A Pursuit of Home

by Kristi Ann Hunter

  All of Nicolas’s plans were surface. Nothing was mending the country.

  She’d have to deal with that next.

  “Well, I am in need of a lady’s maid, and I find I don’t want a normal one. Do you want the job?” Jess was going to scream if she had to spend one more morning getting dressed by the insipid women Nicolas had assigned to her.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the girl whispered.

  “Fabulous.” Jess handed her the bowl of biscuits. “That means you answer to me, and I protect you from everything else. Your first job is to deliver this bowl to Mr. Thornbury. You won’t have to tell him where it came from. He’ll know. Then meet me in my chambers.”

  A short time later, Maria had done so, though she’d come to the chambers with a smirking housekeeper in tow. The stiff woman obviously expected Jess to deny that she’d promoted Maria to such a lofty position, and Jess had gotten great joy in setting the woman right.

  Then she sent everyone else out of the room. It had taken Jess and Maria a bit of doing to figure out how to get into the dress, but they’d gotten to know each other while they did it. The more Jess learned, the more confident she felt in her choice of her new maid.

  Now, two hours after Jess had left Maria straightening the bedchamber, she wished there’d been a way to bring the girl to the ball. At least then there’d be one friendly face.

  “There you are,” her brother said in her ear. “Why do you keep slipping away from where you’re supposed to be?”

  “Perhaps because we have a different opinion of where I should be,” Jess bit out, tired of scraping to him in reverence. It wasn’t her. She couldn’t continue doing it.

  “We are the survivors of war, Jessamine. We represent that Verbonne will be a survivor as well.”

  “How is that going to happen, again? All of this sparkle isn’t going to sustain a people.”

  Nicolas’s eyes hardened, though he kept his face neutral. No one could know the brother and sister were fighting, after all. They were the representation of all that was good in Verbonne.

  Anyone who implied differently would be silenced.

  Jess frowned and said in fluent Italian, “What you’re doing is wrong.”

  His eyes widened and then narrowed. “I’m the king, Jessamine—or I will be by this time tomorrow. I get to decide what is wrong.”

  No, he didn’t. Such a mentality had been destroying kingdoms and families and lives for all time. If Nicolas were going to continue down that path, Jess couldn’t be a part of it. In fact, she was going to do anything she could to stop it.

  Knowing he was watching her, she moved deeper into the party, maneuvering herself to a point where she could slip from the ballroom and out into the garden. She needed to think, and she didn’t need to have to remember to put on a show while she did it.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Jess went out to the rocks, to the same wall Queen Jessamine had been standing on in the painting. In the glinting starlight, peaceful waves kissed the edge of the wall. No storm brewed in the ocean now.

  The ballroom behind her was another matter.

  Across those waters lay England. A country she’d served, lived in, grown to love. Behind her was Verbonne. The place of her birth and her heritage, known to her by distant memories and old stories.

  She was supposed to love Verbonne as much as, if not more than, England, but all she could find in herself was the satisfaction of a job completed and the desire to leave it behind as she’d done all the others.

  “I thought you’d make your way out here eventually.” Derek’s voice broke her trance and brought a smile to her lips before she realized it was forming.

  “Were you waiting for me?”

  “Yes.” He came and stood next to her, shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the water. “You’ll have the guards in a panic. Again.”

  Jess grimaced. “I know.”

  She glanced at Derek. His coat looked a little worse for wear for all the travel he had done lately, and his trousers were loose. A far cry from the carefully lit palace behind her.

  Considerably more real as well.

  Her glance moved up to his face, but it wasn’t hidden by a swath of too-long hair anymore. “What happened to your hair?”

  “Your brother so kindly offered me the use of his barber. A new suit was delivered to my room, too. I haven’t decided if I’m going to wear it.”

  She frowned. “Grow your hair back.”

  “I will,” he said with a laugh. He gestured to the palace. “Looks like quite the party.”

  “You should have been invited,” she said. “The coronation would be considerably more perilous if not for you. It might not have even happened at all.”

  “They don’t see it that way.”

  “Well, I do.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not returning to the ball without you.”

  His laugh rolled over the rocky coast, but it had an edge of sadness to it. “You say that as if it would be some magnanimous sacrifice on your part. Yet here you are, already having chosen to abandon it by your own choice.”

  “I can’t be what they want me to be,” she said quietly. She had finally found a role she couldn’t wear.

  Derek turned his hand over and gripped hers, the heat of his palm seeping through her satin glove.

  Satin. Of all the ridiculous fabrics to put over one’s hands. Satin practically screamed ornamental. Pretty. Useless.

  His thumb tracked back and forth across her hand, calming her as he had on their voyage across the water. “I’ve seen you become fifteen different women in the time that I’ve known you. From a street urchin to an old hag to an elegant lady with money to burn. You can be anyone you want to be.”

  “For a time, yes, but this”—she flung her free hand out to indicate the palace—“this is forever. At the end of the evening I won’t be shedding this dress and running off into the night with a piece of information that will change the course of a war or a country. I’ll be taken to a room I don’t feel I can breathe in, and tomorrow I’ll be wrapped in more fine clothing and expected to do it all over again. I’ll be Lady Jessamine for the rest of my life. And I don’t know who she is.”

  “Who do you want to be?”

  She wanted to be Jess. She wanted to go back to England and tease Daphne and match wits with Kit. She wanted to see how Reuben and Sarah and the other children from Haven Manor grew up. She wanted to watch Ryland become a father who frowned at young men in a ballroom. She wanted to see if Martha learned how to make bread that didn’t break a tooth.

  She wanted to spend more time with Derek, wanted him to keep challenging her to rethink how she saw things, including herself.

  None of those were here.

  Here was Verbonne. Here she was Lady Jessamine, and what she wanted didn’t matter. That was something she’d learned from Ryland, and even from Kit and Daphne’s new husbands. Being an aristocrat—a good aristocrat, anyway—meant the country was more important.

  Even Ryland, for all his unconventional and scandalous ways, had done what he’d done for the good of England. He’d been willing to sacrifice his life and his title in the name of king and country.

  So had Jess. She’d spent years putting herself in danger on behalf of England. Part of her would still be willing to do so, though with a bit more trepidation than she’d done before. There were people she loved now, whereas before she’d thought all the people she loved were dead. Still, saving England would mean saving the people she loved, so she’d do it again if she had to.

  All she felt when she considered Verbonne was guilt. An overwhelming, soul-crushing guilt because she wasn’t enthusiastically willing to make the same sacrifice for the country of her father, of her birth, of her childhood.

  “I don’t know my brother anymore. We’re strangers.”

  Derek’s grip tightened. “As were we once. And I think, well, I’d like to think that we became friends as we worked toward our goal.”

  Jes
s swallowed. Yes, they’d become friends. And more. He’d challenged her like none other, while accepting her for who she was. He’d offered to teach her without condemnation or belittlement. He’d let her lead when her abilities were stronger than his, then forced her to acknowledge when there was something she just might not be capable of doing. He’d distracted her at times when nothing else had ever broken her concentration.

  He’d made her feel alive.

  Without him, would she become one of the walking dead, those going through the motions while the life inside them faded?

  Maybe. But that was her problem to deal with, not his. She should let him leave thinking she would be fine. She wanted him to remember her well.

  She wanted to ask where he would go, what he would do, but she already knew. He would finish the job at Haven Manor and then move on to the next. Like her, he wouldn’t be the same, but he would continue.

  “You’re leaving in the morning,” she said.

  “Yes. I wondered if he told you.”

  “Not intentionally.” She shrugged. “He speaks in Italian. Or at least he did. Tomorrow it will probably change to Spanish.” Her eyes glinted. “I speak that language, too.”

  Derek’s response was a chuckle. “You’ve been chasing this moment a long time, Jess. Whether you admit it or not, you kept the diary in the hopes that this would one day be the result.” Derek dropped her hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  “It’s not what I hoped it would be,” Jess admitted.

  “No.” He took a deep breath and continued, “You still found what you’ve been running to. Or from. Either way, for the first time in your life, you aren’t running.”

  “What are you saying, Derek?”

  “Don’t start running again. If you decide to leave, do it through the front door. No matter how difficult you may find it, this is your family. You lost them once. Don’t throw them away now that you’ve got them back. It might be work and it will never be what it was, but it could be beautiful in its own way.”

  “You’re asking a lot of me.” She’d run from everywhere she’d ever lived. Never once had she said good-bye.

  Until now. Until him. She was saying good-bye to him, and it just might kill her.

  “I know you can do it. You’ve had your time in the shadows. God has brought you into the light. Maybe it’s time to try living there for a while. You might find that you shine.”

  Living in light. What a concept.

  Derek grinned, then whispered, “‘No man, when he hath lighted a candle, putteth it in a secret place, neither under a bushel, but on a candlestick, that they which come in may see the light.’”

  Jess laughed, a free laugh that felt lighter than anything she’d done since arriving in Verbonne. This was why Ryland still read the Bible and sought God when circumstances were going well, why Daphne insisted on reading it to the children every night, how Derek had managed to find faith even in his calm, orderly existence. It wasn’t about protection from danger—it was about life.

  Somewhere along the way she’d absorbed more of that than she realized.

  That was how she knew Nicolas’s plan was wrong.

  There’d been a story Daphne read about two kings or a king and an advisor or a cousin. She couldn’t remember that part, but she remembered the king was Rehoboam and he’d wanted to lay a heavy yoke on his people to show them his power. The other man said not to. And then there was the time when Jesus said His yoke was light.

  She didn’t have the details, needed to spend some time looking for them, but she knew enough to know Nicolas was wrong.

  “I have something for you,” Derek said as he took his arm from around her and reached into his coat. He passed her a bundle of fabric.

  She unrolled the linen to discover it covered a layer of leather—a long strap that would wind securely up her leg and a shorter strap to keep the flap close to her leg.

  Three knives lined the bundle.

  “You don’t have to stop being yourself,” he said. “You shouldn’t. Just as your brother isn’t the boy you remember, you aren’t the girl you remember. I think that’s a good thing.”

  “I can’t tell you good-bye, Derek.”

  Telling him good-bye was wrong. Even if that wasn’t in the Bible anywhere, she knew in her heart that she should not be saying good-bye to this man.

  “Then don’t. Walk away and leave me here. Pretend this is where I stay. Stand here whenever you need me. Think of me, talk to me. I’ll be just over those waters. I’ll hear you. You won’t be alone. I promise, Jess, even if you forget who you are, I never will. When you need reminding, stand here and remember.”

  Her eyes burned with tears that she refused to let fall. Hidden in those floorboards, she’d been too afraid; then she’d been too determined to prove herself. After that, it had been about protection. Now there was no protection left. Derek had shattered her defenses. She would have to rebuild them now, but she’d do so with him on the inside so that she would never forget.

  She stepped forward and put her hand on his shoulder before leaning up on her toes and placing a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth.

  “Until the next time, then,” she said with a shaky smile, letting her fingers trail down his arm as she walked away, maintaining contact with him until the very last moment.

  Jess paused in the final shadows, pulled off her gloves, and knelt to affix the sheath he’d made to her lower leg. It gave Derek peace, seeing her walk forward with a piece of him at her side. No one would see it beneath the skirts of the bold dress, but Jess would feel it. That was what mattered. It would be a shame if the Jess he’d come to know was relegated to the past like an old painting.

  When the pale shine of her hair had disappeared and her dress was visible only in his imagination, he turned away. His small bag was already packed and waiting for him.

  King Nicolas had made arrangements for him to leave in the morning, but Derek refused to live at the mercy of others anymore, so he’d made his own arrangements. He would be boarding the ship tonight. With any luck, he’d sleep through the shifting of the tide and the boat’s departure.

  He could pretend that Verbonne and everything in it was a dream.

  The sense of importance at the palace didn’t quite extend down to the dock. If anyone he’d passed knew they were officially crowning their king in the morning, they either didn’t care or had left it to think about tomorrow.

  The ship was mostly cargo, with a handful of small, basic passenger compartments. It didn’t take Derek long to settle into one. He didn’t need to unpack, knowing he would only be on board for a matter of hours.

  From his narrow bed, he could see the stars in a cloudless sky but nothing else. He took off his jacket and shoes but left the rest of his clothes on as he lay down. Everything he had was already rumpled beyond redemption. Sleeping in it wouldn’t make a difference.

  He would go to William’s home when he docked in London and get cleaned up. Then he would go back to work. He would teach and study and, yes, paint. He would busy himself with the same life he’d had before he met Jess.

  He wouldn’t be the same man, of course, but he was rather looking forward to that part.

  The stillness of his body and the motion of the boat finally lulled him to sleep, despite the turmoil of his mind. As his eyes drifted shut and lost view of the stars, all he could think was that when he woke, it would all be over.

  He couldn’t find a bit of joy in that.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Jess stole into the ballroom behind a server holding a tray loaded down with some sort of stuffed pastry, like a miniature meat pie. Her stomach clenched at the idea of eating, though she wasn’t sure if it was in hunger or fear that she might choke on anything she attempted to swallow.

  There was no reason for her to hide. She was supposed to be an honored guest of this celebration. Still, she found herself clinging to the edges of the room, moving slowly from shadow to shadow until sh
e’d made her way to an area behind where her brother was accepting the congratulations of foreign dignitaries.

  A woman stood by his side, a bland smile matching her patient and emotionless eyes. Likely Charlotte, whom Jess hadn’t met yet and Nicolas hadn’t told her about, but whom one advisor had mentioned was to be the future queen.

  It was good for a new king to have a queen, she supposed, but she couldn’t see any particular love between the two of them. Love probably hadn’t been on Nicolas’s mind when he had proposed the marriage. It certainly hadn’t been on his mind when he’d arranged hers. Not once had he taken into consideration the fact that she loved another.

  Jess paused. Well. She rather wished she’d fully realized that fact a few hours ago. She might have been able to convince Derek they should both be on that ship.

  The tight leather surrounding her calf helped Jess breathe as she stood near the window, observing the party. It also berated her for the cowardice she was giving in to, remaining unseen despite the brightness of her dress.

  A movement beyond the windows caught her attention. Had another guest been lured to the dark gardens for a moment of peace?

  She cupped her hands around her eyes and stepped closer to the glass to see better. The figure wasn’t dressed in evening wear, and he wasn’t heading to the gardens but to the ballroom doors where Nicolas was holding court with a circle of powerful men.

  Doors the guards weren’t paying any attention to. Honestly, whoever trained these men was an imbecile.

  Jess shifted a bit closer to her brother before kneeling and gently lifting her skirt to remove a knife. Right then, she wasn’t Lady Jessamine, wasn’t nobility, wasn’t even an attendee at the ball.

  She was Jess.

  As the man approached the door, light from the ballroom illuminated his features. He wasn’t a guard, nor was he dressed like a guest. His face was hard and angry, clearly one of an enemy.

  An enemy headed directly toward her brother.