sorry,” I say.
“It’s no matter. I rather hated their port,” he says, trying to cover the injury to his pride.
“There is a place that would have you if you would have them,” I remind him. “It may not be your first choice, but they are sound men who share your interests, and you may come to like them best over time.” Then, changing the subject, I say, “Tom, there is something I must know. Do you think that I could have brought Father’s illness on, when I tried to make him see…with the magic…”
“Gemma, he has consumption, brought on by his grief and his vices. It’s not your doing.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. Don’t misunderstand me—you are quite vexing.” He touches his tender jaw. “And you hit like a man. But you didn’t cause his illness. That is his doing.”
Farther down the river, a ship’s hor
