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horse. He was found unconscious after one of his morning rides, a wicked gash on his head and his horse nowhere to be seen.” She moved away, still needing to escape his draw on her senses. She paced about the sparsely furnished room. “As he came back to his senses, in a fashion, his wish was that no one know. He is a proud man, even now when he is himself less than a third of the time.”
    “When was this, exactly?” Derick said, his gaze following her intently—she could feel it almost like a ray of sun beating on her and like that brilliant star, it heated her to a splotchy red.
    “Nearly six years ago,” she answered. Why did it matter? Unless she could convince Derick to leave well enough alone, it was all over. “We brought in the bestdoctors. We thought George would recuperate and for a while, it seemed like he might. I…had been handling most of the administrative side of his post, as I had done for my father before him, but after George’s accident, I began handling some of the more physical aspects as well.”
    A tightness settled in Emma’s chest. What if her position was taken away from her? Assisting first her father, then her brother, in their roles as magistrate had given her life meaning in a time when she’d been floundering and facing a life of bleak prospects. She’d been a dismal failure in her one London Season, ridiculed for her oddly rational mind and for her tendency to say what was on it without veiling her thoughts. Accepting that she was destined to end up a spinster and a burden to her family, she’d been grateful for some purpose. She couldn’t admit that to Derick, however. A man like him would never understand what it felt like to be searching for a place to belong.
    “But then he took a turn for the worse,” she went on, pushing any sentiment from her tone, “and by the next year, it had all become too taxing for him. So I stepped fully into his role.” And found a life of her own, a life of being needed by the villagers and townsfolk, respected for her logical mind and straightforward approach to life and problem solving. It hadn’t been easy. She’d had to prove herself to them first, but it hadn’t been long until Emma had gone from being pitied to being appreciated. And now Derick had it in his power to take that from her.
    Emma stopped pacing and searched his face, desperate to know what he was thinking. But she was met with inscrutability.
    “And what is your brother’s condition now?” Derick asked, his gaze hooded.
    Emma struggled to put into words what it was like to live with George. “The closest thing I can think to describemy brother is to compare him to an aged person who suffers from dementia. There are days when George seems almost himself, and aside from his being confined to a rolling chair, I can almost believe he’d never had the stroke—although those days are fewer and further between. Other days, he doesn’t know his own name.” Those were the hardest times, when he stared at her as if she were a stranger…sometimes even acting afraid of her. “Some days, he can remember everything about our lives, but others…he can’t remember what he had for breakfast.” A sigh escaped her. “Then there are the times where he’s completely unable to communicate, sometimes for days, even weeks at a time. Those are rare, too, thank God, though he’s been in one of those spells for much of the last month.”
    “I’m sorry, Pygmy,” he said softly. “It must be very difficult for you.”
    “Don’t call me that.” She didn’t want his pity. She wanted him to keep her secret and leave her brother in peace. “Besides, having my brother only part of the time is better than having no one at all,” she whispered.
    “I see,” he said as he strode toward the door. “I must think on this.”
    Emma followed, unable to let him just leave without knowing his intentions. She reached out and grabbed his elbow.
    “Must think on what?”
    He turned back,