Dot, of course, saw through him. He could tell by the way she narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. But instead of calling him on it, she turned a bit to include her friend. “This is Margot De Wilde, my friend from the office. Did you get my letters? If so, you know who she is.”

“I did.” His smile was no doubt far from suave and handsome, but the introduction gave him an excuse to look at her again, anyway. “I thought you didn’t have a name. Your parents forgot to give you one, if I recall.” It took a ridiculous amount of energy to deliver the sentence.

But he was rewarded with a snap of amusement in her eyes and the slightest hint of a smile in the corner of her lips.

Dot’s brows arched upward. “Have I missed something?”

“We met the day you had your interview.” Drake reclaimed his hand from her so he could plant it against the mattress and try to ease himself up another inch. It didn’t feel right being below the level of their eyes. But he couldn’t accomplish the move on his own, and he certainly wasn’t going to ask for help. He cleared his throat. “Sort of. She wouldn’t tell me her name.”

Miss De Wilde folded her arms over her chest, her smile growing another fraction. “You didn’t ask what my name is, Lieutenant. You asked if I had one. And then if I weren’t going to tell you.”

Dot laughed, which turned a few male heads their way. Drake sent a scowl at his neighbors. Until he knew what kinds of blokes they were, they weren’t going to get away with ogling his sister.

“Oh heavens! I wish I’d heard it. I wouldn’t have been half so nervous if I’d had a good laugh before going in there.” Dot shook her head and leaned back in her hard wooden chair. “She’s very literal,” she said in a stage whisper, shielding her mouth from Miss De Wilde’s view.

Miss De Wilde let her smile bloom heart-stoppingly full. “What is the point of language if we don’t use it with precision? When others fail in this, then it’s instructional to point it out with exaggeration.”

Drake kept his gaze on her. “It was a lesson, was it? I had just assumed it was custom in Antarctica not to name one’s children. After all, your parents must have been penguins.”

Her lips settled back down into neutral. “Nonsense. They were albatrosses.”

Drake would have liked to laugh, if it wouldn’t have been agony.

Dot had no such compunction and released another chuckle. “Antarctica?”

“Where she claimed her accent was from.”

“And I imagine she said it with a straight face.” Dot grinned. “I could never.”

“No,” Drake agreed. “You were always miserable at lying.”