Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
Her father, oblivious to the shattering of her world, beamed. “That would be wonderful. When do we leave?”
Samantha took a deep breath. “Now.”
Abigail leaned in, voice dropped for Samantha alone. “Surely, you don’t want my father aboard. Not after…”
Samantha’s smile was small and edged with steel. “Oh, I want him very much. I’m sure Christian will relish the opportunity to interrogate him at leisure.” A shiver passed down Abigail’s spine at the soft menace in her friend’s tone.
Warstein glanced up from his untouched coffee. “Moreau, you don’t mind escorting them, do you? I have a business meeting to attend. And your au—Eloise is already at the dock. I’m sure she will be grateful to see you.”
Lucien’s jaw locked so tight she heard the faint click of his teeth. A muscle twitched in his cheek, and something dark flared in his eyes, before being smothered just as fast. He bowed. “Of course.”
The ride to the waterfront passed in a blur of sun and noise. Abigail sat rigid beside her father, eyes unfocused, watching the city drift by without really seeing it. Every jolt of the wheels rattled the hollow space inside her chest.
It didn’t help that Lucien sat opposite her, knees almost brushing hers. Hands braced on his thighs, he kept his gaze fixed on the floorboards as though they might open and swallow him whole.
The wagon lurched to a halt at the edge of the docks.
The Siren rose ahead, sleek and ready for departure, rigging singing in the river breeze.
Lucien handed Samantha down with careful, impersonal courtesy.
He turned to Josephine, grip firm, eyes distant.
Then, he turned and followed them toward the waiting gangplank.
He never looked at Abigail. Her father cleared his throat, and she turned to find him waiting.
With a tight exhale, she took the offered hand and stepped to the ground.
Lucien stopped at the top of the wharf and let them continue on.
As she passed, Abigail paused, breath tangling in her throat.
She waited a heartbeat, two, for him to meet her eyes, for some crack in his resolve—for a silent plea to stay.
But he kept his face turned down, jaw locked, lower lip caught hard between his teeth.
With a swallowed sob, she tore her gaze from him and staggered toward the gangplank, where her father had already followed her friends up. She braced her hands on the guidelines, her feet grinding to a halt.
No.
This couldn’t be how it ended.
Not with silence and averted eyes.
She spun, skirts twisting around her ankles.
But Lucien was gone.
“Abigail?”
She froze as Eloise hurried toward her along the wharf’s edge. Wet trails streamed down her cheeks. Abigail’s heart caught at the sight of the dark frigate moored several spots down. The Vengeance.
“I thought you had left yesterday with that gentleman, Ainsley?”
Abigail summoned a tight smile. “Mr. Ainsley and I discovered we were not suited for each other.”
“So, he wasn’t deserving of your heart after all?”
Abigail could only shake her head. She willed her voice to steady. “What about you?” Her gaze flicked to Thorne’s ship. “What have you decided?”
“I need to pack my things, settle my affairs here in New Orleans. Say proper goodbyes.” Her eyes flicked to where Warstein’s wagon still waited.
“But I’ll follow you to Savannah shortly.
Christian will need me—if he can ever forgive me.
Heaven knows I have decades worth of transgressions to make up. ”
“And Thorne?” Abigail couldn’t help glancing at his ship once more. “What will he do?”
Eloise’s expression softened. “James has many demons to face. He’s agreed to stay away until he’s come to terms with them—until he’s ready to face forgiveness.” She blew out her breath. “And I’ll be there when he is.”
Abigail nodded without fully listening, the words sliding past like water around a sinking stone. Everything inside her felt hollow, scraped out.
Eloise drew back, searching her face. “Why do you look so miserable?”
Her throat tightened, but the truth pressed forward, fragile and humiliating. “I thought Lucien cared. I thought—” Her lips trembled. “I thought I finally found someone who saw me. Who loved me. Who…” Her gaze dropped to the dirt at her feet. “Who swept me away.”
A tear slipped free before she could stop it.
“Oh, honey…” Eloise’s voice was tender, breaking in the middle. “I’ve known the boy nearly his whole life. He didn’t let you go because he doesn’t love you.”
Abigail’s breath stalled.
“He let you go because he does. Because he loves you so much, he’d sacrifice every ounce of his happiness to secure yours.”
The words struck Abigail like a physical blow—jarring enough to steal her breath, deep enough to leave her unsteady. Her heart lurched painfully, hope flaring so violently it burned.
She sniffed, swiping at damp cheeks. “You didn’t see the way he ignored me just now. Acted like I wasn’t even there.” A fresh sob broke forth. “He didn’t even say goodbye.”
“No.” Eloise’s eyes flashed with certainty. “I did see. I saw a man fighting for control. Fighting not to drag you back into his arms in front of half the city.”
Abigail shook her head as a fresh wave of tears broke free. “I didn’t.”
“I must go,” Eloise reached for her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “But you, my dear, you decide what your heart can—and can’t—live without.”
With a gentle smile, she turned and made her way toward the stairs leading to the street above.
Abigail stepped onto the gangplank, legs stiff.
Each footfall felt like one more board sealed over something precious and still breathing.
The breeze caught at her hair, tugging a tendril loose, and the Siren shifted on her last step, the ship accepting her with a gentle roll.
At the helm, Christian stood straight-backed, one hand on the wheel, Samantha at his side.
Her gaze searched for Josephine’s bright-yellow dress, but she must have gone below.
Sails cracked open above her, filling with the breeze, and Abigail’s knees nearly buckled as the ship eased away from the dock.
She stumbled to the rail and peered over the edge.
Her hands dug into the wood to anchor herself as water churned between the hull and the wharf.
A gull cried overhead as the schooner heeled into her course.
She leaned out, hair whipping across her face, eyes burning as she searched the shrinking crowd for one dark head, one pair of storm-gray eyes.
Nothing.
The dock began to shrink into a cluster of shapes—men, crates, wagons, the uneven line of buildings beyond.
Abigail’s vision blurred.
Ahead lay Savannah.
Behind her—still somewhere on that dock—was everything she wanted and yet could not have.
Her father appeared at her elbow, gazing back at the slowly receding wharf. “I’ll be happy to never set my eyes on this despicable place again.”
With a deep breath, she turned to face him, putting her burning question to words.
“Is it true?” She stared at the man she had always adored, always thought to be so upstanding. “You ordered Eloise’s death?”
He waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” His jaw ticked as he stared up the river, avoiding meeting her eyes.
She took a small step back. “Of course it matters. People died because of it.”
“What matters is that we survived and that bastard won’t be bothering us anymore.”
“Do you truly feel no remorse?”
“Look, my darling, you wouldn’t understand. Too few people do. Above all, war is business. I did what was needed for our family to prosper.”
She hugged her arms around her waist. “By selling information to the British, betraying your country, your friends?”
His face curdled, eyes flashing. “Don’t ever speak those words aloud again.” He turned on his heel and strode away, dismissing her as easily as he had dismissed his conscience.
Alone, the truth unspooled inside her like a like a thread pulled from a hidden seam. Everything that had felt like home—the smooth certainty of Savannah’s streets, the polite commerce, the feeling of belonging—was stained now with purchase and bargain.
Sometimes, home isn’t a place.
She held her palm to her sternum, exactly where Lucien had pressed his finger as he spoke the words.
Sometimes, it’s here.
The ache rose so swiftly her vision swam. No. She wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of the crew.
Abigail shoved away from the rail and fled for the companionway, her steps too fast, too desperate. She didn’t know where she intended to go—only that she needed walls, corners, shadows. Somewhere to come apart unseen.
She didn’t make it past the mainmast.