“Would ye let me keep it if I had?”
“Ye know I would.”
Alex leaned into him, a smile spreading up to her eyes. “Today, ye vowed to trust me with yer heart, and now I get proof ye trust me with yer fortune? That’s the most romantic thing ye’ve ever done, Nick.”
Nick’s head snapped up. “I’m not in trouble?”
“Hardly.” Alex wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his chest. “I love ye more than a million gold pieces.”
Elizabeth’s grip around Darcy’s tightened. He rested his hand over hers and leaned down to whisper, “And I love you more than a million sparkling stars.” Perhaps he ought to have said “more than my pride,” but there was nothing romantic in that, and Darcy refused to allow Alex to best him.
“And I,” Elizabeth said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, “love you more than a million libraries. More than Pemberley’s library, which I am assured is splendidly grand.”
She had him there. “Do you know I love you more with every witty retort?”
Elizabeth’s cheeks glowed pink, and Darcy had the gratifying sensation of knowing he had finally said the right thing at precisely the correct moment. It was a heady feeling.
He had rather forgotten they were surrounded by family until their party fell silent. Darcy looked up to see Cotton and Bauer shuffling their feet and clearing their throats.
“Speak up,” Alex ordered, every inch their captain.
Bauer held a handful of clippings toward Darcy. “Me and Cotton be wonderin’ if Mr. Darcy wouldn’t mind writin’ his name on these … as a keepsake.”
Cotton nodded eagerly. “A token of friendship if ye like.”
Darcy sent for a pen and ink well while the two sailors beamed.
“Ye and The Blade and The Cap’n”—Cotton nodded at Richard—“be a more excitin’ story than the prison riots.”
Bauer nodded. “Twas a pity the riot stole yer thunder. Ye should’ve been on the front pages fer weeks.”
Darcy, for one, was grateful his name had not been plastered all over the broadsides or shouted in the streets by publishers hocking their papers … not for long, anyway. “Thank you, gentlemen, but I will gladly cede any fame our story might have provoked.”
“And that evil woman what stole all those defenseless babes, murderin’ the castoffs in cold blood,” Cottonsaid with a bite.
Bauer shook his head. “If Connell hadn’t found her dead at the inn, I’d have helped him string her up meself … old woman or not.”
That had been a fortunate turn of affairs. Connell had traced Mrs. Finchley to Ramsgate. He had found her, cold and stiff, in her room, an empty teacup beside her bed. The doctor at the inquest had determined that she had died of a weak heart. Nobody at the inn had noticed, as she had paid for a full week, until her ship was set to sail, and had slipped the innkeeper a few extra coins to keep the maids away and secure her privacy.
Piece by piece over the past weeks, Connell had picked apart her operation with the help of Mrs. Annesley and her list and the indefatigable assistance of Miss Rothschild. They had a great deal more work ahead of them, but Connell was well on his way to becoming a wealthy man in high demand in his new role as a respectable enquiry agent.
Society was abuzz with news of the families exposed for buying heirs or eliminating the undesirables—all services Mrs. Finchley provided. Their hypocrisy soured Darcy’s stomach. Too many of them had known what had happened behind closed doors, but nobody admitted to it and the same people proclaimed their innocence of this barbaric, inhuman sin, zealously condemning Mrs. Finchley.
But Darcy’s secret twin brother, former pirate and Lafitte protege, had been spared further exposure. Forthat, Darcy would forgive society’s folly. Their fickleness and craving for sensational gossip quickly moved on to the newest, most exciting morsel to be discussed in drawing rooms and spread at dinner parties. Nick held his head higher now that the danger had passed.
Hours later, the last bottle of champagne drained and the last slice of Jean-Christophe’s confection consumed, the crew of theFancygrew restless. Alex looked up at Nick, and Darcy knew they would leave.
It was time. But he was not ready.
He had to have one more word. “Can I not convince you to join us at Pemberley? It is your home as well as mine, your rightful place.”
Nick’s smile held a trace of sadness. “I don’t need a grand house to know me place, Brother.”
“You are always welcome.”
“I know it. And I promise I’ll show up when I’m ready.” Nick turned and walked away.
Darcy made himself stay put and let Nick go, but fear needled his heart that he would never see his brother again. That was the only sad thought Darcy had on an otherwise perfect day.
