss who’s run away from home? If Blake has involved himself in that kind of dicey predicament, he’ll wind up dragged to the altar by her male kin.”
Sybil chuckled. “Should I start planning a wedding?”
“I’ll ask him about her. Luckily, his furlough will be over shortly, so if he’s engaged in mischief, it can’t last long.”
“A fellow doesn’t need much time to plant a babe in a girl’s belly. I’m quite
