Emmie released a wistful sigh. “If you would have stayed with your mother, then I would have met you sooner.” She told her mother about the time she and Gabe were caught in the rainstorm. “If not for Grandmother, I would have not known where you were.”
Daphne squeezed Emmie’s hand. “The Lord was certainly helping us along, was He not?”
“He certainly was.” She frowned. “But that still doesn’t explain why we received the same kind of notes fifteen years ago.”
“No, it doesn’t. Who would want us separated that desperately they would go to such great lengths?”
“Well, Father thought Grandmother or one of your sisters was behind it at first.”
Daphne shook her head. “They didn’t hate Forester. They just resented him for taking me to live in England.”
“Then who else would want to separate us?”
Daphne released Emmie’s hand to sip her tea. Emmie sipped hers as well, hoping for some inspiration to strike. But the more they sat in silence, the more frustrated she became. Would they ever discover the culprit in this mess?
Suddenly, her mother’s eyes widened and she locked her stare with Emmie’s. “Tell me, who delivered the note to your father? Who was the initial person?”
Emmie tried to remember the events from that fateful day. “I was visiting a friend of mine, and when I returned home, Father had already received the letter. He was sitting in the parlor clutching your miniature, and crying. The letter was on the table next to him.” She paused, trying to remember more. “Come to think about it, Uncle Oliver was there as well, consoling Father the best he could.”
Daphne gasped, then muttered a curse that shocked Emiline since she’d never heard a lady speak in such a way. Her mother stood and paced around the table. Emiline lifted the teacup to her mouth and asked before sipping, “What is it, Mother?”
Stopping, Daphne closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “Oh, my dear. This makes no sense.” He opened her eyes and looked at Emmie. “But your Uncle Oliver was the one who sent me the letter about you and your father.”
Emiline’s body grew numb, and the teacup slipped out of her hand, falling to the table and shattering. Her chest tightened as if a house had fallen on it. Tears built in her eyes as she shook her head, not believing what she’d just heard. This had to be some kind of mistake! “Uncle Oliver? But…he knew that didn’t happen. He knew… Why… I don’t understand.”
Daphne rushed to Emmie and took her in her arms. “Oh, my little Emmie. Your father’s brother never approved of me. All the while your father and I were courting, Oliver tried to convince his brother that I was not the right woman. Several times during our courtship, Oliver tried to separate us.”
“But why?” A tear slipped down Emmie’s face.
“Because he said your father was meant for other things. Oliver wanted Forester to go into politics with him. He didn’t want Forester marrying anyone unless she was from England.”
“But…why didn’t he even stop to think of the little girl who needed her mother?” Emiline sobbed against her mother’s shoulder. “I thought he loved me, but he doesn’t. All he cares about is himself.”
“I know, dear. I know.” Daphne stroked Emmie’s hair, rocking her slowly back and forth. “I feel so bad that I didn’t realize it was Oliver, until now. After he sent me the letter of your deaths, when he came to the colonies to live, he brought me a few things of yours and your father’s so I could have something to remember you by. It touched my heart that he was so thoughtful when I knew he didn’t like me.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “I should have known better. He was being too nice.”
Emiline jerked back and stared into her mother’s teary eyes. “Oh, dear. What will Oliver do when he discovers we have found each other?”
Daphne shrugged. “Then I suppose he’s not going to like it when Forester hears the truth.”
“That man needs to be put away,” Emmie sobbed. “If he tried this, what is going to stop him from trying to separate us again?”
“Hopefully, your father will take care of that.” Daphne offered a shaky smile and caressed Emmie’s wet cheek. “But nothing is going to tear us apart ever again.”
Emiline glanced at the table. “I’m sorry I broke Mrs. Winterbourne’s teacup.”
“There is nothing to be sorry about. I shall have one of the servants clean it up. I think you should go lie down on my bed. I’m certain a little rest will do wonders for you right now.”
“I think I will.” Emmie wiped her eyes and started walking toward the door. Her mother went to the servant’s door to fetch someone to clean up the mess.
Before Emmie reached the door, she noticed a movement out by the street again. Elias was talking to some man with abnormally orange hair, and another man who had his back toward her wearing a hat. But the way he stood, a spark of familiarity hit her, but she couldn’t put her finger on who the man could be. The orange-hair man and Elias were discussing something serious—as was evident by their drawn expressions.
She almost stopped and called out to Elias, but decided against it. She was certain her face looked a fright after she’d been crying. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now, especially meeting anyone new, which was what would happen if she interrupted Elias and the other two men.
Emiline slowly walked to her mother’s room, her heart wrenching with sadness over her uncle’s betrayal. How could he do that to his brother and niece?
Her head pounded with anger as well. She wanted to inform her father of what his self-centered brother had done, yet she needed to tell him face-to-face…and to let him see his wife as well. Soon all would be out in the open, and she prayed her father told his brother to stay away from all of them.
She walked into her mother’s room and lay down on her bed, but the stuffy air and warm room made resting impossible. She rose and opened a window to let in the breeze before returning to the bed. Just as she rested her head on the pillow, the sounds from outside drifted through the air, making her hear most everything going on outdoors. More specifically, she heard her brother and the two men. Why did the street have to be so close to her mother’s room?
Groaning, she rose once again to shut the window, when one of the men spoke a name that made her pause. They couldn’t have said what she thought.
Moving closer to the window, she peeked outside. All three men were hidden by the leaves from the bushes, but their voices were much clearer.
“You cannot let her near him,” one of the men said. “He is a dangerous man. There is a reason Captain Hawk’s name strikes fear into women and children.”
She sucked in a breath and quickly slapped her hand over her mouth. Captain Hawk is still around after all these years?
“But how can I stop her from seeing him if you don’t want me to let her know what is going on?” Elias asked.
“That, Mr. Townshend, you will have to figure out on your own. We just came to inform you of what is going to happen.”
“Does she know about Captain Hawk?”
“No, and I don’t think you should tell her. Just protect her the best you can, and whatever you do, keep your sister away from him.”
“As you wish. I shall try my best.”
The two men left her brother, but she couldn’t see them very clearly as they walked up the street away from the house. Elias stood watching them for a few brief moments before he turned and headed back toward the house.
Her heart pounded fiercely. They were discussing her! But why would they talk about Captain Hawk in the same conversation? Nothing made sense, and fright consumed her, almost as much as it had when she was younger and thought about sailing across the sea. At this moment, she felt vulnerable, which was something she could not feel.
Gabe will protect me.
Yes, she must get Gabe.
Hurrying out of the bedroom to find her mother, Emmie’s mind scrambled with thoughts about why her name would be connected with Captain Hawk’s. Helpl
essness washed over her for not being able to figure anything out. If asking her brother would help, she’d do it in a heartbeat, but she received the impression from listening to the conversation Elias had with the two men, her poor brother was nearly as confused as she was.
She found her mother quickly as she was coming from the kitchen. Emmie ran to her mother and clutched her hands.
“I must leave immediately. I need to talk to Gabe.”
“Why so sudden?”
“I cannot explain now,” Emmie continued in a rush. “I shall explain later. I must leave.” She tore away from her mother and strode toward the front door.
“But my dear, let me come with you.”
“Not this time, Mother. I shall be fine.” She hurried out the door before her mother could say anymore.
Halfway down the street, Emmie realized she hadn’t grabbed her shawl. Nevertheless, she couldn’t turn back now. She must find Gabe and tell him of what she’d heard, and she prayed he would be able to figure out this most confusing puzzle.
She turned a corner, and her steps quickened, anxious to walk the five blocks to the inn. She passed couples strolling down the street as if they were standing still. At the moment, she didn’t care what people thought of her. They didn’t know her and wouldn’t remember her once she left this town to return to England.
As she passed an alleyway, she recalled there was a shorter way to get to the inn if she took a different path. Without giving it another thought, she turned up the alley and hurried faster. But from the echoes of quick footfalls stomping behind her, she wasn’t the only person going this way.
She glanced over her shoulder briefly to see who it was. There was something recognizable about the man coming at her. Until she remembered this man with orange hair had been talking to her brother earlier.
Coming to a quick halt, she faced him, ready to speak her mind and ask him why he would think Captain Hawk would be after her. “Why are you following—”
The man chuckled loudly in the most evil tone she’d ever heard and threw a blanket around her head as he wrapped his beefy arms around her so tight she didn’t think she could breathe. As she struggled and tried to scream, the man cackled.
“Now Captain Hawk will be mine very soon.”
Chapter Seventeen
Gabe sat at the small desk inside his room at the inn as he wrote correspondences to his friends, William Braxton and Marcus Thorne. Gabe needed all the help he could get in dealing with Billingsford, and Braxton and Thorne were as qualified as any man Gabe could think of right now.
Over the years, he’d kept in touch with both of his friends, happy to know they succeeded in having such successful marriages. William had two children with Mercedes now—twins, and Marcus and Isabelle just had their first child—a boy. One day Gabe hoped to join the rank of father, and with any luck, Emmie would hold the title of his wife very soon.
The knock on the door brought Gabe out of his thoughts of the future. “Enter.”
The door opened and Uncle Henry peeked inside. “Are you busy?”
“I’m just finishing some correspondences. Why? What is wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. I am bored.”
Gabe chuckled as he set his quill back in the ink bottle. “I would invite you in, but this room is small.” He pushed away from the desk and stood. “Would you like to venture downstairs to visit? Or take a walk instead?”
“I think we should take a walk.”
Nodding, Gabe grabbed his overcoat and shrugged into it. “A walk sounds refreshing.”
They moved down the stairs in silence. At the bottom, Gabe asked, “Where are Aunt Martha and Rebecca this afternoon?”
“Aunt Martha has a headache, so has taken to her bed, and Rebecca,” he paused, rolling his eyes, “she has been in a fit ever since she found out Lady Sarah has been played by Emiline’s maid all this time. Rebecca left a little while ago with her own personal maid to do some shopping. That’s what your cousin does when she’s upset, you know.”
Gabe laughed. “And chumming up with a maid and treating her like an actual person is so far beneath her that she has to throw a temper tantrum? Really, Uncle. That is just absurd.”
Henry threw back his head and laughed. “Well said, dear boy. But yes, she has been in a foul mood for a few days.”
Shaking his head, Gabe scratched his head. “I pity the man who marries her.”
Henry chuckled. “Watch your tongue, she is my daughter, you know. But…” He glanced around the spacious room. “I, too, pity the man,” he ended softly.
They walked out of the darkened inn and into the sunlight. Gabe squinted against the brightness until his eyes could adjust. “Speaking of marriage…”
Henry looked at him with raised eyebrows.
“I’m going to ask Emiline to be my wife.”
Henry beamed and slapped Gabe on the shoulder. “What an excellent choice. She is a wonderful young lady, and I think you and she will be very happy indeed.”
“I believe we will, Uncle. I do love her and have for a while now even though I didn’t want to admit it.”
“Admitting our love is very hard. It means we have to commit to a relationship, and for some men, that’s nearly impossible to do.”
“So true, Uncle. I’m glad to know it’s not just me who thinks that way.”
“But marriage to Emiline is a good thing, I assure you.”
“No need to assure me, Uncle. I do know how special Emiline is.”
Henry slowed his footsteps and leaned in closer to whisper, “You are not marrying her because of who her uncle is, are you?”
Gabe stopped, his head spinning. Strange, but he had nearly forgotten about her political uncle. Even though Emiline confessed to being a Patriot, her uncle was still the enemy. Gabe prayed she wouldn’t think he wanted to marry her to get closer to Oliver Townshend.
“Actually, Uncle Henry, that had not even crossed my mind. I love and will marry her—not her family. Although, I must remember to be very careful around both her father and uncle.”
“Yes, you don’t want to slip and say something that might give away your secrets.”
Gabe shook his head. “Not to worry, Uncle. I have been hiding secrets for a few years now. The only time I was ever caught was because of a woman who fooled me into believing she was a Patriot, and like an idiot, I let her seduce me.”
Henry’s jaw hardened. “I honestly don’t know how you or others can live your life in such a way—always cautious for fear of being captured.” He placed his hand on Gabe’s arm and squeezed. “But I do admire you for being so dedicated to the pursuit of freedom.”
“We only want to make our world better, Uncle. We want a better life for our posterity.”
“As it should be.”
Up ahead, hurrying up the street as if dogs were nipping at her heels, was Emmie’s mother and Elias. When they spotted Gabe, Daphne’s footsteps quickened, and Elias aimed a glare in Gabe’s direction. It surprised him to see Emmie was not with them.
When he reached the two, Gabe stopped, as did Henry.
“Good day.” Gabe bowed.
“Mrs. Townshend, what a pleasant surprise,” Henry said.
“Mr. Lawrence, Mr. Hampton.” Daphne’s tone was clipped. Elias continued to glare. “Mr. Lawrence, do you know where my daughter is?”
Gabe frowned. Worry starting to sprout in his chest. “No, Mrs. Townshend. I thought she was with you.”
“She was with us earlier today, but then suddenly she stated she had to see you and rushed out of the house before I could stop her.”
“When was that?” Gabe asked.
“Not more than an hour ago.”
“I assure you, I have been in my room at the inn up until my uncle and I left for a walk.” He studied their worried expressions, then glanced at Henry, who also wore the same type of expression. Panic grew in Gabe’s chest.
Elias stepped up to Gabe, and the nearly fifteen year old lad poked his fing
er into Gabe’s chest. “I demand you tell me what you have done with my sister.”
Gabe held up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, there, Elias. There is no need to get testy. I assure you, I have done nothing with your sister. I have not even seen her today.”
“You are lying!” Elias accused.
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