“Had this ship belonged to Arnold or Connell, she would be yours to take. However, it was hired.”
“They had to know what’d happen if they crossed me. It’s fair pillage!” Alex looked to Nick for support, but he knew this was a losing battle. And in the long run, Lord Matlock was right.
Of course, Alex was not one to consider consequences before taking action, and Nick would only start a fight if he attempted to point out the flaw in her reaction.
A gangplank was lowered to the dock, and Nick used the excuse it offered him to usher Alex off the ship to theGull and Anchor.
She balked at Lord Matlock’s insistence that a surgeon see her injury, and Nick admired his relative’s patient firmness with her. Finally, she agreed to allow da Silva to at least clean her wound.
After a bath and change of clothes, they all met up in the private parlor where such a spread as Nick had rarely taken part in was displayed across the tables. It was a beautiful sight.
Maids carried pitchers and teapots, plates and platters back and forth from the kitchen to their room, attentive to their every need and quick to return with whatever His Lordship requested. Darcy, too. The attention they commanded was tempered, not with the selfish entitlement Nick had observed too often with the rich of the upper echelons of society, but with sincerity, gratitude, and dignity. Servants were not invisible to them, but hard-working, self-respecting individuals worthy of their notice.
When the last maid had slipped through the curtain separating their room from the others, Richard leaned his arms against the table. He looked exhausted. Pumping water and moving cargo was back-breaking work. He asked, “You know where we are?”
Nick knew the path down which his cousin’s thoughts had led him, and he thought it best not to reply. Parting would be painful enough as it was. Why make it harder by delaying the inevitable?
Richard continued, “We are a stone’s throw from Devonshire. Let us put this mystery to rest.”
Alex piped up. “I’m willin’.” With a pointed glare at Lord Matlock, she added, “It’s not as though I’ve a seaworthy ship right now, anyway.”
Lord Matlock did not look the least bit repentant. Nick suppressed his grin. “Thanks to Lord Matlock, we’re in the people’s good graces in Weymouth. We’ve provided them with work that’ll pay.” Had Alex insisted on keeping the ship she’d taken, she’d be hard-pressed to hire anyone to help her fix theFancy. And she knew it, judging by the scowl on her face (now directed at Nick).
“I already made inquiries, and the work shall begin in the morning,” Lord Matlock said. “Your men shall be happy for the shore leave, no doubt.”
Nick marveled at his family. Lord Matlock would make a marvelous captain with the way he assumed command and respect. People bent to him without a fight, and as powerful a skill as that was, Nick had yet to see him abuse it. He was starting to doubt he ever would.
Even Darcy, dressed as the gentleman he was, commanded respect. Nick noted with pride how Darcy graciously acknowledged the privilege granted him.
And then, there was Richard. He was a man of action, the best of men. He’d held his own at the seedy taverns, and he’d manned a pump to keep theFancyafloat without being told or instructed on what to do.
Also, Miss Elizabeth. Nick couldn’t help but admire her. With one look, she’d calmed Darcy andcontrolled Alex’s flaming temper. Nick would have to ask her how she did that. He needed all the help he could get.
Good people, the lot of them. Good people whose lives had taken vastly different paths, and yet, here they were, together.
Nick wished he could enjoy their company longer, but his heart was already trying to convince him to betray what his mind had already decided.
If he were to make his escape, he’d have to sneak away that same night.
CHAPTER 30
Try as he might, Darcy could not sleep. Theneedto know what had happened to separate him from his twin gnawed at him, just as his need to see Elizabeth safely home to her family tied his stomach in knots. He tossed the covers aside, turning and kicking his feet free of the sheets twisted around his legs.
He had to speak with Mr. Bennet the moment the gentleman arrived. Darcy had a great deal to explain, and even more for which to apologize. There was no excuse for the danger into which he had inadvertently embroiled Elizabeth. Darcy could not rightly ask for forgiveness. He could not explain how it had happened; he could not justify how Elizabeth occupied such a place in his dreams that he had uttered her name in his sleep. His face heated at the thought. Some excuse that was!
Never mind that Darcy had every intention of asking for Elizabeth’s hand. Why should Mr. Bennet grant his heart’s desire after witnessing Darcy’s ungentlemanly manners at Hertfordshire? And there were more offenses—against Mr. Bennet’s favorite daughter, no less! If Elizabeth were to tell her father the whole, he would be certain to refuse his consent. Darcy cringed at the memories, wishing with all his might that there were fewer of them to recall.
Sleep became impossible, for now that his demerits had a firm foundation, they piled taller and taller on top of each other.
Would Mr. Bennet allow Elizabeth to attach herself to a man with ties to piracy and thief catchers? Darcy scrubbed his hands through his hair. Compared to his own family, the Bennets were as tame as lambs.
Rising to his feet, Darcy pulled the curtains aside and peered outside at the foggy black through the window. He had tried to make amends—to arrange for Lydia’s union with Wickham, to apologize to Bingley for imposing his own erroneous views—but was it too little done, too late? What if Mr. Bennet disapproved of him? What if Darcy was beyond redemption regarding the family he most wished to please, for Elizabeth’s sake?
A gust of wind rattled the window at the same time he heard a creak out in the hall. Or had it come from the rafters? Senses alert, Darcy heard another noise—one not easily dismissed as the complaints of an aged,wind-battered inn. He held his breath and listened harder.
Scratch-scratch.Like fingernails scraping against a door.
Grabbing his breeches, Darcy tiptoed to the door, feeling foolish for his precaution. It was the darkest hour before dawn. He was unlikely to wake anyone at this ungodly hour. More likely, he would scare a maid who was merely trying to warm their rooms before their occupants stirred.
