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found me, I can only hope it wasn’t all business.” Again his broad teeth flashed.
    She returned his smile. “I’m anxious to have my situation resolved. I had expected to be settled in already, and today I meant to find employment.”
    “Employment, Miss DiGratia?”
    She took out the advertisement that had appeared in the same paper as the one for her house and held it out to Mr. Beck. “You see here? Professional opportunities for women. Contact Madame LeGuerre.”
    Mr. Beck’s eyes went abruptly from the advertisement to her. “Unless I have misread you, Miss DiGratia, these are not the professional opportunities you seek.”
    “What do you mean? It says training provided.”
    Mr. Beck folded the advertisement and covered it with his hand on the table. “I would encourage you not to pursue this avenue further.”
    “Why not?”
    “Madame LeGuerre is a … well, a madam.” Carina looked at him blankly.
    “A woman of the night.”
    Her eyes widened involuntarily. “You mean this is … but …” Carina spread her hands. Was it possible? Yet another error? “I didn’t know. I purchased a house. I intended to learn a profession—not that profession. I …” She sagged in her chair. “I don’t know what to do.”
    He would tell her to go home, that Crystal was no place for her. And he would be right. Oh the shame, to go home to Flavio’s taunting…. Hadn’t he said as much, calling her a foolish girl? He’d been angry, irate that she was leaving. But he was right. What would she do now?
    Mr. Beck laid a comforting hand over hers. “Miss DiGratia, I would be happy to engage you as an assistant.”
    She started. “An assistant?”
    “You no doubt noticed the deplorable condition of my office.”
    Now that he mentioned it, she did recall the cluttered desk and the stacks of books and papers along the wall. She had been too stunned by her situation to consider it before, but now … What were her choices?
    She looked into the earnest face before her. “Are you doing this out of kindness, Mr. Beck?”
    “Yours would be the kindness, Miss DiGratia. I’m a desperate slob.”
    That would not be so different from Mr. Garibaldi, whose books she’d kept. “Have you enough business to afford—”
    “Heavens, yes! I’m over my head with claim disputes, property settlements …”
    “Such as mine?” Carina raised the challenge pointedly. She couldn’t let him forget.
    “Well, yes, as a matter of fact.” He smoothed back his hair. “Then it will be some time before you settle it?”
    Beck sipped his coffee, dabbed his lips with the napkin, then folded and laid it over his plate. “Miss DiGratia, you have my word. I’ll move with all due haste. But …” He straightened. “I won’t mislead you. It will be involved.”
    Carina’s heart sank. “Involved means time.”
    He nodded regretfully. “My concern is that the transaction you made on the house may be as misleading as this one.” He patted the folded newsprint beneath his palm.
    Her anger flared. How had she been so duped? Was she a dunce, an imbecile? Innocente! Again she had trusted!
    Glancing up, she saw the freighter who had destroyed her wagon. It had to be the same, his brown hair hanging to his shoulders, the mustache jaunty and full. He stood in the doorway looking like a Corsican pirate, even without a gold ring in his ear and a sash at his waist. He’d acted one, too. It was piracy he’d practiced on her, no matter his reasons. Her blood burned at the very sight of him.
    He turned when the red-haired woman Mr. Beck had addressed as Mrs. Barton hastened to his side. She looked like a different woman, all sweetness and joy, the craggy sides of her mouth folded back around her smile, revealing long ferretlike teeth. “Quillan Shepard, bless you. You’ve brought my order?”
    Quillan Shepard . A rogue embodied, and this woman transformed from a silent malcontent to a doting aunt. Carina couldn’t help but stare. Bless him? How