Page 38 of A Siren for the Duke

Lionel nodded, his gaze returning to the celestial spectacle.

"Indeed it is," he murmured, his voice laden with a mixture of melancholy and longing. "It reminds me of why I chose the sea, why I've spent the past few years sailing these vast waters."

Jemima watched him intently, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

"And why is that, Captain?"

A wistful smile played upon Lionel's lips as he turned to face her. "Because there's a kind of freedom here that cannot be found elsewhere," he explained, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "Out at sea, under this brilliant sky, one can truly feel the boundlessness of the world. It's as if all the troubles and constraints of land are left behind, and for a moment, one becomes a part of something far greater than oneself."

Jemima listened, her heart swelling with every word he spoke. She had always been drawn to the allure of the unknown, to the vastness of the world beyond her reach. And at that moment, standing there with Lionel, she felt as if she had finally found her place in the grand tapestry of life.

The night sky above seemed to echo their unspoken thoughts. Stars blazed like distant suns, their light cascading down upon the ship in a celestial benediction. Jemima reached out a trembling hand as if she could touch those shimmering specks of cosmic dust and she could hold the universe itself in the palm of her hand.

A sudden realization washed over her, as profound as the waves that had crashed against the ship earlier that day. In the grand scheme of things, she was but a tiny speck, a fleeting existence in the vast expanse of time and space. Yet, in that very moment, she felt a connection—an indescribable bond—with the universe. It was as if the stars whispered secrets to her, revealing the mysteries of the cosmos and igniting a flame of wonder within her soul. Somehow, in all that vast mystery, she’d been reunited with Lionel again. It was truly a wonder.

“You know, I remember what happened that night—when I drank ale and danced on the table.”

“I figured you did. You hadn’t had quite enough to erase any memories the following morning.”

Jemima turned to him, hazel eyes boring into his blue ones.

“Then why did you pretend nothing happened when I brought breakfast?”

“I thought…” he scratched the back of his head nervously, “I thought you only did it because you were inebriated. I didn’t think you meant it.”

“I don’t regret it,” she whispered.

“I don’t either,” he said back softly. For a moment, Jemima thought they might kiss again, but he tore his gaze away from her and looked back up at the stars.

“I was telling the truth when I said I never received your letters,” he said calmly.

“You were?”

He nodded.

“Before the voyage, my father sent a trunk of family documents for me to look through so I can be prepared to take the Dukedom when I return, now that Horace has died. I don’t think he meant to send it, but... I found all your letters, tied with a ribbon, unsealed and clearly read.”

“What... what?” was all she could manage.

“I cannot confirm it now that Horace is dead, but I suspect he was intercepting your letters. Perhaps he sought to break it up.”

“But why?”

Lionel shrugged.

“Apparently, his life was not as perfect as he had everyone believe. He had many gambling debts that squandered our family fortune. When speaking with my father, I was led to believe there were marital issues between Horace and his wife. The more I consider it, the more I think he must have been jealous.”

Jemima felt white-hot anger rise within her.

“I trusted him! Once the news about you and me became public domain, I gave my letters to him because I didn’t want them to get lost in the post... and he had them this whole time!” she cried.

“I’m so sorry, Jemima. I am. Had I known... I... I would’ve…”

“But you didn’t know. And you couldn’t have done anything, not when you were at sea,” she reassured him.

“I didn’t see you at the funeral,” he said, slightly changing the subject.

Jemima hung her head in shame.