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Her words stung, but he’d expected her outrage.
“You don’t mean it. And you have no grounds for such an absurdity. You might have if you hadn’t seduced me so thoroughly.” He would have smiled and winked at her under normal circumstances. He kept a serious expression.
She raised her chin. Tears pooled in her eyes, but they did not fall. “I mean every word. I will go, if that is your wish, but this is the last time you will see me.”
“If you think I will agree to an annulment, you are mistaken. Besides, the church would never agree.”
“In England, maybe not. In Spain? Money buys anything.” She shrugged, entwined her fingers and glanced down. Tears rolled from her eyes then. “Is it not time for me to embark upon my journey?”
He reached for her, but she stepped away, giving him her shoulder. Roman tried to soothe her. “I have loved you from the first moment I saw you, Shelene, standing on the veranda. Then riding that wild sorrel over the hills near your home. Hair blowing in the wind. Too much sun upon your cheeks and nose. And the way you looked at me? You stole my heart. Please, my love, let me comfort you before we must part.”
“It’s not love, Roman. It is heartache. It is half a life, living without you. I’d convinced myself to believe the lie. That somehow you’d changed, in spite of all the proofs otherwise. How I wanted to believe.”
“I am coming back to you.”
Footfalls sounded down the stairwell. Joaquin stumbled into the room, followed closely by his mother. She bobbed a quick curtsy. “Mi’lord. You are well? Shelene worried for you.”
“I know. It couldn’t be helped.” He turned to Joaquin. “Is everything ready, as I instructed?”
“Sí,” Joaquin said.
“Well, good then.” Roman glanced toward Shelene, who stood stock still, staring into the low-burning fire.
“You are not to worry.” Martina patted his arm, then whispered, “It is the right thing you do. I will take care of her, and Joaquin will take care of you, but you must promise to bring him home. He is my youngest, and the most foolish.”
“You have my word.”
Martina hurried to Shelene, carrying a bonnet and shawl for her mistress. Roman watched as Shelene’s lady’s maid tutted and whispered some comforting words while she tied the bonnet with a perfect bow. There were more tears now, but Shelene did not look to him for comfort.
And might never again.
“Come, Shelene. The carriage is ready to depart,” he said.
She gripped a handful of her skirt and swept past him. Joaquin held her hand as she entered the carriage. She stared out the window, unwilling to speak to Roman. He wasn’t interested in continuing their argument in front of Martina and Joaquin, but he watched her, while trying to recapture the moments of their unutterable happiness the past few weeks. His, at least.
Was his concept of duty more important than Shelene’s? He thought not, but a dark cloud would hang over his life if he did not see this through.
Hightower and Oliver may well be dead, lost to the stygian depths of the ocean, but what if they weren’t? What if they needed help and he was the only one willing and able to provide it? And what if he could save untold hundreds from dying by ending Belgrano’s terror?
He was not such a big believer in serendipity or fate on most days. A man made his own fate by acting in the most honorable way, whenever possible. By saying yes when the door of opportunity was in front of him. While it was painful for Shelene, it would also have been selfish of him to stay with her and ignore what must be done.
Dewey and Rousseau were waiting at the docks, near the vessel taking Roman’s important cargo to Cadiz, and were there to open the carriage door. The docks bustled with travelers and militiamen, merchants and hoodlums—all about their business. The hum of agitated humanity caused Roman some worry, and he glanced about. He would normally approach the docks with caution, but having two of his trusted confidants with him, he was assured of safety.
Roman jumped to the street, a spasm of pain shot through him. He hid his grimace and reached back for Shelene. He would have set his hands to her waist, but his affection was unwelcome, at the moment. He refused to believe forever. They had overcome worse.
She briefly touched his hand, without looking at him, as she departed the carriage, then proceeded up the gangplank, Martina at her side. Joaquin followed with their trunks.
Roman handed over several bank notes and a few gold coins along with a letter for Shelene. Rosseau stuffed it all in a leather pouch. “Give that letter to Shelene, but only if something happens to me.”
“Aw, nuthin’ will happen, mate,” Dewey said. “There and back, quick as a wink.”
Roman could not smile at Dewey’s enthusiasm. Just as with theVictorious, things could go wrong and often did.
“And this.” Roman handed over another envelope. “Deliver this personally to my solicitor in Cadiz.” He had long retained Mr. Fisk’s services, since he first knew that Shelene would someday be his wife. Years ago. And since he needed someone to manage his affairs in Spain while Roman traveled, Fisk was his man.
Years that seemed wasted by his pig-headed desire for intrigue and danger serving the Crown.
“Rousseau. Dewey. If you foresee any danger for Shelene, you have my permission to haul her to London to my brother, Adam, at Long Leaf.Anydanger.”
