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Covering the sheet with her arm so the words could not be seen, she scribbled a few lines, blew on it, folded the sheet in half, and held it out for Smeaton. “Please take care of this for me.”
He stepped back up to the table, retrieved the tray and the note, and said, “Will that be all, Your Grace?”
“Yes, Smeaton. I will leave all the arrangements in your capable hands.”
“Your Grace.” He bowed sharply and took his leave.
“I’ve seen that face before,” Sam said, his gaze following Smeaton out of the room.
“He acts as my butler in London. Perhaps you remember him from the time you came to visit me there.”
“Ah yes, when I was on leave in ’99, when all London was still basking in our victory at Aboukir Bay six months before.”
“Considering our previous encounter, you could have knocked me over with a feather when Smeaton gave me your name.”
He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “I’m not sure why I came. I had seen you from a distance at a reception for Nelson, and some imp of mischief compelled me to see you again. To show you how I’d prospered.”
“You lost no time in telling me about your lady wife.”
“I will confess to you, Willie, that it pained me to see you again, and to see you with no less than a duke on your arm. I thought how equally ambitious we were, you and me. My competitive nature compelled me to boast to you of my successes: my fortune, my rise in the ranks on display in the white lapels of my new lieutenant’s uniform, my new home in Sussex, my rich wife, and my strapping son.”
“It pained me, too, Sam, to see you again. And to hear of your wife and son. Oh yes, that was a blow. I kept thinking how it might have been me, tucked away on that Sussex estate with you.”
“You did?”
“But I quickly realized it would never have been like that for us. If you hadn’t been taken by that press gang, we’d have carried on as pla
“And the last time I saw you…” He paused, and a pained look crossed his face. “I was back home for a long stretch, and both our lives had taken new turns. I was widowed and you had married your duke.”
“We’ve come a long way,” she said, “on our separate paths. At sixteen, I could never have imagined this life, where I have rank and fortune and want for nothing.”
“Yes, it’s ironic, is it not? That a dreaded press gang should change both our lives for the better?”
Chapter Three
Sam glanced out the window and was astonished to see sunshine. When had the rain stopped? He’d been so entranced with Willie that he hadn’t noticed. God, it was good to see her again, and finally to speak of all the things that had kept them apart. It had been almost twenty-five years since they’d spoken at such length. Yet somehow, despite all that had happened, despite the opposite paths their lives had taken, despite hateful words spoken by both of them long ago, they had fallen into easy conversation as though they’d never been estranged, getting through even the most painful subjects without constraint. Like old times.
Perhaps their lives had come full circle, and with the wisdom of age and the forgiveness of time they could now be together again. At last. They were both unmarried. And the air between them crackled with unspoken desire. It was almost as though it was meant to be, their meeting like this.
Except that it could not be. Some sadistic fate had brought them together just at a time when he was not entirely free. If it was not so cruel, it would be laughable.
But Sam was not laughing.
“The rain has stopped. I’m afraid I must be on my way.” He rose from the bench, reached for his greatcoat and hat on a nearby peg, then walked around the table to Willie’s side. He lifted her hand from where it rested on the table, took it to his lips again, and then kept hold of it while he spoke. “It has been an unexpected pleasure, Willie, and absolutely splendid to see you again. I don’t get to London often, so we may not run into each other for another ten years, who knows? But I wish you well, my girl.” The old endearment came easily to his lips, which brushed her hand once more before releasing it.
A frown puckered her brow. “Must you leave? It has been such a long time since I’ve seen you and there is so much to catch up on. So much more to say. Could we not share a di
The look on her face almost made him change his plans. That, and the way her fingers touched the edge of her neckline, drawing his eyes to the soft swell of her bosom. Was she flirting with him, trying to seduce him into staying? The very idea made his groin tighten, and his heart pitch and roll in his chest like a sloop in a high wind. He forced himself to say, “I’m afraid I ca
“Surely they will not mind if you are late.” Her fingers continued to play with the lace at her bosom. “They will understand that the rain delayed you.”
He looked down and brushed a speck of lint from his sleeve, unable to meet her blue eyes. “I am expected,” he said. “Expected to…” His voice trailed off, and he gave a shrug. “I’m sorry, Willie, but I must go.”
“They must be very important friends that you are so determined not to disappoint them.”
He did not look up, and an awkward silence fell between them. Their easy camaraderie was gone. Damn. He might as well tell her the truth and be done with it.
Finally, he said, “They are a family I got to know while in the East Indies. John Fullbrook was chief aide to the governor of Penang, but has retired to his family estate in Bedfordshire, near Clophill. His son is a good friend, Captain Fullbrook of the Valiant. And…there is a daughter. Mary.”
“Ah.” She gave him a rueful smile. “So you are to marry again?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Perhaps. It is, I believe, expected. It is why I have been invited.”
“You sound reluctant. Not exactly the eager bridegroom.”
“No, I am ready to make an offer. Mary is a fine woman. And I have been alone these eleven years. With the wars over, I am content to settle down in Sussex and get to know my land. I am ready to be married again.”
“Well, then. I must wish you happy.”
“I haven’t made an offer yet, Willie.”
“Then I wish you luck.”
He smiled sheepishly. “Thank you.”
“May I walk out with you? I’d like to enjoy a bit of sunshine after such a gloomy day.”
“Of course. Though it’s likely to be muddy. And chilly.”
“I’ll dash upstairs for a shawl and my old half boots. They are not remotely stylish, I warn you, but eminently practical and impervious to mud. Perhaps I’ll have a walk about the village after I wave good-bye as you drive away.”
He backed down the steps and held his hand out to her. She took it and allowed him to guide her to the main floor. When they stood together beside the alcove, mere inches apart, he suddenly realized-or remembered-how small she was. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. It somehow made her seem younger, as though she was still that sweet girl in Cornwall. Except that she smelled like a woman. She wore a spicy, slightly musky fragrance that reminded him of some of the exotic plants he’d seen in the East Indies. For an instant, he wanted to wrap himself up in that fragrance, to taste it on her skin.
It was a good thing he was leaving. Sam was very close to making a fool of himself. Again.
Instead, he gave her his arm and escorted her out of the public room, which was only half filled now. He’d been so wrapped up in Willie that he hadn’t noticed how many customers had left.