Page 38 of Match Made in Heaven (The Cricket Club #5)

J ack could barely stand. He hadn’t slept in days, ever since Sinclair sent him that dreadful letter.

The Dolphin , one of Jack’s new steam clippers making its return from Boston, had collided with a two-masted schooner as they navigated through the Thames.

Oddly enough, the schooner managed to stay intact, but the Dolphin wasn’t so lucky.

By the time Jack had made it to London, the docks were in a frenzy, every able-bodied man working together to pull sailors out of the water and salvage cargo.

And they were still at it.

It was only after Jack had made sure that each of his men had made it through safely that he finally peeked at the bottom line. Wrecks weren’t as rare as he would have liked. All shipping companies took hits from time to time, but that didn’t make it sting any less.

But it did mean he had to work harder.

Marching across the Siren , Jack barked orders as the afternoon sun beat down on his weary shoulders.

His throat stung from the effort, and he took a second to recall the last time he’d let himself stop for a drink of anything.

He couldn’t remember. There was never enough time.

The Siren had to finish loading and push off.

Sutton Shipping couldn’t sit still. Like a shark, it needed to keep moving if it were going to stay alive.

Jack tore off his hat, using it to wipe the sweat over his eyes.

It was making his vision blurry. Or maybe it was the lack of sleep.

All he knew was that delirium was slowly creeping in, because he looked out toward the warehouses lining the wharf and could have sworn Ella was standing there, parasol in hand, speaking intently with his business manager.

Then Sinclair turned to him, raising his arm high. When Jack continued to stare, Sinclair brought his fingers to his lips and let out a whistle that had most of the crew and dockworkers spinning his way.

Jack shook his head, replacing his hat. He hurried off the ship, never taking his eyes off Ella’s apparition or losing his scowl.

Sinclair smiled for the first time in days as Jack approached. “Seems you’ve got a visitor.”

Ella gave Sinclair a demure smile before turning to Jack. She was dressed in a light-blue day dress with an endless number of flounces on her skirt. She reminded him of a flower, the kind found in an open field, too beautiful to cut.

Sinclair drifted away. Jack might have said something to him; he didn’t know. The effects of the past days hammered against his skull. His throat was still parched, but Jack didn’t need water anymore—he just needed Ella.

The longer he stood there, the shyer she became.

Ella twisted the handle of her parasol around her fingers, and it spun above her like a storm over the ocean ready to strike.

“I was in town… and I wanted to see you,” she said, her voice thick.

“Mr. Sinclair informed me of everything that happened. You didn’t come home. ”

There was that word again. Home to Ella meant his brother’s house. Jack now knew that home , to him, meant Ella.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She flushed. “You don’t have to be sorry—”

Jack fell on her. In the middle of the screaming and hollering and ordering and catcalling and cursing that was whirling around them, Jack filled his arms with Ella.

After a half-second of surprise, she melted into his embrace, resting her head in the little nook under his chin.

They sighed together, exhaling deep relief.

“I was worried,” Ella whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Jack repeated. It was all he could think to say. He should have written a second letter. He should have explained. He should have considered her feelings.

Jack tried to stifle his irritation with himself. He would learn from this. His position came with so many unknowns, but he would have to change. He would have to do better.

But there was more to tell Ella, and Jack hated it more than he’d ever thought possible.

He drew away, keeping his arms at her hips. A whistle came from a bastard sauntering past, and Jack glowered at him until he was out of sight.

Ella let out a nervous giggle. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“No, I’m glad you did,” he replied. “I have to tell you something. You’re not going to like it. Hell, I don’t like it, but I have to go. Only for a little while.”

He rushed through the words, hoping they might lessen the bite. It didn’t work. For her part, Ella remained composed and quiet as Jack told her about delivering cargo to Aberdeen, a relatively easy trip that in good weather took only a few days.

“Darby was supposed to do it,” he explained, “but he broke his leg yesterday.”

Finally, Ella blinked. “Was he in the collision?”

“No. The dunce fell down the stairs at a whore”—he caught himself—“tavern. Which only leaves me, at present.”

Ella’s lips pursed. “When will you be back?” Her voice was unbearably small.

“One week.” Jack grimaced. “Two if the weather is bad.”

“ Will the weather be bad?”

“I’ll tell it not to be,” Jack teased, but Ella didn’t find the humor. She continued to stare at him, two little divots furrowing deeper between her eyes.

She broke out of his hold. “Will you come home before leaving?”

Jack shook his head. “I was going to… to say goodbye to you, but now that you’re here…”

Ella nodded, lowering her chin.

Why is this so difficult? Jack wondered. It was Aberdeen, for fuck’s sake, not China! He’d be back before she could miss him. But that didn’t make his heart feel any less hollow.

Jack curled his hand and used the backs of his fingers to caress the top of her cheek. Ella’s eyes closed and her shoulders heaved. Jack studied her, sensing she was holding something back from him. There was an uneasiness in her, and it had been there before he had told her about the trip.

“Darling, did you need to tell me something?” he asked.

Ella’s eyes snapped open. “No,” she said, a little too quickly. She stepped away, replacing her frown with that damn demure smile once more. “I should go. You’re busy.”

“Not too busy for you!” Jack countered. Suddenly, he tore the parasol away and snatched her hand. More suggestive whistles sounded as he dragged Ella toward the Siren , but he didn’t give a damn. He couldn’t leave without getting to the bottom of this.

Jack weaved her past the dockworkers and loaders, past his nosy crew, who didn’t even attempt to hide their curious expressions as he brought Ella aboard the ship and belowdecks.

He didn’t give one of them a passing glance, because Jack knew if he spotted one smirk or lewd gesture, he’d beat the man senseless, and he couldn’t afford to do that with so many sailors on the mend.

Outside the captain’s quarters, he felt her yank on his hold and say, “Stop! I shouldn’t be here.”

Jack did not listen. Instead, he opened the door and threw her inside the room. “ Here is exactly where you should be, Ella.”

She spun around to face him, her body vibrating. Her bonnet had come loose and was hanging half off her head. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes brown and bright. But they were also intolerably sad.

Jack couldn’t abide the distance. He came to her at once, untying the bonnet and tossing it to the ground. He wiped the stray curls off her face and then cradled her head in his hands. “I love you.”

Ella’s face came alive. Her features were severe as she studied him. “Why are you telling me this?”

Jack winced. He heard distrust in her voice, and he couldn’t understand it. “Because I want to. I need to. I should have said it the night we spent here… and then every day after. And I won’t make that mistake again.”

But still, she remained silent. Jack had the notion that he’d just sliced open his chest with a blunt knife and must now suffer the consequences. He felt profoundly delicate, and there was nothing he could do about it. Ella was the only one with the power to stitch him back up.

She parted her lips, words coming a few beats later as if she were testing them out in her head first. “I told my mother about you today.”

“Hmm.” It was beginning to make sense.

Ella swallowed. “She doesn’t like you.”

Jack returned a winsome smile and shrugged. “Your mother is a smart woman.”

“I told her I love you.”

Jack’s breath caught. He watched two little patches of pink paint the tops of her cheeks. “You’re smarter than your mother.”

“Am I?” Ella asked. Her tone was strained. A little hopeless. “Because I’ve given myself to a man who is not my husband. And he tells me that I should keep pretending to love his brother—”

“You know why!”

She nodded and pressed her lips together to stop them from quivering. “I need something from you, Jack. I don’t know what. I don’t even know what you can give me now, but I need… something .”

Jack yanked her toward him, enveloping her in his arms. He held tight as the sobs came, feeling like the lowest man on earth.

Because Ella was right. He’d asked for so much, and he hadn’t given nearly enough.

He kept his hand behind her head, smoothing her hair, ruining the careful bun until all the tresses poured down her back.

“I’ll give you anything,” he murmured. “I need you to know that. You mean everything to me. What do you want, Ella? All you have to do is tell me. You want a townhouse? A castle? I’ll buy you the biggest you’ve ever seen.

Everything I am, everything I will ever be, is yours.

” Jack kissed her forehead, her hair, her temples, desperately imprinting his words onto her skin, hoping they might soak all the way down to her marrow.

Ella’s shoulders trembled as she pulled away. She wiped her tears with her fingers. “I’m sorry. I’m being ridiculous. I don’t even know what I mean. I don’t know what I want—”

“Marry me.”

Ella blinked, more tears coursing down her cheeks.