by Rose Pearson
The man had no courage.
With a shout of rage, Henry rushed forward, his sword held out towards Lord Slate. The man turned at once, his stance ready and prepared for Henry’s attack.
Henry had always known that to fight with a clear mind brought the best possible outcome but now, he fought Lord Slate with all the fury he felt. His sword fell like hammer blows, clearly surprising Lord Slate, who struggled to hold Henry back. Lord Slate fell back against the ship, his sword thrown from his hand which landed with a harmless splash in the sea beneath.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Henry grated, grasping Lord Slate’s collar with one hand, his eyes boring into his. “Don’t even think of trying to escape. I will not allow it.” He raised his sword and carefully pressed the cold steel against Lord Slate’s neck – and, for the first time, he saw Lord Slate look afraid.
“You are the most conniving, cruel gentleman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing,” Henry grated, resisting the urge to slice open Lord Slate’s neck. “Now, where is she?”
Lord Slate made to shrug, only for Henry to shake him, hard. “Do not even think of lying to me, Lord Slate, or it will be all the worse for you.”
The slight gleam in Lord Slate’s eye faded, his whole body slumping in defeat.
“I don’t know,” he muttered, dropping his head. “She escaped from my cabin.”
The words hit Henry like a sharp kick to his gut. “When?”
“Before you arrived,” Lord Slate muttered, his voice a little hoarse as Henry tightened his grip on his neck. “I don’t know where she’s gone, I swear to you.”
Henry had no choice but to believe him, closing his eyes for a moment in order to steady his breathing. Jacintha had to be on board, although what Lord Slate had done to her, he couldn’t imagine.
“You are going to pay for your crimes,” he breathed, opening his eyes to glare at Lord Slate. “Trust me when I tell you that there is no escape for you this time. You may be a man of the nobility but that will not protect you, not in this case. Your time is up, Lord Slate.”
Holding his sword away from Lord Slate’s neck, he dragged the man back towards his uncle and the rest of his men, relieved to see that the victory had been achieved.
“Throw them all in the brig,” Roderick was commanding, as the men began to haul their captives towards the lower part of the ship. “Ah, Henry. Caught your man, have you?” Roderick’s eyes glittered as he pointed his sword at Lord Slate, a small smile on his face. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you, Lord Slate. We have a lovely little jail cell waiting for you back on land.”
Lord Slate snarled, his eyes flashing. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“That’s quite all right,” Roderick replied, cheerfully. “It’s not me you’re going to have to explain yourself to.”
Taking Lord Slate by the arm, he nodded to Henry. “Go and find her. I’ll take things from here.”
Henry nodded and turned away at once, only one thing on his mind.
Finding Jacintha.
Hurrying to the cabin, he began to look for her in every place he could find, calling her name as he did so. She had to be here somewhere, for she certainly would not have gone into the sea in an attempt to make it to land. He wasn’t even sure she could swim!
Leaving Lord Slate’s cabin, Henry began to search the Captain’s cabin before heading below deck. The air was stale, the smell of unwashed bodies and old food mingling together to make a rather heady concoction. Struggling to see in the gloom, Henry began to call her name over and over, desperately hoping that she would recognize his voice.
“Jacintha? It’s Henry. Come out, please!” His voice echoed around the ship, disappearing into all the dark nooks and crannies. “Jacintha? It’s Henry.”
There was no response. Fear began to tighten its noose around Henry’s neck, making him terrified for her safety. What had Lord Slate done to her? He paused, one hand on the back of a chair as he leaned forward, drawing in long, slow breaths.
He had to find her. She had to be here.
“Henry?”
He looked up at once, his eyes piercing the gloom. A wraith stood in the doorway of a small room, a shadowy figure leaning heavily against the doorframe. His muscles weakened, his body sagging in relief.
“Jacintha?”
A soft cry came from her mouth as he stumbled towards her, clasping her tightly in his arms. Her tears fell like the rain, soaking through his shirt and touching his skin, his own eyes prickling with heat. He held her close for a long time, his breath coming in short gasps as he closed his eyes tightly, drinking in her presence. She trembled against him, her voice whispering his name over and over.
“I’m here,” he reassured her, his lips brushing lightly against her forehead. “I’m here, Jacintha. You are quite safe.”
When she looked up at him, Henry could not help but brush his lips against hers, only for her to press herself up and deepen their kiss, one arm going around his neck as she clung to him. He could not take it all in, his emotions swinging wildly from relief to happiness to fierce anger over what Lord Slate had done.
“Jacintha,” he whispered, as he broke their kiss. Cradling her face in his hands, he looked down into her eyes, relieved to see that she was no longer crying. “I would have gone to the ends of the earth to find you.”
She smiled tremulously, her eyes half closed as he brushed his fingers lightly down her cheeks. “I could only think of you,” she whispered, leaning forward to rest her head against his chest. “You came for me.”
“I will never leave your side again,” Henry promised, holding her tightly for another moment before stepping back from her. “We must go up to the deck. My uncle is waiting there.”
Jacintha shuddered violently. “Lord Slate?”
Henry frowned, his jaw clenching. “I will ensure that he is gone from the ship before we ascend, Jacintha, I promise you. You will never have to lay eyes on that man again.”
She looked up at him again, her eyes trusting. “Thank you, Henry.”
He smiled softly, more than relieved that he had her safely with him once more. “Come, then. Let us return you to your father and sister.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jacintha smiled and tried not to cry as Harmonia threw her arms around her, having clearly been in a state of panic over what had become of her sister.
“I am quite all right,” Jacintha whispered, as Harmonia sobbed quietly. “Henry found me.”
Harmonia wiped her eyes and shook her head, releasing her. “I was so afraid.”
“What about papa?” Jacintha asked, urgently. “Does he know?”
“No, but he must,” Henry interrupted, putting one hand on her arm. “Come and sit down, Jacintha. Harmonia, might you go and ask your father to join us? It is best he hear all of this.”
Jacintha looked back at Henry as he continued to reel off orders to the two maids who had joined them. A tea tray was sent for, a warm cloak and a fire to be stoked in the drawing room. Given that Jacintha and Harmonia’s maids were the only two staff in the house – apart from her father’s manservant – Jacintha appreciated that they were so willing to do as they were asked.
“Where are the rest of the staff?” Henry’s uncle, asked, as Henry led Jacintha into the drawing room.
“Gone,” Henry muttered, sitting down next to Jacintha. “They clearly knew of what Lord Slate was doing and have either left his house in case they were implicated – or because they knew he did not intend to return.”
Roderick Larchmont shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed. “No matter. We have enough evidence on Slate regardless of their testimony.”
“What is going to happen to him?” Jacintha asked, her fingers tightening in her lap as she twined them together. “To Lord Slate, I mean?”
Henry grunted. “That will be for the judge to decide. He will lose everything, however, I have no doubt, after what he did to you. Transportation, most likely.”
�
��Death is not for noblemen,” Uncle Larchmont murmured. “Then again, it depends if the rest of them are willing to talk about Lord Slate’s involvement in order to save their own hides. I would guess that they will.”
Jacintha made to ask whether or not all the smugglers had been taken to the local jail, only for her father to enter the room in a state of worry and confusion. Jacintha was wrapped in his embrace for a good minute or so and it took some time to calm him down long enough to explain exactly what had occurred.
Thankfully, a snifter of brandy helped the Duke to settle, although his face remained grave as Henry explained all that had occurred.
“But I thought Lord Slate to be such an amiable man,” the Duke protested, his eyes widening as he looked over at Jacintha. “Did he not treat you well?”
Jacintha tried to smile, grateful that Harmonia was pouring the tea. “He did whilst we were in London, papa, but not here.”
Her father’s eyes dimmed. “I should never have come here. I knew I should have returned home. I am certain I would not have become ill at home.”
Harmonia took her father’s hand, her expression gentle. “None of us had any expectation that Lord Slate would behave in such a way, papa. This is not your doing.”
“No, indeed,” Henry repeated, firmly. “You must not blame yourself, Your Grace. None of you should take on any unfair responsibility.”
“But to take you out to the ship, to take you to another land where I would never see you again!” the Duke exclaimed, his eyes on Jacintha. “I cannot bear the thought of it! And I thought he was nothing more than a gentleman – a gentleman who would set you up for the rest of your days.”
“I am quite well now, papa,” Jacintha replied, even though she still felt rather weak from all that had occurred. “Henry was the one to find me and brought me back here. I am grateful to him for all that he did, as well as to you, Mr. Larchmont. Without you, I might never have returned to my family.”
Henry put his hand on hers, ignoring the lack of propriety that this action brought. “You are stronger than I ever knew,” he said softly, as Jacintha turned to look into his eyes, feeling warmth spill into her heart. “I cannot tell you how relieved I was to find you on board, hiding from that despicable man.”
Jacintha’s throat closed up, the words she wanted to say dying on her tongue. She wanted to tell him just how much she had thought of him, how the memory of him had sustained her when she had lost almost all hope. When he had first called her name, she had thought herself dreaming, lost in a haze of sorrow and fear – but when she had realized that it truly was Henry, her limbs had burst to life and she had scrambled to her feet, desperate to run to him for safety. The sight of him standing there, looking as terrified and as desolate as she felt had spoken to her heart. He had been lost without her, just as she had been without him.
To be in his arms again had been the most wonderful moment of her life.
“I owe you a great debt of gratitude,” the Duke said, firmly, getting up to shake Henry’s hand, followed by Roderick Larchmont’s. “You have given me my daughter back.”
Jacintha smiled as her father took her hand again, dismayed to see his expression growing sorrowful. “I thought Lord Slate was an excellent match,” he muttered, as he went back to take his seat. “How could I have made such a poor judgment of his character?”
“Because he hid it well,” Jacintha replied, softly. “Even I was taken in, papa. I believed he held some affection for me but, once I came here, I discovered that he saw me as nothing more than a requirement. He thought he needed a wife in order to gain more respectability – as well as producing the heir,” she continued, with a slight blush to her cheeks, “and that, since he had chosen me, he intended to fulfill his intentions.”
Henry shook his head, his jaw set and fire burning in his gaze. “The man is a scoundrel and a rogue.”
“He cared nothing for me,” Jacintha murmured, her heart growing painful with the memory of what he had said to her so fiercely. “He had put in so much effort with me that he did not want to return to London in order to choose another. Besides, I found the passageway, which I was not meant to.”
“The passageway?” Mr. Larchmont murmured, his eyebrows lifting just a little. “Where is that, if you please?”
“In the library,” Jacintha replied, frowning as she tried to recall exactly. “There is a small portrait of a lady which, I believe, I bumped and, somehow, it opened the door to the passageway.”
Mr Larchmont got to his feet, clearing his throat. “I should find it, to ensure that we have all of our evidence written up,” he said, with a slight incline of his head. “Do excuse me.”
Jacintha saw her father look up at Roderick Larchmont for a moment, a slightly confused expression on his face. Clearly, there was a lot to take in and Jacintha could not blame her father for being rather befuddled by all that had gone on whilst he remained here in bed, recovering.
“Papa, I am sure Mr. Larchmont will not mind if you accompany him,” she said softly, seeing Harmonia glance over at her in surprise. “Go and see the passageway and ask as many questions as you need. I shall be quite well here, I assure you.”
Mr. Larchmont indicated his agreement at once and, after ensuring that Jacintha would, in fact, be quite all right, the Duke rose and followed after him, already asking about how Lord Slate had taken Jacintha out to the boat.
Jacintha looked over at Harmonia, who was studying Henry with a careful eye, a small smile on her face.
“I think I shall get some more tea,” she murmured, her cheeks a light pink. “I shall only be a few minutes.”
“Thank you, Harmonia,” Jacintha replied, leaning back in her seat as a great tiredness swept through her. “You are very kind.”
Silence swept over Jacintha and Henry as Harmonia’s footsteps died away. Jacintha looked up at him, aware of his presence beside her. His eyes were fixed on hers, as though fastened there, and Jacintha found she could not look away. Her heart was filled with him, the regret she had once felt at turning away from him in order to choose Lord Slate dying away steadily.
“Jacintha,” Henry began, hoarsely, taking a hold of her hand again. “I am glad to see you so restored to your family. Are you feeling any better?”
“Stronger, yes,” she replied, despite the exhaustion flowing steadily through her. “Although I confess I am rather tired.”
“How much you have endured,” he murmured softly, his fingers running over the back of her hand. “And yet you are as serene as I have ever seen you.”
She laughed then, her expression soft. “That is only because you cannot see my very soul tremble.”
He did not laugh, his eyes grave. “I should have made more of an effort to speak to you,” he said, his eyes lowering for a moment. “When Lord Slate turned myself and my uncle away at the door, I should have demanded to see you. Then none of this might have happened. I would have kept you safe over charging him for smuggling.”
Wanting to relieve his anxiety, Jacintha leaned forward and ran her hand lightly down his cheek, her breath hitching as he looked up, intently, into her eyes. “Henry, you saved me. Forget what might have been or what could have happened, you rescued me from Lord Slate and from a life that would have been nothing more than misery and torment. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you.”
She saw him swallow, his eyes drawing her ever closer.
“I have never forgotten that moment in the garden,” he whispered, one hand wrapping lightly around her waist. “I lost my way for a time, I forgot about who I was supposed to be, but I assure you that I will never turn that way again.”
Aware of what he was saying, aware of what he was offering, Jacintha could not help but respond. Leaning forward, she touched her mouth to his, feeling her body ignite as she did so. Their kiss was long, slow and sweet, filled with promises and healing.
“I have never forgotten that moment either,” she whispered, as he rested his forehead gently against he
r own. “I have always wondered what would have become of us should we not have been interrupted. For a long time, I convinced myself that marriage based on nothing more than convenience and practicality was what I wanted – but I know now that it is not to the case. I want love, Henry. I want to be with the man I love, who loves me as much in return.”
“I can give you that,” he promised, his voice hoarse. “Jacintha, will you truly have me? Will you be my wife?”
Her heart filled with such happiness that she thought it might burst from her chest. “I will, Henry. Of course I will.”
Epilogue
Henry paced up and down the room, running one hand through his hair as he waited in a state of anxiety for the doctor to leave his wife’s room.
Jacintha had been pale and tired for weeks and, after some convincing, she had permitted him to send for the doctor. Terrified that she was ill, Henry tried not to allow his worry to cloud his mind, desperately waiting for the door to open so that he might be permitted.
After a few more minutes, the door opened and the doctor stepped out, a small smile on his face.
“Is she quite well?”
“Lots of rest,” the doctor replied, patting Henry on the shoulder. “She needs to eat well and sleep any time she is tired. Ginger should help the sickness.”
“Sickness?” Henry repeated, his eyes widening as he looked from the doctor into Jacintha’s room. “She has been sick?”
“It will pass,” the doctor replied, with a slight chuckle. “On you go then, Lord Musgrove. And do send for me again if it requires it.”
More confused than ever, Henry rushed into the room, forgetting to thank the doctor entirely, and made his way over to Jacintha’s side.