She thought she was safe from him following. This time. The servants would have been alerted by the sharp slam of the front door, and he would be more or less forced to the drawing room. But dear God, his threat was getting worse, more blatant...
Or was she letting anxiety build her over-active imagination? Would any man, let alone Sir Hugh Mansel, go to the trouble of hiring ruffians to attack her, just to play the hero and make her grateful and pliant? No, he must have witnessed the scene by accident or heard of it from some other unseen observer. It couldn’t have been her father, surely, for he hadn’t remembered any of it, or even recognized Mr. Durward.
She should not eventhinkabout Mr. Durward, except in so far as he might keep Papa sober for a vital couple of hours... If only she could stop worrying about Papa, she could leave Harwich, find a real position with a regular salary, live a life free of this constant worry and shame and fear for her virtue.
All it would take, surely, was a day’s sobriety for Papa to see the light, to understand what he had been doing to himself, andturn his life back around. There was hope, and she was foolish enough or desperate enough to pin that on Mr. Durward.
Until she got home and discovered both her father and Durward gone. So was the bottle.
ALTHOUGH HE HAD BEENdisappointed to see Miss Jasper go out, Durward stayed another hour and more with her father. He wasn’t quite sure why. Certainly, Captain Jasper was an interesting old boy who had adventured around the world. Despite his career being in merchant shipping rather than the Royal Navy, he was a gentleman, the younger son of a country vicar. He had married an Italian wife met on his travels. Hence his daughter’s name being Carina.
Carina. Dear, beloved...Even her name, a caress upon his tongue, fed his growing obsession. He had to acknowledge that at least half of his interest in Jasper was in fact related to the daughter, she of the angelic face and the fish-wife tongue. A gentlewoman by birth but not by means. Nothing was new in this faded house. In fact, it was almost bare. There were even brighter patches on the walls where pictures had once hung. As though anything of value had been sold. And yet Jasper was a ship’s captain. He might not be rich, but he should not be poor.
The man’s growing restlessness, the tremor of his hands, gave Durward the first firm clues. Jasper was indeed a habitual drunk. And his daughter was coping alone.
“Have you retired now?” Durward asked casually.
“Good God, no, I’m not that old!”
Drink aged a man, of course. Durward had seen it in many of Society’s rakehells. “Got a ship in port?” he asked cheerfully.
“As a matter of fact, I do, a gallant little vessel she is too! The Queen Marie.”
“For Marie Antionette?”
“Of course.”
“I’d love to see her,” Durward said.
“Another day,” Jasper muttered, rising to his feet. “Afraid I’ve got too much to do today.” He paced to the window, looking anxiously up and down the street.
“Do you expect Miss Jasper back soon?”
“Not before dinner,” Jasper said without interest. “She’ll be up at the Manor.”
“Mansel Manor? Is she a friend of Lady Mansel’s?”
Jasper gave a sour smile. “You might call it that. Her ladyship relies on my Carina. I suppose they’re friends of yours?”
“No, actually. I ran into Mansel in the Black Lion yesterday evening. Not long after I met you. Amiable fellow, invited me for tea with his wife.”
“Off to the Black Lion now, are you?” Jasper said hopefully.
“Not yet,” Durward said, finally taking the hint and getting to his feet. “Got a few things to arrange at the bank before I sail.”
“Where did you say you’re going? Portugal?”
“In the first instance,” Durward said vaguely, allowing the captain to conduct him into the little hall. He retrieved his own hat, thanked Jasper for his hospitality, and departed. The curtains in the street twitched.
HAVING ARRANGED FORthe ability to draw funds from a bank in Lisbon, Durward went to the harbour to try and interest himself in his escape to Portugal, by the sights and sounds of foreign crews, exotic cargoes, and seamen’s tales. A new life in a new country was just what he needed.
Except he kept seeing Foster’s white face as he lay on the grass dying.
Foster was still dying. Or at least, Durward supposed he was since Calton hadn’t yet written to warn him that Foster had croaked. Once he did, Durward would be arrested for murder.
From Portugal, Durward could sail for the New World if he chose. Hewantedto escape. Didn’t he? Like Snake Sanderly from all his detractors. Except that Durward had always had the feeling that Snake was maligned. Durward had always rather liked him. On the other hand, Durward was not maligned. And he was not killed.Fosterwas the one about to die, and Durward the one to flee. That hadn’t been meant to happen. And now Durward was as bored with the fact as he was by the prospect of his continued life.
He paused before the ship that would carry him to Portugal and found it remarkably uninteresting too. So he walked on, looking out for Captain Jasper’s vessel.
