Sebastian sighed and drew her back down to him. “I don’t know. Perhaps when we find out who he was, we’ll have the answer.”
FRIDAY, 20 SEPTEMBER 1811
The next day, Sebastian was reading the
“Is something wrong with the eggs, my lord?” asked his majordomo, starting forward.
“What?” Sebastian looked up, puzzled. “Oh. No, the eggs are fine, Morey. Thank you.”
Shoving the plate aside, Sebastian turned his attention to the news article on page three: RETIRED GREENWICH SEA CAPTAIN FOUND DEAD IN RIVER.
The church bells were tolling a death knell when Sebastian drove into the outskirts of Greenwich.
Leaving the chestnuts in Tom’s care, Sebastian let himself in the garden gate at the end of the long walk. He glanced up at the spreading limbs of the old oak, but the child Francesca was not there today.
With an oddly troubled heart, he mounted the steps to the house. He half expected the Captain’s young widow to decline to see him. But he sent up the name he’d given her before, Mr. Simon Taylor, and after a few moments, the little housemaid Gilly returned to tell him Mrs. Bellamy would receive him.
She half sat, half lay upon a sofa drawn up so she could look out over the gleaming expanse of the river sliding past the house. At Sebastian’s appearance, she tucked the black-edged handkerchief she’d been clutching up her sleeve. The ravages left by her tears were obvious.
“My apologies for intruding upon you at such a time,” said Sebastian, bowing over her hand. “Please accept my condolences for your newest loss.”
She did not seem to notice the subtle differences in his appearance and attire. She simply nodded, swallowing as if unable to speak for a moment, then gestured to a nearby chair. “Plees have a seat, Mr. Taylor. What may I do for you?”
Sebastian hesitated. According to the article in the
He said instead, “What can you tell me about your husband’s last voyage, on the
The question did not seem to surprise her. She brought up one fist to press her knuckles against her lips, and Sebastian found himself wondering how much of the truth the Captain had confided to his wife. “It preyed upon him always, that voyage,” she said in a strained voice. “Not simply the loss of the ship, but the mutiny of the crew and those long, horrible days without food. He never got over it.”
“It ruined his career,” said Sebastian.
“Yes. But I often thought there was more to it than that. Such terrible dreams he would have. He’d wake up screaming, as if he’d looked into the very jaws of hell, calling that poor boy’s name.”
“What boy?” Sebastian asked sharply.
“Gideon, the cabin boy.” She hesitated, then shook her head. “If I ever knew his last name, I’ve forgotten it. He died, you see, before they were rescued.”
“What about the other young man who died? David Jarvis. Did your husband ever mention him?”
“Sometimes. But not nearly so often. I believe Gideon reminded my husband of Adrian at that age. I often thought my husband blamed himself for the boy’s death.”
“Why is that?”
She looked confused. “Because he failed to keep the boy out of harm’s way, I suppose.”
She pleated the skirt of her mourning gown with shaking fingers. “He’d been particularly obsessed about the cabin boy’s death these past few months.” She hesitated, then added softly, “He began drinking far more heavily than before.”
“Was he drinking heavily last night?”
She nodded, her lips pressed tightly together. Sebastian watched her swing her head away to stare out over the river. He supposed it was possible the old Captain had staggered into the river and been too drunk to haul himself out. But Sebastian doubted it.
“What will you do now?” he asked her. “Return to Brazil?”
She shook her head. “My father disowned me when I married Bellamy and followed him here to England. Besides, this is the only home Francesca has ever known.”
“How is she taking it?”
The widow sighed. “Badly. First Adrian, now her father. It’s too much.”
Rising, Sebastian slipped one of his cards from his pocket and laid it on the table. “If there is anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to contact me.” Of course, the name on the card—his own name and title—did not match the name he had given her. But now was not the time to explain it to her.
“I’ll see myself out,” he said, and left her still staring silently out the window.
At the gate, he glanced back at the house’s crepe-draped facade. He saw a flash at one of the third-story nursery windows—a child’s pale face pressed for an instant against the panes. Then it was gone.
Sebastian was in his library, glancing through the credentials of another round of applicants for the position of valet, when Morey knocked discreetly at the door.
“A young lady to see you, my lord.”
Sebastian looked up in surprise. “A young lady?”
“Yes, my lord.”
For a lady of quality to visit the home of an unmarried man was considered a serious breach of etiquette. Sebastian pushed to his feet. “Show her in immediately.”
A tall young woman wearing a heavy veil swept into the room. She waited until the majordomo had bowed himself out, then thrust back her veil to reveal the no-nonsense features of Miss Hero Jarvis.
“Good God,” said Sebastian before he could stop himself.
A breath of amusement flickered across her face. “Just so,” she said crisply, jerking off her fine kid gloves. “Believe me, Lord Devlin, I am as appalled to be here as you are to have me. However, when I considered the alternatives, it soon became apparent that this was by far the simplest course. No one who knows either of us will give a moment’s serious credence to any rumors that may arise should my visit here become known, which it will not. My maid awaits me in the entrance hall.”
Sebastian blinked, then stretched out one hand to indicate the nearest sofa. “Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you, but I have no intention of tarrying longer than necessary.” Untying the strings of her reticule, she drew forth several sheets of paper, folded and worn as if with repeated readings.
“What is that?” he asked warily.
She held the folded pages out to him. “A letter written by my brother, David, and mailed from Cape Town. The
Taking the letter from her hand, he flipped it open.
To his surprise, she tweaked the letter from his grasp. “I’m not. I simply thought it best that you actually see it so that you would have no doubt as to its existence. What I am giving you is this.” She drew another paper from her reticule. This time, he took it promptly.
