Could Arista’s father have been a shipmaster, or maybe a watchmaker? Did he used to have a shop on Cheapside or Lombard, or any other number of streets filled with merchants? The past weeks had shown her what life might have been like had she grown up with a real family—because in truth, she did feel like she was part of the Sinclair family now.
Arista set the box aside and tucked the note into her pocket. She would wear the bonnet on her trip. A reminder of everything Sophia had done for her. And when they got to India, she would find the perfect gift to send back to her new friend.
With her bag tucked tightly against her chest, Arista opened the inside door and crept toward Mr. Sinclair’s office. The note and bag of coins were heavy in her hand, but she had to be sure that if Becky chose to leave, she would be taken care of. She trusted that Grae’s father would see that Becky got the money Arista left for her. A shadow moved at the end of the hallway; she couldn’t see who it was. Probably just Wilson or Jane.
“Hello?” she whispered.
“Who the hell is that?” She heard the slight slur in the man’s words, but she recognized Grae’s father. He stumbled, then swore.
“It’s Ari—Ana. It’s Ana.”
“Ah yes, my guest. Do you drink, Ana? I could damned well use another, and since you’re awake, we can toast the man that made this all possible.” She didn’t miss the contempt in his voice. Or the anger.
There was a scratching sound, then a flare of light. The scent of sulfur made its way down the hall. In the circle of light, Arista could see him now. His hair stood up everywhere, as if he’d run his fingers through it over and over again. He’d taken off his jacket, and his shirt was half untucked.
In the light, Arista clearly saw his pained features. He looked defeated. “No thank you,” she said.
He grunted as if he didn’t really believe her. “Blast it, I’ll drink enough for the both of us. Well, anyway…” He stumbled, and the candle tilted precariously to the side.
Arista hurried down the hall and took it from him. “What would your wife say if you burned the house down around her?” She only meant to lighten the mood, but he covered his face with his hands.
“She would probably wish I would perish with it.”
Arista awkwardly patted his arm. She had no idea how to comfort someone. Usually she ran away from drunken men. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
He jerked his head up and glared at her. “Did you have anything to do with this?”
Arista took a step back from the anger simmering in his eyes. Liquor and anger were never a good combination. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” That only seemed to agitate him more.
He stumbled again and tried to focus on her face. Under the anger, she saw the raw agony. His eyes were full of it. “He is smuggling humans and he wants my ships to do it,” he choked out. “The wickedest, most heinous—”
That made no sense. Wild wanted what? As repulsive as the man was, she didn’t figure him a slave trader. “I don’t understand.”
“I made a deal with a man,” he moaned. “Years ago, I agreed to use my ship to smuggle tea for him, in exchange for a choice India trading route. That’s what allowed my fleet to grow so fast. I wanted to build something to leave for my son. The man had someone forge the bills of lading. For my risk in it, I was given better access routes. But now, that bastard wants me to transport slaves for some godless nobleman. I won’t do it.”
With a strangled groan, he pushed past her and staggered to his office door. Once inside the room, Arista heard something crash to the floor. She held the candle tightly as she hurried inside. He sat sprawled in the chair, holding a glass full of amber liquid. The sharp smell of brandy filled her lungs. On the floor at his feet lay the decanter, its fragments reflecting the candlelight. A puddle spread closer to the thick Oriental rug.
“Should I get Wilson?” she asked.
He looked at her from over the rim of the glass. “No one can help me now. I made a deal with the devil, and he’s finally come to collect.” With that, he tipped the glass back and downed the entire contents in one loud swallow. “I don’t know what to do.”
His eyes drifted closed and Arista waited. After several moments, she decided to leave him alone. Someone would find him in the morning and clean up the mess. There was very little time for her to get to the docks and get on a ship.
Arista picked up the candlestick, afraid he might knock it over and start a fire, and took it to the massive desk. Her boots were silent on the thick rug. Papers were scattered all over his desk. How did he find anything in that mess?