by Eva Devon
Had his emotions always been so obviously seen?
Because at this particular moment, there would be no keeping from Merrill what was between them. She smiled back at Anthony. She could not stop herself. And Merrill let out a groan of disgust.
“My God,” he bit out. And then he straightened his shoulders. “I suppose I am to offer my felicitations upon your upcoming nuptials.”
Anthony said nothing, nor did she.
“Grey,” Merrill prompted. “Your nuptials. They're going to be soon, are they not?”
Anthony still said nothing.
Merrill let out a low growl. “The nuptials shall occur, of course, lest we have to fear a different sort of affair in the church in the future, one with a mewling infant and the splashing of water.”
She threw a sharp gaze to Merrill who, whether he meant to or not, was stealing all her joy.
“Sir,” she said. “Please do sit down and join us for breakfast.”
“I shall not,” he countered, his shoulders squaring as if weighed down with the heaviness of his sense of honor and duty. “I am not about to condone my friend’s behavior if what I think is happening. . .is happening. My friend—and he is my friend, though at this moment, that is in jeopardy—has taken advantage of you.”
“No,” she said, sighing as she put down her butter knife. “If anything, one could argue, I have taken advantage of him.”
Merrill let out a strangled sound of dismay. “How is that possible? You are a lady and he—”
“A gentleman,” she stated, nodding before she took up her napkin and wiped the nonexistent crumbs from the corners of her mouth. “Yes. But he is in a most precarious state, and I have played upon his emotions most strongly.”
A tight note of frustration came out of Anthony. “That is not true,” he said. “You make me sound like a damsel in distress.”
“Shush,” Phillipa said with an arched brow. “I am defending your honor, lest you have to go and fight Mr. Merrill in a duel. After all, that does seem to be the track that Lieutenant Merrill is on. Is that not true, sir?”
Merrill scowled. “I do not like the idea of calling my friend out for a duel, but I believe that he shall act with honor. So, such an act will not be necessary.”
Merrill pinned Grey with what could only be called a death stare as he challenged, “Correct, Grey?”
Anthony's hand tightened around his knife as if he was contemplating plunging it into his friend at that particular moment, though she did not believe he was so bloodthirsty or impulsive.
“Please,” she said, holding her hands up. “I pray peace. I have not come here to make enemies of friends.”
“It is not you,” Merrill bit out, “that could do such. It is but Anthony's behavior.”
Clara let out a cry of frustration as her cheeks blazed a frustrated red. “Have done. All this silliness transpiring is beyond ludicrous. My brother has found some happiness with my friend. My friend has found some happiness with my brother. Merrill, you are the only one who seems displeased by this situation. Sit down and have some tea.”
Merrill gaped at Clara. “I beg your pardon,” he said.
She pulled an unused porcelain teacup towards her and hoisted the delicately painted pot. “You heard me, sit down. Would you like sugar in your tea or perhaps you prefer coffee? I can have some sent for.”
Merrill cleared his throat and stared at Clara as if she had grown another head. “Tea,” he said, “will do.”
“Good,” Clara said. “Now sit down and tell my brother what you've come here for. Clearly you had some ulterior motive when you arrived, rather than accosting us all before we've had a proper chance to have enough of the congenial beverage to make the day possible.”
Merrill tugged at his waistcoat, then smoothed his cravat. “If you insist, Lady Clara, I shan't make your morning more difficult than it must already be, seeing your brother act so shamefully.”
“Sit down,” Lady Clara all but growled.
Merrill did, clearly taken aback.
As he adjusted his chair, Clara poured out a cup of tea for him.
“Would you care for sugar?” she asked, even as she put it in whilst he began to say no.
She added a great deal more sugar and then poured milk in. He had a most distressed look upon his face, and Phillipa had the decided that he did not take milk at all.
Still, Merrill swallowed back his protests and took the offered cup of tea. He sat quietly, staring at the beverage.
“What is it that has brought you here so early in the morning?” Anthony asked.
Merrill swung his gaze up to him, his jaw on edge. “I have news of Captain Adams.”
“Have you, by God?” Anthony asked, pressing his forearm against the table’s edge.
“Indeed.” Merrill looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Don't you think we should go to another room so we don't disturb the ladies?”
“Disturb the ladies indeed,” Phillipa said as she took a sip of her tea. “You make me feel as if I am a hot house plant that is about to be exposed to a cold gale.”
“It is a cold gale,” Merrill warned factually. “The man that I speak of is the devil.”
“The devil,” she repeated. “That seems rather dramatic.”
Anthony’s face darkened. “Actually, quite the contrary. I do think Merrill is correct in his summation. Adams is one of the most evil men that I've ever come across.” His face tightened, and his eyes. . . Memories seemed to dance through them. Terrifying, cruel memories. “A sadist,” he added.
“A sadist?” she echoed, trying to understand. Her father had been horribly manipulative and unkind, but she’d never known physical violence. “That is a most strong word.”
“Yes. And it’s warranted,” Anthony replied with little emotion, as if he could not yield to feeling lest he lose control of himself. “Adams takes a pleasure in hurting those beneath himself.”
Anthony’s hand tightened into a fist on the table. “What is your news, Merrill?”
Merrill unfolded the cream-colored, creased paper, smoothing it. “It seems that Captain Adams was spotted not going north as we first thought.”
Merrill sat silently for a moment, then added pointedly, “He is coming to Cornwall.”
“I beg your pardon?” Anthony said, his face hard.
With little change in expression, Merrill continued, “My runner caught sight of him not far from Devon. God knows if he's coming this way.” Merril shook his head. “He might simply be seeking a ship to take him away from England.”
“There are many better ports he could choose,” Anthony gritted. “He wouldn’t need to come this way, don’t you agree?”
“Possibly,” allowed Merrill. “It's hard to know with a man like that. He also might know we're following him and be trying to throw us off his scent.”
Anthony looked to the windows and the expression that crossed his face was frightening to behold. An angry god could not be more foreboding.
“We cannot allow him to escape England without justice,” Anthony pronounced.
“Agreed,” said Merrill.
“Such a thing would be beyond the pale,” Anthony continued, low but firm. “He must suffer for what he's done. At the very least, we must ensure that he's never able to perpetrate such things again.”
Clara wound her fingers together and ventured, “If he runs to another country, don't you think that—”
“No,” Anthony cut in, easing gently, looking at his sister with love and regret. “We cannot allow him to escape to another country because I guarantee, pirate or officer or merchantmen, he will abuse those beneath him.”
Anthony held his hand to Clara who took it. He squeezed, clearly trying to assure his sister of the necessity of his actions. “It is his nature, unfortunately. Adams has been forged to make other people suffer, and I will not allow that. Not when I feel it is my duty to ensure his punishment and also. . . There’s revenge.”
“Revenge?” Phillipa
queried, her own alarm growing. She’d only just reunited with Anthony, and it was beginning to sound as if she might lose him as quickly as she’d found him “Has he personally done something to affront you?”
For she understood that was the only reason why a gentleman might wish revenge. Her mouth dried as her heart began to race. She didn’t wish Anthony to be in danger. She’d assumed that was at an end with his exit from the Navy. “Do you intend to call him out for a duel?” She asked, praying he would say no.
He did not answer immediately and so she rushed, “You've already been in such danger, Anthony. I do not like to think that you might put yourself in harm's way again. Duels are illegal, and he sounds a most dangerous fellow.”
“He is dangerous,” Anthony agreed, his voice surprisingly hard. “And I won't call him out for a duel, Phillipa. This man knows nothing of honor. I’d never be able to trust him to fight fairly. In truth? I’d rather shoot him in the back and have him dead like a dog.”
Merrill shuddered. “A dog is a far more admirable animal than he.”
Phillipa nodded, none of this assuring her particularly. She felt as if her happiness was again slipping out of her fingers. “You’re not going to lie in wait for him? Surely that is dangerous too.”
“I shan't do that, Phillipa,” Anthony replied, a harsh sigh escaping his lips. “I promise you. I am doing everything I can to use the law to take him into justice.”
“Has he broken the law?” she asked, truly at a loss for what she was learning over breakfast. As a girl, she’d never been exposed to any villainy except her father’s. Now? She’d seen the dangers of Felicity’s criminal fiancé and now this man who clearly wished Anthony danger.
“Unfortunately, no,” Anthony lamented. “He has done nothing under English law and that makes it all the more difficult. I've attempted to get the government to shame him into a lack of power, but it is not working, even with my own personal powers as a duke. Much of society wishes to maintain the status quo and keep men like Adams in positions of power. You see, if Adams is brought to justice, other captains might be brought to justice as well. Very few seem to relish that idea. Justice is a tricky thing. And not as easily come by as children are taught.”
A wave of darkness crashed over the breakfast table, and suddenly she wished she had not asked. She wished Merrill had not come.
She wished that there was no cruelty in the world at all.
But there was. And one couldn’t pretend it away. No. It had to be dealt with.
Anthony grew tense, his anger and pain obvious.
She reached her hand out to him, but Anthony did not take it.
Instead, he met her gaze with agonized eyes. “Dear love, I am so sorry. This is not a subject that I wish to bring you into.”
“I am in it,” she replied evenly, her hand still outstretched. “Now, whether you like it or not. Don't you think you could allow me to know the entire truth of the circumstance? There is something I think you aren’t saying.”
Anthony’s chest rose and fell in a swift breath before he exchanged a glance with Merrill. “I suppose we must invite them in now that we've said so much.”
Merrill gave a tight nod. “I suppose so.”
“You see,” Anthony said, at last taking her hand across the table. He squeezed once, then let go.
Anthony’s voice grew rough, with an edge to it that she’d never heard. “Adams made a boy's life completely miserable, bullied him, hounded him, did everything he could to make the poor child's life a living hell. I did everything I could to bring him some respite, some joy, and I'd hoped that at some point I'd be able to take him away from the Indomitable and bring him here to live in Cornwall. But Joe died in the Battle of Trafalgar.”
The color drained from Anthony’s face and his proud shoulders sagged. All the joy that had been in him this morning seemed to whoosh out in a single moment.
Her hand curled into a fist.
She wished she could take that pain from him because she could see how it affected him enormously. In fact, she could not find words to describe the way he looked in that particular moment.
“I tried to save him,” Anthony said without boasting. It was a simple fact. “But Joe was never found. So he was not even given a burial at sea, let alone a burial upon land. I am perhaps the only person who will remember him.” He grew silent, the sorrow coating his large frame. Then he added softly, “And Merrill, of course.”
Merrill nodded. “Unfortunately, Captain Adams has done that to many children, to many men on his ship. He used the cat o' nine tails quite injudiciously, loving to break it out at every possible opportunity, even upon children. It's frowned upon, of course, the extent to which he relished it, but no one can stop him. So we must find a way.”
“Here, here,” she agreed, though her voice sounded rough to her own ears. She cleared her throat and said more firmly, “I shall not stop you. Such justice must be prosecuted, if possible.”
“Thank you,” Anthony said. “I am glad you are not going to attempt to dissuade me.”
“I cannot,” she said, though her heart ached with fear for him. “I can see how powerfully this has affected you, and no child should suffer so. I hate that our society allows such a thing.”
She shook her head, dismayed. “Even my own childhood? There was much trouble in it and all because of the power of my father. It is wrong that any one person should be able to make another person's life so completely miserable. I cannot even imagine what it would be like to be in Joe’s position. Thank goodness that he had you to at least care for him.”
Anthony swallowed, and he looked away. Suddenly, it looked as if he was about to throw up his breakfast. He drew in a shuddered breath before he threw his shoulders back, then pushed himself up from the table.
His chair scraped the floor, and suddenly he was making his way from the room. They all watched him go.
Merrill shook his head before he crumpled the paper in his fist. “The loss of the boy? It was particularly brutal for Grey,” Merrill explained. “He suffered terribly after Joe's death. He felt Joe was his responsibility, and somehow he felt that he could protect him from Captain Adams and save him in battle. He wanted Joe to have more from this life than what he had.”
“That's a very noble thing,” she said, even as tears stung her eyes.
“Yes, it is,” Merrill agreed, his face creasing with the awfulness of it all. “But he was not able to fulfill his hopes. And because of that, I don't know if my friend shall ever be able to heal. Until Adams is brought to some sort of justice.”
“Can he be brought to justice?” she dared asked, wondering, given what they had said.
Merrill gave her a tight look. “So far, everything that we have tried has failed. Aside from murdering him on the road now, I'm not entirely certain what might be done. Also, Adams is full of fury at Anthony. I'm not entirely certain that he's not coming here to murder him.”
“I beg your pardon?” she gasped.
Merrill looked as if he had made the gravest of errors in his admission.
“Forgive me,” he rushed. “I should not have said such a thing. I did not mean to frighten you. What a fool I am. I accused my friend of being ungentlemanly, and I am just as bad.”
“You are not being ungentlemanly,” she corrected fiercely, “by telling me the truth. I should wish to be prepared if we are about to be attacked by some wild and mad captain.”
Clara pushed herself back from the table. “Is it true? Shall I warn the servants?”
Merrill gave a nod. “I do think you should warn the servants. Adams very possibly could be coming here. And if I'm honest, we must watch Anthony too. He might make a poor decision. He could easily be lured out to confront Adams. Though he said he would not challenge Adams to a duel, I cannot guarantee that he might not engage in some sort of rash adventure to get his revenge and have justice for Joe.”
Her heart tightened. She could only imagine the pain that Anthony had gone t
hrough after the boy's death. She could not ever take that away from him. She could not give him Joe back. Now she began to understand that the pain that he had suffered was not simply the physical pain of a battle. No, he'd suffered far more. He'd lost someone, someone that he cared about and felt that he'd failed them. That sort of guilt was not easily overcome.
She too knew what it meant to fail someone, but Felicity was alive and well and being taken care of somewhere far off in luxury.
Joe?
Poor Joe, she thought to herself. A child who had never gotten to know the luxuries of childhood or the protections of it? No wonder Anthony was in such agony.
She felt rather foolish now for thinking that he should give in to her, that he should have never thrown away what they had. His mind was not where it should be for the pursuit of love. His mind was wracked with grief and pain and suffering.
Someone in the middle of such suffering would not be able to make rational decisions. She easily found herself forgiving Anthony now for the poor choices that he had made, the hurt he’d given her, and she hoped that he would not suffer more at Adams’s hands.
But from Merrill's strained face, she worried perhaps Anthony would make some rash decision, and that was why he had been so insistent that she not be close to him.
He had made it very clear that his future was not to be involved with her. He’d claimed it was because he was an invalid. But given the information she’d just learned, she wondered if it might also be because he had other plans. Plans that might not allow for a wife, let alone happiness.
Was this why?
Because he was so set upon the path of revenge that there could be no happiness for them?
She refused to believe it.
She'd have to help him find some way to find justice, to find peace. She could not bear the idea of Anthony living out the rest of his days in agony over Joe, agony over that battle, and agony over Captain Adams, who made so many miserable.
If Anthony was miserable for the rest of his days, could he not see that Captain Adams had won?
She had to convince him somehow so that he might see the truth of it. She pushed her chair back and started to go from the table.
