“Where shall I put them?”

Melody gestured to the small occasional table at the end of the sofa and said, “There, so that I may gaze at them without effort and think fondly on the kind nature which brought them to me.”

Jane set the flowers down and returned to her chair, taking up the volume of Cowper once more. They talked idly of the day before, hashing over the events and doubling their enjoyment by examining each happy moment in minute detail. A rap sounded at the door, and Nancy shewed Mr. Dunkirk into the room shortly after.

Upon seeing Captain Livingston, he said, “I see that we came on similar errands.” Thereupon he drew forth from his pocket the three slim volumes of The Italian by Mrs. Radcliffe. “My sister thought you might wish something to read while you recovered.”

Melody’s face blossomed in delight. “Radcliffe! I adore Mrs. Radcliffe’s work beyond all measure!”

“I am afraid, then, that I have not brought you anything new with which to amuse yourself.”

“But you have, for I do not have The Italian. I have only read The Mysteries of Udolpho, which I thought so compelling, so very interesting. Do you not think so, Captain Livingston?”

“You have the better of me. I have not read any of Mrs. Radcliffe’s works. There’s precious little time for reading aboard ship, especially when facing the Monster’s navy.” He straightened as he said this and looked the slightest bit down his nose at Mr. Dunkirk, who raised an eyebrow as if he understood what Captain Livingston was suggesting and was not in the least perturbed by it.

“That is unfortunate. I find that reading greatly improves one’s mind.” He smiled, very civilly, and Jane was hard-pressed not to laugh as he turned back to Melody, effectively cutting Captain Livingston out of the conversation. “And how is your ankle, if I might inquire?”

“Much better, thank you. I am only lying here because Mama makes such a fuss when I try to stand.”

“That is understandable, having hurt the same ankle twice so close together. You must take care that it is fully mended this time,” Mr. Dunkirk said.

Melody’s eyes flashed to Jane with a silent plea, then back to Mr. Dunkirk. She assured him that she would take care, but Jane had seen that moment, and it was more than a simple entreaty. The look alone might have simply indicated that Melody did not want Jane to reveal that she had not sprained her ankle when she had chased Mr. Dunkirk, but the manner in which her face went pale and then red said more.

Jane recalled that Melody’s ankle had not swollen last night.

A horrible conviction seized her that the injury was a sham, that Melody had not injured herself last night at all. As these thoughts went through her head, she was thankful that neither gentleman was looking at her, for she felt unable to govern her countenance in the slightest. Melody saw her unguarded expression and paled further.