The Viscount's Salvation (Honorable Rogue Book 3)

by Vikki Vaught

  Gerrard crouched beside him. “Are you injured, Capitaine?”

  Cortland minimized his injury, not wanting to alarm the lad. “My left arm took a hit, but it’s just a flesh wound. I shall look at it once we’re safely onboard.”

  He sat up and looked toward shore. He heard the soldier in charge yelling, but could not make out his words. Thank God, the dinghy had traveled well away from shore, out of range of the rifles.

  When the boat hit the hull of the ship, a rope ladder dropped over the side. The captain yelled over the wind and the thunder crackling overhead, “Let the children climb up first.” Gerrard helped Aimee grab the ladder and pushed her upwards as he followed after, lest she slip and fall. Once the children made it to the railing and scrambled over, the captain motioned for Cortland to ascend next. Grabbing the ladder with his right hand, he prayed he could make his left arm support him on his climb up.

  Unimaginable pain slammed through him as he torturously moved upward with a sailor at his heels. Using all of his reserved energy, he grabbed the hand of the sailor offering help. He made it over the railing and collapsed on the deck, his head spinning as he gasped for air.

  Gerrard moved to his side and helped him stand. The man who had assisted him helped support him as they made their way below. The first mate guided him to a chair in a small cabin. “Sit while I find the ship’s surgeon, so he can look at your arm.”

  Cortland fought to remain conscious as the children clustered around him. Gerrard’s worried countenance spun in front of him, but he hung on, refusing to pass out.

  A large man entered. “Let’s take a look at your injury.” The surgeon cut his sleeve away and probed the wound. “The ball passed through and did not hit the bone. You are a lucky man. Once I make sure no fibers of your shirt are in the wounds, I will sew them closed.”

  Cortland steeled himself, fighting the nausea churning in his gut as the man plucked a fragment of material from the hole in his arm, then commenced stitching the entry and exit wounds. He took a large swig of the whiskey someone handed him as he stoically remained still.

  Once the surgeon finished tying off the bandage around his upper arm, he stood. “Keep the wound clean and covered. You’ll need to change the dressings twice a day and check for redness, especially red lines running from the wounds. As long as no putrefaction sets in, the stitches can be removed in a week or so.”

  Gerrard spoke up. “I can take care of le capitaine, monsieur. I have experience tending injuries.” Again, the young lad’s willingness to help astounded Cortland. He owed his life to this incredible boy. God had certainly looked out for him when He placed young Gerrard in his path.

  The surgeon remarked, “Then I shall leave you in your young friend’s capable hands.” Then he bowed and left the cabin.

  Now that his arm had been tended to, Cortland noticed the movement of the vessel. From the pitch and pull of the ship and the sound of thunder, the storm still raged outside and tossed the craft around. He hoped the children had strong stomachs, because they would need them.

  Gerrard stowed their meager belongings in the corner of the cabin. Only one hammock hung in the space. The pain in his arm tore through him, but he did not give in to it. Cortland declared, “You and Aimee can take the hammock. I will use the blankets for a pallet on the floor.”

  “Oh, non, Capitaine,” the lad protested. “We will sleep on the floor. You must have the hammock.”

  There was no way Cortland had the energy to climb into it. “No, I insist. I would have difficulty trying to get into the hammock anyway. I will be much more comfortable on the floor.”

  Gerrard looked like he would protest, but then he capitulated. “As you wish, monsieur.”

  After they were settled, the children quickly fell asleep. Cortland lay on the pallet, drew another blanket around him, and let sleep overtake him.

  The following day, the children sat quietly as the raging storm tossed the ship around, never uttering a word. He dozed off and on throughout the day and through the night. The captain sent food twice, but their stomachs were queasy, so none of them ate very much.

  The next morning, he awoke when someone knocked on the door. Rising, he staggered to the door and opened it. The young cabin boy entered, carrying a tray. “The cap’ain sent ye breakfast. He said t’ tell ye we should make it t’ Dover tonight since th’ storm has at last blown further out to sea.”

  As the young lad set the tray on the small table, Cortland said, “Thank your captain for the sustenance. It is greatly appreciated. I’m glad to hear the weather has improved.”

  The cabin boy departed, and since the bread and cheese would not spoil, he let the children sleep. They were clearly exhausted from another restless night. While his arm throbbed, he still did not have a fever. He ate his meal, then left the cabin and made his way up the companionway to the ladder. When he stepped on the gently rolling deck, he looked at the overcast sky. While the clouds were dark, no rain fell.

  He approached the captain on the bridge. “Good morning, Captain Bonnet. I understand we should reach Dover tonight.”

  The captain replied, “As long as those clouds do not erupt and dump more rain on us, we should. How are you feeling, Captain Wallingford?”

  “Much improved,” he replied. Your surgeon took excellent care of my wounds, and so far, I do not have a fever. I want to thank you for allowing us passage on your ship. Sorry if I put you and your crew in danger.”

  Captain Bonnet smiled. “Do not trouble yourself. I would have been surprised if we weren’t attacked. The French don’t look kindly on privateers, especially English ones.”

  It relieved him to hear this information. Perhaps it was only happenstance the soldiers started firing when he moved into the open. Regardless, they had made it away safe. Once they arrived in Dover, he prayed he could either rent a couple of hacks or find a mail coach bound for London. While their funds were low, they should meet that expense. He just prayed his sister and her husband were in town and not at their estate in Devonshire.

  “I think I shall stretch my legs, then join the children below.” He bowed to the captain and left the bridge.

  As he walked around the ship, he began to feel stronger. While his arm still ached, overall, he felt better than he had in months. It was amazing what a little nourishing food could do. Thunder boomed in the distance and he felt a few rain drops. He made his way below and found the children eating.

  Gerrard looked up. “Good day, Capitaine. I shall check your wounds after I finish my meal. Are you feeling well, monsieur?”

  He nodded as sat on the remaining chair. “Better and stronger than I have in months. My first set of captors treated me fair, taking into account I was an officer. At least they didn’t torture me. However, the conditions were primitive, and I received minimal rations.”

  “How did you end up in the hands of le général?” the young boy asked.

  Cortland leaned forward and started his tale. “After being imprisoned for sixteen months, I finally escaped my first set of captors a couple of months ago. I traveled by night and all went well in the beginning. At first, I traveled south, but then once I felt sure I had evaded the men, I turned north. Shortly after I made it north of Paris, I ran into some of the general’s men.”

  “Ah, I see,” he replied. “What happened once they captured you?”

  Cortland shuddered as he recalled what his tormentors had done. The sleep deprivation, the countless beatings he had endured. Shaking off the images that would never leave him, he continued his story.

  “For some reason, they thought I was a British spy, even though I still wore the remnants of my uniform. They hauled me in front of their leader. He threw me in a dungeon, and they tortured me daily, trying to get me to tell them information I didn’t have. They would not believe I was not Le Raven, the man they sought.”

  Gerrard looked at him with regret and sorrow in his piercing blue eyes. “Oh, monsieur, I am so sorry my countrymen treated yo
u so cruelly.”

  “Keeping me in the dungeon with the rats and very little food was almost worse than the torture. By the time you rescued me, I believe they planned to kill me when they returned with the general, if I didn’t give them what they wanted. I thank you again for saving my life that night.”

  The young lad executed a courtly bow. “It was my honor. I want to thank you for bringing us with you. While I am strong, I do not know how much longer I could have kept Aimee safe. Our funds would have eventually run out, then our situation would have turned grave indeed.”

  Cortland met the serious child’s determined gaze. “I can do no less. After all, my future existence is due to your courage. I will be proud to have you live with me, and I promise you and your sister will never have to worry for your safety again.”

  “Can you tell us about your home? Is it far from London?” he eagerly asked.

  Glad to see his interest in something other than survival, he smiled. “My home is near Cuddesdon in Oxfordshire. It’s around sixty miles west of London and several miles south of Oxford. I attended university there before my father bought my commission in the army.”

  “Will we go to your estate once we arrive in Dover?” the curious lad inquired.

  Gerrard’s inquisitiveness encouraged Cortland, and he continued. “Not immediately. I’m hoping my sister and her husband are in London, and I want to see her and my nephew first. I’m sure she must think I’m dead since she hasn’t heard from me in such a long time. I also need to go to the war office to let them know I’m alive, and where I have been.”

  Aimee turned her bright blue eyes toward him and chimed in, “How old is your nephew? What is his name?”

  Cortland enjoyed their questions. It took his mind off his throbbing arm. “Harry is seven, and I haven’t seen him in over three years. I’m sure he has changed a great deal since then.”

  Aimee interjected, “He is my age. Do you think he will want to play with me?”

  “If he is anything like I remember, I’m sure he will.” Cortland suppressed a chuckle. It did his heart good to hear the little girl talking as a child. Both she and Gerrard acted so mature, he’d feared they had lost the ability to act as children. At least Aimee seemed to be able to think of childish pursuits.

  “You still haven’t told us about your home,” Gerrard reminded him.

  Meeting the earnest young man’s gaze, he replied, “My house is not large by any means. Although, the residence is more than adequate for a good-sized family. There are six bedchambers, so each of you will have your own room. No more need to sleep together in tight quarters. I can only hope my sister’s husband has managed my estate in my absence. Since my sister is my closest family, I’m fairly confident I shall find out it has prospered while I have been away.”

  A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Cortland opened it to find the cabin boy. “The cap’ain asked fer ye to join him fer dinner, sir. He said th’ children are welcome t’ eat in th’ galley. If ye will follow me, I’ll show ye th’ way.”

  By the time he finished having dinner with the captain, the white cliffs of Dover were in sight. Gerrard and Aimee gathered their belongings and met Cortland on deck as the ship drew ever closer to the shore. Thank God it still rained, because the sight of England brought tears of relief to his eyes. He would not want anyone to see him cry. This was the first sight of his homeland in several years, and it moved him greatly.

  The children peppered him with dozens of questions as they waited for the sailors to drop anchor.

  Once the crew lowered the dinghy, they threw the rope ladder over the side. Then the children crawled down it like a pair of monkeys. He descended the ladder with care, but pain still shot through him. He dropped the last few feet into the boat.

  The crew rowed them to shore, and Cortland thanked the captain before he led the children to the nearest inn. When they entered, he spoke to the innkeeper and found out it would be less expensive if they took the mail coach scheduled to leave the following morning. Either way, they could not depart until the following day. To save money, the innkeeper allowed them to sleep in the common area, rather than spending their few precious coins.

  After eating kidney pie and brown bread, Gerrard and Aimee wrapped blankets around them, then fell asleep close to the warmth of the hearth. Cortland could not relax enough to fall asleep. His mind kept racing with thoughts of seeing his sister again. The noise from the tap room, and the chance for adult conversation, drew him into the room. The innkeeper’s wife told him she would watch out for the children.

  Cortland found a place at the bar and ordered a glass of ale. The buxom barmaid winked. “If yer a mind fer some female company, I would show ye a good time.”

  Giving her what he hoped was a regretful smile, even though he was far from regretful, he politely told her, “I’m sure your company would be delightful, but I need to pass, since I must return to my children as soon as I finish my ale.”

  The woman shrugged her bare shoulder. “Yer loss, ducks.” Then she sauntered off looking for another man to proposition. Although he had not lain with a woman in several years, his tastes were more discerning than a quick tumble with a dockside trollop, no matter how tempting it might be.

  Once he finished his ale, Cortland went back to the common area. He found a spot near Gerrard and Aimee, wrapped himself in his blanket, and managed to fall asleep.

  At first light, the mail coach pulled away from the tavern yard and took the western road toward London with Cortland and the youngsters inside, along with five other passengers. They used almost all their coin to procure interior seats, but it would be worth it, since the rain continued to fall.

  A family of four took the seat across from them. Gerrard sat beside Cortland, and to give them more space on the seat, Aimee sat on his lap. The last passenger in the compartment was an older gentleman who needed a lot of room. He probably weighed seventeen or eighteen stone, if not more. The man emitted a strong smell of onions and ale, along with the odor of an unwashed body. Poor Aimee wriggled her pert little nose and buried her head against his chest.

  Cortland engaged the man in conversation, hoping to find out if the gentleman would be getting off at the next stop, but unfortunately, he informed them he was traveling to London on business. It would be a very long and uncomfortable two days between their seat mate’s belching and the smell of soured milk and dirty nappies coming from the infant sitting on his mother’s lap.

  When Cortland compared his young companions to the noisy child across from them, he thanked God for well-behaved children. By the end of the first day of travel though, even Aimee grew fretful.

  The next day was a repeat of the first. At last the coach pulled into the George Inn in Southwark at dusk. After they climbed out of the coach and retrieved their belongings, Cortland hailed a hackney and gave the driver the address for Overton House in Grosvenor Square. He prayed his sister and her husband were in residence, since he did not have any money left to pay the driver.

  Wet and tired from two days of travel, he longed for a soft feather bed to rest his battered body, and even the self-contained Gerrard showed signs of weariness. When the hackney pulled under the portico, Cortland stepped from the carriage and wanted to kiss the ground. The door knocker letting visitors know the marquess and marchioness were in residence hung on the door. Thank the good Lord.

  The children looked at the majestic stone mansion with wonder in their eyes. Cortland turned to the hackney driver. “I shall return in a moment with your funds.” He went up the steps and knocked, and the door was opened immediately by a liveried footman. “I need to see the Marchioness of Overton. Please tell her that her brother, Mr. Wallingford, esquire, wants to see her.”

  The footman looked skeptical, but opened the door for him to enter. “Please wait here. I shall see if Madame is at home.” He wondered why the footman referred to Anissa that way. Obviously, the servant did not believe he was her brother, but smart man,
he probably went to find the butler. No wonder the man questioned his story. He certainly did not look like a gentleman in his ragged clothes with two young children who were as poorly dressed as he.

  A few minutes later, a tall, stately gentleman appeared. “I understand you are asking for Lady Overton. The footman told me you claim to be her brother. I am sorry, sir, but I must ask you to leave.”

  Now Cortland was growing annoyed. “I demand you take me to my sister immediately.”

  The butler motioned to the footman and whispered in his ear. The man moved toward him with a stern expression and moved to grab his arm. Cortland jerked it away. Stepping around the man, he made for the stairs yelling, “Anissa. Anissa. It’s Cortland. I’ve returned.”

  A petite woman with golden hair came out of a room at the top of the stairs. “C-Cortland?” She placed her hand over her heart. “Is it truly you?” Without waiting for his answer, she flew down the stairs and into his open arms. He hugged her close as tears burned his eyelids. His beautiful sister looked up and touched his beard. Her voice broke. “I never thought I would see you again.” Her voice broke and tears cascaded down her cheeks.

  “I wasn’t sure I would ever see you either.” His voice came out gruff with the emotion of seeing Anissa after so many long years. He looked over his sister’s shoulders and watched a massive, yet well-built, man descend the stairs.

  “Darlin’. that better be your long lost brother, or I’ll break his hands,” the man stated.

  His sister smiled with tears shimmering in the bright blue eyes he remembered so well. “Alex, I want you to meet my brother. It’s a long story, but Cortland, this is my husband, Alex Hawks.”

  Stunned, he stared at Anissa. Had he heard her correctly? What happened to Kendall? The man stuck out his hand, and Cortland reluctantly shook it. “It’s a pleasure to at last meet you. Anissa never gave up on you. Glad you’ve finally made it home.”