“More likely Lord Norrington himself. He is not known to consort with pretty young maidens, but I suspect even he would make an exception for one such as you.”

He waves off my squawks of protest. “I have said I will not pry, and so I shall not. I am only thankful that you chose to warn me, in however a convoluted manner.”

“Convoluted?” I straighten. “Fine. You do not wish to argue, and neither do I. As you said, you have tarried long enough. Be off with you. I can manage from here.”

He sighs. “You are easily offended, crécerelle.”

“You accused me of being involved with this Lord Norrington.”

“I did not mean to suggest you are a woman of loose morals. He is a man of wealth and social standing, and a fine catch of a husband, I am sure.”

“So I am a scheming girl, set on a wealthy husband. That is worse than calling me a tart. My indignation comes from you presuming I have aligned myself with a villain. I came about the information innocently—”

“And I acknowledged that possibility.”

“Perfunctorily.”

His lips twitch. “Perfunctorily?”

“If you tell me I am a clever girl for knowing such big words, I swear I will run you through.”

“With that apple?”

Before he can blink, I have the knife he used to carve the apple.

He looks from me to the blade. “I would applaud that graceful move if I did not think you might take it as condescension.”

“A wise choice.” I cut a slice from the apple. “Now you may leave.”

“May I?”

“Yes.” I eat the slice. “I presume you will deal with the man who betrayed you? So I will not need to rescue you again?”

He shakes his head. “Lord Norrington’s men must have followed my associate to the meeting place. Seeing them, my associate fled. As I was late, my associate presumed I had warning of the ambush.”

I open my mouth to argue. Then I shut it. Could history be wrong? I cannot be certain enough to pursue the matter, not when he is so set on his answer.

“All right,” I say. “I will only ask you to be careful, sir. Now, I shall take my leave.”

He puts out a hand to help me up. “Your cart awaits.”

I accept the hand but shake my head. “I do not need that.” My leg shakes, threatening to brand me a liar, but I find my balance before he sees the falter. “You have business to attend to.”

“You are not walking five miles after being shot in the leg.”

“Then I shall crawl.” Catching his look, I sigh. “That is a joke, Dr. Dupuis.”

“It is Nico, and your joke will become a reality if you attempt it. Stop being stubborn.” He walks into the dimly lit barn. “Enough of this, or we will argue until nightfall. I am a man of honor who feels a debt is owed, and so you must allow me to repay it.”