Nathaniel was familiar enough now with the words and thoughts of William Whitestone to know that his first fears would not be for himself but for his wife, whom Nathaniel was convinced he’d loved deeply and to whom he’d given his greatest allegiance.
Nathaniel’s only regret was that Patience finally knew undeniably who and what her grandfather was. That’s why Nathaniel had taken to rereading sections of the journal just before Patience did so he could anticipate her moods. He placed the journal on the coffee table, stretched, and decided it was time to wake up his princess, perhaps with a kiss.
Nathaniel padded into her bedroom in his socks so as not to startle her. But she was already awake.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It’s in the past. It’s all in the past, Nathaniel.”
“Of course,” he said, in an attempt to comfort her. “Patience, I think you were born too late, into the wrong time, even the wrong century.”
Nathaniel had known the effect the journal passages would have on the woman he was growing to love. And there was no way to protect her from that. He’d wanted to rip the pages out of the journal because he knew the words would destroy her. But he could no sooner destroy those pages of history than rip apart the spine of a reference book. He would have given anything to spare Patience from the grief she experienced when she discovered the love she took for granted was an illusion.
In Nathaniel’s mind, Patience was a miracle. His miracle. Had her grandfather ever really appreciated what he had in her?
Chapter 20
While Patience puttered around in the garden, Nathaniel decided it was time to open his grandmother’s letter. The one he had promised on her deathbed to hand deliver to William Whitestone, along with the diamonds. Perhaps the answer to his and William’s questions could be found there. William Whitestone was dead. Nathaniel’s grandmother was dead. What could it matter now if he read the letter to finally discover what had passed between them? Nathaniel brought the crumpled envelope out of the pocket of his jeans and began reading.
To William Whitestone at Marigold House,
William, perhaps you will remember me. Maybe you have even thought of me since we last met. Or perhaps I flatter myself that you would even be interested in what happened to me after all these years. You certainly made quite an impression on me, one I’ll never forget. If you’re reading this, then I am no longer alive. But before I leave this earth, I want you to know that I owe you my life and the lives of my children and grandson. So I am writing to finally thank you properly. A mere letter must seem inadequate after all this time. But your offer of help at such a desperate time in my life meant everything.
When you returned to the hospital and found me missing, I cannot imagine what you must have thought and how you must have worried. But I think you knew who I was and that I had no choice but to leave. My life and the lives of my babies were in danger.
We once guarded each other’s secrets although we were on opposite sides. I could have betrayed you with just one signal. You could have taken my life to save your own. Or you could have left me in the hotel room to die. For certainly our mutual “friend” would have killed me. Or I would have died in childbirth before he got there. But I saw something in you, something good. It was easy to recognize after I had been immersed in evil, literally sleeping with the devil. And that goodness caused you to respond to me when I needed you most.
I had the advantage of knowing what happened to you. It was easy to follow your career. You are a legend in Bermuda. You have done well in your life and done good with it. I hope you found some happiness along with your fame and fortune. It was with great sorrow that I read about the death of your daughter Gwyneth. I cannot even imagine how you must have felt. From the way you cared for my babies, I know you must have been a wonderful father.
I also know the great love story of William and Diana Whitestone. I was fortunate to find love with a wonderful man when I came to America and settled in Virginia. But now I can admit, because I would never have had the courage to say it to your face, I was a little in love with you myself. Maybe it was the bond we forged when you delivered my children.
My daughter and my son were always restless and unhappy and never at peace. I think the twins might have had too much of their father in them. When my daughter abandoned her son, I raised him. My grandson, Nathaniel Morgan, was the real joy in my life. He has brought me so much happiness that all the rest was worth it. I hope your granddaughter has brought your life as much fulfillment as Nathaniel has brought to mine.
I know you will like Nathaniel, and I would like him to meet you. He is at loose ends right now, and I feel that his destiny lies in Bermuda.
So I have asked my grandson to deliver this letter and to return the diamonds you gave me, along with the trunk my son found containing your private papers. Having them helped me find my way through the darkest hours. I have hopes that Nathaniel will find his way, too.
I never knew what became of Nighthawk. That is still a great mystery. Maybe you know his whereabouts? I certainly have wished him in hell often enough, even though he was the father of my children. But there was never any love between us. Thank God he never found me after he left me there in that hotel room. I think he may have been in touch with my son. I fear that he was. Otherwise, why would my son have possession of your trunk with documents that could compromise you? I don’t, for a minute, believe my son’s story about how he came to find the trunk at the bottom of the Atlantic. I will go to my grave hating that man and hoping he never hurts Nathaniel.
I know what you must have thought of me, how my relationship with Nighthawk must have looked to you back then. But there was a purpose in everything I endured. I did what I had to do. I made my choices for my own reasons, hoping that some good would come out of it for the world.
So, my dear William—I hope I can take the liberty of calling you that, because that is how I think of you whenever I think of you, which is often. And I thank God you came to me when you did. You were the answer to my prayers.
Eternally, Gratefully Yours,
Simone (My real name. I’ll bet you never knew. I reclaimed it when I came to America.)
So, his grandmother was the Yvette in William Whitestone’s journal, a British spy and Nighthawk’s mistress. It all began to make sense—the French lullabies, the secrecy surrounding his heritage, and now the proof in her own handwriting.
Would he share the letter with Patience?
Then she’d know his provenance was just as evil as hers. He wasn’t quite prepared to do that, not while there was still a threat against her.
She would banish him from her life and he couldn’t protect her.
Chapter 21
Bermuda 2013
The blood of William Whitestone was on his hands. He could still feel it seeping out of the body of his enemy. He had tried to wash it off dozens of times, to remove all traces, but still it remained to haunt him.
The man called William Whitestone had cried clever tears and uttered words that had almost taken him in. He had looked at William Whitestone with contempt, prepared for the fear, but he was staggered by the love and understanding that shone back at him from the eyes of the nearly dead man. Whitestone had invoked the name of his wife and his child, but he had ignored his victim’s pleas and shown no mercy. He had waited too long for revenge.
But the girl, Patience, had come home unexpectedly, and he’d had to finish it sooner, much sooner, than he had planned, or risk being caught.
Then the damn sea captain from America had sailed in on his strange pirate ship and threatened to ruin everything. What was his connection to Patience, and why did he have to show up here now? He’d have to be dealt with. They both would. And he was looking forward to it.
Chapter 22
When Nathaniel answered the door at Marigold House the next morning, Cecilia breezed in, pulling him into the foyer.
“Where’s Patience?” she asked.
“Still asleep.”
“Good. Because we need to talk.”
“To you, anytime, sugar,” he said, trying to get a rise out of her.
“Why, Cousin Nathaniel, are you flirting with me?” Cecilia purred.
“Do you want me to?”
“Under any other circumstances, you’d already be in my bed.”
He raised one eyebrow.
“But I sense you are attracted to Patience. Would I be correct in that assumption?”
“What makes you think that?” he asked warily.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the way your eyes follow her whenever she enters a room and ache with longing when she leaves it.”
“Am I that obvious?”
She smiled and nodded. “Whatever you’re doing, you seem to be good for her. She’s laughing and smiling again. You’re helping her heal. But if I find you’ve hurt her, in any way, I’m going to have to boot your adorable buns back across the Atlantic. After I’ve skinned you alive. I’m just here to warn you to be careful with her.” Cecilia had turned serious. “You strike me as a man who likes women, lots of women. Patience is special. She’s in a very fragile state now, with the loss of her grandparents. I’m the only one looking out for her now. And I won’t have anyone taking advantage of her vulnerability.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Nathaniel asked. “Has she always been so fragile?”
“It’s called mourning,” Cecilia said sarcastically. “She’s had a lot of experience with it lately. So, yes, she is fragile, and she is breakable, and if you mess with her mind or anything else, you’ll have to answer to me. It would be a mistake to underestimate her, though. Because she’s a hell of a lot stronger than she looks right now. In fact, she’s one of the strongest women I know, very anchored, very true, and extremely intelligent,” Cecilia emphasized. “She can handle herself in most any situation. But when it comes to men… She’s very romantic, old fashioned. She hasn’t had much experience. She’s a dreamer. And at the moment, she’s all dreamy-eyed over you. I wouldn’t want to see her dreams shattered.”
“She’s a beautiful woman. I’m sure she’s had her share of men.”
“Now, that’s where your thinking is off course, sailor,” Cecilia explained. “Patience doesn’t have a vain bone in her body. I doubt she thinks of herself as attractive. But anyone can see what a great beauty she is, just like her grandmother was. And she carries herself like a princess. Most men don’t get her. She’s proper and refined, and that tends to put some guys off. I guess she told you she was raised by her grandparents, so she is a little old-fashioned. She’s a rare and complicated woman. Certainly, many men would like to possess her. She’s the best catch in Bermuda. She has looks and money on both her mother’s and her father’s side. Quite a lot of money, in fact.” She stared at him suspiciously. “Are you after her money, Cousin Nathaniel?” Cecilia asked pointedly.
“I have enough of my own,” he answered smoothly, not skipping a beat, but almost choking on the guilt. He was, after all, chasing her gold, or rather, her grandfather’s gold.
“Well, then, what’s your game? What are you really after? Because I’m not buying this cousin business.”
“That’s between Patience and me. Our business doesn’t concern you.”
“I’m making it my concern,” she challenged.
“If men are lining up at her door, why haven’t I seen any of these suitors?”
“Patience posted the No Trespassing sign herself. They’re just respecting her wishes.”
“If they really cared about her, they would know that the last thing she needs is to be alone right now,” Nathaniel pointed out.
“Agreed. That’s why she’s lucky to have you here.”
“When you said she hadn’t had much experience…” He broached the subject tentatively.
“What are you asking me?”
“You know what I’m asking. Has she ever…been with a man?” He held his breath.
Cecilia eyed him carefully.
“That’s getting rather personal. Are you sure you shouldn’t be asking Patience that question?”
“I’m asking you.”
Cecilia hesitated only a moment, apparently deciding she could trust him.
“If you thought not, your instincts would be correct.”
Nathaniel’s stomach stopped pitching and settled before he focused on Cecilia.
“What about you? What’s your story?”
Cecilia was only too happy to talk about herself.
“Patience and I couldn’t be less alike in that department. I’ve been married three times.”
“At your age?” He was incredulous. “What happened?”
“The first time I married too young. The second husband left me cold. He was not hot enough for my blood. The third husband was too hot. He left me for a younger woman.”
“Have you given up on men, then?”
“Heavens, no! I’m like Goldilocks. I’m looking for a man that’s not too hot and not too cold. I’m looking for Mr. Just Right.”
“What do you know about Patience’s grandfather?” Nathaniel asked. “What kind of man was he?”
“He was devoted to Patience and her grandmother.” Cecilia shrugged. “Loved them both to distraction. So much that he would have given his life for them. He cherished them. It was sweet, really.”
“How did he make his living?”
“He was a private investor, I guess. At one time he owned half the land and businesses on the island or was connected to them in some way. He ran the telephone company and the power company. He was on the board at several banks. He didn’t go to an office on a regular basis, not in recent years. He didn’t have to. He conducted business out of Marigold House. He was an astute businessman. They say he had the Midas Touch. Everything he handled turned to gold.”
“Interesting choice of words,” Nathaniel commented. Nathaniel surmised that with the lines of credit available to William Whitestone through Swiss banks and the capital he had been provided to set himself up initially, he had probably amassed a fortune many times over, thanks to his own business savvy. He might not even have needed the untraceable shipments of gold to maintain his lavish lifestyle. But in Nathaniel’s experience, it took money to make money. His solid gold foundation had given him an advantage.
“My parents said the Whitestones were devastated when they lost their daughter, Patience’s mother,” Cecilia continued. “Mr. Whitestone thought he should have been able to prevent the accident somehow. He was used to controlling everything. But after it happened, they never talked about it, like it hadn’t occurred. In fact, they never told Patience she wasn’t really their daughter until she was old enough to figure it out for herself. As far as Patience and the world were concerned, she was their daughter. They were as close as any parents and child could be. He spent most of his time and attention on Patience and Diana, and that’s why his death and her grandmother’s have left such a vacuum for Patience.”
“Was he a kind man?”
Cecilia mulled that question over before answering.
“He had a dangerous edge to him,” she acknowledged. “He was very cool, calculating, very controlling. He was overly protective, I guess, because Patience was his only child and a daughter. He hardly let her out of his sight. Either of them. He wouldn’t even let Patience go away to school or travel. He had tutors brought in to supplement her education. She’s never left the island. I always thought it was a bit unnatural. But Patience would never have questioned it or disobeyed her grandfather. She loved him. And she loves Bermuda. She says she never wants to leave. But was he kind?” Cecilia paused a moment. “He had a good heart, I think. Otherwise Patience would not have adored him so. She is a very good judge of character.”
“Sometimes love can blind you to the truth,” Nathaniel observed.
“Who’s a very good judge of character?” Patience asked sweetly, as she sailed out of her bedroom clothed in a white terrycloth rob
e. With that tousled look and the sun shining just so on her yellow hair, Nathaniel thought she looked like an angel, a fallen angel. The thought had his blood boiling. He could gaze at that face forever. A good night’s sleep had done wonders for her disposition. She wasn’t the same girl who had looked like she wanted to murder him right there on the deck of his boat.
Cecilia planted a kiss on her friend’s cheek. “Feeling better?” she asked solicitously.
“Much better, thank you. What brings you by so early?”
Cecilia glanced at her watch. “Honey, it’s almost noon. You overslept, big time.”
“She needed it,” Nathaniel said irritably.
Cecilia looked at him and shook her head. Then she stood on her tiptoes and whispered into his ear, “You’re acting like a protective mother hen, Cousin Nathaniel. You have it bad, and you don’t even know it. Well, good for you. I love it when a man suffers.”
Nathaniel shot her a venomous look.
“What are you two whispering about?”
“The menu,” Nathaniel said, ignoring Cecilia. “We were just discussing the menu. I’ve fixed us a traditional Sunday breakfast, Patience.”
“My cousin is not only a sailor, he’s an excellent chef,” Patience pointed out.
“I aim to please,” Nathaniel answered. “Now, come into the dining room. I’ve already set you a place.”
Cecilia flashed Patience a knowing smile. “I guess my work here is done. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”
“Cecilia!” Patience objected.
“Bye. I’ll call you, and I’ll let myself out.”
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