“I know,” Caleb said with a grunt.
“I love her.”
Caleb made a sound of disgust that Marcus ignored.
“She’s my future,” he added for good measure.
Caleb sighed wearily. “Then you’d be better off kidnapping her.”
Marcus chuckled. “Somehow I don’t believe kidnapping would be the start of a blissful marriage.”
Caleb made another grunting noise that no one but Marcus would recognize as a laugh. “Maybe not, but what other option do you have?”
“I’ll wait,” Marcus said with finality. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Caleb’s groan said it all. Probably best he did not put it into words. What he said with that groan was hardly flattering toward Marcus.
“And what about you?” Marcus asked. “Where will you go after you recover?”
“I have no idea,” Caleb said as they reached the cold night air. “But I can promise that my future won’t be swayed by a lady.”
“Spoken like a man who’s never been in love,” Marcus said.
“Spoken like a man who values his wits,” Caleb shot back.
Marcus laughed. “We’ll agree to disagree, shall we?” It was how he’d ended most conversations about family and marriage when talking to the solitary sailor.
Caleb growled his agreement.
Marcus cast his friend a sidelong glance, his heart heavy for all they’d be leaving behind when they parted ways. Alistair might have been his brother by blood, but Caleb had been as close as one for nigh on a decade.
“What are you looking at me like that for?” Caleb asked.
Marcus grinned. “Just thinking how you’ll have a change of heart one day and it’ll be a shame if I’m not there to see it.”
“Change of heart?” Caleb scowled over at him.
“Mmm. Love, my good man. It has a knack for turning your world on its head.”
Caleb’s laugh was mocking. “Only if you’re fool enough to fall.”
Chapter 14
Minerva was the veriest fool.
Not quite so much of a fool as Roger, perhaps, but a fool, nonetheless.
“I cannot believe how foolish you were,” her father said for the twentieth time.
Not that she was counting.
“But everyone is all right now, Father,” Abigail said. For the sixteenth time.
“Thank heavens neither of you came to any harm,” her father said as he paced before them in the drawing room.
Despite the late hour, not one member of the Jones family had retired. Minerva suspected they were all far too alert thanks to the excitement earlier in the evening.
Their father whipped around and pointed a finger in her direction. “You should have told me what you were up to.”
She squinted up at him, her eyes so tired that it hurt to keep them open. “Why would I do that? You would have told me to stay away from the merest hint of danger, and Marcus needed my help.”
“Marcus?” her father snapped. “Are you that intimate with the privateer?”
She opened her mouth and closed it. The more exhausted she grew, the less control she had over her words. It was probably best to keep it shut.
“Why would you go along with such a ludicrous plan?”
“It worked, did it not?” The words slipped out before she could stop them. “We now know that Roger was the point of contact for the thieves and perhaps, if he is found, we will find out more.”
Her father overlooked her outburst as he shook his head and muttered Roger’s name again, as he had a million times before. Her poor father was having a decidedly difficult time coming around to the reality of the situation. Not that she blamed him. Roger had duped them all.
She rubbed at the pounding in her temples. Another sign of exhaustion, no doubt. Between this overwhelming tiredness and the fact that her mind kept trying to wander back to thoughts of Marcus...
She felt like a hollow shell of herself as her father muttered on and on about how he’d been tricked by Roger. He seemed to belatedly remember that he was supposed to be lecturing her because he swung around with his finger pointed again. “And that had better be the last you see of this Marcus fellow.”
“It was,” she said quietly.
“Because privateer or no, he has no business—” Her father stopped short. “What was that you said?”
Minerva lifted her head and saw her father staring at her. Her sisters were peering far too closely. This veneer of indifference was wearing thin. Please don’t make me repeat it.
But her father was waiting for an answer.
She drew in a deep steadying breath. “He’ll be leaving now that the smuggler was outed.”
Her father frowned. “He won’t be sticking around to conduct an inquiry or make a report—”
“No.” She did not know precisely why he could not be discovered in England but, whatever it was, it was certain to have him back on his ship soon enough. She glanced toward the window. Perhaps before she rose tomorrow morning.
She glanced at the clock. No, this morning. Oh, mercy, she was so tired.
Abigail, who was perched beside her on the settee, rested a hand on her shoulder. “I am sure you will see him again one day.”
“But of course she will,” Rebecca said, leaning forward to lay a hand on her knee.
“He’ll be back,” Sally said quietly from her corner. “He’s got more work to do here. They still haven’t found the pirates’ leader, now have they?”
Her father looked between Minerva and her sisters with a look of such confusion it might have been amusing if she weren’t so very tired. All right, fine. Perhaps she wasn’t merely tired. Perhaps she was just a little bit heartbroken.
Or very, very heartbroken.
It did not change things, so what did it matter? Abigail’s voice was so soft and gentle beside her it made her want to cry. “But, Min, perhaps if—”
“No.” Minerva cut her off far too harshly, but it was either that or burst into tears. “He is leaving,”
