Only By Grace (The Virtues #4)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

W ere it not for the dreadful pounding in her head, Grace would have enjoyed the wedding. For her, it had come as quite a surprise that Patience and Major Stuart had fallen in love. They had always seemed to be bickering more like siblings. But love was a funny notion, and now they wished to be married in a most unusual way due to their experiences that brought them together. It was most romantic, actually, being wed on a ship. At least, it seemed like it would be romantic if it were her own wedding and her head did not feel as though someone was stabbing it with a thousand knives…and if she hadn’t taken the draught that her maid had given her which now made her drowsy.

“You do not look very well. Are you seasick?” her sister, Joy, remarked with her usual candour while simultaneously petting one of the kittens that her cat Freddy had recently borne. There were others hidden within the pouch that she wore for that purpose.

“I do not feel very well, thank you very much. The Battle of Trafalgar is happening inside my head at the moment.”

“A megrim? The ceremony is over. No one will notice if you go have a lie down,” Faith, the eldest sister, suggested as she overheard what Grace and Joy were saying.

The thought of finding a dark corner of the ship and closing her eyes was so appealing that Grace gave no other consideration as to what it might entail.

“You know nothing else works but to sleep it off. Here, take Theodore for company. He is very sweet.” Joy handed the black ball of fur to Grace, and he began purring immediately as she held him to her chest.

“You are certain this one is a boy?” She somehow had the presence of mind to ask, not that it mattered.

“I know what to look for now.” In their na?veté, they had thought for some time that the mother cat, Freddy, was a boy. Until she gave birth to kittens, that was. Joy then took her hand and asked one of the crew where Grace could go to rest. Grace followed blindly, because it hurt too much to think.

He led them across the deck and down a narrow ladder to a wood-panelled corridor with a few closed doors.

The central one at the end was labelled Captain . He opened the door to the right of that, which revealed a small, but tidy, room with a bed, a desk, and a cupboard.

“No one will bother you in here, miss. It’s the first mate’s cabin and he is not with us this trip.”

Grace needed no further encouragement as Joy helped her climb into the berth. After discarding her bonnet, she lay back and closed her eyes as Joy removed her slippers and pulled a coverlet over her. A purring kitten was tucked next to her chest as the darkness and the gentle swaying of the ship allowed her to slip into oblivion.

Sometime later, when Grace tried to open her eyes, she felt a little strange and was not quite sure where she was or what day it was. She was in a dark room that smelled odd—a salty, sour odour mixed with metal and wood. Her hands felt around her to a strange bed that was most certainly not her own. Her body rocked and swayed against a wave and she sat up suddenly. She was on the wedding ship!

At least her headache appeared to be gone. The room had not been that dark when she’d gone to sleep, she would swear it. How long had she been down there? Whenever this happened at home, sometimes she would not arouse until the next day. Joy knew that. Had she forgotten to wake her?

Squinting in an attempt to get her bearings, she saw there was absolutely no light. As she moved to sit up, the kitten woke and stretched and began attacking her feet.

“Stop that!” she scolded as she swung her legs over the side of the berth and swayed on her feet as they hit the floor. She felt around for her slippers and slid her feet into them. “We must hurry.” The wedding party must be over by now, but she could sense the ship was still moving.

She gathered Theodore into her arms and felt for the door before lifting the latch and opening it. It was pitch black in the corridor. She stood there listening for sounds of her family only to be met with silence. There had been too many people present for it to be this quiet. The realization that she must have been left behind sank into her bones. But the ship was moving, she was certain. Had her family yet realized she was gone?

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Surely they would not have left me. There must be some mistake.” Mayhap they were only moving the ship somewhere else to dock.

Normally, her bashfulness would have prevented her from going to the deck alone, but her panic at being stranded in the middle of the water overrode her good sense.

Bravely, she decided to climb the steps to the deck and look around, only to find it empty with full darkness overhead, save the moon and stars and a majestic sail taut against the wind. She hurried over to the railing, but they were not close enough to land that she could see it. The boat was cutting swiftly through the water which was not at all good news.

Was there no one about? She may not be an expert, but even she knew that ships did not sail themselves. However, she did not wish to confront the crew alone. Where were they going? To London? Back to Ireland? How long did such a journey take? Ireland was not all that far, but she’d never considered it before. Even though staying inside the small cabin was more appealing than speaking to the crew, she must ask them to turn the ship around. If it became public knowledge that she’d been gone unchaperoned overnight, she would be ruined. None of her family would ever divulge such a thing, but secrets had a way of spreading amongst servants and beyond.

She took a deep breath, then turned around to search for whomever was sailing the ship. As she climbed some steps up to what looked like a half deck, she saw the wheel for steering and assumed someone would be there. Strange voices in another language met her ears.

Even though she did not speak any of the Celtic tongues, she deduced it must be the language as Carew’s crew was most likely Irish. It held a soothing lyrical tone much like the accent when they spoke English. Interestingly, Carew’s English diction was perfect, but she’d heard him slip on occasion.

They still had not noticed her presence. She cleared her throat. “Excuse me, sirs.”

“What the devil?” an angry, rough voice asked. She could see by the light of the moon that the voice belonged to a sailor of indeterminate age, whose skin was leathered and wore a thick grizzled beard. The other wore a scarf over his head with bright gold hoops in both of his ears. Was this really a pirate ship?

Grace took a deep breath and steeled herself to speak to these men instead of running in fear back to the cabin. “I seem to have fallen asleep and missed disembarking the ship with the others. Is it possible to turn around and return me?” she asked as politely as she could, doing her best not to appear as intimidated as she felt.

Crude laughter met her request. Why was that funny?

“You’ve no more chance of that then to squeeze blood from a stone.”

“Why not?” she asked, rather than cringe from the crude expression as she struggled to make out the words in the strong-accented brogue.

“Because, lass, we have been sailing for hours. We’d be nowhere near London even if the Captain would agree to take the time to let you off at the nearest port. Which he won’t because when he says to make haste, we stop for naught.”

“I’d like to speak with the Captain myself.” Grace tried to sound more confident than she felt. Whenever Faith spoke that way, people listened.

“Aye, I bet you would. I’m afraid I cannot allow it.”

“And why is that?” She was angry enough now at this fellow’s impertinence that she forgot to be bashful.

“Because he needs his sleep. He’s never to be disturbed unless the ship is about to sink.”

“Then I demand to be taken back to London! Surely it would not take so much time to put in at a port and then I may travel back home. If you do it quickly, he will never notice.”

This only produced more laughter from the strangers. Why would they not take her seriously? “Maybe you could find your own way,” he replied, his voice indicating he thought no such thing, “but the Captain will decide in the morning.”

“By then, will we be anywhere near England?”

The man shrugged at her. “It depends on the winds. You could always try swimming, but we’re at one of the widest points of the Channel right now.”

Even Grace, inexperienced though she was, could tell these men were vastly enjoying toying with her. If only Carew were here. Grace had no idea who the ship’s captain was, but she would go and speak with him herself.

“Very well. I will return to my cabin, if that suits you.”

One of the men grinned, showing yellow, uneven teeth with a few missing and the other scowled. She turned to leave, grateful that they’d had no inclination to harm her, as Lady Halbury and every chaperone had always prophesied would happen if she dared set foot outdoors alone.

As she turned to go, she paused. She had no idea what to do with the kitten. He must be hungry and need to use the toilet, but she was rather afraid to venture amongst the remainder of the crew below decks.

She turned back. “Pardon me again, sirs, but as you can see, I have a kitten with me. Where may I take him to, to…”

Both of the men glanced at each other, then laughed some more. Ladies did not speak of such things, and they were enjoying her discomfort. She fought tears.

One of them elbowed the other. “The poor mite is going to cry. Here, I’ll take care of him.”

“Thank you.” Grace deposited the kitten into the man’s giant paw of a hand then escaped to her cabin. Eventually, the sailor returned Theodore to her, and she shook as she accepted her only companion for what was proving to be the most terrifying thing ever to happen to her.

Grace’s panic began to swell like the tide, drowning her as the full weight of her predicament sank in. The implications were too vast and terrible to comprehend fully, yet they came at her in fragments, sharp as shards of glass. Her reputation—what would become of her reputation? An unwed lady, unchaperoned, on a ship overnight, and not just any ship, but one belonging to Lord Carew! Scandal would spread like wildfire, leaping from servant to servant, until the entire ton whispered her name in tones of mockery and disdain. She could already hear the murmurs, the snide remarks at assemblies, the titters behind fans. Poor Miss Whitford, so careless as to ruin herself entirely.

Then there was the Captain’s refusal to see her. The bluntness of the sailors, their laughter at her expense, echoed in her ears, deepening her helplessness. They had made it plain enough that she was at their mercy, and though they had done her no harm, the uncertainty of their intentions gnawed at her. What sort of man was this captain that his crew should speak of him in such tones? Would he be cold and dismissive, as the sailors had been, or would he be crueller still? She shuddered at the thought, her mind conjuring every grim possibility.

As she curled into herself on the small berth, clutching Theodore to her chest, her thoughts turned dark and frantic. If she could not convince the crew to turn back, what then? How would she explain this to Society? Would the truth even matter, or would her very presence here condemn her irrevocably?

Grace’s breath quickened, her chest tightening as panic clawed its way through her. Tears pricked her eyes, hot and unwelcome. She thought of her sisters, of their teasing but loving care. She thought of her home, of the comfort and safety she had taken for granted mere hours ago. How had she allowed this to happen? How had a simple headache led to such a catastrophic turn of events? She allowed herself to sob with frustration and fright until she fell back asleep.

Ronan was glad to escape the confines of all the wedded bliss and connubial joy that seemed to accompany his friends and the Whitford sisters of late. They were falling into marriage like a house of cards in rapid succession.

When Ashley Stuart had asked to wed aboard his ship, Ronan could hardly refuse. It did not really put him out, though it delayed his departure a few hours. But now they were finally underway.

The letter he’d received calling him back to Ireland could not have come at a more welcome time. The only bright spot of this trip was being able to participate in catching a criminal—even though his part had been small. There were too few diversions in his life these days.

There was nothing quite like sailing a ship. It was at times like beast versus God and the elements, and at other times gentle and calm. Nothing felt quite like fighting the water, winds and waves and living to tell about it.

Once they had navigated the Thames and the Strait of Dover, he’d relinquished the wheel to O’Brien and escaped to his cabin. Time alone was as essential to him as the very air he breathed. His crew would never bother him unless they needed him to fight a gale.

The peace was welcome because being amongst his friends moving on with their lives had made him realize that things would be different henceforth.

He was not glad for the reason to be called away, however. With his father an invalid and unable to properly protect the family, the task fell to Ronan.

Whenever Ronan was home, Donnagh Flynn left them alone, but as soon as he had word that Ronan had left for England, he would start harassing the family. Flynn meant to get to him through his sister. Unfortunately, he was afraid Maeve would give in to the rogue’s charm.

Even though Ronan had taken steps to hide his departure, there was only so much he could do. When his ship was not in the harbour, word eventually got back to Flynn.

Ronan was not certain when the feud between the two families had begun, but it had never ceased since. According to the stories passed down from generation to generation, the Flynn family had always sought to fight the Donnellans for control of the bay that led to the Atlantic, between two peninsulas. There had been one case of romance between the families which had ended in tragedy, akin to Romeo and Juliet. Ronan had no desire to carry on the feud, but neither could he seek reconciliation when Flynn was determined to continue with his nefarious activities. Neither could he allow Maeve to fall into such hands.

Something more permanent would have to be done about the situation, but Ronan did not favour cold-blooded murder, even though Flynn certainly deserved such punishment. It was not the smuggling that bothered Ronan—anyone who’d lived through the rampant poverty from the potato famine not so long ago would never begrudge the only source of income they could find for their families. If that was all he’d done. Ronan shook his head. No, Flynn was known to ruin those who stood in his way. With this on his mind, it was some time before Ronan could fall asleep. His blood boiled any time he thought of Flynn and his touching Maeve that fateful night they’d been introduced, and he’d had the impudence to dance with her before Ronan could stop it.

Whenever they were on board ship, he always woke early so he could watch the sun creep over the horizon. It was an unreal experience that he never tired of. He dressed, left the cabin and climbed up to the quarter-deck, standing at the helm to let the wind rush against his face as the ship cut through the water like a knife.

“ Maidin mhaith . At this rate, we will be making good time back,” Ronan said as he approached O’Brien and Kelly, who’d been at the helm for the night watch. “Any wagers on when we will arrive?”

“No, Cap’n, but there is one small matter you should be aware of.” O’Brien was fidgeting nervously, which was odd.

“Shannon deals with small matters,” he replied.

“Aye, but Shannon is not with us, if ye recall.”

“So he isn’t. What is it, then?”

“We have a stowaway. We did not discover them until a few hours ago when we were already well into the Channel. We did not think you would wish us to stop.”

Ronan could not think how they had acquired a stowaway. If they’d been in one of the busy ports, perhaps, but they left from Westwood’s pier. An ominous sinking feeling came over him, but the two sailors were looking at him with concern.

“Did we do wrong, Cap’n?”

“No. I said we needed to make haste, and we do. But I have a feeling I will not be pleased when I discover who the stowaway is.”

“It did seem to be an accident. She demanded to be taken to the closest port immediately,” Kelly said by way of a guilty confession.

“And how far is the nearest port now?”

“We’re not yet to Portsmouth, but as ye ken, it would be difficult to turn about now.”

“Where is she?”

“The first mate’s cabin, sir.”

Ronan ran his hand over his face. As if matters were not dire enough as it was, now he likely had a Whitford sister on board, whether intentional or accidental, and she had been gone all night. Even if it were possible to sneak her back without anyone knowing, he would be sacrificing precious hours—days, even— to return her, and he’d already delayed enough for the wedding. His sister’s fate might already be determined. But if he could save her, then he had to try. Even if he had to sacrifice himself in the process. Westwood was fiercely protective of his wards, and even though he knew Ronan would never harm the girl, her reputation would be in tatters and he would expect Ronan to do the right thing.

“Continue on course. I agree that it’s too late to turn about now.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” O’Brien said with visible relief.

Ronan was furious, but it wasn’t his crew’s fault. They knew almost as well as he why they were in a hurry.

Delaying the inevitable would not help things, so Ronan decided to go and discover which sister he was to deal with for the near, and possibly forever, future. Was it to be the meek, shy Grace? Or the wild, adventurous, still-in-the-schoolroom Joy? Despite that, he could not envision either one of them stowing away intentionally, but how could such a thing have happened accidentally? One did not just meander off to a secluded part of the ship and remain there for hours until the ship had long sailed. Had she over-imbibed and passed out drunk? Ronan frowned. He had never seen either one of them drink much, if at all. Perhaps seasickness had induced one of them to seek a place to lie down. And how could her family have not noticed she was not with them when they left? Then again, that actually might be more understandable because it had been a bit chaotic and crowded with so many people on deck.

Dread grew with each step he took towards the cabin. Reaching it, he drew a deep breath and hesitated before knocking.

He heard a light thump and then the door was unlocked before Grace Whitford opened it, with her black, glossy hair in a dishevelled mess. Her deep blue eyes widened at the sight of him.

“Lord Carew? I did not expect to see you on board.” Her cheeks flushed.

“That makes two of us.”

“There has been a dreadful mistake. I had a megrim and was put in here to sleep it off. Then no one woke me. Then I discovered we had sailed in the middle of the night and your crew refused to wake you or turn the ship around or leave me in port.” She rambled the words together in one breath. He struggled to keep up then held up his hand to stop her. He had never heard so many words from her mouth. Often, they’d been paired together the first Season when he had been helping to protect the sisters, but she’d seemed too afraid of him to speak much.

“I realize this was not intentional.”

“Then you will take me back?” She looked so hopeful that he hated to disappoint her.

“I am afraid I cannot take you back at this point.”

“Why, why not?”

He debated how much to tell her. He needed time to think. “There is an urgent matter I must see to at home. Besides, sailing ships are much at the whim of the tides and winds.”

“Oh. I see.” She seemed to shrink back into herself. “What will happen to me?”

The way she said it made him burn with anger. Did she really think so little of him that he would just abandon her? Or harm her?

“I cannot yet say. I will have you write a letter to Westwood explaining what happened and I will see it delivered as soon as we reach land. Even if they have already realized you are gone, and are coming after you like the Trojans for Helen, I suspect he trusts me to return you. Which I will, eventually.”

“Eventually?” Her voice broke on the word.

“You will be well chaperoned once we arrive. Do try not to look as though I’ve ruined you in truth. You will come to no harm from me.” It was all he could do not to curse his fate right then and there. “I will not keep you prisoner, but I do ask that I accompany you when you go above deck.”

A mewling sound came from somewhere within the cabin.

Grace looked back to the berth, then scooped up a little kitten.

“What the devil? We have two stowaways?”

“Joy thought he would comfort me while I slept,” she said defensively as she snuggled the cat to her cheek.

It was all Ronan could do not to groan. “I will have breakfast sent to you shortly,” he said, then made his escape. This was going to be his most painful voyage yet. What was he to do with a bashful chit and a kitten?