Her jaw tightened. “Nothing.”

From his superior vantage point, he couldn’t see into her eyes, so he placed his finger on her chin and tipped her face up. “Miss Ward, why do I keep getting the feeling that neither you, nor your mother, is being honest with me?”

She took a step back, breaking his contact, her brow lowered. “If you feel that way, ’tis most likely because of that bump on your noggin. I daresay you’ve addled your brains a touch.”

He took another step closer. She matched him move for move, backing away, her expression guarded. Her gaze flickered to the door.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said softly. “Running away will solve nothing.”

She stopped moving then, standing firmly in place, her chin in the air. “The Wards never run,” she said with a decided air of hauteur. “Though if I was thinking of making a dash for it, you couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Couldn’t I?” He advanced again, only this time, he moved slightly to one side. She responded by stepping in the opposite direction—and ended up backed against the edge of a small table, hemmed in by a large chair on one side, and Chase on the other.

“Piffle!” Her full mouth thinned. “Please move out of my way.”

She had the most engaging eyes—large and appealingly shaped, with a delicate sweep of lash and brow. “Tell me something, Miss Ward, am I really Captain John Frakenham?”

She didn’t even blink, the little jade. “Yes. You are.” Harriet leaned forward then, her gaze narrowed, an earnest expression on her face. “And you cannot disagree, unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless you believe you are someone else.” Her brows rose. “Are you?”

It could have been funny. And perhaps it was, in a way. She didn’t believe him when he said he didn’t remember who he was. And he didn’t believe her when she said he was Captain John Frakenham. In order to prove her wrong, he’d have to admit his falsehood. In order for her to prove him wrong, she’d have to admit to her falsehood.

It was a quandary of the highest order.

Chase, of course, knew damn well who he was, but he couldn’t tell this woman. Not without potentially causing a maelstrom of gossip that could possibly alert his brothers to his location. This was a small community, he reminded himself, thinking of all the tales that had apparently gone ’round involving the nonexistent Captain Frakenham. He could only imagine what they would say about a real, live, flesh-’n’-blood St. John.

He simply couldn’t risk it. All he really knew about Harriet Ward was that she was very, very good at lying. Almost as good as he was. “If both you and your mother say I am Captain John Frakenham, then that’s who I am.”

Some of the tension left her frame, and she nodded approvingly. “Indeed you are.”

Chase didn’t know whether to laugh or shake the wench until her teeth rattled. She was a bold piece, this little sparrow who dared cage a lion. It was possible…extremely possible that Miss Harriet Ward might make for a very delightful dalliance despite her prickly exterior.