by Laura Landon
Her father’s arms tightened around her and held her firm.
Ten.
Strathern and Damien turned at the same moment and Chastain dropped the silly white flag he held in his hand. They both raised their pistols, but Damien didn’t fire.
“Fire, Damien,” her father whispered.
“Fire the bloody gun,” Captain Durham echoed from beside him. “Now.”
For one infinitesimal second, Olivia thought Strathern wouldn’t fire. She thought he’d realized his error. But when she looked into Strathern’s face, she saw eyes so filled with hatred it sent ice water racing through her veins, and she knew how wrong she was.
Strathern waited as if he knew Damien would not fire first, toying with him, prolonging his agony.
“Rot in hell, Iversley.”
Then, with a bitter laugh, Strathern squeezed the trigger.
The bullet hit the right side of Damien’s chest and Olivia muffled a scream.
Please, God. Don’t let him die.
Damien staggered from the impact of the bullet, but his face showed no emotion. He took an uncertain step to the left, then steadied himself enough to bend his right arm at the elbow and fire into the air.
Olivia felt an unimaginable lightness as one wave of relief after another surged through her. The duel was over and Damien was alive!
A large, dark circle grew with alarming quickness on the front of his shirt and she pulled against her father’s arms to go to him.
“Stay, Olivia,” he warned, and Olivia stilled herself until Chastain stepped forward.
“It’s completed,” he issued. “Seconds, remove the weapons.”
Strathern’s bellow stopped them. “No!”
From that moment on, everything moved in slow motion. Strathern turned toward Damien with his gun in his hand. He lifted his arm and prepared to fire.
Two men stepped forward to grab Strathern’s arms while Chastain wrested the pistol from his hand. No one, however, was close enough to reach Cassandra’s brother. Before anyone knew what was happening, Nathan, Lord Poore, raised his arm and fired.
“No!”
Damien spun to the side when Olivia screamed but not fast enough to avoid being hit. He fell to his knees, his startled expression filled with pain. He collapsed to the ground and fired one shot, hitting Nathan in the leg.
“Foul! Foul on Strathern! Foul on Poore!”
The crowd of onlookers reacted violently, every one of them appalled by Strathern’s son’s lack of gentlemanly conduct.
“Damien!” Olivia cried out as she raced toward him. His shirt was now covered in blood and his face devoid of color. “Lie still. Don’t move.”
Ignoring her pleas, Damien struggled to his feet. Four men had Strathern subdued on the other side of the field, but that didn’t stop him from issuing more threats.
“You won’t escape, Iversley. It’s only a matter of time until you pay for what you did.”
“Let’s get Damien out of here,” her father ordered, and he and Captain Durham helped Damien.
“I can walk,” Damien said, moving awkwardly. Blood seeped from the two wounds on his torso, as he leaned against her father and Durham for support. Olivia followed behind.
Two carriages raced forward, the one her father had come in, and her carriage, with Johns on top. Her father issued the order for Johns to go ahead for a doctor, then led Damien to the other. Olivia opened the door and stepped up. She reached for Damien, who accepted her help and sat down on the cushion. Her father and Captain Durham climbed in after him.
Damien’s face seemed pale, his breathing labored. Olivia sat down beside him as the carriage took off.
“Here,” her father said, stripping his cravat from around his neck. “Press this against the wound on his shoulder.”
Olivia opened the neck of Damien’s shirt and pressed the cloth against the wound. Damien flinched, but other than a small movement, made no indication of the pain.
“Take me . . . to my . . . home.”
“There’s no one there to take care of you,” her father interrupted. “You’ll come with us.”
Damien started to argue but her father stopped him. “You need a doctor to tend to you. If you want to go home afterward, that’s up to you.”
Her father’s words seemed to appease him, and Damien nodded, then closed his eyes.
His lips were taut with pain and the grimace on his face tightened with each bump of the carriage. By the time they reached the Pellingsworth townhouse, huge beads of perspiration covered his forehead and his skin had taken on a gray pallor that caused Olivia to ache with worry.
“The doctor’s on his way,” Chivers, the family butler, said as they dismounted. “There’s a room ready with hot water and bandages and anything else the doctor might need.”
“Good,” Olivia’s father said as they helped Damien up the stairs. Olivia rushed ahead of them. She wanted to be with him. But her father’s voice stopped her.
“Olivia, stay down here and wait for the doctor.”
“But I—”
“Stay here. I’ll come down as soon as I know something.”
Olivia felt desolation unlike any she’d ever experienced before. A few hours ago, her worst fear had been that Damien would die and she’d lose him forever.
Now, her greatest fear was that even if he survived, she’d still lose him.
Strathern wouldn’t give up until Damien was dead.
Chapter 3
Olivia sat in her father’s study, waiting for the doctor to finish. Damien was going to live, she knew he was. She only needed her father to come down to tell her.
She was about to pace the room for the hundredth time when her father entered with Captain Durham.
Olivia shot to her feet. “Is he all right?”
Her father walked across the room and pulled her into his arms. “He’s bad, Olivia. But he should survive.”
Olivia sank against her father’s broad chest and breathed a heavy sigh. She wanted to cry with relief, but she’d shed enough tears since Strathern had entered their lives to last a lifetime. Now, she was just numb. “I want to go to him. But first I need to talk to you.” She looked at Captain Durham. “Both of you.”
Her father and Captain Durham sat, and she sat opposite them.
“Strathern put a price on Damien’s head,” Olivia said. “Ten thousand pounds.”
Her father’s eyes opened wide, and the captain uttered a vile curse word. “Where did you hear that?” her father asked.
“I overheard some men in the crowd say it. That large an amount will bring out every lowlife in London. Even if Damien survives his wounds, he won’t survive the first minute once he walks out of this house. For that amount of money, Strathern can sit back and wait for Damien to die by a bullet in the back, or a knife blade through the heart from an unknown assailant. Damien will never be safe.”
“That blackguard,” Captain Durham hissed.
“I can’t lose him, Father,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not sure I can survive without him.”
“I know how much you love Damien, but there’s nothing you can do. This is something only Damien can take care of.”
“Strathern won’t give up. Damien doesn’t stand a chance.” Olivia took a deep breath. “He can’t stay in London. He has to leave.”
Her father’s eyebrows pulled together in a startled frown. “What do you mean he has to leave London?”
“The Princess Anne is due to set sail tomorrow morning, isn’t it, Captain?”
Captain Durham nodded his assent.
“We can get Damien aboard without anyone knowing.”
Her father shook his head. “He’s not strong enough.”
“Doctor Barkley said he would survive.”
“Yes, but that was wi
th care.”
“Who can care for him better than Captain Durham?”
Her father and Captain Durham sat speechless before her father spoke another objection. “Damien will never agree to such a plan.”
Olivia sighed. “No, which is why it’s best if we take the decision out of his hands.”
“You would send him away without his knowledge?” her father said in disbelief.
“I will do anything to save him.”
Time stood still as her father and the captain absorbed the ramifications of what she proposed. Olivia continued before they could close the door on her plan.
“I’m sure Doctor Barkley already gave him a sufficient amount of laudanum to dull the pain and make him sleep. I will give him more when he wakes. I cared for Mother long enough to know how much of the opiate it will take for him to sleep. By the time he wakes, the Princess Anne will be far out to sea.”
Her father shared a look with Captain Durham. “I don’t like this, Olivia,” her father said.
“Can you think of another idea that will keep Damien alive, Father?”
“When he realizes what you’ve done, he’ll be livid.”
“But he’ll be alive,” she countered.
“Oh, Olivia.” Her father shook his head. “This isn’t the decision Damien would make.”
“We need time, Father. I need time to discover the father of Cassandra’s babe. We need time for Lord Strathern to come to terms with his grief.” Olivia turned to Captain Durham. “Where is the Princess Anne bound for, Captain?”
“The Indies.”
Olivia swallowed. “How long will she be gone?”
“Perhaps a year. Ten months if I can get contracts for that new clipper ship your father’s been talking about.”
“A year,” she repeated, unsure of how she would survive that long without him.
“What about Damien’s estates?” her father asked. “What will happen to them?”
“We will manage them until he returns, Father. You and I.”
Her father rose, then walked to the window. He was at least considering her plan. After several long moments, he turned to her. “Can you imagine the outrage Damien will feel when he discovers you’ve sent him away and made him look like a coward?”
She nodded. “He’ll consider it an act of betrayal. And I won’t blame him. But I won’t give up until I convince him my decision was made out of love.”
“And if you can’t?”
“Then I will have to be satisfied knowing that he is alive.”
Olivia awaited her father’s decision, but his words echoed in her mind. What if she lost him forever because of her actions today?
In her heart, though, she knew she had no choice. To save him, she had to give him up. Not to certain death at Strathern’s hands. But to hatred. Of her. Because hate her he would when he woke.
And she prayed she was strong enough to live with what she’d done.
Olivia walked beside the stretcher that carried Damien. He hadn’t stirred once during the ride, nor did he wake when they lifted him out of the wagon to carry him to the Princess Anne. Olivia was grateful. She wasn’t sure she could say good-bye if he were awake.
Doctor Barkley had looked in on him before they left, assuring her that with proper care, he would heal completely.
“My men will take Lord Iversley from here,” Captain Durham said, walking down the gangplank toward her. Six sailors followed and when they reached the stretcher, they took Damien from her father’s men and turned to carry him aboard the Princess Anne.
Olivia thought she’d been prepared to let him go. Thought she’d said her goodbyes when she’d been alone with Damien earlier, but she couldn’t bear to be parted from him. Not yet. “Wait!”
The sailors stopped, and she rushed to the stretcher. When she reached it, she took Damien’s hand in hers and cradled it against her breast. She didn’t care that strangers were watching her.
“I’ll take good care of him, Lady Olivia,” Captain Durham promised.
Olivia nodded as the tears fell from her eyes, then she lowered her head and kissed Damien on the lips. If only she didn’t feel as if she were seeing him for the last time. As if she were kissing him for a final time. As if she were losing him for a lifetime.
“It’s time to let him go, Olivia,” her father said. “We have to get him aboard before Strathern chances to find out what we’ve done.”
She released Damien’s hand and stepped back, thankful that her father’s arms were there to hold her.
She stood on the dock as they carried Damien up the gangplank, as Captain Durham gave the order to raise anchor, as the Princess Anne sailed from the harbor. She stood until the small dot on the horizon that carried Damien away from her was no longer visible.
Olivia rode the long journey home, her heart dead yet still beating. She didn’t know how she would survive. But she would, if for no other purpose than to find out the truth so Damien could come back home.
Even if upon coming home, the only emotions he could feel for her were hatred and betrayal.
Olivia lowered the pen she’d been using to work on the Pellingsworth Shipping ledgers and looked up when the door opened. It had been nearly two months since she’d sent Damien with Captain Durham aboard the Princess Anne. She thought by now she’d be accustomed to his being gone, but instead, she missed him more every day.
She brushed her fingers across her cheeks and hoped her father wouldn’t notice she’d been crying again.
“Good afternoon, Father.” Olivia walked to the tea tray Chivers had brought in just a few minutes earlier. “Would you care for some tea?”
“No, thank you, Olivia. Please, come and sit down beside me on the sofa.”
Olivia looked at the strained expression on her father’s face and set her cup on the table. “Is something wrong, Father?”
When she sat, he took her hand in his. “I just received this letter.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “It’s from Captain Durham.”
Olivia’s breath caught. “Does he mention Damien?”
“Yes.”
“What does he say?”
Her father squeezed her hands. The drawn expression on his face caused her to brace herself for what he was going to say.
“You have to be strong, Olivia.”
Her father’s voice broke, and the blood roared in her head as she watched his coloring pale.
“What is it, Father? Read me what Captain Durham has to say.”
Her father unfolded the paper and cleared his throat.
My dearest friend,
It is with the heaviest heart that I write this letter.
Her father stopped, and Olivia found the courage to demand he continue. “Go on, Father. Read what he has to say.”
I would give the world if the news I am about to tell you could be avoided, but it can’t. It is best to hear the painful truth now, than hear the rumors that are certain to circulate.
Our voyage from the time we left London was plagued with unsettled seas and strong winds. Even though sailing was rough, the Princess Anne was a sturdy ship and held up admirably. Lord Iversley improved every day. By the third week at sea, he was out of bed and had gained his sea legs, although he still tired quickly. I think perhaps the speed with which he recovered can be attributed to the anger that consumed him.
I have to say, my friend, it is difficult to describe the raging temper the entire ship witnessed when he awoke and discovered what we had done. Although I tried to explain the reason we feared for his life, Lord Iversley was furious because we’d taken matters into our hands.
Be that as it may, during the fourth week at sea, the Princess Anne ran into a foul storm. One of the worst I have ever seen. For three days we battled ferocious winds that broke the mainmast
and mizzenmast to splinters. I knew we would be lucky to survive with our cargo intact, but prayed that when the winds ceased another ship would happen upon us. That did not happen.
On the fourth day, a fire broke out in the hold and the Princess Anne and her cargo sank to the bottom of the sea.
I regret to inform you there were many casualties. A complete list will be forthcoming, and personal letters as well as monetary compensation will be sent to the families of those who perished.
And so I am at the part of this letter that distresses me more than anything I have ever penned before.
Among those who did not survive—
Her father’s breath caught and the look in his tear-filled eyes swam with a pain she recognized only too well.
Olivia shook her head in denial. “No,” she moaned.
Her father returned to Captain Durham’s letter.
Among those who did not survive was Lord Iversley.
Olivia cried out and clamped her hands over her mouth so no more screams would follow.
Please, break the news to Lady Olivia in the gentlest of manners, my friend. I know how devastating Lord Iversley’s death will be for her, for it was obvious her love for him was great.
I hope to return to England later in the year, and we will grieve together for a man I came to admire much. And love like a son.
Captain Phineas Durham
“Olivia.”
It took two attempts before she could stand on her feet. Two attempts before her legs were steady enough to support her. She turned toward the door but had to reach for the back of a chair for support. Her father reached for her, but she shrugged out of his arms and weaved her way to the door. She twisted the door handle in each direction in a futile attempt to escape.
