“Jocelyn Sinclair, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” he asked, his eyes shining as he looked at her. “I did ask you to wait till Christmas.”
“I will,” she whispered, overcome with emotion. “I will!” she cried into the swirling snow.
“And will you come away with me?” he asked once he was back on his feet, his hand on hers.
“To England?” Jocelyn asked, suddenly apprehensive.
Jared shook his head. “We can settle anywhere you like, even Canada, if you so desire.”
“Will we be safe?” Jocelyn asked, the old fear resurging.
“Major Radcliffe has returned to England. He won’t be back.”
“What happened after that night?” Jocelyn asked, even though it hurt to speak of it.
“Mrs. Johnson and Private Sykes came forward to testify on my behalf. They weren’t permitted to attend the court-martial, but their statements were taken and presented during the trial. They saved me from the noose,” Jared said, his eyes moist with emotion. “Once the truth of what happened that night came out, Major Radcliffe was in disgrace.”
“The army held Major Radcliffe accountable for what he did to me?” Jocelyn asked, shocked that anyone would care.
“Not officially. He was sternly reprimanded, but he was tried in the court of public opinion and didn’t fare well. The whole episode was an embarrassment, since the story made the rounds among the senior officers. They love their whores, but they do have a sense of honor and believe the transaction should be consensual. Plus, there was the suggestion that you had been spying for the Continentals, which made the major look rather injudicious. He was dismissed from General Howe’s staff and viciously ridiculed for his part in the affair, so much so that he was forced to resign his commission.”
So, it had been revenge, Jocelyn concluded, not fear of discovery that had prompted the major to wish to kill her. He’d been humiliated and disgraced and had been forced to walk away from a career he’d invested years into. No wonder he’d wanted to see her dead.
“Did you feel betrayed when you found out I’d been spying?” Jocelyn asked, looking up at him. She needed to see his face to know if he was telling her the truth.
“Maybe a little,” Jared admitted. “But I also felt admiration and respect. It takes great courage to do what you did. Radcliffe never suspected a thing. I think he was blinded by your beauty,” Jared said softly, gazing down on her. “So was I.”
“How did he find me all the way out here?” Jocelyn asked. It wasn’t really important, but she needed to understand in order to put the whole sorry business behind her.
“Mrs. Johnson had left her position, but Private Sykes was never reassigned. He should have been, given the circumstances, but he remained at Major Radcliffe’s house until the major resigned his commission toward the end of November. Derek said Sykes had recognized you at the tavern.”
“Yes, Radcliffe did mention that it had been Sykes who told him, but how did he connect me to Milford?” Jocelyn asked.
“The proprietor of the tavern may have known Derek from previous visits, or Derek might have even dropped a casual remark to the boy who’d looked after the horses while you were inside. I don’t know for certain, but Radcliffe managed to connect the dots and find your hideout.” Jared was silent for a moment, then asked what had clearly been on his mind. “Why did you think I was dead?”
“Anna told me you’d been hanged for assaulting your senior officer,” Jocelyn replied.
“But I wasn’t. I was cleared of all charges.”
Jocelyn sighed heavily. “Perhaps she thought it’d be easier for me to leave if I thought you were dead. She never said so outright, but she didn’t approve of me getting involved with a British officer.”
“Was she the one who talked you into going to your brother’s house?” Jared asked.
“Yes and no. Anna and Carole looked after me at a time when I needed a woman’s care and understanding, but I couldn’t stay with them forever. Once I felt more myself, I decided to leave New York, but I had to wait until it was safe for me to leave the house. By mid-October, the search for me seemed to have stopped, so Anna booked me passage on the Peregrine. I arrived just before departure and went directly aboard. It was a cold day, so no one thought it strange that I was wearing my hood up. I hid belowdecks until the ship sailed.”
“And then the storm broke,” Jared said.
“Yes. We were only a few hours out of port. It was terrifying,” Jocelyn said. “Not only because it seemed clear the ship wasn’t going to make it, but because I was all alone. I had no one in those final moments.”
“You’ve been through so much,” Jared said, reaching for her hand and bringing it to his lips. “You are the strongest woman I know. The strongest person,” he amended.
“I didn’t have much choice in the matter,” Jocelyn replied with a shrug. “I did what I had to do to survive.”
“This, us, really is a miracle,” Jared said, his eyes full of wonder. “To think that we are together again after everything that happened. And we will stay together from now on,” he said, smiling happily.
“Jared, are you still in the army?” Jocelyn asked. Jared was wearing civilian clothes, but he might be on furlough.
“I resigned my commission and have been working as a shipping clerk these past few months. I have enough savings to set us up with a small concern of our own. We can open a shop or an inn, or anything you think would guarantee us a good living. Just don’t ask me to farm,” Jared said, smiling down at her. “I’m not cut out for farming.”
“Neither am I,” Jocelyn said, grinning.
They had reached the farmhouse, and not a moment too soon. Jocelyn’s cheeks burned with cold, and she could no longer feel her feet.
“Shall we?” Jared asked, nodding toward the door.
Jocelyn nodded but made no move to go indoors. She lifted her face up to his, desperate for one more kiss. “Happy Christmas, my love,” she whispered as his lips came down on hers.
**
Later, after dinner, Jocelyn followed Derek outside to fetch more firewood, leaving Jared to regale Josh with stories of great battles. Derek waited for her to catch up.
“I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me. For us,” Jocelyn amended.
“You don’t need to thank me,” Derek said, smiling down at her. “I was happy to do it. So, what now?” he asked.
“We will get married and start a business of our own,” Jocelyn said dreamily. “Somewhere far from here. What about you? Will you finally marry Lydia?”
“No,” Derek said simply. “Lydia is beautiful and accomplished, but I don’t love her, not in the way that matters. I’m going to leave too.”
“And go where?” Jocelyn asked.
“I’ve decided to join the Continental Army,” Derek said sheepishly. “I thought I could avoid taking sides, but I had made up my mind long ago. It’s time I proclaimed my allegiance to the world.”
“Your mother will be heartbroken,” Jocelyn said.
“Perhaps, but I’m a grown man, and I have to do what I think is right. I will sign over the farm to Ben and make my way to Philadelphia.”
“God be with you, Derek,” Jocelyn said as tears prickled in her eyes. “If not for you…”
“If not for me, you’d never have been shot,” he replied huskily.
“If not for you, I would not be this happy.”
“It’s my Christmas present to you. Now, give me one in return. Stay alive, get through this war, and be happy.”
“I’ll do my best. I’ll send my new address to your mother. Perhaps one day you’ll write to me.”
“You have my word,” Derek said. “Now, go back inside before you get ill. Your intended is waiting for you.”
Jocelyn stood on tiptoe and kissed Derek’s cheek, then turned and ran back inside, toward her new life.
Chapter 69
April 2018
London
&
nbsp; “How was it?” Gabe asked when Quinn walked into the bedroom, looking a bit worse for wear. He was propped up on several pillows, a book he’d just finished lying on the bedside table next to a plate of biscuits left there by his mum, and a bottle of painkillers. He hadn’t taken any, even though he was still in some pain. But it had been a week since the surgery, and he was determined to get back to normal within the next few days. This lying in bed and being waited on hand and foot was highly overrated, especially when the waiters in question were his and Quinn’s mums, who wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace and carried on as if he might snuff it at any moment.
“A roaring success,” Quinn replied, plopping down onto the bed. “I’m exhausted.”
The house had been filled with the sounds of happy children, frazzled adults, and mad barking emanating from an overexcited Rufus, but finally it had grown quiet.
“Mia was thrilled with her birthday.”
“Tell me everything,” Gabe invited.
“Well, if you’re sure you want to know. The zoo was a madhouse. Olivia managed to wander off, nearly giving Jill and Brian coronaries. She was eventually apprehended by Jude near the monkey cage and brought back kicking and screaming. Apparently, monkeys are the coolest and Jude ruined her entire day.
“Vanessa threw a fit because her balloon flew away, and Rhys paid some lucky woman twenty quid for her toddler’s balloon, which the toddler in question had no intention of parting with. Mayhem ensured, but he didn’t care because Vanessa was happy and that’s all that matters.
“Baby Max slept through the whole thing, lovely boy that he is. And Chrissy showed up, which was unexpected since she just had a cesarean a week ago. She was clearly in pain, but I think she wanted to have this memory of going to the zoo with Max since it seems she’s set to return to the Czech Republic next week.”
Quinn took a deep breath and continued, ignoring Gabe’s bemused stare. “Having saved the day by replacing the balloon, Rhys decided to harass me about the case. He demanded an update, once between the lion enclosure and the mandatory bathroom stop, and then again while I was searching for the birthday candle, which had been lying next to the cake all along.”
“And did you provide him with one?” Gabe asked, his mouth twitching as he tried not to burst out laughing.
“I did. Katya is thrilled that Major Radcliffe got his just deserts and thinks he should be reburied in a septic tank, and Rhys is practically giddy with the prospect of the Christmas proposal I’d suggested. Fits right into his plans for the Christmas special. Nothing warms the cockles of the collective British heart like a happy ending.”
Gabe’s eyebrows lifted comically. “Sorry, did I miss something?”
“I decided to fudge the truth a little and give Jocelyn and Derek a happy ending,” Quinn admitted guiltily. “Who’s to say she didn’t survive the shooting?”
“And you think Jocelyn and Derek would have made it official if she did?”
“There was an undeniable connection between them, and with Captain Denning gone, who’s to say Jocelyn wouldn’t have acted on it?”
“No one at all,” Gabe concurred. “An engagement would indeed make for a happy ending if Derek Wilder was prepared to raise Major Radcliffe’s child as his own.”
“We’ll assume he did. The ratings will go through the roof.”
“And speaking of children, how did ours acquit themselves today?” Gabe asked, smiling. “No lost balloons or attempted escapes?”
“Our children behaved magnificently,” Quinn added. “Alex even offered his own balloon to Vanessa, but apparently it was the wrong color, so his chivalry went unappreciated. Emma said she’s never having kids, but I think she might change her mind in about twenty years.”
“And our parents?” Gabe asked, trying hard not to laugh because it hurt.
“On their best behavior, or as near as. Your mum served the pizza, and my parents cut and dished out the cake. It was splendid. And they even helped me clean up.”
“Where are they now?” Gabe asked, wondering why it was so quiet downstairs.
“My parents and your mum went back to the hotel. I think they’ve forgotten how hectic a two-year-old’s birthday party can be. They’re knackered. And they wanted to give us a bit of space.”
“That’s very considerate of them. And have you spoken to Seth?” Gabe asked, no longer smiling. Kathy and Seth were a sore subject these days, and Brett’s name was never mentioned at all, for the sake of everyone’s sanity.
“He called to wish Mia a happy birthday.”
“How was the conversation?” Gabe inquired.
“A bit tense. He’s understandably devastated, but he’s going to stand by me, Gabe. He’s made that clear.”
“I’m glad to hear it. And Sylvia?”
“She’s all about Max these days, but she did get Mia a lovely present and invited her for a sleepover if we allow it. Do we allow it?” Quinn asked.
Gabe shrugged. “Maybe in the summer, when we can use a break from all this family togetherness,” Gabe joked. “Where’s the birthday girl?”
“She’s in the lounge, surrounded by a pile of gifts,” Quinn said, sighing like a woman who’d just climbed a very tall mountain and reached its peak.
“Which one is her favorite?”
“The dollhouse, I think. She asked for it to be brought up to her room. Jude took care of it.”
“I’d like to come downstairs for a bit,” Gabe said, already making to rise.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Quinn asked, instantly concerned.
“Quinn, I’m fine. Really. I’ll take it easy and sit on the sofa,” he promised.
“All right,” Quinn said. “But I’m going to help you down the stairs.”
“If you must.”
“I must,” Quinn insisted.
Once downstairs, Quinn settled Gabe in the armchair, and he held out his arms for Mia to climb into his lap. She pressed herself to his chest and looked up with those dark, soulful eyes.
“I missed you, Daddy,” she said.
“Did you have a nice birthday?” Gabe asked, blinking away the tears that suddenly clouded his vision.
“Yes.” Mia nodded vigorously. “I like giraffes.”
“I know, darling.”
He was about to ask about the glories of the dollhouse when Alex appeared in the doorway, Quinn’s bag in his hands. He pulled out a toy car Quinn must have put in there sometime during the day and allowed the bag to drop to the floor. A silver ring fell out and rolled across the hardwood floor, coming to a stop once it hit the wall. Car forgotten, Alex sprinted after the ring and picked it up, bringing it close to his face to study the object.
“Alex, can I have that back, please?” Quinn said as she approached him, but Alex didn’t seem to hear her. His gaze had clouded, and there was a frown on his little face.
“Jocelyn,” he whispered. “Pretty.”
Gabe felt something break inside him, his hand instinctively wrapping tighter around Mia as he watched his son. He had no illusions. Mia would probably also have the gift, or the curse, as he’d come to think of it. He’d do anything to protect his children from the ugliness and pain they would see, but it wasn’t in his power to stop the visions. A new generation of psychics had been born, and it would be up to them to decide how to use their ability.
After experiencing the disturbing memories that were her mother’s only legacy to her and learning of the events that had led to Brett’s arrest, Daisy had decided to sell the camera and avoid using her ability, much as Jo had. Daisy wouldn’t allow the visions to interfere with her life or draw her into the lives of the dead. Instead she was focusing on the future and preparing to start university in the fall to pursue her interest in architecture. Perhaps Alex and Mia would be just as wise when they became old enough to make their choice. Only time would tell.
Epilogue
Christmas 1777
Hertfordshire, England
Hector Radcliffe retir
ed to the library after dinner and poured himself a tot of brandy, then reconsidered and added another three fingers’ worth. It was Christmas, and he was all alone, his mood on this most benevolent of days dangerously volatile. He’d come to visit his old Eton friend Howard Lowell at his country estate, but although Howard had been glad to see him and happy for Hector to stay for a few weeks, he’d made his excuses and gone to spend Christmas with his fiancée’s family in London, leaving Hector on his own for the holiday.
Normally, Hector wouldn’t have minded. It was a large, comfortable house with extensive grounds, an impressive library, and a well-stocked liquor cabinet, but this year he had really craved company, needing someone else’s voice to drown out the morbid thoughts in his head, some of which seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his skull during the ocean crossing.
Hector tossed back the brandy and considered pouring himself another. Who’d care if he was drunk? It wasn’t as though he had to behave himself in polite company. And he was feeling sorry for himself. He was nearly thirty-five, unmarried, disgraced, the career he’d dedicated his life to in tatters. He could hardly blame Jocelyn Sinclair or Jared Denning for his misfortune. It was his fault, and his alone. He should have arrested the duplicitous bitch and put her under lock and key. Instead, he’d given in the to the desire that had been tormenting him for months. He’d lost his head. Again. He’d worked so hard to control himself, to follow society’s rules, but there were times when something took over, a force more powerful than his self-restraint, and then he was lost.
He couldn’t control it, couldn’t even rein it in long enough to think things through. There had been that doxy in Southampton and then the serving wench at a tavern at West Point. He’d strangled the doxy to keep her from screaming, and the other one wouldn’t be making any complaints. He’d paid her off to keep her quiet. But his desire for Jocelyn had been his downfall. He’d have gladly taken her as his mistress, would have showered her with affection and gifts, but she’d had no interest in him. She’d wanted Denning. Hector had been mad with jealousy, his desire for her poisoned with his need to possess her, to bring her to her knees.
The Lost (Echoes from the Past Book 9) Page 32