Page 11 of Dangerous

Mia gave a mental shrug. It was time to diverge from her father’s fairy tale and script one of her own. “I am fluent in Italian and French, so it was not difficult to pass myself off as the daughter of a poor but devout family from Turin.”

“I see. What about when we took control of the island in 1800? Why did you not seek help getting back to England at that time?”

Mia almost laughed. Will it never end?

“It was a turbulent time and only a very few of His Majesty’s men remained behind. Most of the ones I saw were of the lower orders, men who were more likely to sell or ransom a duke’s daughter than help her.”

“So you hid in the convent for seventeen years?”

“I did not need to hide once I joined the sisters.”

His eyes widened. “You became a nun.” It was not a question.

“Yes.”

“Isn’t fourteen rather young for that type of thing?”

Nuns were, of course, yet another subject Mia knew nothing about.

“Oh, not at all. There were dozens younger than me.” She took another drink before plunging deeper into the conversational quicksand. “Dear Sister Genevieve was only thirteen when she entered the convent. You could say we became closer than real sisters. How I miss her.” She sighed heavily to add veracity.

A muscle twitched at the corner of his unsmiling mouth. “It sounds ... idyllic. How could you bear to leave such a rewarding situation?”

A footman appeared beside her with something that resembled boiled fowl in a pasty-looking cream sauce. Mia’s mind raced while she served herself. The marquess was the only person to have probed past the surface of the ridiculous story. What else could she tell him?

She absently cut a small piece of food and put it in her mouth. It was not as wretched as it looked. She chewed, swallowed, and took a sip of wine. And then inspiration struck.

“Crocodiles,” she said.

The marquess’s fork and knife hovered above his plate. “I beg your pardon?”

“I ultimately left because of crocodiles. We went to the jungle in the interior of the island to tend to the lepers, as we did every year. This year, tragedy struck. Our barge capsized and many in our order were eaten by crocodiles before they could make it across the river to shore.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Even dear Sister Genevieve.”

He chewed for what seemed like a long time before swallowing. “I wasn’t aware Malta had any jungles. Or crocodiles.”

Drat, drat, drat. “I’m afraid you have been misinformed, Lord Exley. The island is infested with them. Crocodiles, that is, not jungles.”

He raised his linen to his lips and coughed.

“Mia, my dear?” Chambers laid his soggy hand on her shoulder.

Mia gritted her teeth. “One moment.”

The marquess was still dabbing his lips, his shoulders shaking slightly.

She leaned toward him. “Are you quite all right, my lord?”

He coughed one last time, his unusual eyes watering. “Just a piece of pepper,” he said hoarsely.

“Mia?” Chambers’s voice went up half an octave.

“Will you excuse me, my lord?”

“By all means,” he said, lifting his napkin and covering his mouth just as another coughing spell struck.

* * *

Adam had begun to worry he might choke to death. He’d not been so amused in ... well, not in a long time and certainly never at a tedious ton function.