Nick helped the sailors moor, tossing the lines over to the dock, wrapping them around the cleats to secure the boat until all the passengers had disembarked.
He’d hoped Alex wouldn’t notice Jaffa didn’t join them until they were at the inn, but, of course, she noticed.
“Jaffa!” she called out when the sailors released the ropes from the dock and it became clear that they meant to ride the retreating tide out of the estuary back out to sea.
Jaffa blew a kiss and waved, teeth white.
Alex bit her lips together, silent tears pouring down her cheeks. “I’m gonna miss him terrible, Nick.”
He tucked her against his chest and ran his fingers through her long ebony hair. The tide had turned, and the boat couldn’t stay. It amazed Nick how similar life was to the tides and currents with its twists and turns and constant movement.
With a sniff, she wiped her cheeks against her sleeve. “He’s a free man, so I shouldn’t expect him to stay. He looked happy.” She twisted around to look up at him. “Didn’t he look happy, Nick?”
“He did, Lexi. Ye did good letting him go without a fuss.”
“It’s that Elizabeth. I heard her voice in me head tellin’ me not to be so blasted selfish. Jaffa was like a brother to me, but he’s a real family to find.” Shesighed. “I hope he finds ‘em. I hope the slavers didn’t get ‘em.”
Nick pulled her away. “Let’s join the others at The Swan.”
He walked up the lane with Alex on his arm, nodding politely at the people they passed. He didn’t realize he held certain expectations for his homecoming until nobody recognized him. Not one person called his name or waved a greeting. Instead, they gave him a wide berth, tucking their heads and quickening their pace until they walked past.
Maybe it was the clothes? He was dressed the same as Darcy and Richard.
He saw them speaking with the innkeeper, the man’s manner respectful and acquiescent. However, that same man’s eyes narrowed the moment Nick stepped through the door.
Would he ever be seen as an honest man? He nodded at the innkeeper. The years had grayed his hair and softened his middle, but it was the same man he remembered from his youth.
And he did not recognize Nick. Not one glimmer of remembrance until Darcy said Nick’s name. And then, the man only saw a thievin’ rascal whose stories would forever haunt Nick.
He readied himself to be tossed out on his ear. The Swan was a reputable establishment, and they did not knowingly lodge renown buccaneers.
Elizabeth tsked, looping her arm throughAlex’s and tugging them forward to stand beside Darcy in front of the innkeeper. “This gentleman is not so gullible as to believe everything he reads in the papers, Mr. Blackburne. He is a well-informed innkeeper with too much sense to fall for those sordid tales. Surely, anyone who keeps company with the finest families in England, peers of the realm, is worthy of the same treatment as the Earl of Matlock, the Darcys of Derbyshire, the Gardiners of London, and the Bennets of Hertfordshire.” Her eyes sparkled at the inclusion of her family with the upper echelons.
Her purpose was served. The innkeeper let Nick keep his room, and when Alex sashayed through the taproom in her breeches, he hardly batted an eyelash.
It was decided that the young men would walk to the rectory while the ladies and older gentlemen rested.
St. Mary’s church was a fine structure boasting an embattled tower and five bells that peeled at the top of the hour. Nick had learned to read there, taught by Reverend Moorshead’s wife. Mrs. Moorshead had taught the poorest children of the parish with all the tender attention of a woman who’d not been blessed with children of her own. Nick prayed she was still alive. Not that he held any hope that she’d remember him—nobody else did. But it was a tragedy to think of such a kind woman passing. That was the ultimate injustice. Kind people ought to live forever.
A white-haired woman wearing no bonnet leanedover to pluck several blooms bordering the fence around her garden. She looked up when they approached, and Nick smiled at Mrs. Moorshead.
The blooms fell from her hands, and she lifted her palms to her cheeks.
Nick hurried forward. He hadn’t meant to startle her.
“Nicolas Blackburne? Is that you? My, how you have grown!” she said.
Reaching over the fence, Nick took her outstretched hands. “I’m amazed ye remember me, Mrs. Moorshead.”
“I never forget a face, especially a boy so clever and quick to learn as you were, Nicholas.” She looked between him and Darcy. “But how is it that I see two of you?”
Nick introduced his brother and cousin. “We’ve come to see what we can find out about me history.”
“Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. I must say, I am not surprised our Nicholas proceeds from such fine origins. I am pleased to meet you, sir. And you, too, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Now,” she wiped her hands against her apron, “how is it that three dashing young gentlemen have come to call on an old woman?” She grinned, arching a thin brow. “Could it be that you heard about my beautiful guest? She is so lovely, I had to pick a few flowers to place on the table beside her.” She plucked the fallen blooms from the grass.
Nick rushed around the fence tohelp her while Darcy and Richard apologized for interrupting her call, offering to return at a more convenient time.
Mrs. Moorshead chuckled. “My dear boys, at my age, I must seize every minute I am given. Please, come in. I insist. I do not often have the pleasure of new callers, and I wish to know what young Nicholas has been up to all of these years.”
