Saving Miss Everly: A Regency Romance (Inglewood Book 3)

by Sally Britton

  “Alejandro? Are you—are you well?”

  Shaking free from his melancholy thoughts, Alejandro gestured to the shore. “Come, Señor Flores. I have a friend who is letting me stay at his home. We may have refreshment and speak there.”

  It did not take long to walk to Thorne’s rented rooms. Alejandro told his story as they went, of the wreck, being left alone on an island, and finally how a sloop full of English citizens had washed ashore. They had passed St. George’s Anglican church by the time he finished. Señor Flores listened raptly and asked few questions, except to clarify a point.

  Thorne came out of the larger house just as they reached it.

  “Córdoba, you have returned. I wondered if you had changed your mind and were on your way to England.” Thorne’s smile was one of understanding, perhaps an empathetic bitterness.

  “I was tempted,” Alejandro admitted. “More than once. But look, the saints have rewarded me for staying firm. I have met with an old friend. Señor Flores, might I introduce Mr. Thorne, one of those Englishmen who lived on my island after a storm.”

  The men exchanged greetings and Thorne took his leave, pleading a prior engagement. Alejandro took Señor Flores into the house and the sitting room of Thorne’s flat. The windows were open to allow in a cooling breeze, and Thorne’s manservant offered to bring them lemonade.

  Once they had settled, Señor Flores fixed Alejandro with a piercing gaze, his lips pursed in concentration. “That man. He said you were tempted to go to England. Why?”

  Alejandro’s heart smote him all the harder. He could not speak of it. Not yet. A simple comment to Thorne, who understood, was one thing. But revealing his heart to another while still in the midst of pain would only cause him further damage. He brushed aside the question. “Bidding farewell to someone from the island is all. Will you tell me of my parents? Why are they in Spain?”

  “The Spanish royalists have taken captives and refuse to negotiate with the people fighting for our new republic,” Flores told him. “And the Royalists are aiding the armies at the expense of the commoners. Your father went to Spain as an ambassador of the new government. The Spanish court refuses to recognize our efforts as anything other than a rebellion and will not yield prisoners or even acknowledge your father. Though they have not arrested him for treason, and that is something.” The older gentleman rubbed at his temples but kept his posture as stiff and proud as he always had. “Your father seeks to build sympathy to our cause in the common man. If Spanish citizens resent the war, if popular opinion turns in our favor, that could be another means of ending the conflict. Wars are expensive, after all.”

  “So is losing a colony.” Alejandro tapped his fingers against the armrest. “How fair things at home?”

  “It is war.” Señor Flores shrugged and his expression changed into a dark frown. “Though we have had some promising moments. You will have heard something of our general, José Francisco de San Martín. He had just come to fight with us from Spain a few years ago. He has given us great hope, for he has had success in driving the Spanish armies back.”

  “That is good news. People need a hero to rally behind.” Alejandro reflexively reached up to grasp his mother’s ring, but his hand closed over his cravat instead. The ring now rested beneath his proper clothing. With a wince for the wrinkles he’d likely just added to the neckcloth, he lowered his hand again to the armrest. “Thank you for all the information. I am relieved to hear my parents and brother are well.”

  “Quite well. You will join them in Madrid now, yes?”

  Alejandro stood and paced away from the chairs to the window, looking out over a quiet courtyard. “That would be the best place for me to go. I am not sure when it would be possible.”

  “Leave with the first ship bound in that direction.” Señor Flores said it as though he could think of no impediments to such a plan.

  “I have nothing, Señor. I have been on an island for over a year. Even my clothes are not my own.”

  “Ridiculous. You are the son of one of my oldest friends. I will purchase your passage myself, first thing tomorrow if possible.” Señor Flores waved a hand somewhat carelessly. “I would hope you would do the same for any son of mine. I know your father would.”

  Alejandro shook his head. “The cost is too dear, Señor. I can manage.”

  “No doubt you would, in time, but your dear mother has lived without word of you too long already.” He thumped the chair and stood abruptly enough that it pushed back several inches. “You are going to Spain, and you will repay me by praying for me as often as you come upon a cathedral. Agreed?”

  Moved, Alejandro’s answer was hoarse with his emotion. “Sí, Señor Flores. And even when there is no cathedral. Thank you.”

  “Good. That is settled. Come. Show me where I can buy you dinner.”

  Heart lighter, Alejandro agreed, and they were out into the cool evening air. He looked again in the direction of the harbor, thinking of Hope. Would she forget him? Would he forget her?

  As the distance stretched between them, and time, perhaps her feelings would fade. There would be no point in going to England, following behind her like a lovesick dog.

  At least, that is what he kept telling himself.

  25

  The Silver Birch Society gathered at the vicarage to hear Hope’s story. Though the house was smaller than any of the others belonging to members of the group, it was comfortable. Grace had done an admirable job of making the space her own, and had filled the main room with beauty. Esther’s painting of the old boat, their former clubhouse amid the silver birches, hung above the mantel.

  Esther and Silas themselves sat next to each other in comfortable armchairs, Esther resting one hand upon her slightly rounded abdomen.

  Sir Isaac had settled in an overstuffed chair near the window, his chin resting on his fist as he stared outside, though Hope knew he listened as raptly as the others.

  Jacob and Grace occupied the small sofa, holding hands tightly, as perfectly in love as Hope had known they would become. And she sat near their hearth, on a padded footstool, trying to tell the story as brightly as possible.

  She avoided using Alejandro’s name as much as possible. Glossed over how often she had been alone in his company. If she could hide her feelings from her dearest friends, perhaps she could stop the ache in her heart every time she thought on him.

  The eight weeks since she had sailed from Basseterre and St. Kitt’s, the weeks on the ocean, the last several spent at home, had not cured her of her love for him. Hope did not know how anything ever would.

  They had tea while she spoke. They ate sandwiches while she described the manzanita de la muerte and Albert’s attempts at courtship.

  By the time she told the story in its entirety, the sky had grown dark. Late October. Of course it was dark earlier and earlier each evening. What a change from the long days on the island.

  “I am grateful for your rescue,” Grace whispered. “To think how near we came to losing you forever.”

  Hope exchanged a gentle smile with her twin sister, their love passing from one to the other with ease. “I never gave up hope that I would be here again among you.”

  “But where is the man now?” Isaac asked from his place near the window. Hope and everyone else turned to look at him, while he only stared out the glass into the darkness.

  “What man?” Esther asked. “Carlbury? If he ever comes back to this county, we ought to banish him.”

  “Earls cannot banish people, love,” Silas told her with a crooked smile.

  “Not Carlbury,” Isaac clarified, finally swinging his gaze around to those inside the room. “The man she fell in love with. The marooned South American.” He raised his eyebrows when no one said a word, though Hope lowered her eyes and found her hands clenched tightly in her lap.

  “Hope?” Grace moved to kneel in front of Hope, peering up at her with a curious stare. “Is Isaac correct? Did you fall in love?”

  Denying h
er heart ought to have been easy. Such a thing might well help her on her way to recovery. Instead, Hope’s bottom lip trembled and her eyes grew damp, quite without her permission. Grace’s expression fell. “Oh, darling. What happened?”

  “He had to return home,” Hope answered. “It was the right thing for him to do. The honorable thing.”

  Isaac snorted. “Honor? Honor was my excuse to go to war, but I doubt I would ever use it if I were in love.”

  “Oh, do be quiet, Isaac,” Esther said, glaring at her brother. “You have never been in love. What do you know of Hope’s gentleman? Hope. What happened? Will he come here when he settles things at home?”

  Hope shook her head slowly. “I do not know.”

  Isaac made another sound of displeasure, but when Esther turned another glare on him, Jacob spoke. “I am with Isaac on this topic. If he loves Hope, he will come for her.”

  “And if he never comes?” Grace asked, glaring at him. “Patience is only a virtue for so long.”

  That started a debate between them that nearly made Hope smile. Jacob and Grace were well-matched, indeed. Esther and Silas appeared happy, too. Happier than she had ever seen either of them.

  She stood and wandered to the window, standing near Isaac. “You would like him,” she said quietly, allowing the conversation behind her to continue. When it ended, Grace would see everyone off except Hope. That was when she could allow herself to fall apart. With Grace and Grace alone. But Isaac’s astute observation of all the things she did not say had surprised her.

  “Perhaps,” Isaac said with a noncommittal shrug. “I like lots of people.”

  “Have you ever been in love?” Hope asked him, her voice softer still.

  “No.” He leaned back in his chair and stared up at her, puzzlement in his eyes. “I am not certain I ever intend to try for it. Love, as wonderful as it sounds, also tends to make fools out of people. Like your Señor Córdoba. Like our friends.” His crooked smile softened his criticism.

  “You jest,” Hope accused. “I can tell. You want a love match as much as the rest of us do.”

  Isaac sighed and leaned his head back against the chair. “What will you do?”

  “Stay busy. Join my sister on her charitable visits. Learn to be a better person.”

  Pushing himself out from his chair, Isaac put his arm around her shoulders in a brotherly fashion. “You are the best of people, but I suppose one can always improve.” Then he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I will take my leave, so the earl and countess will take the hint and go home. Then you and Grace can have a proper coze.”

  “Thank you.” Hope needed the time with her sister. She needed someone to understand the words she could not say, the things her heart barely understood.

  They were up late, long after Jacob retired to bed, curled up together on the guest bed prepared for Hope. Their parents had understood, after Hope stayed with them a few days in her own room, she needed to be nearer Grace. Perhaps they had sensed her broken heart and believed time with Grace would heal Hope.

  Every day and night for a fortnight, the two were in each other’s company. Grace shared her story of hiding the truth, of how quickly Jacob knew which twin had stayed at home, and of all that happened leading to Jacob’s declaration of love. They laughed and cried over their misadventures. Hope’s tan and freckles had begun to fade on her voyage. The matron she was with insisted she wear her bonnets and carry her parasols to undo the sun’s damage. The good food Grace provided filled Hope back to her normal proportions.

  As time passed, Hope examined her heart again and again, waiting for the day when she would find it whole and healed. But she dreamed of Alejandro every night. Sometimes, he was as he had been on the island, with long hair and a beard, barefoot, and incongruous in her family’s parlor or music room. Other times, she dreamed she walked along the beach with him, both of them in finery fit for a ball. Every morning she woke with fresh longing to see him again.

  If she crossed the ocean twice, could she do so again? Would she find someone to take her all the way to his homeland? How would she even find him?

  Her love never lessened. Hope missed Alejandro every moment of every day, no matter how busy she kept herself.

  She helped her mother, sat and read to her father, played with her younger brother and sisters, and visited with Grace as often as she could manage. When her family had their fill of her, she took baskets to the poor, visited all their friends, and took long rides and walks so that she might sleep at night, exhausted, rather than lay awake wishing she had known how to keep Alejandro with her.

  She had been home six weeks when she woke one morning to feel a chill in the air. November was near giving way to December and winter. She shivered in her bed and thought with longing of a warm sandy beach and a blue cloudless sky. And Alejandro, holding her hand as they watched the sun rise.

  It was pure fantasy. The island had been a prison, as he said. Alejandro had never held her hand as dawn crept across the sea to the island. But that made the joy no less real to her as she let her mind linger upon the scene in her heart.

  Aldersy, Suffolk, was not so hard to find. Thankfully, despite what had passed between Alejandro and Albert Carlbury, the senior Carlburys had happily given him adequate instruction for finding Everly Refuge. For finding Hope.

  The horse he had hired carried him up the drive, snorting occasionally as though put out with both the weather and his rider. Alejandro’s time out of a saddle had made the trip from London difficult. A boat around the whole blasted frozen country would have been better, but his funds were running low. He needed every coin he had left, thanks to Señor Flores’s generosity, if he were to accomplish his goal.

  If Hope would have him.

  Querido Dios, ayúdala a perdonarme, he prayed again and again. Let her forgive me. It took time to find passage to England, and time to sail across a stormy sea, and time to travel across the country. At last, the day had come. He would see Hope again.

  Alejandro came all the way to the door, the only sound in the chill air his horse’s hooves on the ground. The house was quiet, though it was near noon.

  The door opened while he yet tied his horse to a ring, and he turned with a polite smile in place to address a servant.

  A woman stood in the doorway, her deep brown hair piled atop her head and her bright blue eyes wide with surprise. She said nothing, only stood frozen, as though shocked to see him there.

  Alejandro took one step to her, his confession of love already upon his tongue, but he stopped and stared instead. Something was not right. Something was decidedly wrong. His heart told him in very hard terms that this was not the woman he loved.

  “Grace.” The name shot from him like an accusation, and when her jaw dropped open in shock he hurried to bow. “Perdóname. I did not mean to be rude. I am—”

  “Alejandro,” she supplied, her eyes somehow growing wider. “Merciful heavens.” She put a hand to her heart and hurried out of the house to him, both hands extended in welcome. “Oh, you have come. I am so glad. I told her, we all told her, you ought to come if you loved her.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she started dragging him to the door. “Hurry. You must come inside at once.”

  Alejandro allowed her to lead him, perplexed as he was by her greeting. “You knew I would come?”

  “Not precisely. But we prayed you would.” She tugged him inside and shut the door behind them. “Father is in his study. This way.”

  He gently extracted his hand from hers. “I had rather see Hope.”

  She huffed at him, much as her sister had done a time or two, and narrowed her eyes. “Of course you would, but if you are going to propose, you need Father’s blessing first.”

  His heart raced. “I meant to see if she even wished—”

  “She does.” Grace, who had been described to him as rather meek, stood her ground on the issue. “There is no time to waste. Now that you are here, we must act with all speed. You will stay until the banns
are read, I hope, before you take her from us.”

  “I—I think so.” Alejandro followed her again, somewhat dazed. But one thing at least had become clear. If Hope’s sister had such faith in him, in their eventual union, Hope had not given up her feelings for him. Not yet.

  26

  Winter did strange things to the North Sea. In winter, there were frequent gales and storms, causing the waves to crash almost violently against the shore. As Hope walked along the beach near Inglewood, she found the sea reflected more of her feelings that day. The water was calm, though in motion, like her. She had come to visit Esther and Silas, and listened as the two of them discussed ridiculous baby names in a playful manner.

  Though she rejoiced in their obvious happiness, she could not sit with them long. She had asked their leave to take a walk.

  “Since when did you ever need my permission to walk on our beach?” Silas had asked, perplexed. “I feel it is as much yours as mine, or Jacob’s, or Isaac’s. Grace has her own beach now, near the vicarage, but she is welcome, too.”

  They let her walk alone. Though some might consider it unseemly, Hope did not care. She had been stranded on a desert island. Little else in the world could frighten her, whether it was man, beast, or Society’s gossipy old cats.

  With her cloak warm around her shoulders, she pushed the hood back and faced the water. Wind tugged at her clothing and her hair. With one scandalous thought, Hope reached up and pulled several pins from her hair. The result would not be pretty, but she could put the hood back up on her ride home and no one would ever know.

  No one would ever see her with her hair down, as it had been upon the island, a mass of waves all tangled by the briny wind. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to dream again. She saw no harm in dreaming anymore. Her heart had fixed itself on Alejandro, and someday she would go to him. Hope would find a way.