Chapter Fifteen #2
“Oh God.” Josephine’s eyes widened, a flush spreading across her tanned cheeks. “With everything that happened on shore, I didn’t get a chance to tell you. And then I was so excited you were coming with us, I forgot altogether.”
Abigail glanced between her and Samantha who looked positively radiant with triumph. “Tell me what?”
The blush deepened, but Josephine beamed from ear to ear. “Isaac and I got married!”
“Married?” Abigail’s mouth fell open. It had scarcely been two months since Josephine had slipped out of her window to stow away on the lieutenant’s ship. “It worked?”
Josephine gave a little laugh, eyes shining. “Well, not the way I thought it would, but somehow it happened, all at once.”
She laughed, her happiness bright and unguarded, and Abigail couldn’t help but smile with her.
Yet beneath the warmth of it, something inside her twisted.
An ache settled in her chest as she tried to summon the image of Mr. Ainsley.
But his face wavered, and instead the fiery determination of Mr. Moreau’s gaze flashed across her mind.
She drew in a slow breath, willing it away.
Foolish. Impossible. And yet her pulse refused to listen.
Josephine fussed over her, tugging at the sleeves, the blouse a foreign and featherlight weight against her skin. She fastened the buttons on the kid leather breeches. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to them.”
Abigail stared in the mirror, a manic laugh building in her chest. “I look…”
Samantha grinned. “You look ravishing. I can’t wait to see Mr. Moreau’s face when he sees you like that.”
Heat climbed Abigail’s neck. She shouldn’t care what he thought. But she did—far more than she ought to.
A knowing look passed over Samantha’s face. “So, how’s it feel?”
She adjusted the blouse. “Utterly mortifying.”
Samantha’s laugh rang through the cabin. “Not the clothes, being rescued by a dashing man.”
A distant memory flashed of a ballroom, a glittering dress, her hopelessly romantic perception of Samantha’s rescue by Christian. “Not quite as I imagined it,” she admitted softly.
“It never is.” The laughter left Samantha’s voice as she stared out the window. “It changes you. Even if you don’t realize it at the time.”
Abigail turned to her friend, the question that had been burning in her gut since the beach finally loosening. “Why is Christian working with Thorne?”
Samantha’s expression darkened and her gaze went to Josephine, who stood silent. “If I tell you, you need to understand, the information can never leave our circle.”
Abigail nodded, though a tight knot formed in her stomach.
Samantha exhaled. “Thorne is Christian’s father.”
The walls around them seemed to close in as Abigail recoiled “No. It can’t be true.”
But neither Samantha nor Josephine denied it.
She took a shaky step back, horror rippling through her. “But you said… he killed your parents.”
“He did.”
The soft words left no room for doubt.
“What are you going to do?”
Samantha’s eyes narrowed. “Make him see the error of his ways. I won’t let him go down the same path as his father. Vengeance is never just vengeance, it poisons everything it touches—including the person wielding it. I refuse to let it claim him too.”
Vengeance.
Against her father.
“Samantha?” Her friend’s name slipped out in a hoarse whisper. “My father. Is it true? Did he do the things Thorne said he did?”
Samantha pressed her eyes shut, but gave a tight nod. “I’m afraid so.”
Abigail struggled to take her next breath. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Josephine set a hand on her forearm. “We had only just found out ourselves when Thorne came for you in Savannah. There was no time.”
“There’s a small chance we are wrong. Until we know for sure… we must proceed with caution where he’s concerned.” Samantha wiped her palms on her breeches. “I need to get back to the helm. Why don’t you come and get some fresh air? You look a little pale.”
Abigail hesitated. The thought of stepping outside dressed like this—facing the crew, the sunlight, the open sea—made her insides twist. “I think I’ll stay here a while.”
Samantha studied her for a moment, then gave a small, approving smile. “I will say, you’re handling this all much better than I expected.”
Abigail swallowed. “Everything that has happened…” She pulled her lip between her teeth. “It has put life into a different perspective.”
“Try to get some rest.” Samantha gave her arm a gentle squeeze before she and Josephine slipped outside.
When the door closed, Abigail sank into a chair and the full weight of the revelation bore down on her.
Thorne. Christian. Her father. The names tangled in her mind as she tried to make sense of how many lives her father had ruined.
Her thoughts scattered, unable to settle on anything solid as bile burned up her throat.
Without the distraction of her friends, each rise and fall of the ship sent a new wave of nausea rippling through her.
Not just from seasickness. After a particularly heavy swell, she doubled over, steadying herself with one hand against the desk.
She remembered Mr. Moreau’s advice, and how being outside had eased the stubborn queasiness.
Standing, she took shaky steps toward the door.
Just a few minutes. Enough to ease the sickness. Enough to clear her mind. Then she would retreat back to the privacy of the cabin. If she was lucky, no one would see her.
She eased the door open and stepped out.
The breeze tangled in her hair and tugged at the loose blouse.
Her breeches—dear heaven. She couldn’t look down without blushing.
Josephine stood next to Samantha at the helm, and she nearly turned that way.
No. Burdening them with her seasickness would be unfair after all they had done.