Page 33 of A Siren for the Duke

He turned the stack over in his hand. Some were dated fall 1808, moving into spring 1809, then ceased in January of 1810.

Lionel opened one of the letters with shaky hands. Apparently, they’d been opened already, which made his blood boil. Not only had his family kept their letters hidden to drive them away from each other, they’d read their business. It made him livid.

“Ellis, leave me. I need to sort through these myself.”

“You said you wanted assist-” Ellis started, but Lionel cut him off angrily.

“Out! And do not come back unless it is an emergency.”

Ellis left immediately. Normally Lionel would feel guilty after ordering about his best friend like that, but this was serious. Lionel poured himself a glass of the good wine and began to read each and every letter from the summer of 1808 onward. What he found was a desperate outpouring of pain and longing from Jemima. She asked when he’d be coming back if he was indeed receiving her letters, if he’d found another woman, if he’d kept that lock of hair…

He would rather have been tied to the mast and whipped by the boatswain. That would have been preferable to putting himself through this pain. It was clear now why she was so angry at him. He pored over those letters for what felt like hours, not paying attention to the darkening sky or the fact that his oil lamp was running low and the flame was almost out.

A frenzied knock sounded at his door.

“What is it?” Lionel asked gruffly.

Ellis burst in, looking alarmed and disheveled.

“Captain, we’re heading straight for a storm!”

—

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The storm raged outside the ship, lashing at the hull with ferocious might. Rain poured down in sheets, accompanied by thunderous cracks of lightning that split the sky. The once serene sea had transformed into a tumultuous tempest, its waves crashing against the vessel's sides with relentless fury. Jemima was still in the galley with Mr. Coade, his weathered face etched with worry.

"My lady, you must go and stay locked in your cabin! It's no place for a lady out there!" he implored, his voice strained. It was the first time she’d ever heard him genuinely worried. He was such a cool and level-headed man that seeing him this way frightened her.

“But what about you?” she asked.

“Go! You’ve done enough today. You’ve secured the supplies and livestock. Or the Captain will have my head!”

She nodded, and took a deep breath to face the storm.

She darted out, her skirts billowing in the gale that swept through the galley. Raindrops stung her face like icy needles as she raced up the stairs, fueled by a fierce determination. As she emerged on the top deck, she was met with a scene of pandemonium.

The wind howled, whipping her hair into a wild frenzy. Sailors scrambled across the rain-soaked planks, their voices barely audible over the tempest's fury. The ship pitched and rolled, creaking ominously beneath her feet. It was as if the vessel itself fought to break free from the storm's merciless grip.

Jemima pressed on, clinging to the railing for support as she made her way toward the bow where her cabin was. Fear mingled with exhilaration as she watched the storm's wrath unfold before her eyes. Lightning streaked across the darkened sky, illuminating the churning sea in a haunting glow. Each crash of thunder reverberated through her bones, electrifying the air with a sense of foreboding.