Condemned & Admired

by Bree Wolf

  Chapter Thirty-Eight – Farewell

  As the Chevalier Noir grew smaller and smaller on the horizon, Violette felt her heart ache with the unexpected goodbye. Never had she contemplated a life without her family by her side, and yet, she knew that there was no other way. After all, she could not deny that part of her loved Oliver and wished for a life with him.

  Standing up on the cliffs behind Silcox Manor, Violette stared out at the sea, the place she called home, and vowed that it would not be long before she would return. Still, they needed to return to London first to set Juliet free, claim a letter of marque and outfit a ship. All that would take time, but then a new adventure would await her, and Violette could not deny that she longed for it.

  “Are you all right?” Oliver asked beside her, his injured arm in a sling and his eyes full of compassion. “It must be hard for you to watch them leave.”

  Blinking back tears, Violette nodded, then leaned into her new husband as he slipped his good arm around her shoulders in comfort. “It is,” she whispered, keeping her eyes fixed on her father’s ship, determined not to allow it out of her sight until the horizon would swallow it up. “But I will see them again.”

  “That you will,” Oliver confirmed, a soft chuckle shaking his chest. “Your father promised me a festive celebration of our wedding on French soil after all.” Grinning, he looked down at her. “However, I cannot help but feel that he is angry with me for stealing you away. He made me promise to bring you to see your mother whenever possible.”

  Violette smiled, but at the mention of her mother, a tear escaped her tight control. “I wish she could have been here.”

  “As do I.”

  “But I know she’ll be happy for me.” Sighing, Violette burrowed deeper into Oliver’s embrace. “Still, I will miss them dearly.”

  His arm tightened on her. “You’ll see them again. They’re your family. Nothing could ever make you lose them.”

  Violette nodded. “I know, but I’ve never been without them. It feels strange. Now, that all this planning and plotting to save Juliet is coming to an end, I find myself feeling their absence more strongly.”

  For a moment, Oliver remained quiet. Then he asked, “Did you notice that spark between your cousin and Lady Juliet?”

  Violette chuckled, grateful for his attempt to draw her thoughts away from her family’s departure. “A blind man would have seen that.”

  Oliver laughed,“Did she say anything to you?”

  “Not a word.”

  “And Henri?”

  Violette chuckled once more. “Oh, not even if his life depended on it would he admit to having his heart stolen. He’s a bit odd when it comes to love.” Sighing, Violette sobered. “His mother died when he was still young, and his father never recovered. I think he’s afraid to entrust his heart to another. As was I, but for a different reason.”

  “Perhaps your sister can convince him that it’ll be worth the risk,” Oliver suggested, hope ringing in his voice. “If only your family could have stayed longer.” The moment the words had left his lips, Violette felt him cringe. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you of their departure.”

  “As though I could forget,” Violette teased. “No, I shall always miss them and always long to see them again. But I agree, it must be hard on Juliet as well to know they’re sailing away.” For a moment, Violette was tempted to glance over her shoulder to see if her sister stood at one of the upstairs windows, watching Henri sail away much like Violette herself was.

  “Still, now they’ll be worlds apart,” Oliver said, regret tinging his voice. “It is not likely that their paths will cross again.”

  Violette smiled, her gaze holding on to the tiny dot on the horizon. “Believe that fate will take care of them. After all, they’re part of the same family now. They have something that connects them.” When the dot disappeared from the horizon, Violette looked up and met her husband’s eyes. “I have faith that their story will have a happy ending as well. It may not be today or tomorrow, but the day will come.” A deep calm spread over her. “Mark my words.”

  Oliver smiled down at her. “Consider them marked.” Then he chuckled, “I never knew you were quite the romantic.”

  Violette laughed, “Oh, you cannot sail the seas without an open heart. If there is one thing that life teaches you, it’s that nothing is impossible. Still, sometimes you need to be patient.”

  A knowing smile came to her husband’s face. “That I know from personal experience,” he said, his blue eyes holding hers. “A part of me feels as though I had to wait for you forever. I was almost ready to give up.”

  “But you didn’t,” Violette whispered, turning in his embrace so she could reach up and plant a gentle kiss on his lips. “You held on, and you came to find me.” A smile curled up the corners of her mouth. “What were the odds of us stumbling upon one another out at sea? And yet, we did.”

  “We did indeed,” Oliver mumbled, his eyes shining brightly as he pulled her closer, “and you were worth the wait.” Then he kissed her with such passion that Violette forgot the world around her, and all there was was a deep sense of being home.

  She belonged by his side as he belonged by hers.

  No matter where they were or where they would go, that would never change.

  Violette had faith in that.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine – Letter of Marque

  Standing in his drawing room, his wife by his side, Oliver glanced out the large window front at the terrace where a throng of people was collecting around a large table of refreshments.

  For a moment, he turned his head and glanced at Lady Silcox as well as an obviously agitated Lady Juliet as they stood closely together by the pianoforte before he allowed his gaze to sweep over the collective of friends they had gathered around them that day. Husbands and wives, blissfully in love with one another, standing together to protect one of their own in the hopes that she would find an equally blessed match.

  Hopefully, their presence here this day would be enough to convince Lord Dowling that accepting Lady Juliet’s decision to end their betrothal was in his best interest as well.

  “Everything will be all right,” Lady Silcox murmured to her daughter. “You’ll see.”

  Not saying a word, Lady Juliet nodded, her cheeks as white as a sheet.

  Oliver exchanged a knowing glance with his wife when a knock sounded on the door. A moment later, Dunston entered and led Lord Dowling into the room. The second the balding man’s gaze fell on his betrothed, his eyes widened, and obvious confusion creased his forehead. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked, his voice feeble as he turned questioning eyes to Oliver. “Lord Cullingwood?”

  Clearing his throat, Oliver stepped forward. “I thank you for coming here today as there is an important matter that needs to be discussed.” He met his wife’s gaze for a moment, then turned back to Lord Dowling as Violet stepped toward her sister. “Lady Juliet has asked for our support in a very delicate matter.”

  Lord Dowling’s bushy eyebrows narrowed as his gaze swept over his betrothed. “My lady,” he asked, unable to keep a quiver of apprehension from showing in his voice. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Swallowing, Lady Juliet squeezed her mother’s hand one last time before she turned to the man she did not wish to marry. With Violet by her side, she met his gaze. “Lord Dowling, I want to a-apologise for any in-inconvenience,” she stammered, her hands balled into fists as she fought to keep control over her fluttering nerves. “However, I must inform you that I feel obligated to call off our betrothal.”

  Lord Dowling’s face turned dark red as anger rose to the surface. His gaze narrowed, and he took a threatening step toward Lady Juliet.

  For a moment, the young woman flinched. However, when Violet came to stand beside her, her quiet confidence filling the room, Lady Juliet halted her retreat. Instead, she raised her head and met Lord Dowling’s glaring eyes. “I understand your astonishment,” she said, her voice growing
stronger with each word she spoke. “However, it was not I who accepted your proposal. As you well know, the decision was made by my late stepfather as well as yourself, and neither of you saw fit to consult me on a matter that would determine the course of my life.”

  Surprised, Oliver watched Lady Juliet stand her ground, her usually downcast eyes and quiet demeanour replaced by a strong will and the knowledge that her life was in her own hands. In that moment, she reminded him of Violet, and he felt proud that she had come this far, that she had found the courage to stand up for herself.

  Taken aback, Lord Dowling stared at his former betrothed before his gaze narrowed once more as he took note of Lady Silcox as well as Oliver and Violet standing beside her. “I don’t see how this is any of your concern,” he snarled, glaring at Oliver.

  Shrugging, Oliver ignored the man’s hostility. “Let’s simply say that my wife and Lady Juliet have become dear friends, which is why she takes a particular interest in the young lady’s happiness.”

  Dowling gritted his teeth. Then his gaze moved back to focus on Lady Juliet. “I must warn you, my lady. If you insist on pursuing this course of action, there will be consequences.”

  Lady Juliet swallowed, but did not avert her gaze. “I feared that you might respond thus.”

  A triumphant smile came to Lord Dowling’s face, and his shoulders relaxed. “Will you reconsider then? I can assure you I am willing to forgive your momentary lapse in judgement.”

  Lady Juliet’s gaze hardened, anger burning in her green eyes. “I will not,” she said with a strong voice.

  Lord Dowling’s jaw clenched. “Then I’m afraid I must–”

  “My lord,” Oliver interrupted, stepping toward the balding man, “I must inform you that we anticipated your reaction and have, therefore, taken precautions to ensure that you will refrain from painting Lady Juliet in a disadvantageous light and ruin her chance for future happiness.”

  Staring at him, Lord Dowling glanced about himself uneasily. Still, there was a touch of disbelief in his eyes, and Oliver realised that the man had never felt vulnerable in his life. It would be an utterly new experience for him.

  Oddly, Oliver felt reminded of his father, a man who−just as Lord Dowling−took it for granted to have power over others and exert it without thought for their happiness and well-being. A small smile curled up Oliver’s lips when he remembered his father’s dropped jaw and disbelieving stare upon learning of his only son’s−and only heir’s−plans to set sail. In the end, despite all the marquess’s plots and threats, he had lost.

  His plans had come to nothing.

  His selfishness had driven everyone away.

  One day had come after all. The day Oliver had hoped for all his life, but feared it would forever remain a hollow dream. But he had won.

  Now, he had everything he’d always wanted.

  A wonderful wife.

  A new family.

  And an adventure awaiting them on the horizon.

  Nodding toward the terrace doors, Oliver watched Dowling as he turned to see the small crowd of people enjoying themselves in the warm afternoon sun. “What is the meaning of this?” Dowling growled for the third time that day.

  “These,” Oliver began, stepping up to the hateful man, “are friends of ours, who have all been informed of Lady Juliet’s intention of calling off her betrothal and who all whole-heartedly support that decision.” Dowling’s face began to turn white. “You see, if you feel compelled to threaten the young lady with social repercussions, then I’m afraid I feel compelled to threaten you with the same.” Turning to look at Dowling, Oliver met the man’s gaze with a sharp one of his own, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper. “If you wish to remain in society’s good graces, then you will not breathe a negative word about Lady Juliet and instead support her amicable dissolution of your betrothal. Do I make myself clear?”

  Dowling swallowed before his gaze drifted back to the windows, his eyes sweeping over the many lords and ladies assembled there. With each face he recognised, more colour drained from his own, and Oliver could see resignation coming to the man’s eyes. Then Dowling cleared his throat and met Oliver’s gaze once more. “You have my word,” he forced out through gritted teeth before stepping back. He cast a hateful glance at Lady Juliet and then stormed from the room.

  The moment his oppressive presence vanished, a sigh of relief went up in the drawing room, and Oliver smiled at the look of utter joy on Lady Juliet’s face. Embracing her mother as well as Violet, she voiced her gratitude, her features more relaxed than he had ever seen them.

  Giving Lady Juliet a moment alone with her mother, Violet walked over to him, a large smile on her face. “This went splendidly,” she exclaimed, stepping into his embrace. “Far easier than I would have anticipated. After all, the man appeared reasonable finding himself at the wrong end of a threat for once.”

  Oliver laughed, “Indeed, he did.” He glanced over his wife’s shoulder. “She seems happy now. Relieved.”

  Following his gaze, Violet nodded. “She does. I’ve never seen her so…carefree. Suddenly, she is holding her own life in her hands. I suppose it can be intimidating, but it is also full of possibilities.”

  Oliver chuckled, drawing his wife’s attention back to himself. “Speaking of possibilities,” he whispered, drawing her closer into his embrace. “Our letter of marque arrived this morning.” Violet’s eyes widened, and she grasped his arms in excitement. “Now, all we need is a ship,” he continued, loving the gleam of adventure that had come to her eyes.

  Nodding her head eagerly, Violet smiled up at him. “In all honesty, I cannot wait to set sail. Every day that passes where I don’t feel the wind on my face is torture.”

  Oliver blinked, grinning at her. “What a wonderful compliment!” he exclaimed mockingly. “Be certain not to inform your husband of your utter disregard for his presence.”

  Violet laughed, “Admit it, you feel it, too,” she whispered, her blue eyes holding his. “The call of the sea.”

  Nodding, Oliver smiled. “I’d be lying if I said no. Well, then, Captain Duret,” he addressed her, enjoying the way her eyes lit up, “what comes next?”

  In that moment, the world held nothing but promise, and Oliver rejoiced at the thought of what lay ahead. With a new adventure on the horizon–finally! –and a wife he loved more than life itself in his arms, he knew he would never ever want for anything.

  Fortune had smiled on him after all.

  Epilogue

  A few years later

  Standing at the bow of the Freedom, Violette held her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes as she gazed out at the wide expanse of open ocean. Her heart hammered in her chest as she spotted her father’s ship, the Chevalier Noir, and took note of the way it turned into the wind, altering its course and heading straight for them.

  Violette looked over her shoulder at her husband, who stood at the helm, and signalled for him to approach the other ship. After all, there was no time to lose.

  “Maman, is that Grandpère’s ship?” little Antoinette asked, standing on her toes as she tried to peek over the rail.

  Jumping down onto the main deck, Violette swept her barely three-year-old daughter into her arms. “Oui, bien sûr,” she whispered. “I’m certain he is dying to see you again.”

  Antoinette’s little face glowed as she watched the other ship approach, watched the sails flapping in the wind carrying it closer until they could make out individual sailors climbing in the rigging and crossing the deck.

  “There he is!” Antoinette shrieked in delight when she spotted her grandfather, her little arms waving frantically.

  Despite the tension that held her heart in a tight grip, Violette could not help but laugh, loving the way they had all become a family. Even though they sailed under different flags, they had found a way to remain loyal to one another.

  Family before country.

  It was now the Duret motto, and despite his name and title, Ol
iver was as much a Duret as she was herself.

  When the two ships drew closer to one another, the main sails on both vessels were brought down to decrease their speed. Then the ships began drifting toward one another slowly until they rested side by side. As the sea was still that day, grapple hooks were thrown, and the two ships were pulled against one another.

  A moment later, Violette’s father swung from the Chevalier Noir onto the Freedom and dropped onto the deck only a few feet from where Violette stood. A large smile on his face, he swept a squealing Antoinette into his arms and spun her around, laughing without restraint.

  Meeting Oliver’s gaze as he climbed down from the quarter deck and strode toward them, Violette saw the same joy in his eyes. “Welcome aboard,” he greeted her father. “It’s been a while.”

  Violette’s father nodded, the expression on his face sobering. “It has.” His watchful eyes drifted to Violette, and she could see a question resting in them.

  “You’ve heard,” she whispered, holding his gaze. Involuntarily, her hand went to her tailcoat’s inner pocket where she kept the letter she had received from Lady Silcox. Only it had been sent weeks ago…when they had not been in England to receive it.

  Her father nodded. “She sent one to France as well, not knowing which was the fastest way to reach you.”

  “She did not mention which ship Juliet took,” Violette replied, her mind unable to make sense of her sister’s decision to travel to India. “Why would she do this? Leave without a word of explanation?”

  Her father shrugged, setting Antoinette down as she became rather dissatisfied with his diverted attention. “That I cannot say,” he whispered, casting an uneasy glance at his granddaughter before drawing Violette away.

  “What is it?” Violette asked, reading a deeper concern on her father’s face. “What’s happened? Tell me! Do you know which ship she took?”

  Her father nodded. However, there was no relief on his face, and Violette felt her hands grow cold with fear. What had happened that she was not aware?