Epilogue
The ship was called, simply, Journeyman. It was a tall ship, larger than the Stargazer had been. It looked quite sturdy, which Christopher told himself should put his mind at ease. He glanced once more at the skies, still clear and blue. The weather was excellent, in fact, with a pleasant enough breeze to keep the fishy odor of the docks from settling too heavily and a good bout of sunshine to light the way out of Liverpool harbor. Autumn was coming.
A letter from Cloy no other will follow.
However, as Your Lordship has pointed out, while you are still Earl of Eden, we remain at your service, and as such have carried out your directives to the letter. Ownership of your Bloomsbury property has been transferred to one étienne Charbonneau of Savile Row; we have arranged for the transportation of the more useful household goods from Eden Abbey to Mr. Horace Chesterfield and his wife; and lastly, we have overseen the sale of several items of value from your estate and placed the funds in your accounts as directed.
We would be remiss in our duties, however, if we did not once more remind Your Lordship that there is still the matter of taxes owed, which surely will require—-
It was around that point in the letter that Christopher stopped reading, as the rest was rather boring.
A gentle hand touched the small of his back, and he looked up into James’s placid face.
“How are you feeling?” James asked in that soft, soft voice.
“Ah.” Rereading the details of his clever escape had caused him to forget the imminent voyage for a moment. “Better than I thought I’d feel, honestly. See? I’m still breathing. Haven’t fainted even a little bit.”
“We don’t have to leave now,” James said for the dozenth time, “if you would rather wait to make the crossing.”
Christopher wished he could brush a giddy kiss across James’s face, but there were too many people about. The crowd around them, about fifty or so other passengers waiting for the gangboard to be lowered, jostled them closer together. Christopher used the nearness as an excuse to briefly squeeze James’s forearm.
“There is no time like today,” Christopher said firmly. He adjusted the fall of his coat, a rich cerulean blue with only a modest amount of silver trim. étienne had outfitted him with enough clothes to see him through to his new life, wherever it might lead. His trunks—-no doubt already stowed in the bowels of the ship—-were brimming with well--tailored clothes that a respectable yet untitled gentleman might wear. They were mixed in with James’s serviceable coats of black and grey as well as his own new set of binding waistcoats.
Christopher’s name was new as well; the ship’s register listed him as Christopher Archer. James had balked at the surname Apollo, saying that if the point was to leave the country without drawing attention, he might choose a more common appellation. So Archer it was, the nearest acceptable allusion to Christopher’s mythical favorite. He’d considered switching his Christian name to something else, but he so enjoyed the way James said it that he couldn’t bear to part with it. The name, at long last, felt like his own.
“Besides,” he added, “the longer I stay in En-gland, the more likely the Crown will come hounding me to pay my damn taxes, and I’d rather use my coin to establish ourselves elsewhere.”
Christopher felt little guilt over the evasion, as the remaining pieces of the Eden estate were destined to fall into the hands of the royal family anyway once his absence was noted. Whatever happened to his old home, Christopher found he didn’t much mind. All the important things had been taken care of. They had enough money to pay for their passage and live comfortably for a time. étienne had promised to write so they might be kept abreast of Miss Montrose’s search for a husband. After being sworn to discretion, Belinda and Chester had been given the name of the Philadelphia inn where they could write, at least until Christopher and James established themselves elsewhere. The horses had all been gifted to villagers, except for Orion, who was surely biting every attendant he could reach in the ship’s hold at that very moment.
If the horse could stomach the long sea journey, so could Christopher.
He looked over at James again. His profile was as wonderful as ever, those keen eyes narrowed in concentration as he watched for signs that boarding was about to begin. Christopher found himself grinning widely, so wide that when James sensed his attention and turned to him, he asked, “What’s made you so happy?”
Christopher gave him a knowing raise of his brow. “Why, Mr. Har-ding, are you fishing for compliments? Because you surely already know the answer.”
Up ahead, a crewman lowered the gangboard. The crowd surged, sweeping Christopher and James along with them. In the bustle, two gloved hands found each other and joined, unseen, between their bodies. Christopher smiled, -really smiled, up at his man.
“Shall we, husband?” James murmured for Christopher’s ears alone. And together they walked onto the ship, leaving the rest of the world behind.
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