I looked to Montgomery for help. He rested an arm on his knee, tapping a thin twig against his shin. “Little good needlepoint would do us around here,” he said. “We’re lucky Juliet is so practical. Maybe she could help Alice with the cleaning.”
I gave him a slight, grateful nod, but Father only bristled.
“No daughter of mine is going to scrub anything,” he said. “I hardly think a future husband wants a girl with calluses on her hands.” He waved toward my chipped nails. My face went white.
“Juliet,” Montgomery said softly. “What he means is—”
“Thank you, Montgomery, I’ll speak for myself. Don’t misunderstand my criticism, Juliet,” Father said. “It’s my duty as your father to see you well married. You can’t remain on this island forever, and when you leave, you’ll need to find a husband. Your mother should have seen you prepared to please a man, but alas, she died too soon. I am merely trying to determine what’s to be done with you now.”
What’s to be done with me. It was like a barb in my side. I clearly wasn’t marriage material, but I was too high-bred to be of use on the island. What did that leave?
“I know something of medicine,” I said in a rush. “I’ve studied the books you left behind. I worked at King’s College in the operating rooms, and I know anatomy and biology. Perhaps I could help you in your work.”
Even Montgomery’s face went white at this. Father gave me a good, hard stare and then laughed. “A girl interested in science. How modern of you. I suggest you find more appropriate interests. Montgomery, we’ve an old needlepoint set, haven’t we?”
“But I can help you—”
“That’s admirable, Juliet, but you’d only be in the way. Science is best left to men. Women have too delicate a constitution.”
I fought against my bubbling urge to argue. I wanted to tell him all the things I’d seen. My God, the things I’d done with my own hands. But I wasn’t ready to trample on the delicate flowers of my new relationship with my father.
“You’re right,” I said, hating myself even as I said it. Father had a way of bending everyone to his will—apparently I was no different. “Of course.”
Montgomery gave me a questioning look. But he was hardly in a position to judge me.
The sound of horse hooves broke the tension. Balthazar came along the trail on Duchess, two bandoliers across his chest, his face pinched and eyes darting. A rifle was strapped across the saddle. Puck jogged behind on foot, another rifle in hand. Montgomery leapt up to meet them.
I started to stand, but Father shook his head. “It’s nothing to concern yourself with, I’m sure. Montgomery will attend to it.”
“What if someone’s hurt?”
“It’s all under control,” Father said, eating a strawberry. “I know everything that happens on this island. You must trust me.” He tilted his head, studying me like a specimen. His eyes were like black stars, making me forget the rifles and the commotion and Balthazar’s worried face.
Almost.
I watched Montgomery run a hand through his hair, his muscles tense, as he said something I couldn’t hear. Puck slunk about, whispering low and hushed words that made Montgomery’s hand tighten on his pistol.
I looked over the shimmering water, the savage but beautiful island below us. Whatever was happening, this was my home now, at least until the next ship came. I wanted to be a part of it.
“I didn’t come here to do needlepoint,” I said firmly. “You can use my help. Montgomery does the work of ten men. At least let me help you in the laboratory. If not with your experiments, then taking notes. There has to be some use for me.”
His black eyes bored into me, studying, thinking, analyzing. I could almost see the clockwork gears clicking into place. He chewed another strawberry slowly.
“Help me with my work, eh?” He absently ran his fingers over his shadow of a beard. His eyes weren’t focused on me anymore, but somewhere beyond the ocean. “Yes, perhaps you could be of use to me after all.”
I smiled uneasily. His words were just what I wanted to hear, and yet, between the guns and that peculiar look in his eye, something felt wrong. “Good,” I said. “I won’t disappoint you.”
Suddenly his eyes snapped back to me with a fiery intensity. “What do you know of that boy, Prince?”
“Edward?” I sat straighter. “Not very much at all.”
Father’s graceful fingers stroked the wiry hairs on his chin. I remembered the conversation that Edward was so reluctant to talk about, and I wondered what Father could possibly have wanted to say to him after trying to drown him.
“Perhaps we should change that,” Father said.
I couldn’t bring myself to ask what exactly he meant. Getting to know Edward couldn’t possibly help him with his work—unless it got me out of his way. Or unless he thought the quickest way to fulfill his fatherly duty was to marry me off to Edward Prince.
SEVENTEEN