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Nicholas’s deep, quiet voice pierced the fog. “Lean on me.”
She had no true choice; it was that or collapse on the brick quayside.Only for a moment, she promised herself, but then her thoughts dimmed, and she fought to stay upright.
Gradually, her full senses returned.Alacritywas turning into a sharp bend in the Thames, about to disappear. The sounds that had been thundering in the distance were wooden cart wheels rumbling.
Nicholas’s arm banded around her waist, and she was leaning back into him with almost her full weight. “I’m here, Helen. I couldn’t stay away.”
As if a gust blew into her lungs, she breathed in with a start, and after a few deep respirations, her strength returned. He stood behind her quietly, a pillar. No longer feeling as though she floated, she realized she felt her body again—perceiving the gloves on her hands and the boots on her feet—but she didn’t move away, not yet.
AfterAlacrityleft sight except for the tips of her three masts, the crowd behind them dispersed, voices carrying in different directions. The ordinary noises of port operations picked up again—men yelling, crates scraping, wagons rolling—yet she wasn’t ready to move. She watched until she couldn’t make out even a single speck of mast.
A stiff wind rushed over her and she shivered. Nicholas’s warm mouth turned against her temple, making her quiver more strongly. She closed her eyes and inhaled his faint vanilla scent, riveted by how she had felt alone until he joined her.
Alacrityhad disappeared from her sight, but she took comfort in knowing that all along the river, the onlookers’s attention would feed Elijah’s pride. She giggled, thinking of what insults he might call out to Tilbury Fort as he passed this time.
Without removing his arm from around her, Nicholas moved to her side. He blinked in surprise at her laughter, then smiled, looking fascinated. “What has delighted you so?”
She shrugged. “Elijah isn’t alone. He has his crew—and his drive. Perhaps I won’t be there to encourage him, but he’ll be spurred by every Englishman watching as he passes. By the time he reaches the sea again, he’ll be renewed.”
His arm tightened affectionately. “Drive, he does not lack. That is certain.” His gaze examined her face. “Are you well, Helen?”
“I will be.” She smiled. “You needn’t scrape me off the bricks if that’s what worries you.”
“A week ago, you intended to sail to China. You said you and Elijah were in this together, yet now you remain behind. No—I’m not placing guilt on you. Not only amIat fault for the arrangement, the stark truth is this—you’ve done your part in the venture. Without you, that hold wouldn’t carry a single piece of silver. But that doesn’t make it easy to say goodbye, does it?”
She looked out at the river. “No.”
“You can take comfort in his experience at sea.”
“I do. Or I will, anyway. Perhaps it’s right that I stayed behind. But today, it hurts.”
Without moving perceptibly, Nicholas felt more solid beside her, and she allowed herself to sink into him once more, letting him bear some of her burden. It was indecent—and she didn’t care. Not right now.
His voice was low near her ear again. “Take comfort also that you are not without help. I pledged that to you and your brother—and so has my family.”
Am I a burden? Just a duty?She would find her usual strength later, but for now, she couldn’t resist him. “Thank you. I don’t want to leave here. Not yet.”
“Then don’t. We’ll stay as long as you need.”
With time, the crowds dispersed and she had the sense that only she and Nicholas were paying any heed to what had just transpired on the Thames. Everyone else was inclined to carry on with their day after watching the audacious American merchant ship depart!
“What is it, Helen?”
She cleared her throat and raised her chin, hoping her tears wouldn’t return, not until she was alone and safe. “How quickly the spectators turned their back onAlacrityand returned to the mundane!”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
Squaring her shoulders, she faced Nicholas. “Perhaps the Britishwantto carry on. They want to forget the danger posed by my brother returning with exotic imports faster than any British ship ever has. American clipper ships could spark a revolution in trade—like the Declaration of Independence changed the colonies!”
Had she hoped for any patriotic reaction, his response would have disappointed. He tilted his head, and his voice bore no mockery. “Your brother said your father was a prisoner of the English. Dartmoor, was it? Is that why this is personal?”
His calm observation didn’t soothe her. Quite the opposite. “This country was a haven for your family, Nicholas. Your allegiance and pride are understandable. But for the Millers, for Americans, this place means something else. Yes, my father was a prisoner of war. My uncle was killed! Not in battle, but through a reprehensible lack of humanity—starved to death by the British!”
“And your mother was Irish.”
“Yes!”
“Your father was a prisoner. This resentment for the British, does it not hold you and Elijah prisoner today—all for wounds of the past?”
