Love's Rescue (Keys Of Promise Book 1) (Historical Romance)

by Christine Johnson

  He squirmed out of her embrace, but his high color told her he was secretly pleased.

  Now all that remained was to convince Aunt Virginia.

  Before dressing for the ball, Elizabeth approached her great-aunt. After frank discussion and a great deal of persuasion, Aunt Virginia agreed to her plan, though she would not sign over the inheritance until they learned how Mr. Finch reacted. Since Aunt now had business to address, she claimed a headache too severe to attend the evening’s festivities.

  By the time the carriage arrived in front of the house, all had been set in place. Though the night was fair and overly warm, even with the persistent southeast breeze, Elizabeth donned her black silk mantle. The blue-gray ball gown would be too visible in the light of the full moon.

  Father frowned when she walked into the foyer. “A wrap in this heat?”

  “I wanted to wear something black out of respect for Mother.”

  “Humph. At least you’re no longer using that as an excuse not to marry.”

  He assisted her into the carriage but was less enthusiastic when she insisted Anabelle ride beside her rather than on the driver’s seat with Nathan. Anabelle’s presence forced Mr. Finch to sit across from Elizabeth, where she must endure his smug satisfaction but was free from his groping hands.

  He also could not refrain from commenting on her mantle. “Do you expect a sudden chill? Surely the night air is not too cool.”

  “One can never be too prepared. The winds might change.”

  “Then allow me to carry it for you. I would not want you to feel the slightest discomfort.”

  Elizabeth offered her thanks but demurred. She wanted every possible layer between them.

  Anabelle kept her gaze averted, but Elizabeth couldn’t help wondering if the two men facing her saw the resemblance between them. If so, they said nothing. She breathed deeply. This course she had set in motion was the right one. Now all she needed was a moment alone with Mr. Finch.

  The carriage slowed.

  Father tapped his walking stick on the roof. “What’s the delay?”

  Nathan leaned over and yelled down, “Line of carriages, sir.”

  Father frowned. “I had hoped to make the announcement at once, before the orchestra strikes up and the dancing begins.”

  “There will be time enough.” Elizabeth clutched her bag, feeling both Mother’s miniature and the gold brooch beneath the beaded silk. If all worked and she was able to leave with Rourke, that brooch could bring a handsome price to help them start wedded life. “Perhaps Mr. Finch might regale us with stories of growing up on a plantation. Cotton, was it?”

  “Tobacco.”

  “Ah, tobacco. Then you must partake of it?”

  “Snuff, on occasion.”

  That explained the foul odor when he had attempted to kiss her. Though her stomach churned, she must play the part of the eager fiancée. “Did your father always raise tobacco?”

  Mr. Finch gave her a searching look. “Why all the questions?”

  “Isn’t it common practice for a couple planning marriage to converse about their lives?” She had certainly talked to Rourke over the years. She knew he had three brothers and four sisters, all younger, and that his father had fished like his father before him. His mother not only kept the house but taught Bible stories to wee ones at their church. The stories of Rourke and his brothers taking the boat out at night to fish for sharks had thrilled her. His tales of diving wrecks terrified her. Within the past year his father had died. They shared similar loss.

  Mr. Finch, however, had never mentioned his mother. She knew only that his father was a planter. Even now, he looked out the window rather than answer directly. “This is hardly the place, Elizabeth.”

  “Agreed.” Father tapped his stick on the roof again. “I’m getting out. Maybe I can get those carriages ahead of us to move aside.”

  Nathan hopped down from the driver’s seat and opened the door seconds before Father burst through it. Father was not a patient man, particularly when it came to small talk.

  Elizabeth watched the door close, hardly able to believe her good fortune. The moment she needed had been handed to her by Father’s impatience. Now she must broach the matter in a way that seemed natural.

  When Mr. Finch’s gaze returned to her, she offered a smile. “I’m glad for this moment alone.”

  He glanced at Anabelle. “We are hardly alone.”

  “My maid will always be with me. Did I tell you that Father has given me Anabelle as an engagement gift?” Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Anabelle’s fingers twitch. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Mr. Finch did not look pleased. “I’m only a legal clerk. My salary isn’t sufficient to support a houseful of servants.”

  Elizabeth pouted. “But I can’t do housework, and Anabelle is a lady’s maid. We must hire a staff as soon as we marry. Or perhaps your father might send us some of his servants from the plantation.”

  He blanched, just as she suspected he would, and avoided eye contact. Mr. Finch was hiding something, and she intended to find out what it was.

  She batted her eyes, playing the part of the most spoiled belle she could imagine. “Surely on such a large plantation he can spare one or two slaves.”

  He looked out the window. “Why aren’t we moving yet?”

  Since he looked ready to bolt after Father, she threw out another bone. “Father hinted to me that he might make you a partner.”

  Mr. Finch’s head snapped back. “He did?” His lips curled into an insufferably smug smile.

  Though it galled her to play the role, this was her moment of opportunity. “Yes, indeed.” She threw a twittering giggle in for good measure. “How fortunate since Mother’s family has given the inheritance I was to receive to another member of the family.”

  All color drained from his face. “Surely you are mistaken. Your father indicated that they approved me—that is, your decision to accept my proposal.”

  Aha! So Mr. Finch knew of the inheritance all along, just as Charlie suspected.

  She inched that smile a little higher, playing the role of the addle-brained fiancée. “At first they did, but my great-aunt informed me tonight of their change of heart.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Impossible.”

  “You may ask her yourself.”

  “Where is she?” He scowled at Anabelle. “I expected her to join us.”

  “A headache.”

  He smirked. “How convenient. I couldn’t help but notice you waited until your father left to tell me this. Could it be, dear Elizabeth, that your ardor is not as great as you would have me believe?”

  Elizabeth hoped her momentary panic didn’t show. Charlie and Aunt Virginia had given her enough to work with. She must put it together in a way that convinced Mr. Finch he stood to gain nothing through this alliance.

  “How can you question my affection now,” she whined, “after I agreed to marry you? I’m simply expressing my appreciation for the depth of your love. Many men would walk away from a woman with no dowry or prospects.”

  His eyes darted this way and that, attempting to verify the truth of her statements. “Your father is well-off.”

  “Alas, he is not.” She dabbed at her eyes. “All his savings are gone, spent on my brother’s care. Poor Charlie! We will, of course, take him in. He will need a woman’s care, and Father is too busy at the office to spend time with him.”

  “Your brother is nearly grown.” Mr. Finch stopped trying to hide his exasperation.

  “He is crippled.”

  “But not our responsibility.” He was beginning to look panicked.

  “But he is. He would not be crippled if I hadn’t insisted we walk to the harbor that day. I will carry that responsibility the rest of my life.”

  The inner battle played out on his face. “That is why the inheritance would help—to care for your brother. Surely your mother’s family understands that. It’s all the more reason to settle the money on you.”<
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  They understood Charlie’s needs completely, though not in the way Mr. Finch anticipated.

  Elizabeth took a deep breath. Sometimes a chess move had an uncertain outcome. Her information was sketchy, based only on what she and Charlie had surmised and Aunt had confirmed. Lacking proof of Finch’s involvement meant she must send forward her rook with no backing.

  She forced a smile, as if apologizing for what she must tell him. “Apparently there was some silly little matter pertaining to a document that went missing. Let me see . . . Aunt told me, but I have no mind for business. It had to do with shipping.” She scrunched her brow as if struggling to remember. “Ah! A bill of sale, I believe she said. For Father. He owned a share of the Victory, you see.”

  Elizabeth didn’t mention the ethical conflict of interest. Father, who always adhered to a strict code of ethics, should not have represented the owners in admiralty court once charges of collusion had been leveled at Rourke. In the past, he had railed against any attorney who didn’t withdraw from a case when he had a vested interest, yet he had done just that. As angry as that made her, she must concentrate on the task at hand.

  Without breaking her smile, she added, “Apparently Aunt brought the document with her from Charleston, but it disappeared from her possession.”

  The smirk never left his face. “It probably fell overboard when the ship wrecked.”

  “Oh no.” This was where her information got sketchy. “You see, her trunk was latched, and the document was secured inside a pouch. When she examined the pouch later, the other papers were inside but not that one.”

  “Then she misplaced it.”

  Elizabeth shook her head and leveled the part that was pure conjecture. “That does not explain how it ended up in your room at the boardinghouse.”

  They must have guessed right, for Mr. Finch turned gray as weathered cypress. “How? What? You looked through my belongings?”

  “Now, now. All is well. Aunt Virginia and I plan to give it to Father after the ball.”

  Finch swallowed, his eyes darting from one side to the other. “Why won’t this carriage move?” He reached for the door handle.

  “But Percy, surely you don’t want to leave me.” She clung to his arm like a lovelorn girl. “What is a little matter like a lost inheritance compared to love?”

  He tossed her aside. “Vixen.” He shoved open the door and jumped out. Turning back for a moment, he snarled, “Congratulations. You got what you want. May you suffer for it.” Then he slammed the door shut.

  Through the carriage window Elizabeth watched him sprint away. To her puzzlement, Mr. Finch did not head for his boardinghouse but for the harbor.

  “Good riddance,” Anabelle said as the carriage jolted forward.

  Elizabeth pressed the side of her face against the curtained interior, exhausted. “I hope you’re right. He could still cause trouble.”

  The most dangerous part was yet to come.

  Father was not pleased to discover Mr. Finch gone.

  “He ran off all of a sudden,” Elizabeth said, “as if he had forgotten something.”

  Though Anabelle nodded, she could tell that her father did not quite believe her explanation.

  He checked his pocket watch. “I hope he doesn’t take long. Nearly everyone is here. The band is tuning. Soon the dancing will begin, and we would then have to wait for supper to make the announcement.”

  Thankfully Father did not consider making an engagement announcement without the prospective groom in attendance, perhaps because no one in town had any inkling they were courting. Oh, they must have known he had called at the house. The neighbors would have spread that all over town. However, courting was another matter, especially since she was still in mourning.

  Elizabeth placed a gloved hand on her father’s arm. “Then you will be able to dance with me, Papa.”

  At the endearment, his worried expression eased, at least for a moment. “I would like that, sunshine.”

  She beamed up at him, content to limit this ball to the two of them—at least until she slipped away to join Anabelle. With Mr. Finch gone, she had only Captain Poppinclerk to avoid. The tension between him and Rourke had been evident on the Windsprite. She didn’t trust any man that Rourke disliked.

  “Shall we join the guests?” Father motioned toward the entrance, where seemingly the whole of Key West society had gathered.

  First Elizabeth unhooked the mantle.

  Anabelle finished removing the garment. “If that’s all, miss.”

  Elizabeth nodded, and Anabelle drifted away to join the other servants.

  “How lovely you are, my dear.” Father’s eyes misted as he looked at her.

  Her heart ached to know if he did indeed love her despite his sins and hers. Financial desperation and love for her brother had driven him to ask her for a tremendous sacrifice. He must have lost a great deal in the sinking of the Victory. On the other hand, he had dealt cruelly with Mammy and broke Mother’s heart. He risked censure to vilify Rourke in court. He would not even consider her feelings for Rourke.

  The hall soon filled to overflowing. She and Father hadn’t gotten far inside the door when Justice Marvin drew him into a conversation about some matter of admiralty law. Elizabeth attempted to listen for a while before drifting farther into the room. Ladies stood in groups conversing or seeking a particular gentleman. Elizabeth looked for Caroline but couldn’t spot her petite friend among all the guests.

  The musicians, situated at the far end, struck up a lively tune, and couples moved into position for an old-fashioned cotillion. That opened up the edges of the room so she could spot Caroline, who was standing with her mother and several women from the church. So much had happened since Elizabeth had last seen her friend, and even more would take place tonight. Though she didn’t dare tell Caroline that she would be leaving for Harbour Island, she could at least share a few moments with her.

  A gentleman began calling the dance figures. As the dancers glided and swirled, Elizabeth wove through the guests to reach her friend, who was dressed in a rather plain ochre-colored cotton gown that did nothing for her complexion.

  “You look beautiful,” Caroline said, “as always. Your aunt chose the perfect color to highlight your eyes.”

  Would Rourke say the same? Would he remember that this was the exact color of the dress she’d worn on that fateful day four years ago? Would her appearance dazzle him so much that he would forget his misgivings and whisk her away? She hoped so.

  “Too bad a certain someone has left port,” Caroline whispered behind her fan.

  Elizabeth blushed and had to hide behind her own fan. “It’s already quite hot in here.”

  “Indeed.”

  She conversed with her friend through cotillions and waltzes, brushing aside all requests to dance. Father’s discussion with the judge had grown to a small circle of attorneys. To her relief, Mr. Finch did not reappear. Based on the way he’d run from the carriage, she must have guessed correctly that the missing bill of sale was in his room. If he went there and found it, he might return to the dance. She had originally planned to slip away during the break between dancing and supper when the large number of guests milling about would disguise her absence, but that might be too late. She turned to Caroline to excuse herself and was interrupted by an obnoxious woman who had paid a condolence call when Elizabeth had first arrived. The woman’s name eluded her.

  “Miss Elizabeth Benjamin. I see you are out of mourning already,” the woman sniffed.

  Elizabeth offered a smile, though she was anxious to leave. “Only for tonight. My aunt insisted this gray would be appropriate.”

  The woman lifted her glass and peered at Elizabeth’s dress. “Gray? Looks more like blue in this light.”

  “Perhaps so.” Elizabeth curtseyed. “Please excuse me.”

  She slipped away as the dancers left the floor. Groups congregated in front of her no matter which direction she attempted. Frustrated, she backtracked and
found her path blocked by Captain Poppinclerk, dressed in a green frock coat, striped waistcoat, and silk cravat.

  “Please excuse me.” She stepped to the side.

  He followed. “I believe you owe me a dance, Miss Benjamin. The orchestra is striking up a waltz. Shall we?”

  “I fear I must decline.”

  “Now, now, Miss Benjamin, the floor is clearing just for us.” He swiped a hand toward the center of the room and a familiar figure.

  Elizabeth gasped.

  Mr. Finch had returned.

  No one waited at the cemetery. Rourke had walked the perimeter three times, leaving no shadow unchecked. Only the rustling of the leaves and rush of the wind disturbed the silence. He stood in the shadow of a gumbo-limbo tree and drummed his fingers on its peeling bark. The constellation Pegasus pranced high in the sky. Soon the full moon would rise high enough to illuminate the entire graveyard.

  Tom and Anabelle should have been here by now. Their absence meant something had gone wrong. Rourke itched to act. This infernal waiting was driving him mad, but if he left and they were simply delayed, he might miss them entirely. On the other hand, they might be caught and need assistance. If so, where would they be? He had no idea if Anabelle had convinced Elizabeth to take her to the ball or if she was trapped at the house. To find her, he would have to comb the town, where hundreds of people could recognize him.

  Rourke slapped a hand against the tree trunk in frustration. The cemetery was a safe meeting place. No one came here at night. If Tom could get to Anabelle, he would bring her here. Rourke had to be patient. He had to trust that others would do their jobs. That was the tough part. It had always been difficult. Even today, leaving the Windsprite in John’s hands had gutted him. His mate had earned his trust over the years, but Rourke still struggled to let go.

  Lord, help me to trust.

  In the eerie quiet of the graveyard, he thought he heard a whisper. I am.

  Rourke shook his head. It must have been the wind. God might have spoken to Moses, but not to a Bahamian wrecker. Yet as he pondered the whisper, his restlessness eased. God was, is, and always would be. He knew all of time and every thought in a man’s heart. Somehow, no matter what happened tonight, God would be with him.