Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
ROWEN
The seal broken, the Admiralty dispatch lay open on his desk. The documents he’d requested were spread before him.
A knock sounded at his door. “Enter.”
Instead of Morgan bringing him a carafe of brandy, which he’d asked him for, it was his wife.
Without uttering a word, Zandra went to the sideboard and poured the spirit into a glass, as well as one for herself.
“Tell me, Zandra, your uncle Alastair, he was in the navy in his youth?”
“He was, yes. For a brief, brilliant run in the Caribbean as a ship’s lieutenant.
” She brought their brandies and sat in the chair by his desk.
“My brother adored his tales of battles at sea, smugglers and pirates, and hidden cargo. And then I would make Tristan share them with me.” She paused a moment, then laughed to herself.
“What is it?” He drank.
“There’s a small lake at Redthorne, and Tristan and I would play naval battles there. Uncle was most proud. Once, he created tiny boats out of folded paper for me, and together we set them sail on the lake.” Her brow furrowed for a moment. “I think that was the only kind thing we’d ever shared.”
He swallowed more brandy. Even monsters could be gentle.
She took a sip of her drink. “Tristan was always the captain, and I’d be the poor sailor, taking all his orders.”
Rowen forced himself to smile, but his lips remained stiff. “I wager you fancied yourself a pirate or a smuggler?”
“I did, indeed. And then I would board the Resolute and take her for myself.”
His hand stilled around the glass. “The Resolute?”
“The ship Uncle served on. He spoke of it endlessly when we were children. Said it was where men became legends.” She swirled the brandy in her glass. “That’s what Tristan wanted—to be a daring warrior in perilous adventures. Like Uncle’s stories of his adventures in St. Eustatius.”
“St. Eustatius…” Rowen wiped at the corner of his mouth. “The island where every kind of fortune and contraband flowed more freely than the law.”
Her eyes lit up. “Uncle would call the island ‘The Golden Rock.’”
“Since Alastair enjoyed his naval career so much, why did he choose to leave it?”
“Choose to leave it?”
“He resigned.”
Her head tilted, the soft look of nostalgia gone. “He never said so. He never said anything. Tristan and I assumed his commission had run its course, and then he pursued other interests.”
“Women and gambling?”
Cassandra placed her glass on the desk. “How do you know he resigned?”
“From this Admiralty record of a violent incident in 1768.” Rowen tapped on the document before him. “After this, he resigned his commission.”
“What kind of violent incident?”
“The Resolute intercepted a vessel near St. Eustatius—a Dutch free port. Ships of every nation traded there, yet this ship was declared hostile, and it should not have been.” He slid the document to her. “But the captain of the Resolute seized it anyway.”
She skimmed the report, her eyes widening. “Lord Enggers was the captain?”
“He was. There was an exchange of fire with the vessel. An English lieutenant died.”
“In the course of battle?” she asked.
“So the report claims.” He brought his hands together. “But a sailor testified the English lieutenant was cut down before the ship was scuttled. Then once they reached port, the witness vanished. There was no inquiry. No court-martial. And, of course, no accounting of cargo.”
“Of course not. And my uncle?”
“Resigned shortly after.”
Her eyes darkened. “And Enggers?”
“Promoted to another ship.” Rowen leaned back in his chair. “That night, an opportunity was plucked, and profit was made in blood and silence. And those two have kept each other’s secrets ever since.”
“As well as a share of that lost cargo?” Cassandra searched the document once more.
“I have no doubt.”
Rowen rubbed a hand down his face. Tristan had told him that his uncle had secured him his commission through a friend of his in the Navy, a commander. Enggers had become a commander.
Rowen took another swallow of brandy. “You never met Enggers before we married?”
“Never. He may have come to Redthorne, but when guests came, I was locked in my chamber.”
“Whatever occurred that night in the Caribbean may have divided Enggers and Alastair in appearance, yet it bound them together all the more closely. If one is exposed, the other falls with him.”
“This did not end their alliance,” murmured Cassandra. “Obviously, Enggers knew of my uncle’s masquerade as a French Comte and preserved the fiction. They must have maintained communication all these years, even whilst my uncle lived in France.”
“Of course, Enggers is acquainted with the Duchess of Oakley…yet he never knew his friend’s niece.
” Rowen’s hand fell slowly from his chin.
“When Le Comte saw you in Jersey, he acted at once. He attempted to kill you, and in doing so delivered me a bitter message. By now he knows that you survived his poison and quit the island directly.” His sharp gaze met hers. “I am quite sure that he will—”
She laid her hand over his. “Rowen, we must preserve the secret of the child. Of our being at Tidesfar. After breakfast, Georgina paid a visit, hoping I was here, but Morgan did as we’d asked. He refused her, saying I was in the north at Greywick. I do not regret the lie.”
Rowen took her hand in his. “You and the child shall remain here in seclusion for another fortnight. Then the christening shall be held here.”
“The christening? Here?”
“At Tidesfar chapel.” His fingers stroked slowly over her pulse.
“I shall send for Edmund at once. We shall say you were in confinement at Greywick, where the child was born, and that he travelled with you and the babe to Tidesfar thereafter. I shall also write to Uncle and Aunt and have them come with Edmund. Only they three shall know the truth.”
“Only them.”
Rowen’s eyes narrowed. “And I shall invite our cousin Arthur and Lady Marjorie to attend.”
“A family christening,” she whispered as though awed by the magnitude of it.
By its significance.
“All the family must be present for such a great occasion.”
Their fingers threaded together, the decision sealing within him like wax pressed beneath his signet.
“Let the world speculate as it pleases, let every whisper come. This child will stand in this house as what he is.” Rowen’s voice hardened. “An Oakley.”