Page 45 of Across the Star-Kissed Sea (Proper Romance Regency #1)

“I want you to be safe,” he said, pleading. I’d never heard such vulnerability from the captain. “You and the baby.”

I tried to catch Elias’s eye. Perhaps we should give them privacy.

He’d turned away and was gazing out the window toward the harbor.

His stiff posture, with his collar plumb and coat seams masterfully fitted to the straight lines of his back, gave him that air of pride I’d imagined seeing on our first meeting on Marianne ’s upper deck.

His silence had added to that standoffish persona.

But I knew he wasn’t being proud now. He was holed up behind his defenses, trying to regroup before facing the next battle life threw at him.

I glanced back in time to see the captain gather his wife in his arms and kiss her as though for the last time.

My throat tightened. If I hadn’t said anything about the baby, would we be aboard for this battle, helping étienne with the wounded?

The captain broke away from her, and I thought I saw his eyes glistening.

“I’m not leaving you behind, George. I’m protecting you.”

She didn’t respond, but her head tilted slightly as though she weren’t in agreement. He turned from her and squared his shoulders.

“Captain?” I asked, lowering my gaze to the floor. I kept my arms stiffly at my sides, gripping the edges of my apron. I needed to do this, as feeble and insignificant as words were.

“Miss Byam.” Hesitancy clouded his voice.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Humiliation burned in my chest as all the words I’d shouted that day screamed through my head.

“For everything I said. I had no right to speak in anger. I was very wrong about Lewis and what he deserved.” Why were apologies so difficult?

I didn’t know how to portray all the sorrow that had gripped my heart in our days ashore.

Not sorrow for myself but for those I’d hurt.

“Thank you for your apology.” His voice was softer, ever so slightly. It caught me off guard. I didn’t expect any sort of warmth. When I looked up, he’d already turned toward Elias.

“Doswell, you needn’t return with me if you wish to stay,” the captain said. “I hope we’ll be back before Sunday.”

My breath caught. Stay? Elias hadn’t moved a muscle from where he stood near the window. Please . I nearly whispered it aloud. My knuckles ached, I was clutching my hands so tightly.

He shook his head. “No, I will come.”

I opened my mouth to protest. This was his chance to avoid the fighting that affected him so terribly. He wasn’t going to take it? I didn’t want his spirit shattered after the conflict again. I closed my mouth. It wasn’t my place, I had to keep reminding myself.

“Whatever you wish.” The captain retrieved his cocked hat from the little side table near the door. “We’d best be off. I’ll send word as soon as I can.”

Mrs. Peyton nodded. I hadn’t been able to see her face through the whole interaction. Would she finally dissolve into tears when they left? I hadn’t seen her cry the entire three weeks we’d been stuck ashore, but surely this would be the breaking point.

Elias held open the door for Captain Peyton, who paused on the threshold.

“I love you, Georgana,” Captain Peyton said softly. Then he hurried into the street. Elias’s hand tightened on the handle, but he did not hesitate for long before he nodded in our direction and closed the door behind them.

Nothing. He’d given me nothing. I shouldn’t have expected anything, just as I hadn’t with the captain.

I didn’t deserve it. But deep down, I had wished for some glimmer of hope.

What a simpleton. I’d expected the captain’s wife to break down, but I had instead.

A hot tear escaped my lashes and ran down my cheek.

I rushed to the window to watch them leave.

The men didn’t look back, but Captain Peyton said something to Elias, who shook his head.

The scene of Charlie and Uncle Byam leaving the house to board the Deborah rose in my head.

It was the last I’d seen of them. Would I ever see these two men again?

Would the dejected nod be my last memory of the chaplain who had loved me without reserve?

“Come, Byam. There’s not much time.” Mrs. Peyton’s firm footsteps clipped along the bare floor.

I scowled, swiping at my tear. “Pardon?”

She stood at the base of the stairs, one hand on the rail and the other lifting the hem of her skirt. “We haven’t a moment to lose.” Her eyes weren’t red-rimmed and wet. Her face wasn’t blotchy. She looked calm, as if she’d just told me we were off to finish the mending.

I obediently followed her above, wiping my still-watering eyes on my sleeve. “What is it? Why must we hurry?” I asked.

Without answering, she pushed open the door of her room and hurried to kneel in front of a trunk at the foot of the bed. I held the lid open as she rummaged to the bottom of it. After a moment, she threw a pair of men’s checked shirts, trousers, and sailors’ slops onto the bed.

I gaped. “What are these for?” She couldn’t be serious.

She cocked her head. “Do you want to go with them or not?”