Chapter 3
Istill do not understand why we were invited. Do you know Mrs. Seymour?”
Henry glanced over at his sister’s expectant expression through hooded eyes.
His stomach rolled unpleasantly with the waves beneath the ship.
They were making good time and would arrive earlier than anticipated, but it was not early enough for Henry.
He wanted—needed—to be on dry land now. He gripped the ship’s railing, leaning his head over to see the sea as it rolled beneath them.
One of the sailors had said watching the water would help.
It was not helping.
“I do not. But—” He cut himself off, his stomach lurching with a particularly raucous wave.
Julia didn’t seem to notice. “Then it makes a thimble-sized amount of sense that we were invited. Henry, is this wise?”
Henry sighed, straightening his arms that braced against the ship’s railing and taking an unsteady breath through his nose.
“I certainly hope so, as we should arrive within the day. And we have been traveling for several days now. If there were questions to be had, we ought to have considered them before now.”
Julia speared him with a glare. “I have considered them. You have simply not been listening to me.”
“You may be right there,” Henry muttered, pressing a hand to his midsection.
Travel by carriage was torture, but travel by ship surpassed all—a fact he’d conveniently forgotten in his six years on English soil.
He’d crossed the Channel many a time in his previous work, but it was far worse now.
It may turn out that bloodthirsty pirates had overrun the island, and he would still wish to stay at least through the week.
Anything to keep his feet on solid ground.
Though his nausea was arguably due to the task ahead of him. He’d not worked as a spy for six years. How could he expect to succeed now?
Julia made a sound of exasperation. “Henry, listen to me. You have dragged me from London at a most inopportune time.”
“London in the summer is miserable. I thought you would be happy.”
“I was rather busy.”
He risked a look her way. “With what?”
She folded her arms, her hair blowing in the wind.
Her hair was lighter than his by several shades, eyes gray while Henry’s were blue, but the family resemblance was still there between them.
She was also half a decade younger than Henry’s twenty-nine years, but sometimes with that way she was watching him, she appeared a much, much older sister.
Had he done that? Had she been forced to grow up early due to his—no, she was unaware of the truth of their circumstances.
To others, it may seem odd that he could keep something so astronomical from her, but Julia was, as she said, often busy.
Often staying with friends. And outside of a raised brow when she saw their new address in London, she did not ask many questions.
She simply wasn’t the inquisitive sort. Only Henry had gained that particular trait from their father, thank goodness.
“Never mind that. The point of the matter is that you cannot—Are you even listening to me?”
He’d turned back to the waves. “I can assure you that you have at least eighteen percent of my attention just now,” he said, pressing a fist to his mouth.
“You are impossible, Henry.”
Henry nodded. “I know, but it is your lot in life to be stuck with me. Though, perhaps your luck is soon to change.” He turned to face her, though his stomach again protested. He’d put off this conversation, but they needed to have it.
Life had taught Henry one thing: things did not always work out as planned.
In fact, they rarely did. Should Henry fail at uncovering the source of piracy on the island, he and Julia would return to London in worse shape than they’d left.
Hastings would be at their door, and his father’s killer would still be loose.
Henry could not allow Julia to be the worse for any of it.
So he needed a backup plan to keep her safe from his inevitable ruin—one that included settling his sister with one of the plentiful eligible men that would be at this house party.
“Listen, Julia. You will have many opportunities this summer.”
She planted hands on her hips. “Opportunities?”
“For . . . ”
Her expression was already growing thunderous. This was going well.
“Marriage,” he finished lamely.
“No.” Her chin was tilted up in defiance. As if she were eight years old again and Nurse was telling her it was time for bed. But instead she was twenty and three, and the stakes were much, much higher.
Was this the moment to come clean? Should he tell her how dire their situation was with Hastings?
That if he discovered where Henry had run off to, they could be ruined.
Could he burden her with the real reason their father had died?
And tell her that should Henry fail, he could meet the same end?
All these years he’d wanted to spare her the stress he faced.
The shame. That had kept him tight-lipped, but if she knew . . .
No. She’d been left to Henry’s charge, and he would not put the burden of that knowledge on her. If she’d only marry, she would never have to know how close they’d come to ruination. She would never have to envision Father’s final, gruesome moments.
“Come now, Julia, I am not telling you I intend to marry you off.” He did. But he wasn’t telling her that. “Only . . . keep an open mind.”
“No. You know how I feel about marriage.”
He leaned closer, hand tightening on the ship’s railing. “That was years ago, Julia. You cannot let that man ruin your future.”
“I will grow old and keep your house for you,” she added, skating over his words as if the ocean wind had stolen each syllable, and she’d not heard them. As if that were the end of it.
Henry wouldn’t have a house for her keeping much longer. He’d already rented their country estate, not that she knew. “And if I marry?”
“I’ll become a companion. Or a governess.”
That might be even worse than Society learning that she was entirely ruined financially. All her opportunities and freedom would be gone. Their parents would have been devastated by such a thing. “Our father did not become a baronet so that you might be a lowly governess.”
“Our father is not here to argue the matter.”
Henry’s knuckles grew white. “But I am.”
She gave him the sort of scathing look only a sister could manage. “Do not fool yourself, Henry.”
“What does that mean?” For a moment, his roiling stomach was forgotten.
Her cheeks were tinged pink with the effect of her rage. Coupled with the wind pulling loose hairs to fly about her head, she looked nearly crazed. “You are the furthest thing from a parent. Heavens, I am more of a parent to you.”
Henry was stunned into speechlessness. Everything he did was for Julia. He had worked for years to keep her in some semblance of comfort. Had forgone entire meals. Had dismissed his manservant so they might keep her maid. How could she feel this way?
Possibly because he’d never told her any of that.
She did not wait for him to respond. “Forget your plans, Henry. I will enjoy our little holiday on the island, but I have no intention of marrying. Not this summer. Not ever.”
She was halfway across the deck before he could even blink. What had just happened? Yes, he’d anticipated she would be upset; her past had made broaching the subject of marriage difficult for some time. But this? This was far more. She’d very nearly seemed bitter. Because of him?
The turning of his stomach sent him stumbling back to the rail, but his mind could not abandon the subject.
He’d spent the last several years desperately working to fix his mistakes so that Julia would not be affected.
It was clear in that moment that he’d failed miserably even so.
She might not know about their near financial ruin, or their father’s murder, but she was more than aware of his shortcomings.
Even more reason to get her married. She deserved to be cared for in a way that he was incapable. This summer, whether she liked it or not, he would see to it that she was safe from him and the mess he’d created.
Henry stumbled from the gangplank, his stomach roiling dangerously.
Workers and sailors stepped from his path as he weaved down the dock, stopping to brace himself against a pile of crates, desperately hoping his stomach would quickly discover that he was no longer on the water. He squeezed his eyes shut.
“I am never traveling by boat again,” he muttered as light steps approached from behind. Blasted, blasted form of transportation.
“We need to hire a carriage,” Julia said to his back.
Henry nodded, blinking several times and dragging air through his nose. “Yes. I will procure one for you. In a moment.”
“For me? And what do you intend to do?”
He turned, pulling in another breath. Gads it smelled terrible down here. Of fish and unwashed men. Nausea rioted within him.
“I will walk.”
His sister raised a single brow. “Walk?”
He nodded, scanning behind her for their trunks. There they were, dropped unceremoniously at the edge of the dock. From his research, he knew there was an inn not far from them. He should be able to hire a coach for Julia there.
He pressed a hand to his still-unsettled midsection.
“Yes. I refuse to reenter a moving vehicle just now. In fact, I may have just sworn off transportation forever.” Also, remaining on foot would allow him to speak with some of the townsfolk before being caught up in the house party.
If the piracy originated on the island, it would not be the guests of the party employed by the Gentleman Pirate, but the layperson.
If it was a threat from off the island, the townsfolk would have gossip aplenty to share.
He began to walk up the road, past the small cottages clustered near the water.
He’d send someone down to get their things once he had hired a coach.