by Erica Vetsch
He would not make the same mistake twice.
The men from the cutter headed toward the bow, staggering and clinging to any handhold they could as waves buffeted the Shearwater. Within minutes they had marched two sodden, downcast men forward.
Will Owens, the solicitor, and Porter McFie, the man who owned the butcher shop in Gateshead Village.
“Where’s Miles?” Thea raised her face from his collarbone. “Those men wanted to throw me overboard, but Miles argued with them, and that man hit him.” She pointed to McFie. “Miles fell down like he was sleeping.” As she spoke, Miles emerged atop the shifting pile of crates, knife in hand, panic in his eyes. Blood ran from a cut on his head, mixing with the rain.
“Get back. Get back or I’ll cut someone!” he shouted.
“Stop!” Charles lowered Thea and pushed her behind him. He drew his pistol, fighting to keep it aimed on the young man as the deck pitched. He flashed back to that terrible instant when the French sailor had raised his sword. “Don’t make me shoot you, Miles.” His finger trembled on the pistol.
Miles hesitated, looking from Charles to the other men. Charles kept his focus on his erstwhile footman.
“You turncoats. Bashing me on the head.” He glared at his coconspirators. “I’ll have your lights and livers.” He bared his teeth, crouching atop the cargo, staggering and adjusting with each heave of the boat.
“Make up your mind, Miles. We have to get off the Shearwater. She’s breaking up in this surf. If you’re coming peacefully, then come. You tried to save Thea, and I won’t forget that.”
For a long moment, Miles didn’t move. The boat groaned, grinding along the shoal. In increments, clinging to the ropes lashing the crates, Miles descended, but a gleam in his eyes raised warning flags in Charles’s mind.
“There’s no way to escape. You have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t do something even more foolish.”
“My whole life? You know what will happen to me. I’ll be tried, and if I don’t get hung, I’ll be shipped to Botany Bay.” His knife hand shook.
“I’ll do what I can to help you, Miles, but you have to come peacefully.” Charles kept his tone reasonable and kind, but he remained alert, ready to shoot the young man if he so much as twitched in Thea’s direction.
Miles seemed to realize he’d reached the end of his road. The blade lowered.
“Throw it overboard.” Marcus, having turned Grayson over to the crew, stepped forward, pistol in one hand, knife in the other. “Charles, get Thea aboard the dory. I’ll be right behind you. If this young jackanapes doesn’t want to come, he’ll have to take his chances going into the water with a pistol ball in his guts.”
Charles’s brows rose. The bite in Marcus’s tone sounded odd for an aristocrat. His brother-in-law continually surprised him.
Miles pitched his blade into the waves. As it hit the water, the Shearwater creaked and slipped on the shoal, careening at a wild angle. “Everybody off!” Charles picked up Thea and made for the dory.
They had rowed partway back to the cutter when the Shearwater capsized. Her hull didn’t disappear completely, being stuck on the shoal, but the wood cracked and splintered under the fury of the waves, and the cargo, so carefully hoarded by the smugglers, bobbed and wobbled, breaking open and sinking.
When they reached the cutter, Charles turned Thea over to a weeping Sophie, and resisting the urge to gather them both into his arms, he made his way to the helm.
“Come about,” Charles called. The wind and rain had slackened somewhat. As the cutter turned back toward Gateshead, streaks of moonlight broke through the thinning clouds.
He’d nearly lost her. How Thea had managed to escape her captors’ control and wreak such havoc on the Shearwater was baffling. If he had thought about it at all, he would have assumed that a girl in those circumstances would have cowered in fear until someone came to rescue her.
But not his Thea. She was as brave as any sailor he’d ever commanded.
And stubborn. If she hadn’t been out of her room and down at the dock, none of this would have happened.
His hand tightened on the rail.
They would have a reckoning once they got home.
He paused. Never in his adult life had he called a house a home. His home was the sea and whatever ship he happened to be aboard.
But if it was true that home was where the heart was, then his was firmly at Gateshead with Sophie and his girls.
CHAPTER 17
CHARLES PUT SOPHIE and Thea into the capable hands of Mamie and Mrs. Chapman. They were soaked through and shivering, but there were things to tend to before he could deal with Thea’s disobedience.
He hurried through putting on dry clothes and made his way downstairs. The prisoners had been left aboard the cutter, to be turned over to the authorities when the boat returned to Portsmouth. All was quiet on the ground floor, and only Marcus occupied the parlor. His longish hair was still damp, but he warmed himself in front of the fireplace.
“It’s been quite a night, hasn’t it?” His brother-in-law moved to a sofa and collapsed on it in a most un-aristocratic sprawl.
Charles could see where Sophie got some of the insouciance that vexed their mother so much.
“Everything went exactly to plan, except for Thea.” Charles subsided in the chair opposite. He scrubbed his hands down his face.
“Have you noticed that the inclusion of the female of the species in any endeavor is fraught with complications?” Marcus chuckled. “I had my entire life planned out pretty well, before God knocked all my plans into a cocked hat. I actually thought I could consign my wife to the margins of my life and go about my business as if nothing had changed.”
Charles studied his hands. He had thought the same. He had laid out his future and expected God to just go along with his plans. He had laid out his plans with and for Sophie and the girls, and he had thought they would cooperate just as well.
What a fool he was.
“I don’t know what’s going on between you and Sophie, but it’s clear as crystal that you’re pulling against each other. You need to talk. If Charlotte and I had talked, we wouldn’t have wasted so much time at cross-purposes. Don’t sail away without resolving your differences. Nothing gets better with neglect.” Marcus straightened, his eyes kind. “Sophie deserves some happiness, and so do you. I think you can find that with one another.”
Nodding, Charles looked away. Marcus was a good man, and he was only trying to help, but he didn’t know what Charles knew.
Charles was in love with his wife. His wife was in love with a dead man.
The admiral entered, his hands cupping a mug. “That housekeeper of yours is worth her weight in Spanish gold. She brews coffee the navy way, with salt.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Now I remember why I like being posted to the Admiralty. There’s something about a storm at sea that seems colder than anything else. The chill goes right to my marrow. I’m surprised you want to go back to that life, Charles, after being given all this.” He waved to encompass the room.
Charles nodded. He should be jubilant. His name had been cleared, they had broken the smuggling ring, and the Dogged was waiting to whisk him across the ocean. Here he was on the cusp of getting everything he had wanted, of accomplishing his goal of returning to command at sea, and he could barely muster any enthusiasm for the prospect.
Well, he wouldn’t be the first man to take to the sea to get over a broken heart.
The door opened, and Sophie ushered Thea in. The men all rose to their feet.
“Admiral, I believe there are some orts left from the dinner we didn’t get to finish. Suppose we launch a raid on the larder?” Marcus headed toward the hall, with the admiral in tow.
Thea had her head down. She looked fragile and vulnerable in her nightgown and wrapper, with a towel over her shoulders to keep her wet hair off her clothes. Freckles stood out like pepper flakes on her pale face. He readied himself for her apology, taking his seat and remi
nding himself not to be too harsh.
Then she raised her chin. Instead of repentance and remorse, her eyes blazed hot.
“Thea,” Sophie warned. “Say what you need to say.”
She started to cross her arms, but one glance at Sophie had her dropping them to her sides. Sophie seated herself and drew Thea onto the sofa beside her. Thea tucked her chin into her chest.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t believe you.” Charles stood and moved around the chair to pace. He put his hands behind his back. “I don’t believe you are truly sorry.” He glanced at her mutinous little face. “A person who is truly sorry does not give their apology to the floor in a defiant tone. A person who truly regrets their actions looks the person they have offended in the face and asks for forgiveness. I don’t believe you feel sorry.”
“I don’t.” She shrugged. “I’m mad at you.”
Sophie remained silent, but her brow bunched and she bit her lower lip.
“I could claim the same. You were ordered to stay in your quarters this evening.” He continued to pace.
“You wouldn’t listen to me. I told you my owl was missing, and you didn’t even care enough to go look.” At this, her chin came up and she dared him with her glare to deny it. “I went down there this afternoon, and he was gone, and the boat shed was full of crates. When I saw the lights going toward the cliff tonight, and Miles sneaking out of the house, I followed him to tell him to get that stuff out of the shed and leave my owl’s home alone.”
Before he could respond, she hopped up. “I thought we were your crew. You said a captain is always loyal to his crew, and he would never leave a crew member behind. But you are. You can’t wait to get away from us.” This time the arms crossed.
He stopped pacing, considering her. To his horror, two fat tears formed on her lashes and spilled down over her freckles. She swiped at them, as if disgusted to be caught crying.
Charles closed his eyes, feeling the pain and confusion radiating off her. He opened his eyes, rounded his chair, and sat down. “Thea, come here.”
She reluctantly crossed the rug, her feet dragging with every step.
Gently he lifted her and set her on his thigh. At first she was rigid as a mast, but then she drew a deep breath and sagged against his chest.
“Why do you want to leave us? Is it because you don’t like us? I’m sorry I’m so bad. If I try really hard to be good, will you stay?”
His eyes locked with Sophie’s, and her hand went to her lips. Thea’s plea hit him in the chest like a harpoon. He rubbed a small circle between her narrow shoulder blades.
What should he say? He had a feeling this was a crucial moment in their relationship, but he was at a loss. He’d never dealt with young girls before the Pembroke sisters landed in his life, and on a good day with them he was barely treading water.
Sophie threw him a lifeline. “Dorothea Pembroke, you silly goose. Where do you get your ideas? The captain not only likes you, I suspect, if you ask him, he will say he loves you and only wants what is best for you.” She sought confirmation from Charles without words, inclining her head toward Thea.
He cleared his throat. “Of course. You, Penny, Betsy. You’re mine now, and I look after what’s mine. If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t have become your guardian. I wouldn’t care how you acted or what you did or what happened to you.” He tightened his arm around her. He would have to say it. Nothing else would calm her fears. “Thea, I love you.”
Other than possibly his mother when he was a small boy, he’d never said those words to anyone. It was at once terrifying and freeing.
“And Penny and Betsy too?” she asked, her voice muffled against his collar.
“And Penny and Betsy too.” He shifted, and she raised her head. Cupping her cheek in his palm, he used his thumb to swipe at her tears. “I don’t want you to worry about your future. You will always have a home at Gateshead. I’m sorry I didn’t listen better to your concerns about your owl. If I had, none of this would have happened. Now, I want you to go to bed. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
She scooted off his lap, took two steps toward the door, then turned back to fling her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry I disobeyed and went to the pier when I shouldn’t have.” She kissed him on the cheek and slipped out of his hug. Just as she reached the door, she looked back over her shoulder. “You said you loved me and Penny and Betsy. Do you love Sophie?”
Heat blossomed in Charles’s chest and made its way up his neck. “Good night, Thea.”
And then he was alone with his wife.
Charles looked as bleak as a winter pond. He’d been magnificent with Thea, giving her the assurances she needed.
Sophie wished he would do the same with her. Open his arms, take her on his lap, and assure her of his love.
She was being foolish, but she couldn’t help it.
“I’m sure Thea will understand someday.” She blushed. “I mean about why you want to go back to sea.” Time she was going to bed. She was too scattered and raw from all that had happened, and if she didn’t leave, she might make a fool of herself and beg him to stay.
She didn’t hear him come up behind her as she made her way to the door, and she jumped when he took her hand.
“Come with me.”
With purposeful strides, he led her into the hall and up the staircase. Where was he taking her? All sorts of thoughts crashed in her head. The nursery was upstairs. Perhaps he had something else to say to Thea and the girls? Her bedchamber was upstairs, so perhaps he was merely leading her to her door to say good night?
His bedchamber was upstairs too. Her heart bumped wildly at that thought, but she dismissed it.
They turned left at the head of the stairs, so he wasn’t taking her to the nursery.
And they went right past her bedchamber door.
And his.
With a quick twist, he turned the knob and gently pulled her into the room he had made his study.
Deflated, she waited in silence while he lit the lamps.
“Come.” He beckoned her into the alcove where he liked to watch ships traveling along the coast. The curtains were all open, and moonlight twinkled on the water. The sea was calm, as if the tempest earlier had never happened.
She wished she was as calm. He looked out over the ocean, and she studied his profile. How had she ever thought it severe or forbidding? She knew each line and angle, and she loved every one. The creases beside his eyes bespoke years of sunlight reflecting on water. The lips rarely smiled, but when they did it took years off his countenance. The set of the jaw said he was a man of strong convictions and able to lead.
He turned to her and took her hands. “Sophie, tonight your brother said something I recognized as very wise. He spoke of his regret that he wasn’t open with his wife early on in their relationship, and as a result, he felt they had wasted time with their lines snarled when they could have been sailing through calmer waters.” He twisted his mouth, as if rueful. “He didn’t put it in so many words, but you understand my meaning.”
He squeezed her fingers. “Sophie, there is something I must confess to you. Actually, two somethings, but they are two cords of the same rope. I don’t want you to feel badly. I understand you are a loyal person, and you have a right to your feelings.”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I am making a snarl of this, aren’t I?” He shrugged. “Please bear with me.”
“A snarl of what?”
He closed his eyes, as if gathering himself. Fear trickled through her. Whatever it was, it must be momentous to affect him so.
“Sophie Wyvern, I love you. I have loved you for … months? Years?” He shook his head.
She blinked, and the blood rushed from her head, leaving dizziness behind. “What?”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It was your letters. I fell in love with you through your letters to another man. I’m not proud of it. I can only
beg your indulgence, because I never intended for such a thing to happen to me. I think I was more in love with the idea of you, because I would never have acted upon those feelings. You belonged to Rich heart and soul. I knew that then, and I know that now. I looked forward to the mail boat, and I hoped every time there would be a letter from you and that Rich would share something from it.” In the moonlight, his face darkened. He let go of one of her hands and reached behind him to his desk. He took something from a drawer, holding it in his fist.
“I’ve tried several times to return this to you, but I either lost my courage, or I was interrupted. But no interruptions this time. When I brought you Rich’s sea chest, I took something from it.” The look in his eyes was so remorseful, so tortured … He laid the object in her hand. “My only excuse is that I wanted something to remember you by. I had no right to it, and I apologize.” True to what he had told Thea, he looked her in the eyes when he made his confession.
She opened her palm. The miniature of herself lay there. She had noted it was missing from the sea chest and had assumed it lost or buried with him.
Charles had fallen in love with her through her letters, had taken a memento when he thought he would never see her again.
“You love me?” It was too much for which to hope, but she asked anyway. “The real me, not the letter me?”
His laugh was sad. “Sophie, I love you. The real you. The you who sees joy everywhere, who takes care of everyone around you as if they were the most important person in the world. The you who brings laughter and security to the girls the same way you do for Mamie. I love you more each day, which is why I have to leave Gateshead. I know you could never love me in return, but I wanted you to know my feelings. You agreed to this paper marriage and the things I offered you, and one of those was the ability to continue to love Rich without my resenting it. I know you love him still and that you always will. I know I could never take his place, and I would never try. He was a better man than I, and if it weren’t for me, he would be with you now. I’ll take command of the Dogged, and I’ll leave you in peace. I’ll require nothing of you but that you care for the girls when I’m away.”