"What were you doing in here, Ruthven?" he asked a few minutes later as he carefully set the journal back on the writing desk, then pulled the cover down over it before sliding the chair back into place and stepping away.
He wanted to stay, to read more, to learn more. His mother had hated slavery as much as he did...but she had done something about it. What had Aubrey ever done except complain and avoid Pets as much as possible?
She had harassed and cajoled and fought and argued and made a stand. He'd done none of that. If she had lived, would he have wound up helping her? Would she be disappointed in him now?
He rather thought she would. His fingers twitched, and he barely resisted an urge to open the writing desk once more, to glean from it all he could about his mother, about Mina, about the cause his mother had fought on Mina's behalf.
"You look as though heavy thoughts weigh you down," Ruthven said, his calm voice soothing.