The Madman’s Daughter by Megan Shepherd Page A

prove otherwise, but the evidence was against me. We had spent the night in the same room, more than once. And I couldn’t pretend the idea had never crossed my mind.
    “Well, I’m not sorry to hear that. I’m glad you’re not spoken for.” He paused. “I like getting to know you, Miss Moreau.”
    I kept silent, watching the island, though inside I was a mess of confusion. I wondered if I should acknowledge his comment. He was probably a perfectly nice young man. But I’d seen too much of what men were capable of to trust a stranger. And there was something unsettling about him. He had even said himself that he was running from something he’d done. It must have been serious if he had to flee England. I glanced at him askance, wondering what the wealthy son of a general had to run from.
    Edward matched my silence, too reserved to say what else was really on his mind. But then again, so was I.
    The Curitiba sailed toward a natural inlet that opened like a yawning mouth. From the farthest point, a narrow dock extended toward us, beyond the breakers, longer than any dock I’d ever seen. Waves washed over it, threatening to swallow the whole structure. At the edge, next to a bobbing launch, stood a small party of figures. They began to take shape as the Curitiba drifted closer.
    There were three men as large as brutes, larger even than Balthazar. They had the same odd hunch to their shoulders as Balthazar, and their heads seemed set too low on their necks. I wondered what had made all the natives so disfigured. It was as though God had started here before he made man.
    One of the hunched men shuffled to the edge of the dock and crouched on his haunches like a beast. As hemoved away, I saw another man behind him, this one of regular size, with a straight back and spindly limbs. He wore a white linen suit and shoes so polished the sunlight reflecting off them made me squint. A parasol shaded his face from the sun and my eyes, but my heart would recognize him anywhere.
    As I stared, the parasol slid back and the man’s eyes met mine.
    I gasped.
    He was my father, and yet he wasn’t. The face was the same, as was his stiff posture, but his once carefully groomed dark hair flew wild and gray like a swarm of wasps about his head. What unnerved me most was the peculiar way he calmly stared back at me, unflinching, as if he’d known I was coming.
    As if he’d been waiting for me.

ELEVEN
    I DUCKED BEHIND THE bulwarks where I couldn’t be seen. Edward dropped beside me. I tried to calm the sudden rush of blood to my head. I don’t know what instinct drove me to hide after I’d come so far to find my father. I just had to get away from those watching eyes. I was imagining things, I told myself. He couldn’t have known I was coming. A girl in a white dress was an odd sight on any ship, worth a curious look.
    Edward frowned. “Your father, I assume.”
    I rubbed my tired eyes and nodded. Paranoia had crept into that part of my brain usually reserved for reason. “Yes. I suppose I didn’t give him much of a greeting.”
    He gave me a hand to pull me to my feet, and now I felt silly for my reaction. “It’s natural to be nervous.” Instead of letting go, though, he pulled me closer. “And I still think it’s odd for a gentleman to live out here alone. Be careful, Miss Moreau. I don’t want you to be hurt.”
    I pulled my hand back defensively, wiping it on my dress. “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”
    Montgomery had given me a similar warning. They might think me helpless, but they had no idea that for a poor girl on her own, the streets of London were filled with far more dangers than a tropical island.
    I glanced at Edward. “And please call me Juliet. I’m not a lady.”
    “Drop anchor!” the captain bellowed. I braced myself as the anchor found bottom with a lurch. The launch was so full it could take only one passenger at a time, so Montgomery went first with the rabbits, claiming he needed to