Page 64 of The Cornish Widow

Jack shrugged. “If it’s that important, I’ll find out soon enough.” Probably something to do with his father’s other family. One of the girls. His sisters. He’d think about that later. Right now, he was far more interested in the woman beside him. On an impulse, he reached out and caught Harriet’s hand. “Come along. I’ll escort you home and help you face the music.”

For a moment, he felt her stiffen as if to pull away, then she relaxed and fell in beside him, her hand warm and pliant in his. Just a short walk would take them to Keynvor Cottage, and he was just beginning to wonder if he dared renew his request to kiss Harriet, when Bertha and Lydia came racing up the path to meet them. Thwarted.

Harriet wrenched her hand free of his and stepped away from him, leaving his hand cold and empty, as well as his heart. A missed opportunity.

Lydia flew into her mother’s arms. “Mama! Theo said you were back. Where have you been?” She shot a furious, accusatory glare at Jack. “Theo said you’d gone out sailing with Captain Trevelyan, but you must have left in the middle of the night! And you went without telling us. And Bertha said you’d gone in your nightgown.”

“Miss Harriet, thank God you’re safe.” Bertha fixed as forbidding a glare on Jack as he’d ever seen, no doubt condemning him as someone who took ladies out in his ship in their night attire. Oops, he’d gone right down in her estimation at one fell stroke. But etiquette forbade her from berating him with more than that death stare. It was going to take a while to win her over again. Did he care? The person whose approval he craved the most was her young mistress.

He stepped back from the family group. “I’ll leave you to it.” Best to beat a hasty retreat before Bertha decided to search for a weapon. There were a number or rocks within easy reach. He touched his forehead in a small salute, and executed a deep bow to the thunderous Bertha.

Leaving them to their tearful reunion, he turned up the track for Rosudgeon, striding out in his haste to be back. Whatever news his mother had, he supposed it might have been more important than what dress to wear for the Assembly Rooms for her to have sent the servants searching for him. Well… possibly, but he never knew with her. Fifteen minutes later, his feet crunched the gravel as he approached the house.

The front door flew open as he stepped into the porch, and his mother catapulted into his arms, grasping at him much as Lydia had grasped at Harriet. “Jack! You’re back! Thank goodness!” And she burst into floods of tears.

Odd behavior from her, as she was more than used to his prolonged absences.

He struggled to extricate himself but she hung on like an octopus. “Whatever’s wrong, Mother?”

She gazed up at him out of eyes swollen with grief. “It’s your father. He’s suffered an apoplexy and Dr. Rescorla has pronounced him near to death.”