Chapter Sixteen
“Norbert can wait the five minutes it will take me to settle your very unsettled sisters in the room. Little Grace is dead on her feet and Marianne cannot help being a bad traveler. She hasn’t chosen to feel queasy and you should be more sympathetic.” In his peripheral vision, Harry watched Miss Rowe wag a finger at the whining Felix while he sorted out his horse. “And I do not care that you think that being ten gives you the right to do as you please without the need for any adult fussing. You are not wandering off alone in this strange place and that is that.”
A whole week on, filled with futile soul-searching, and he still had no earthly idea what had made him invite her along too. Especially when his promotion and imminent departure to Plymouth had been the perfect excuse to get rid of her.
Harry had been determined to do just that the night she came to his study after the unfortunate incident with the frog. Thanks to the mountain he had to climb with the Boadicea, and his mounting and terrifying attraction to the siren, he had already decided it made the most sense to banish the distraction of her once and for all. A quick, clean, and ruthless cut that he had known would hurt initially because he had allowed himself to get too attached to her but which, like lancing a boil, would make him feel much better in the long run. Then, with his focus all channeled on just the one troublesome ship rather than being spread too thin here, there, and everywhere, he could exorcise the strange but debilitating dissatisfaction which had gripped him for months, and he could find some joy in his promotion.
He had intended to thank Miss Rowe for her efforts to date, pay her a handsome severance, then never have to see or think or go to war with himself about her ever again.
That had been his plan right up until she had lectured him on responsibilities, and then some masochistic devil inside of him, the part that enjoyed her fiery, rebellious temperament too much, had suddenly invited her along. An invitation he had regretted constantly in the seven days since he had made it—yet despite that, and despite all his lofty promises to himself that he would rescind it well before they hit Plymouth, he hadn’t yet found the strength to do it. Instead, he had been such a belligerent and self-centered lion with a thorn in its paw that all the children were now actively avoiding him too.
“But Miss Rowe—Norbert’s legs are crossed in desperation, and I’ve stayed at this inn at least a thousand times!” The very bored and crochety Felix was pouting at his freedoms being curtailed by what he saw as the unreasonable selfishness of his sisters. “And I’ve walked Norbert in those woods alone at least a hundred! Besides, I shan’t be alone, as I shall be with Norbert and Mama always lets me!”
“Do I look like your mother?” The siren circled a finger around her lovely face with a smile that only made it lovelier. “And do I have your mother’s express written permission to allow you to go off unchaperoned?” She patted her clothing to hunt for the imaginary missive. “Because you are not leaving my sight without it, young man, so you might as well stop arguing.” She ruffled Felix’s hair affectionately with another breathtaking smile that only made Harry want her more. “You know that I am a thousand times more stubborn than you are, so you also know arguing with me is pointless once my mind is made up. If Norbert is that desperate, he can use that patch of grass over there while you both wait for me.”
“But the woods here are a haven for rhinoceros beetles and the rare pearl-bordered fritillary butterfly!”
“Which we shall go hunting for together just as soon as I have settled your sisters.”
“But Miss Rowe, it will be dark soon!” Felix stamped his foot, and instead of telling him off for his petulance, she cupped his cheek in sympathy.
“In which case, we shall get up as the sun rises and go hunting for them extra early so you shan’t miss them. I should imagine those woods will be buzzing with life at dawn and you, me, and Norbert will have it all to ourselves.”
Credit where credit was due, the vixen had the patience of a saint with those children and had miraculously managed to conquer them into their somewhat chaotic version of submission all week. Six days of incessant travel and hours and hours cramped in his carriage with the little savages and that bloody enormous dog and she still managed to smile at them each evening when they finally arrived at an inn.
He didn’t have a clue where she found the resilience, but he was beyond grateful that at least one of them had it. The closer they got to Plymouth, the harder it became to keep going, and despite the massive promotion awaiting him there, he had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason he followed the damned coach in the first place was because Miss Rowe was in it. Something about her presence gave him the strength to put one foot in front of the other each day—which he was grateful for—but also kept him awake at night in the worst possible way. The very definition of a double-edged sword and one he hoped he wouldn’t end up falling on.
“Uncle Harry will grant me permission to walk Norbert alone, won’t you, Uncle Harry?” Felix shot him a pleading look. “I won’t go far, I promise.”
“Don’t drag me into this. If Miss Rowe says that you cannot walk Norbert without a chaperone, then you absolutely cannot.”
“But it isn’t fair!”
“Neither is your incessant whining, nephew, so desist.”
There wasn’t a hope in hell he was going to undermine the governess. Not when she was doing a much better job of managing the three little Machiavellis than he ever had. Unbelievably, she’d even taught the little scoundrels some lessons on the journey which had, miraculously, gone some way toward keeping them entertained. Harry knew that for a fact because his wayward eyes frequently wandered to her inside that carriage. And, even as he castigated his continued lack of willpower each time he caught himself watching her, just a glance in her direction was enough to lift his bleak mood for a while.
As Felix stamped his foot and pouted some more, Georgie smiled her thanks at Harry for his lackluster intervention and, as it always did when she bestowed a rare smile his way, something peculiar happened in the vicinity of his heart.
Heaven help him.
Harry heaved his saddle from his horse and carried it into the stable himself rather than hand it over to the waiting ostler as an excuse to escape Miss Rowe and her unwelcome allure.
Then, even though he was as dead on his feet himself after nine hours of riding, he decided to brush the horse down himself too, rather than follow her into the inn and pine futilely some more. Yet still, to his chagrin, he pined anyway.
Then there was blasted Plymouth!
They would be there tomorrow, so that level of dread was high. He had barely set a foot there since Elizabeth. Although his loathing of the place had started before she had turned him into a pitiable laughingstock. Before her, he only ever returned if the admiral ordered it or whatever ship he was on sailed there. Since his grandfather and parents had passed, Flora only ever managed to get him to come nowadays after so much incessant nagging that he ran out of excuses. It was so much simpler to allow Flora to believe that his broken heart made it difficult to return when the truth was that Plymouth, and most especially Cawsand, always reminded him too much of all the chaos he had been so relieved to escape for the navy. But those awful memories were still there waiting for him now. Those and the whole heap of fresh, chaotic hell that would come from readying the bloody Boadicea.
Lord, how he loathed blasted Plymouth!
“Felix!” Of course only Miss Rowe’s voice could snap him out of his self-pitying reverie. “Felix, where are you?” She was outside in the stable yard and heading his way. He knew that because his nerves danced at the proximity. “Is Felix in here with you?”
With great reluctance, he paused in his brushing to answer so that he could shutter all the need in his eyes before he looked at her. “No.” Braced, he turned and tried to appear like a concerned uncle rather than a drowning man who desperately wanted to cling to something that looked alarmingly like her. “The last I saw of him was in the yard a few minutes ago. Sulking.”
She got a pretty wrinkle on her nose whenever she was perturbed that begged to be smoothed with a kiss. “If that boy has disobeyed my express instructions and taken that dog out alone, I shall not be responsible for my actions!”
She disappeared back into the yard again to call for the boy, only to return after a few minutes, looking worried. “I’d go out hunting for him but there are woods in every direction, so I have no clue which way the wretch has gone.”
“It’s only been a quarter of an hour so he can’t have gone far, and he’s tired and Norbert is bound to be starving, so I doubt they’ll be gone long.” As this, however, seemed to be one of those irritating situations that he, as a diligent uncle, could not ignore, even when drowning in a pit of irrational despair, Harry tossed down the brush to follow her back outside. “You go this way and I’ll go that.” He pointed to the two areas of woodland on either side of the road. “Norbert will need a tree to do his business against, as heaven forbid that useless mutt ever lift his leg without one, and he’s been cooped up in a carriage for three hours so he’s bound to need the nearest.”
They immediately parted ways, which suited Harry just fine. The less time he spent in Miss Rowe’s intoxicating presence, the better. He spent twenty minutes searching in his allotted woods, which turned out to be more a small copse than a forest, and then returned to the inn, convinced he would see the contrite scamp already there with Miss Rowe and a flea in his ear. But she wasn’t there either.
He checked inside, and when nobody had seen hide nor hair of either of them, nabbed Simpkins to help. As they arrived in the stable yard, a rather panicked Miss Rowe returned.
“Any sign?”
Harry shook his head. “I’ve searched every inch of that little wood and there is no sign.”
“I ventured as far into the other one as I dared.” She pointed to it. “I went at least a half a mile in, but it is too vast for one person to search effectively and it’s too dense and uneven around the river to maneuver with ease.”
“There’s a river?” That complicated matters, and not in a good way.
She nodded gravely. “Not a big one, but its lively enough to be of concern.”
With his own panic rising now that the sun was setting, Harry tried to think. “If he’s got himself lost, we need to find him before it gets dark.” Out here, in the middle of nowhere, they both knew it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. “I dread to think how he’ll cope out in the wilderness alone all night.”
“I am sure the wretch will cope far better than those who have to hunt for him will.” Miss Rowe was justifiably angry. “As he apparently camps out overnight at home all the time with his dog.”
“He does?” That was news to Harry.
“He can even light a fire, or so he claims. So as long as he hasn’t hurt himself and has the common sense to stay where he is and await rescue, Norbert will look after the rest. That dog would give his life for your troublesome nephew. Felix saved his, after all.”
“He did?” There seemed to be huge swaths of his nephew’s recent life that Harry had somehow missed because he had been too busy with work to notice, and that added another layer of guilt to the heavy pack on his shoulder. “How?”
“Young Master Felix apparently found that scabrous bag of fleas half-starved and washed up on the beach like a drowned rat a couple of months ago.” Even Simpkins, who had no particular fondness for either the children or their dog, seemed to know more about Harry’s kith and kin than he now did, and that brought him up short. They might all be as mad as hatters and as irritating as an itchy rash, but his family were everything to him. Or had been before the Admiralty had clearly taken over his life. Suddenly, he simultaneously resented and felt ashamed at that intrusion. It also went straight to the top of his list of problems to fix. “So close to death that he had to find a couple of fishermen to help carry the wretched beast home, where he hand-fed him and nursed him back to health.” His trusty right-hand slapped him on the back in manly reassurance. “Georgie is right.” Oh, she was Georgie to him, now was she? And how pathetic was Harry for being jealous at that too? “Norbert won’t let anything bad happen to Felix. I daresay if something had, he’d have come right back here to fetch us. That dog might well be a crazed menace, but he’s got a compass inside his head that would rival any sailor’s.”
When Georgie and Harry simultaneously turned to him, quizzical, to explain how he knew that bizarre tidbit, he shrugged. “I’ll admit I might have tried to lose him in Hyde Park during one particularly trying walk and the bugger still beat me home.”
“Well, that’s something.” Not much, but enough to give Harry hope that all was not lost. “Even if it means we are putting all our trust in blasted Norbert.”
Rather than run around like headless chickens after a second search in the larger woods again proved fruitless, Harry organized a proper search party as soon as they regrouped at the inn.
Thankfully, as the London-to-Exeter post had overnighted here too, there were a couple of extra men to add to the motley group who gathered in the stable yard with lanterns. After a short and heated battle, which Harry lost, Miss Rowe refused to wait at the inn and insisted on joining the search. As the only woman, and as he was—ironically—the only man he trusted with her safety, he then had to insist that she stay close to him for the duration.
Split into two groups, and with the reluctant and put-upon innkeeper and his ostlers in Harry’s, they headed toward the river that formed a natural barrier. One he hoped that even the reckless Felix wouldn’t have attempted to cross.
But as the minutes stretched to an hour and there was still no sign of Felix, the darkness cloaked them. Then when the heavens decided to open to soak them, making every step more treacherous, it became clear that Harry’s sensible and thorough plan was in jeopardy because the stench of mutiny was in the air.