I didn’t ask how he’d known Dibs was a smuggler. I supposed it had been obvious.
He reached out to clutch both of my hands. “You need to leave here. It’s too dangerous. Too…lonely. I should have seen that long ago.” His thumbs rubbed anxiously across the backs of my hands. “Your mother tried to warn me. When she knew she…” He choked on the words. “She told me you needed to spend a few weeks in London before I let you marry Rockland. To see something of the world beyond the marshes and Norwich.”
I sat very still, afraid that if I moved or spoke he would fall silent again, as he’d been these past four years. But inside I was a swirling pit of remembered suffering and loss. My mind churned with unanswered questions, with shock and frustration.
“I know you must be wondering why I never told you any of this.”
That was an understatement.
“Whether I ever intended to do as she’d asked. And the answer is I don’t know.” His face was weighed down by a sorrow I’d never been able to comprehend, even loving my mother as much as I had. “I…” He turned his face to the side. “I don’t remember much about the weeks following your mother’s death. I suspect I was largely absent.”
I didn’t think he wanted me to reply, to tell him about the way he’d taken to his bed, refusing to see Erik or me. Or how he’d locked himself in his study with carafes of wine and whiskey and brandy. How Erik and I had felt abandoned. How we’d worried we’d lost both of our parents, not just our mother.
“But I do remember seeing you and Rockland together one evening after your brother left to take up his commission in the army.”
I frowned at the change in his tone of voice. “You saw us? Where?”
“At Wilkie Point.”
My cheeks flushed with heat. Wilkie Point was an old dock located in an isolated stretch of marsh that used to be attached to a farm nearby before the waters had encroached too far inland. Robert and I had only met there twice, and neither time had we done much talking. I could see that knowledge now in Father’s eyes.
“I knew then that I needed to honor your mother’s wishes. Before it was too late.”
I pressed my lips together, fighting the burning wave of embarrassment. “Father, I never…”
“I know,” he replied calmly, not making me say the words. “Your mother taught you better than that.”
I exhaled, relieved to hear him say so after last week’s horrible accusations.
His face hardened. “But that didn’t mean I trusted Rockland.”
And he’d been proven right, because Robert had essentially jilted me. At least now I better understood his fury when Robert returned to Greenlaws with a different bride. Father had known just how dishonorably Robert had behaved toward me. He must have simmered with indignation when he realized the futility of his being able to do anything about it. It was no surprise he’d lashed out after drinking too much.
“But you never took me to London,” I pointed out.
“No.” His voice was hollow. “Because we received word of Erik’s death a few days later.”
And Father had retreated back into his study with his preferred brandy.
I turned towards my window, watching our candlelit reflections flicker across the glass like ripples on water. There had been so much I hadn’t known. So much I hadn’t understood. I wondered now whether I should have pushed harder for answers, but a person can only be ignored and rejected so many times before they stop asking.
The chair creaked as Father sat taller. “You must leave here.” He tapped the letter he’d given me where I’d set it on my writing desk. “You must go to Lady Bramford. Tonight.”
My eyebrows arched in surprise at his insistence. “How?”
“Surely Rockland would loan you a carriage. I will come with you to ask.”
Oh, if he only knew.
I shook my head. “I can’t just leave. It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, you can.”
I strengthened my voice. “No, I can’t.”
Something of my certainty must have finally been communicated to him, for he paused to study me. His hands in his lap tightened into fists. “Rockland is involved too, isn’t he?”
I didn’t confirm it. I didn’t need to.
His face turned to the side as his jaw worked. He slammed his fist down onto my desk, making me jump. “It’s bad enough the scoundrel had to trifle with you and break your heart, but now this! This has gone too far.”
He rose to his feet, but I grabbed hold of his hand, pulling him back. “Sit down,” I ordered, ignoring the angry glint in his eyes as he dropped back into the chair with a thud. He truly was weakened by his craving for brandy.
“What do you think you’re going to do? March over to Greenlaws and confront him?” I snapped. “Don’t be a fool. The others will shoot you and not think twice. Or have you already forgotten what happened to Mr. Watkins?”
His face visibly paled, but his eyes remained defiant.
I inhaled and pressed a hand to my brow, trying to think. “You are going to have to let me handle this my way.” I glared him into silence when he would have protested. “I cannot simply flee, if indeed I could. It’s doubtful they would even allow me to travel farther than a mile away from Thurlton before they stopped me. Not only would they see you thrown into prison, they would have me arrested as well, and possibly tried for treason.”
He stiffened in alarm.
“They’re not just smuggling silk and brandy, Father,” I replied in a hushed voice, as if even now someone might overhear us. “And I have to stop them. For Erik. For Kate. And for me.”
Father clearly had questions, but he did not force me to elaborate. Instead, he held to what was most important. “What do you intend to do?”
I rose from my stool and crossed toward my window, rubbing the tense muscles at the back of my neck. “I don’t know,” I admitted. A flare of light at the edge of the marsh caught my eye and I sighed. “But it will have to be done soon.”
Chapter 32
S
omehow I managed to extricate myself from my Father by convincing him I wished to go to bed, and he should seek his, too. He must have been exhausted, for he barely voiced a protest as I rose and pretended to ready myself for sleep. After the events at the White Horse, I thought he was going to lock me in my room, so anxious was he suddenly for my safely. Though it was nice to be cared about for once, it could not have happened at a worse time.
I was careful not to make a sound as I crept out of the cottage and followed the path down to where I knew Jack would be waiting. He stood in the middle of the dock with the special lantern he had used to signal me sitting at his feet. The night air was warm, and yet he still wore his black cloak. The better to perpetuate the myth of the Lantern Men for unsuspecting outsiders, I supposed.
I crossed my arms over my chest and slowly moved toward him. He did not glance up at me until I stopped several feet away. From such a distance I could not see his features as clearly as I would have liked, but I decided it was safer this way.
I didn’t speak, wanting him to speak first. Unfortunately, he seemed to find our silence comfortable, for he made no immediate effort to dispel it with words. His eyes trailed over my features and down my body, lingering on my neck. I’d forgotten to rewrap the scarf around my neck and almost lifted my hand to cover the fading bruises from his sight, but I didn’t want to reveal even that little bit of discomfort.
We had been in each other’s company since the incident with Reynard, but always in a group, and never in a setting where we could easily converse. In truth, Reynard seemed to be keeping him busy elsewhere much of the time. Because he recognized Jack felt some sympathy for me, or because Reynard wanted me to believe I still had an ally in Jack? I couldn’t be sure, so I was wary.
“You are well?” he finally said.
“As well as can be,” I replied vaguely.
He continued to stare at me, as if waiting for me to say more. When I
didn’t, he grunted. “Your ship sails tomorrow.”
I straightened, unable to hide my reaction. My heart surged in my chest. “When?”
“With the midday tide. But Reynard wants you to board before midmorning.”
Which meant we would need to set out for Yarmouth in only a few hours’ time. “And you’re just informing me of this now?”
Jack’s voice was tight. “Yes, well, he didn’t want to give you the chance to run.”
I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. “Are you sure it doesn’t have to do with a certain riding officer being shot tonight?”
He didn’t even attempt to deny it. “I’m certain that has something to do with it, but the ship also made port today.”
“Captain Haywood again,” I sneered.
“No. At least, not the Captain Haywood you’re thinking of.”
I tilted my head in question.
“They’re all known as Captain Haywood. It’s…safer that way.”
I had no idea exactly what he meant by that, and I decided I didn’t care to. “When should I expect you?” I asked instead.
His eyes scrutinized my face, and I looked away, trying to ignore the sensations his proximity always evoked. Did he know just being near him made every inch of my skin come alive? That my breath seemed to catch in my chest? That my words would suddenly dry on my tongue? Did he feel any of those things too? Or was he as calm and unaffected as he always looked?
“I can still take you somewhere safe.”
He spoke so softly I wasn’t certain I’d heard him correctly.
He must have seen my confusion for he moved a step closer. “There is a place close by I can take you. Somewhere Reynard will never look.”
“Yes, but for how long?” Anger flashed inside me. “And what of Mrs. Brittle, and my father, and Kate? What will become of them?” I shook my head. “It’s too late for any of that. If you’d truly wished to help, you should have done so before now.”
“I warned you to stay out of this,” he snapped back, moving closer to tower over me. “I told you that you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. But you wouldn’t listen.”
I could see now that he wasn’t unaffected. He was furious. Almost as furious as I was.
He inhaled deeply. “Reynard sent me after Colonel Junot. I couldn’t say no.”
“I understand,” I bit out, not wanting to hear his excuses. Not wanting to allow even a sliver of doubt to creep beneath my anger and make me soften toward him. I couldn’t afford such weakness.
But he was relentless. “Well, you shouldn’t.” His brow furrowed in displeasure. “I told you I would help you, that I would find a way to extricate you from this plot, and I failed to do that. I’m sorry.”
His apology was so genuine, I felt the walls I’d built up against him begin to crumble. I clutched myself tighter, trying to shore them up.
“I wish…” Jack began but then stopped, sighing heavily as he shook his head, forbidding himself from finishing that thought. Instead he turned to question me. “Why did you give in to Reynard’s threats? Why didn’t you wait for word from me?”
Even though his accusations were gently queried, my shoulders stiffened. “I had no choice. He summoned me, and at the time I had no alternative. How was I to know if you meant to follow through on your promise? What indication was there that you could truly help me when you can’t even save yourself?” I glowered at him. “Or don’t you want to?”
He shook his head. “It’s too late for me. And it’s…complicated.”
I stared up into his too-handsome face, feeling that traitorous tug. “Isn’t everything?” I mused, bone-weary of all these games and secrets.
He didn’t respond, and I took that as his agreement.
Conscious of the lateness of the hour and the short amount of time before I had to meet him here to set out for Yarmouth, I turned towards home. But Jack stopped me with a light touch to my elbow. His expression was still troubled, but now there was also a glint of determination in his eyes. One I didn’t understand.
“Do you remember what I told you before your last engagement?”
I frowned. He’d told me many things, but somehow I knew he was referring to what he’d said to me on the boat at Yarmouth. To forget my orders to stay silent. To tell the authorities everything.
I nodded.
“It still applies.”
When he didn’t elaborate, I tried to ask for clarification. “But what if—”
His hand lifted to my cheek, cutting off my words as his callused thumb ran along the sensitive skin of my jaw. “You’ll know what to do.”
His eyes dipped to my mouth, and I realized that as much as I didn’t want to want him to kiss me, the fact was I did. Whether he knew that or he simply didn’t care, he captured my mouth in a searing kiss. One I knew I would spend the rest of my life trying to forget.
I turned blindly away when he released me, cursing myself for being such a fool. For letting him get close enough to touch my heart when I should never have even known his name.
~ ~ ~
A few short hours later, before the sun had even hinted at making an appearance, I stole out of the cottage. But not before making a quick stop in my father’s study to retrieve something from the locked drawer in his desk. I slipped the item I sought into my reticule and tiptoed through the kitchen, carrying the pair of leather half-boots Kate had loaned me. Luckily, our feet were almost of a size. In any case, I couldn’t complain. I’d been wearing my mother’s too large shoes for months now since my last pair had worn through the soles.
I gritted my teeth when the door creaked in protest as I pulled it shut. Holding my breath, I waited to hear if the noise had woken Mrs. Brittle or my father, but the cottage remained dark and silent. I exhaled in relief, having wanted to avoid any confrontation, especially one requiring a lengthy explanation I wasn’t sure I could fully account for. It was anybody’s guess how the day would unfold, but I prayed that at least it would end with everyone I loved alive and whole, regardless of whether that was safe at home or locked in a prison cell somewhere.
I sat down on the threshold and laced up my boots before hurrying down to our dock. I did my best to save the fabric of Kate’s Pomona-green ensemble from dragging in the dirt and dew, but even though it had been hastily altered to fit my figure, it was still a bit too long. I knew Kate wouldn’t care, but I did. I rarely had the opportunity to wear something so beautiful, and I didn’t want to damage it in the first five minutes I’d worn it.
When I arrived, Jack was not yet there, so I stood very still with my hands clasped before my waist, looking out over the marsh. It was that curious hour that seemed to fall between night and day, when the world hushed in anticipation. The creatures who scurried about in the night had found their beds and fallen silent, while the rest of the world had yet to awaken. The sky was still dark, but the stars one by one had slowly begun to fade. My eyes strained to see that first wash of blue on the eastern horizon, eager for light to chase away the shadows.
But before the sun could make its presence known, a flicker of light to my left caught my eye and then it disappeared. I turned to search for it, and just as I began to wonder if I’d imagined it, the dim light reappeared a bit further to the right, slowly drifting toward me. Had I not known about Jack and his special lantern the sight would have terrified me, for even knowing what I did, the glow of his lamp was still unsettling. It truly did look like an eerie ball of flame, a will-o’-the-wisp hovering over the marsh, just as the myth of the Lantern Men claimed. I breathed deeply, reminding myself it was merely a trick, but I knew I wouldn’t relax until I’d seen Jack with my own eyes.
As the light drew closer, I could hear the slice of oars through the water. Then the boat emerged from the gloom, along with one human silhouette and then another. Both were draped in dark garments from head to toe. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I strained to see whether either of the figures was Jack. I bit down on the urge to call
out, to demand they reveal themselves, and when the first figure pulled back his hood, I was glad I’d resisted.
“Miss Winterton,” Reynard drawled, looking up at me from the boat as it pulled even with the dock.
I stared down into his unwelcome visage, frantically trying to determine what this meant for me and my plans, especially if he intended to accompany us to Yarmouth and aboard the ship to France. I had not anticipated Reynard’s presence because he had never impressed me as the type of man who would exert himself enough to become directly involved, but I supposed if the mission were important enough even he might make an exception.
I tore my gaze away from him as the second figure stood to grip the wooden rail of the ladder, securing the skiff for my decent. Jack’s steady gaze met mine, and though he didn’t speak I could hear his instructions from that week of training before my first smuggling engagement echoing through my head.
I turned around to carefully climb down the ladder in my unwieldy skirts, taking advantage of those few moments when I did not have to face either man to compose myself. By the time I’d reached the bottom I’d calmed some of my nerves in preparation for what was to come. Jack pressed a hand to my back as I stepped into the boat, steadying me as we rocked in the water. I realized I would have to sit beside Reynard on the bench, and though I thought I’d successfully masked my dismay at this he seemed to sense it anyway. His lips curled into a leering grin as I wobbled toward him.
I plopped down on the bench perhaps a bit too hard, for he had not offered me his hand in assistance, and ended up pressed against his side in order to keep myself from toppling backward off of the seat. I pulled away as quickly as I could, but there was still no escaping the fact that our hips remained touching. The gentlemanly thing for him to do would have been to slide over those last few inches on his side of the bench to give me more room, but it had become apparent long ago that Reynard was no gentleman. I gritted my teeth, refusing to squirm. That would only add to his enjoyment of my discomfort.
Secrets in the Mist Page 31
