DD-Michaels-END.rtf (38 page)

"A question for another time, I'm afraid, although it seems obvious the War Office is leaking secrets somewhere. In any case, by my best reckoning, we'll be at war with America by summer. Spencer is badgering me to
buy him a commission, but I don't want him fighting in America. It's the little corporal who threatens us, not America. They much prefer to be left alone on their side of the Atlantic. Young countries have to be more careful of conflict arising from the inside rather than the outside, and we've lost
one war over there. Do we really need a second lesson in their devotion to their new land?"

"Have you traveled in America, Ainsley?"

The older man turned his head to train his narrowed gaze on Ethan. And when he spoke, the change of subject was startling, and very telling. Clearly, there were places Ethan should not attempt to go. "Eleanor showed you her watercolors."

"Why, yes, she did. Her views of Becket Hall were remarkable."

"And the other watercolors?"

Ethan wasn't sure what he should say, what Ainsley Becket needed to hear. "Her imagination is quite lively. I could almost believe I've seen such a place. Of course, England has so many grand country houses, doesn't it, and Eleanor tells me she's never been away from Ro
m
ney Marsh."

"That's all you have to say on the matter?"

"All that I imagine you wish to hear, yes," Ethan responded carefully, and then decided to change the subject yet again. "I'm glad we have these moment
s
alone, Ainsley, as I believe in repaying favor for favor.
 
The minister had a rather strange request for me just before I came here."

They were at the bottom of the stone stairs now, and heading across the uneven ground toward the beach. "And this request?"

"I'm not sure," Ethan admitted, "as it was withdrawn almost as quickly as it was presented. Probably when
his lordship realized who
he was speaking to, and recalled his long-held opinion that I'm by and large worthless. He'd asked me to keep a keen eye out for news of free trading in the area. Oh, yes, and French spies. He included those as well."

"He
did
,
did
he?"

"Yes, he
did. Perhaps he already knows of a problem at the War Office? He mentioned that Chance had
done some very good work
on the subject last year, but when I suggested he then send Chance back
for another look-round, he said he couldn't. That there were rumors... and then we were interrupted. In any case, he didn't charge me with the mission."

"And from what he said you deduced exactly what, Ethan?"

"I deduced, Ainsley, that I love Morgan very much. I deduced that she loves her family very much, and that I would not do anything to jeopardize anything or anyone Morgan loves." Ethan glanced toward the
Marianna.
"Ah, they are busy out there, aren't they. Do you think she'll make the tide?"

"I have every confidence, yes."

Ethan looked at Morgan's father. "Enough confidence to allow me on board the
Respite
as we escort the
Marianna
beyond danger?"

"Have you ever been involved in a battle at sea?"

"No, sir."

"But you want to sail aboard the
Respite."

"
I have my uses, Ainsley."

Ainsley patted Ethan's shoulder. "Yes, I think you do. You'll be under Court's command."

"Not yours?"

"I don't go to sea, Ethan. Not anymore."

There wasn't anything Ethan could think of to say to that, so the two continued on in silence.

A companionable silence between two men who understood each other. Or, if they didn't quite completely do so, were content with what they knew.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVE
N

The spitting rain had turned to a wind-lashed downpour, and dark came early to the coastlin
e
— weather excellent for keeping the Waterguard snug and dry in their quarters and their ships anchored. The starless night was no aid to navigation, and only those supremely confident in their abilities would hazard out into the angry waters of the Channel.

It was a challenging night, even for the local free traders, whose long experience had ingrained every bit of shore, every possible current so deeply into them that they sailed more by instinct than anything else.

Free
traders like The Black Ghost Gang.

Fitted with its black sail
s
—
a
remnant of earlier days, another place, another time, another lif
e
—
a
nd with not a single lantern visible onboard, the
Respite
had slipped out o
f
the small harbor at Becket Hall shortly after dark under Courtland's sure command, the able Jacko sailing with him.

And Ethan with them both.

Precisely one half hour later, the
Marianna
had raised anchors and followed.

Morgan had remained on the terrace, partially sheltered by a deep window embrasure, candlelight from the drawing room spilling out onto the terrace. She was wrapped in Ethan's Carrick coat, ignoring the wind and rain, unaware of the damp. Occasionally she'd rub at the spot on her chest where her
gad
had rested until she'd hung the chain around Ethan's neck, warned him that he'd damn well better come back to her, held him tightly for long moments, then let him go.

Men do what men do, and women wait.

Her sister Fanny thought that ridiculous, and had said as much, at some length, until Eleanor had quietly told her that nobody really needed to hear more of her thoughts on the matter, most especially her beliefthat Rian wasn't as yet prepared enough for such a dangerous mission.

Fanny had gone to her chamber now, probably to stand at the window with a spyglass as she watched for Rian's return.

But Morgan couldn't go inside. As long as she and Ethan were sharing the same dark sky, the same wind and lashing rain, she was connected to him. She had to be there to see what she didn't want to see, to possibly hear the last thing she wanted to hear. The flash of gunfire, the sound carried over the water.

"Morgie?"

Morgan turned to see Jacob had joined her in the window embrasure. He wasn't wearing a coat, a
n
d was soaked to the skin. She hadn't spoken to him since...
s
ince that night, and the morning that had followed. She didn't want to speak with him now. She had room in her heart, her mind, only for Ethan. "You should be in bed, Jacob, nursing that wound."

He nodded, his young features tight. "That's the thing, Morgie. The wound, I mean. Everybody keeps asking me what happened. But I don't remember, not much an
yw
ay. I saw that Frog pointing his pistol at you, I remember that. I remember yelling, and running, and trying to get my own pistol but.

Morgan didn't know what to say, so she said nothing, but just kept staring out to sea.

"Maybe I was holding the pistol when he shot me? Maybe my pistol just went off by itself when I fell? What do you think, Morgie?"

She took a deep breath, let it out slowly as she looked at him. He was still her friend from her childhood, but now everything had changed. Some bridges, once crossed, can't be crossed again. "Does it matter, Jacob? Whether you aimed well, or shot him by mistake or the whole episode was just good luck, you saved my life. That's what I'll always remember, always thank you for doing."

Jacob tried to scrub the rain from his face. "I should be dead, Morgie. I wanted to die. What I said to you... what I did? His lordship says we have to find ways to..
.
to live with our mistakes, but that we can't always make up for them."

Morgan put down the hand she'd been using to shield her eyes from the rain and looked at Jacob. "He said that to you? When?"

"Right after he knocked me down. Or maybe before. I don't remember." He pulled out his bottom lip, exposing the gap in the middle of his bottom teeth. "He knocked out my tooth for me, too, so I'd feel better. I've no worries about how you'll go on, Morgie, not with the earl. He's a good man."

Morgan shook her head. "I just want to forget what happened, Jacob. There was fault on both sides, you know. I thought of you as my childhood friend. But I teased you, used
y
ou. I'm not always a nice person. Jacob. Maybe I only got what I deserved that night."

"Oh..
.
oh, no, Morgie. I've always known what you were doing. I've always known the likes of me would never be the one for you. But I could see you and his lordship looking at each other, always finding reasons to touch each other, and I knew what was going to happen in that inn. I just kept sitting, and drinking, and after a while I started thinking maybe I was wrong, and why wouldn't you want me?"

"Jacob, don't blame the drink. I don't want to talk about this anymore. There was wrong on both sides and now we need to...
t
o find ways to live with our mistakes." Then she smiled. "But I'm glad Ethan knocked out your tooth. That was very kind of him."

Jacob smiled, shook his head. "Sheila likes how I
look now, like I've lived some, she says. She says I'm a hero."

"Sheila?" Then Morgan remembered the young girl who worked as one of the maids. A pretty girl, slight and blond. As different in appearance from Morgan
as
day was from night. "She's sweet on you, Jacob?"

"Mayhap." Jacob shifted from foot to foot, hal
l
pleased, half embarrassed. "Is that all right?"

Morgan was already looking out into the darknes
s
again. "I think that's more than all right, Jacob. Nov
.
stop thinking so much and go get some rest, all right?"

"You're not coming in? It's hours past midnight. Morgie. No matter what, the
Respite
won't be showing up until morning, if that."

"I know. But I think I'll stay out here. Just a while longer."

"I'll watch with you. His lordship wouldn't want you to be out here all alone."

"Jacob, I really want to stay here by myself."

He peered at her through the darkness. "It won't ever be the same between us, will it, Morgie? No matter what we say, it won't ever be the same."

Morgan sighed. "Nothing stays the same, Jacob, but that doesn't mean we can't be friends. It's just... different now."

"Different,"
he repeated
,
nodding. "I suppose it is. Maybe that's the part of finding ways to live with our mistakes his lordship talked about?"

Morgan felt incredibly sad. "Yes, I suppose it is. We're still us, but now we're different. I'm sorry. Be good to Sheila, Jacob. That should go a long way toward making things right."

Once Jacob had gone, Morgan wiped at the rain on her face and began to pace the stone terrace, unable to stand still. She felt like a caged beast, one that could only breathe and truly live, once Ethan had returned. Once she'd held him, once she knew he was all right.

How she loved him! Had she told him she loved him? He had to know, didn't he?

Again her hand searched for the
gad
that wasn't there, even as her mind searched for prayers she barely remembered.

Only hours later, when she could no longer ignore the wet and cold
,
did she climb the stairs to her bedchamber, where Louise was waiting for her.

The maid didn't say a word, but only helped Morgan off with the Carrick coat before wrapping her wet hair in a towel and guiding her to a chair. The maid knelt in front of her, helping to strip her of her clothes, and only clucked her tongue a time
or two when she noticed that Morgan's teeth were chattering.

Morgan fell asleep beside the fire as Louise brushed her towel
-
dried hair, but awoke in the first false light of dawn, a pillow beneath her head and a blanket twisted around her legs.

Ethan.

She raced to wash and dress in her blue riding habit, because the buttons were ail in the front
,
and quickly dragged a brush through her hair, barely taking time to pull on her boots before racing down the front stairs and out onto the terrace. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the bright sunlight now just beginning to reflect off the water.

"Not yet, Morgan," Ainsley said, lowering his spyglass. "With dawn coming, I imagine Courtland took the risk of lying helpless in the water as the sails were changed. We can explain being on the water, if necessary, but not those sails."

In other words, their larger plan may have met with brilliant success in the long run, but in the short run a single detail could bring them all down. That sobering fact kept father and daughter quiet for long minutes, even as the sky brightened and gulls began their daily aerial survey of the wide shingle beach.