“Please, Amy, don’t cry.” His hands moved up and down her back.
“I can never go back. I’m a fugitive.” Jack tensed at her statement. She didn’t care if she had hurt his feelings or made him feel guilty for plucking her off that ship. At the moment, she was distraught and angry at Jackson for his intervention. Yet she couldn’t seem to rip herself away from the comfort his embrace offered.
He didn’t speak again until her sobs had subsided into shuddering breaths. “The messenger I dispatched has returned.”
She didn’t give two ripe figs about some messenger Jack had dispatched.
“Don’t you want to hear about the message?”
“No.”
Against her cheek, she felt Jack take a deep breath, heard the air swooshing into his lungs. Then he released it slowly, stirring the hair at the top of her head. “There is a seaside village not far from here that has but one doctor. Although the village is relatively small, one doctor is not enough. He desperately needs assistance and would love to have you come work with him.”
Amelia opened her swollen eyes, intrigued despite not wanting to be.
“Dr. Landon is fully aware you are a woman. He wants you anyway.”
Clearing her throat, Amelia asked, “Does he know about…?” She couldn’t say the words out loud.
Jack seemed to understand. “No, he doesn’t know about your false conviction. Dr. Landon was told you recently lost your husband, a physician whom you assisted for many years.”
Amelia lifted her head. “And he believed you?”
The corners of Jack’s eyes crinkled with humor. “He believed Sir Mortimer Mountjoy, the gentleman dandy.” His lips twitched. “Your cousin.”
Turning, she scanned the cove and the rocky cliff beyond. Her eyes lifted and she knew what she would find if she were to climb to the top. A stone house with a pinched-face housekeeper who liked to run a tight ship. “This village,” she asked, facing Jack, “is it near here?”
His lips spread into a full-blown smile. “Three miles up the coast.”
****
“You need rest, Master.”
Julian didn’t bother lifting his eyes from the charts before him. He knew exactly what he’d see. His frowning ship’s surgeon. “I’ve already rested, Marcus.”
“Oh, and when was that, sir?” The doctor’s words oozed displeasure. “Last May Day?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake.” He snapped his head up. “My wife is out there,” he pointed to the windows at his right, “at the mercy of a murdering pirate.”
Marcus crossed his arms, his expression turning cool. “Are you going to completely ignore the fact that this ‘murdering pirate’ might very well have saved her life? Remember Captain Elliott’s words, sir? Lady Amersleigh looked hours from death as the pirate took her aboard his ship.” His expression hardened. “And, I might add, Elliott commented on how gently the lady was treated when transported.”
With a sigh, Julian rubbed his eyes. He did recall Captain Elliott’s testimony about the gentleness toward Amelia. That should have made him feel better. Those words should have brought him solace. They didn’t. They made him feel…jealous as hell.
“I insist you rest for at least an hour,” Marcus said on his way out of the cabin.
Frowning at the closed door, Julian stormed to the bed and flopped down on it. Plumping the goose-down pillows behind his head, he closed his eyes and expelled a weary breath. Visions of Amelia sprang into his mind. Swearing out loud, he rolled to his side and tried clearing his head, picturing an endless stretch of sea, the water a clear aquamarine lapping gently over a white sandy beach. His body relaxed as the scene unfolded before him. Palm trees rustling in the warm breeze, the soothing sound of waves crashing in the distance, the feel of powder-soft sand at the soles of his feet… Amelia lying there naked with her arms stretched out to him, calling his name.
Julian wrenched his eyes open as three brisk knocks sounded. Wiping away the sweat that had accumulated on his forehead, he stood and cleared his throat. “Enter.”
“Master.” His first mate stepped into the room and closed the door. “Sorry to disturb your rest, sir.”
“What is it, Lucas?” Julian stepped closer. “Have you found the Enigma?”
Lucas’s face fell. “No, sir. I’ve come to tell you there is a nasty storm heading right for us. Jonas says his old bones tell him it’s going to be bad. Very bad. And you know how accurate he is...”
Julian narrowed his eyes.
The younger man looked away. “We are also running low on provisions, sir.”
His suspicions had been confirmed. “So we should just go home and give up the search?” He stomped forward. “Is that what you’re saying, Lucas?” He halted and crossed his arms, waiting for an answer.
Retreating a step, the man shook his head. “No, sir, not give up.” He swallowed hard. “Just return for provisions and to wait the storm out is all.”
Julian knew Lucas was right. But the thought of having to go back without Amelia…
With gritted teeth, Julian inclined his head, giving permission to return. It would give him the opportunity to check in with Thomas Porter, the investigator he’d hired, just in case Amelia somehow made it back to shore.
****
“Don’t look so sad, Alex. She’ll be found.”
Alex glanced over his shoulder to find Megan standing several feet behind him. He faced the windows again. “I cannot help the way I feel.” He watched the rain pelt the cobblestones in the drive.
She moved to his right. Although he tried to stay focused on the splattering rain drops, he could see her reflection out of the corner of his eye. She stood the exact height of his mother. He adverted his eyes, his throat suddenly tight.
“You must stop feeling guilty, Alex. None of this is your fault.”
He faced her fully. “How can you say that? This is all my fault!”
Megan shook her head. “No it isn’t.”
He moved away, putting some distance between them. “If I hadn’t told her I wanted Lord Julian dead, she never would have thought I did it.” He swung around, chest heaving. “She never would have lied and told them she shot him.” As the last few words tumbled from his mouth, Alex felt another pair of eyes on him. He turned to the doors and found his father standing there with rain dripping off the ends of his hair, watching him. Paralysis seized his limbs. How much had Lord Julian heard?
“Jules!” Megan rushed to him and flung her arms around him.
“Ah, Moppet, you’re going to get wet,” Julian said, though he embraced his sister in return.
Alex turned away. He could scarcely stand the sound of the man’s voice. But he refused to leave. Obviously, his mother hadn’t been found. She would have already been through those doors. No, he wanted to stay and hear what excuse his father had for not finding his mother. He wanted to know why the high-and-noble Lord Julian, the greatest commander of the sea, could not find one single woman who had been placed on a ship that sailed a plotted course regularly.
Aware of hushed murmurs, Alex turned back around. He found Julian and Megan speaking quietly, heads close together. Then Megan left the room. Something in her expression, some hint of relief, made Alex’s heart pump faster. He took a step forward then halted, torn between wanting to hear news of his mother and not wanting to have anything to do with his father.
It took great restraint, but Alex managed to keep silent. He just stood there, arms crossed, jaws clamped…waiting.
“You have every right to be angry, Alex,” Julian said once they were alone.
Alex ground his teeth together, remaining silent. Why hadn’t he noticed before how much they favored? Dark hair, gray eyes…even the shape of their noses. That made him furious. Flinging his arms out to his sides, he stormed to Julian. “Why?” he demanded, not halting until he stood six inches away. “Why did you throw my mother away?” Ignoring the regret that flashed across his father’s face, Alex waited for an ans
wer.
Plowing his fingers through his damp hair, Julian blew out a sigh. “It’s rather complicated.”
He did not want to hear that. “Just tell me what happened.” When his father looked to refuse, Alex shook his head. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“Perhaps when you are older…”
Alex couldn’t remember being so mad. He balled his hands at his sides. “I want to know what happened, and if I don’t understand something, I will at least know you tried to explain.” His cheeks burned with anger. “Or maybe you were happy to do that to Mama.”
“All right, Alex, you want to know what happened? I’ll tell you.” Julian set his shoulders. “But know that I was anything but happy about it.” He closed his eyes briefly. “Two nights before your mother came to see me, I was warned she would come and lie about carrying my child in order to secure wealth and title.”
Alex didn’t know what he had been expecting, but that surprised him. “Someone told you Mama was going to come and lie to you?”
“Yes.”
“And you believed this person?”
Julian’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Yes.” He walked to the liquor cart and splashed some brown liquid into a glass. After tossing back the contents, he poured another. “I had no idea of the truth until I saw you aboard my ship, Alex.” He gulped down half his drink. “You see, Amelia left for America the very next day. I thought she left because she felt ashamed for what she had been trying to do.”
“You never once thought she might be telling the truth?” Things would have been different if his father had believed his mother. She wouldn’t have had to work so hard. She wouldn’t have been taken away on some prison ship, either. He drew in a shuddering breath. “You never thought she left for another reason?”
His father bowed his head. “No, I didn’t.” He glanced up. “I do know I never should have believed such a thing about her. I will always regret what I did.”
Some of the burning anger cooled within Alex. Questions shot through him. “Who told you Mama was going to lie to you?” he asked before he could help himself.
“Her cousin, Diana.”
That made Alex pause. “Her own cousin?”
“Yes.”
Facing the windows, Alex felt sick. He glanced at the steel-gray curtain of rain, finding that bit of information difficult to digest. “Why would Mama’s cousin say such a thing?”
“I don’t know.” Julian sighed. “Jealousy, I suppose.”
Alex bowed his head. His mama was very pretty. He’d wager she had been even prettier than her cousin. “Where are they now?”
“Who?”
Slowly, Alex turned to face his father. “Mama’s family.”
“The last I heard, her cousin, Diana—Lady Skeffington, is traveling the world. She began her travels after her husband died two years ago. And your mother’s father,” he cleared his throat, “your grandfather, is still in America.”
“America?” That startled Alex. “Did Mama know her father was in America? Is that why she went there?”
“That seems logical,” Julian answered.
Why didn’t anything make sense? Alex shook his head. The more questions he asked, the more confused he got. “Then why didn’t he…?” He went still, his mouth opening and closing several times as the answer dawned. “He refused to help her. Her own father.” He took a step back, repulsed. “What kind of people are you?” Spinning on his heel, he began for the door. Just as he reached for the knob, his father spoke.
“As soon as the storm lets up, I’m returning to sea, to the search.”
His hand hovered above the polished silver as Julian continued.
“I thought you might want to know she is no longer aboard the prison ship. A friend of hers took her off.”
Alex turned around slowly. “Who has her? Where is she?”
“I’m not certain where she is, but I intend to find out.”
Aware the other question he’d asked hadn’t been answered, Alex repeated it. “Who has her?”
Julian could not hide the anger in his eyes before turning back to the liquor cart. “An old friend of hers,” he said, pouring another drink. “His name is Jack. Perhaps your mother spoke of him?”
Alex shook his head. “Mama never spoke of the past.” He swung back to the door and pulled it open. “And I don’t blame her.”
CHAPTER 22
Her hands trembled as she reached for the glass jar. Being without Alex was beyond torture. She missed him more than she thought possible. And she missed Julian. Amelia set the jar on the table before her and closed her eyes as tears welled up. Her nose stung. How she continued going on each day had to be a miracle.
“You have been a godsend these three weeks, Mrs. Sinclair. I don’t know how I’ve managed this far without you.”
As her employer walked into the room, Amelia cleared her throat and blinked back her tears. Being called Mrs. Sinclair always reminded her of the games she and Jack played as children. That had been the play name Jack had given her. “Nonsense, Dr. Landon.” She picked up the stone mortar and began crushing some pungent herbs with the pestle. “You were getting along very well without me.”
There was a lengthy pause before the doctor spoke again. “Will you not call me Trevor when we are alone, madam?” he asked softly.
Amelia’s hand stilled and she looked up. Dr. Landon, in his early forties, was a handsome man. His light brown eyes were filled with kindness and the silver streaks at his temples added a distinguished quality to his good looks. He had also been trying to get close to her, though she would never allow their relationship to go any further than friendship.
Bowing her head, she smoothed a wrinkle from her black skirt, thankful Jack had lied through his teeth about her being a recent widow. “Really, Dr. Landon, it’s—” She halted when one of the villagers rushed into the room. Something had happened.
“There’s been an accident,” the man said, mauling his hat in between his large hands. “Over at the livery.” He shook his head. “They were working on the roof. It fell in…”
When Dr. Landon looked over at her, Amelia nodded. “Go, I’ll bring the supplies.”
With a quick nod, the doctor followed the villager out of the room. Thinking rapidly, she gathered healing herbs, tonics, and bandages and threw them into Dr. Landon’s black case. Her pulse pounded with urgency. Snapping the bag shut, she hefted it up with a grunt and hurried from the white two-story house that served as the doctor’s residence and office.
Even though the air had grown cool, sweat accumulated on her forehead by the time she sighted the livery midway down the long street that ran the length of the village. Her arms ached from the weight of the bag, but she refused to halt until reaching her destination. She could see the crowd gathered around the front of the building and the owner, Mr. Wilkins, trying to keep them from entering.
“Ah, Mrs. Sinclair,” he said as she pushed her way through the crowd. “Dr. Landon is inside.” He took a step to the left so she could enter.
“Thank you, Mr. Wilkins.”
A terrible groan sounded as she stepped into the building. Amelia turned and found Dr. Landon and two other men standing over someone. Light streamed down through a large hole in the roof, shining directly on them, and bits of hay and dust fluttered in the brightness. She swallowed and moved in their direction.
The horse in a stall beside Dr. Landon nickered as she halted at his side. With a deep breath, she glanced at the injured man. His leg had turned at an unnatural angle. And the jagged, white bone protruding from his thigh, oozing blood, needed prompt attention.
The doctor turned to her. “We must staunch the bleeding,” he said as he took the bag and placed it on the ground. “Check for further injuries, Mrs. Sinclair.”
Obediently, Amelia moved to the man’s other side and began a search. She started with his head and neck, feeling for the wetness of blood, bumps, or broken bones. The man’s face twisted in agony as he groane
d and moved his head from side to side. Satisfied that there didn’t appear to be a neck injury, she checked his chest, sliding her hands along his ribs. The man howled when she touched his right side. “Broken ribs, here,” she said. “Though they haven’t punctured the lungs. His breathing sounds fine.”
Dr. Landon nodded and began to secure the leg, but as soon as he placed a bandage over the injury, an ear-splitting scream rent the air. “Hold him,” he said to the men standing nearby.
Amelia scuffled out of the way as the doctor placed a bandage around the injured leg. The man howled and thrashed, until finally he lost consciousness. She breathed in a sigh of relief.
When Dr. Landon tied the bandage off, he rose. “Let’s take him to my office,” he said to the men and together, they hefted the poor fellow up and out of the livery.
Repacking the heavy bag, Amelia followed after them. For the next two hours, she assisted Dr. Landon with aligning the bone back into place and sewing the broken skin together. Thankfully, the patient didn’t wake.
“You did extremely well, as always, Mrs. Sinclair,” Dr. Landon stated as Amelia washed the blood from her hands.
She smiled and reached for a nearby piece of linen when the room tilted. Bees buzzed in her ears. Blinking rapidly, her legs went weak. And then she was in Dr. Landon’s arms, being carried to one of the bedrooms on the second floor.
He settled her on the bed wearing a worried frown.
“Really, Dr. Landon, this isn’t necessary.” After the feeble protest, she attempted to rise.
He placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her in place. “Stay and rest for a while.”
Amelia lifted her head from the pillow. “I’m fine, truly.” Though she felt like a limp, wrung out piece of cloth. Spent of all her energy, she settled back with a yawn, wondering why she couldn’t even make it out of the bed.
Heaving a sigh, Dr. Landon gave her a stern look. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”
Her heart quit, then slid down to her toes. Did he find out who she really was? Did he know about Julian? “Tell you what?” she asked faintly.
“I saw how green you’ve been looking the last few days, my dear.” His hand covered hers. “I didn’t put it together until now.”
Lord Sinister (Secrets & Scandals Book 3) Page 19