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She should be happy––washappy.
If not for that blasted envelope.
Soon she would receive instructions on where to deliver it. The thought filled her with dread, but there was nothing to be done about it. She would slip away for an hour or two, perform her task, and then get on with her new life.
While Mrs. Crawford and Georgiana stopped to chat with another group of guests, Sylvia politely stepped away and continued on toward the folly, as she wasn’t of interest to anyone here. She glanced back and waved at Georgiana, then gestured to the structure, which was built to resemble a crumbling stone tower and said to offer a marvelous view of the loch. Sylvia entered and walked up the staircase. It led to an open platform ringed with a stone wall that came up to her chest. She walked over and placed her hands against the wall’s pebbled edge. The loch was about a mile off. There had been talk of taking a boat out today, but even from this distance Sylvia could make out the white-capped waves. Her stomach was already turning. As she stared at the murky, churning surface, Georgiana’s laugh carried on the breeze. She sounded so much happier here, out of her husband’s reach. It was a welcome reminder of why Sylvia had taken such a risk in the first place and why she would do whatever it took to keep her dear friend safe.
“Do you suppose anyone will ever explore the bottom?”
The question pulled Sylvia from her thoughts. She hadn’t even heard anyone approach. Mr. Davies of all people stood beside her, also looking out at the loch.
“Pardon?” she rasped, taking in his strong profile.
He gestured to the water with his chin. “The locals claim there isn’t one. That it just goes on forever, to the other side of the world. Fascinating prospect, don’t you think?”
A chill went through Sylvia as she imagined being swallowed beneath those churning waves and enveloped in darkness. “It sounds a bit terrifying, actually. Sinking indefinitely.”
He huffed a laugh. “Ah, well. I suppose that does sound terrifying. I was imagining it would be more like something out of a Jules Verne story. I wanted to be Captain Nemo when I was a boy, exploring the ocean depths in my very own Nautilus,” he said, turning toward her. “And fighting a giant squid.”
The corner of Sylvia’s mouth tilted up to mirror his smirk as she practically sank into his warm brown eyes. Women must come so easily to him.
“Is that why you joined the navy?” The question tumbled out before she could stop herself.
His eyes widened slightly before he looked back toward the loch, frowning in consideration. “I joined for many reasons,” he murmured after a moment. “To annoy my parents, for one. And to see the world, like all restless young boys.”
“And girls,” she couldn’t help adding.
“Of course.” He cast her a sly smile. “But I’m sure my enduring admiration for Captain Nemo was also an influence.”
Then he touched the brim of his hat before moving on to smoothly greet a group of guests that had joined them, where he was enthusiastically received. Sylvia watched as Mr. Davies adeptly wielded his considerable charm, making lighthearted comments and compliments to each of the ladies. But she couldn’t forget the vulnerability that had briefly flashed in his eyes when he spoke of his boyhood dream. It called to something within her. A need buried so deeply she had nearly forgotten it existed.
Sylvia turned away. A burst of laughter rose behind her, as if to punctuate the absurdity of the thought. No. She must have imagined it. Of course she had. Perhaps he had spent time in Her Majesty’s service, but he was clearly a man without worries. A man that had benefited immensely from unearned privilege. A man that seemed perfectly content to bask in the admiration of others. Sylvia’s fingers tightened against the rough stone wall. She had been deceived by such men before. And had lost herself in the process.
No one can take away your education, Sylvia.
Her mother had been dead for over a decade, but it still hurt to think of her on her deathbed. Worse than her father’s much more recent demise.
No matter what your father says, you make sure he sends you to university. He owes you that. He owes usboth.
It was the only time her mother had ever hinted at her discontent, suggested that she had wanted more from her life than to be a wife and mother. Sylvia had thoroughly failed to heed her warning once before, when she threw herself into a relationship with Bernard Hughes, an aspiring politician she had met at a lecture when she first moved to London. Sylvia had been so flattered by his interest, especially once he learned who her father was, that she ignored everything else that didn’t fit.
She would not make that mistake again.
***
Rafe turned a corner onto the landing that led to his room. He leaned against the wall and released a breath. What the devil had come over him back there? The sons of earls were expected to converse with members of their own class. To rib gentlemen, romance debutantes, and flirt with merry widows. They didnotseek out inconsequential ladies’ companions, let alone share such maudlin thoughts. That was the kind of behavior that drew notice. That led to questions he couldn’t afford to answer. But Miss Sparrow had cut such a lonely figure walking away from the other guests toward the folly that it seemed only natural to try to cheer her up. The trouble was he hadn’t been acting like the Honorable Rafe Davies, shallow yet charismatic bon vivant. Just himself. And for a moment she had seen it.
Seenhim.
A throat cleared by the entranceway, and Rafe immediately straightened. It was a footman. How long had he been there? Rafe hid his unease behind a smile as the footman held out a small silver platter bearing an envelope. “This came for you, sir.”
Rafe gave his thanks and took the missive. Good God. Couldn’t Gerard go adaywithout contacting him? He retreated to the privacy of his room and took a deep breath before opening it. As he read, relief washed over him. It was from Captain Henry Harris, an old friend Rafe had cabled before he left London. The captain was currently recuperating after an incident in Turkey. The official story was that he had been in Istanbul on a personal holiday when he was wrongly imprisoned after trying to intervene while two other British tourists were being robbed. In actuality, it had been an intelligence-gathering mission gone horribly awry, which had led to a minor diplomatic incident.
The brief message contained wishes for a safe journey and an invitation to visit him in Glasgow, where he was staying with his sister and her husband. For the first time in days, Rafe had something to look forward to. He had met Henry his first year in the Royal Navy. They were two young officers barely out of boyhood. But while Henry had come from a family with a long and distinguished history of naval service, Rafe had simply been trying to escape his own.
He served a lengthy stint at sea before his father conceded that Rafe had made his point and pleaded with him to take a relatively safer but infinitely more boring job he had secured for him in the War Office, contingent upon completion of his studies. Rafe had refused the offer for well over a year, until his father’s sudden death. Earning his degree and taking the job had then felt like paying penance for his youthful impudence, and his grieving mother was comforted that he was no longer so far away. But new dangers awaited when his gumption caught the attention of Sir Alfred, who had lots of uses for a restless young man like him. Meanwhile, Henry stayed in the service and gradually ascended through the ranks. But in the last few years he had done some intelligence work of his own, and they met whenever the opportunity arose.
Rafe hadn’t seen him since the skirmish in Turkey last year that landed him in jail, where he had languished for weeks until he managed to orchestrate a daring escape for his fellow prisoners. Like everyone else in the Empire, Rafe had learned the details of his friend’s heroism in the scores of breathless newspaper articles devoted to his actions. Not that that was surprising. Aside from his former colleague Alec Gresham, who had resigned from the service last spring, Henry was one of the most honorable and modest men Rafe knew. Which meant that the captain would be haunted by the lives lost, not the ones saved.
