“Not me. We.”
“My sister will not be digging up anything,” Nathanial told him with a finger wagging.
Darius wanted to break that irritating finger off but he kept his gaze on Eliza, his hand on hers, his thoughts and pulse racing. “I need to go to London tomorrow to collect the dowry but the bankers will want a letter from your father, or at the very least a marriage contract. My men have been trying to forge his handwriting from the other letters but aren’t doing a very good job of it. I take it you’ve had practice?”
Her eyes widened and she tried once again to pull away. Darius smiled. The little minx was no innocent angel. He saved her the need to comment. “I only meant that someone had to sign his notes when they repaid his debts. If not you, Gabriella? Nathanial?”
It was illegal and they both knew it. Everything they had done was so far outside of the law, but for her, a duke’s daughter, she would be forgiven. For him, a bastard and now a foreigner, he would be hanged.
Her head tipped forward in defeat and shame. “I can do it.”
Darius dropped her hand and stood up straight, forcing a smile to his lips. “Excellent. You stay here and help Marcus with that and Nathanial can come and help the rest of us burn a corpse.” That should cool his ardour for the time being. Eliza he would have to deal with upon his return.
Her head snapped up at exactly the moment Darius knew it would. She took several half-breaths and then went to stand in front of her brother, shielding him with her tiny body. “You cannot ask him to do that.”
“I’m not asking.”
“He’ll never erase the experience from his memories.”
Darius shook his head. “None of us will but if my men and I have to get our hands dirty, then so shall he.”
“I’m not afraid,” Nathanial said.
Darius chuckled. “Afraid? Of a dead man? You should be more worried about the state of your breakfast and what it will look like when it comes back up.”
Eliza blanched, her cheeks deathly pale as she reached out a steadying hand to the cold stone of the building, the other on her own stomach.
These children weren’t children anymore. They had to know there were consequences for their actions. Only in the remotest, wildest parts of the planet could you bury a man in a shallow grave and not expect him to rise in some way or another. Dead men told secrets in their own distinct fashion—Darius had seen it before in Boston and aboard ship. He wondered what the Duke of Penfold would have to say when they unearthed him…
*
Three very long hours later, Eliza sat at a small desk, her fingers stained black from the ink, smudges across her cheeks and forehead. Pushing her hair back for the hundredth time, she sighed and put down her pen. “It is done.”
For years she had been writing letters in her father’s hand. Without the skill, her brothers and sisters would have starved and gone unclothed. She never asked for much, only what was necessary. The smaller the purchase, the lesser the chances her father would notice when he paid the bills. If he paid the bills.
“Not bad, lass, not bad,” Tarquin commented over her shoulder as he admired her work.
Now the documents were finished, Darius could ride to London and collect her dowry. She wondered how long he would stay after his ship was repaired, how long before he disappeared from their lives. It would be years before she could claim to be a widow and more again until anyone would or could believe her. A sad, lonely existence it would be but no different than the last years. She would be with her family and they would be safe. As long as there was no proof of her father’s death, his body burnt and the ashes spread over the land.
A commotion in the corridor took her attention away as she rose and stretched. Before she could open the door, it swung inward with a crash against the wall, the portal filled with wet pine, the scent rich and heady and familiar.
“What is going on?” she asked no one in particular since no faces appeared, only more of the impressive tree as it was poked into the room, fat drops of water dripping onto the carpets and flicking onto the furniture.
Tarquin cleared his throat behind her and then answered, “Your wedding present I believe.”
Wes and Benny finally came into view, Ethan, Grace and Gabriella behind them.
The excitement on Ethan’s face was enough to make Eliza smile and forget the last hours spent committing illegal activities that could see her locked up or transported.
“Wes says we are to decorate a tree for Christmas. They’ve got all of Mamma’s trinkets from the house so we can look at something pretty. Wes says we have been spending too much time looking at ugly old pirates and we need some prettiness.”
“Is that what Wes says?” Eliza asked with a chuckle. She ruffled his hair and bent to his level. “It would be a lovely way to spend the afternoon.”
The children set to work but when it came time for Eliza to quietly slip from the room, Gabriella stopped her by pulling her back towards the towering pine. “You must help. Darius said you were to supervise.”
A distraction? It wasn’t a wedding gift at all. He thought to distract her from what he and Nathanial were doing. She sighed and settled back on a sofa. She didn’t really want to see a rotting corpse anyway, not when presented with Ethan’s smiles and Grace’s giggles. She would rather the happiness of her family over death and deception any day of the year.
Only her mind just would not stay in the room. Even the familiar
