Chapter Twenty

B roderick walked into the inn, bypassing the section leading toward the bedrooms, and entered the dining area. Immediately Phillip raised his hand from his seat. Broderick nodded and proceeded to his friend's table.

"Good evening, Daughtery."

"And a pleasant evening to you." Phillip motioned to the empty chair. "I have already ordered us the inn's special for tonight, which they will bring shortly."

"Splendid." Broderick patted his belly. "I'm famished."

Phillip studied him with narrowed eyes for a few silent moments. "There is something different about you tonight."

"There is?" Broderick arched a brow. "Pray, tell me what is different." He glanced down at his shirt and waistcoat. "I'm dressed, so that cannot be what is different." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Perhaps it's because my natural hair color is returning."

"Yes, your brown color is fading, but it's not that." Phillip tilted his head. "What I see different from yesterday is that you are in much better spirits. No longer does your frown scare small children."

Broderick threw his head back and laughed heartily. "You are very observant. Yes, I'm feeling much better today."

"Do I dare ask why?"

"Because I'm in love, that's why."

"Love?" Phillip chuckled. "When only last night your heart was broken by a fair maiden? I don't think I've seen you move on so quickly, my good man."

"No, Phillip, I haven't moved on to another woman. The lady I'm madly in love with is my Emiline. She and I talked last night, and let's just say we worked out our problems. No longer am I upset with her for hiding her identity from me."

"That's wonderful." Phillip slapped Broderick on the shoulder. "And I must say, you do look much better when you're in love."

The barmaid brought their plates out, and another maid carried the drinks. Broderick thanked them and dove into his mutton and potatoes. It was hard to believe, but food tasted better now that he'd finally admitted his true feelings to Emiline.

Phillip took a small bite and, after a couple of chews, leaned closer. "Lieutenant Mercer was spotted in town," he whispered.

Broderick swallowed hard and nearly choked. His head was still reeling with Emiline's confession and the visit he'd had with her mother and brother earlier today, making it rather difficult to absorb what Phillip had just said. But now he had to clear his mind and focus on important matters. This was definitely not something he wanted to hear.

"Who told you that?"

Phillip lowered his voice. "One of the crew."

"Were they certain it was him?"

"Aye." Phillip lifted his eyebrows. "It's rather difficult to confuse Mercer with someone else because of his evil eyes."

"Very true." Broderick nodded. "But I wonder what he is doing in Brighton."

Phillip leaned his elbows on the table. "Do you suppose he is still looking for Lady Sarah? You mentioned the other day that you thought he was the one that came looking for her at your uncle's house."

Panic grew in Broderick's chest. Was his darling Emiline in danger, especially now that the truth about her identity was out? "I still believe she might, indeed, be in danger. I just wish I knew why Mercer wants her so badly when the fool is working for her uncle." He scratched his neck, feeling like a noose was being pulled tighter around his throat.

"Hmm…" Phillip tapped his finger on his chin. "I wonder if Mercer has other ideas in mind."

"Like what?"

"Perhaps he knows about your relationship with the Cramptons, and since Lady Sarah is staying with them, maybe he wants to get her away from you for fear she might say something about her uncle that you could use."

Broderick shook his head. "That thought had crossed my mind, but if Mercer really knew I was staying with my uncle, the man would come to get me —not Lady Sarah. Remember, I have been on his kill list for a few years."

"All of this is so confusing," Phillip grumbled before taking a bite of his meat.

"Indeed it is."

A burst of laughter broke out in the far corner, making Broderick jump and reach for his knife. But the boisterous group of men were well into their cups and enjoying themselves too much to be of any bother. Slowly, he glanced around the room, suddenly feeling that danger lurked closely. He silently reminded himself nobody could be trusted.

As Broderick munched on his roll, his mind spun with ideas, none that made sense. He should be used to running from Napoleon's men, but now he realized he was completely sick of it. Was his crew tired of all this turmoil as well?

"There is only one thing to do to bring this to an end once and for all," he said before taking a swallow from his cup of wine.

"What is that?"

"Talk to Mercer myself."

Phillip choked on his food. "What? Are you insane?"

"I must be, but how else are we going to know what he is planning?"

"Do you really believe he will tell you?"

Broderick shrugged. "Perhaps he won't, but Captain Hawk will find a way to loosen the man's tongue, even if it means torturing him. I'm sick of his games, and it's time Captain Hawk gained control once and for all."

Phillip grinned. "Shall I gather the crew together for a meeting?"

"Yes. As soon as you can."

"I'll let you know once I hear from them. There has only been a handful that came after I sent them missives. I suspect more will arrive."

"Splendid." Broderick lifted his cup. "I'm feeling better already."

"As am I." Phillip clinked his cup against Broderick's.

Unfortunately, Broderick wasn't feeling half as good as he should, especially when Emiline might still be in danger.

*

The next afternoon, Emmie visited with her mother in Mrs. Winterbourne's flower garden. They sat at one of the decorative tables sipping tea, enjoying the fresh air. A warm wind blew against her cheek, stirring a lock of hair against her skin. It didn't bother her. She vowed not to let trivial things disturb her any longer. Life was too important to waste being upset or sad.

She glanced across the yard to the road on the other side of the fence. Not many people walked by today, but then, she had noticed this part of town wasn't as busy as the inn where the Cramptons were staying.

Being with her mother had been wonderful. Even Anna relished the fact that she was away from the high-and-mighty Miss Rebecca Crampton. Anna got along splendidly with Mrs. Winterbourne's servants, as well.

Emmie looked back at her mother, and a similar pair of eyes stared back. A small grimace tugged on her mother's mouth, and she wore a forlorn expression.

"Mother? What is amiss?" Emmie reached across the table and touched her mother's hand before withdrawing.

"Not to worry, my dear. I'm fine. I have just been thinking about what could have possibly kept us away from each other for fifteen very long years."

"I, too, have thought of that very thing lately." Emiline lifted the cup to her lips and sipped. "How could both of us have gotten the same kind of message?"

"Did your message state that the ship had been attacked by Captain Hawk?"

"Indeed it did, Mother. When Father wanted us to sail here, I worried that Captain Hawk might still be alive and attacking ships."

Daphne nodded. "That would frighten me, as well. Do you know if Captain Hawk is alive?"

"I couldn't tell you." Emmie reached out and grasped her mother's hand. "When you received the message about us dying, why didn't you come back to our chateau in France?"

"Because I was told the bodies were lost at sea, so there really was no burial service." Daphne frowned. "Why did you and your father not come here upon hearing of my demise?"

"The same reason—that your body was lost at sea." Emmie shrugged. "Not only that, but Father was quite upset with your family for wanting you to visit. At times I think he blamed them for making you sail across the sea to come see them."

Daphne shook her head. "There were times I blamed my family as well. My mother wanted me to stay with her after Elias was born, but I could not. A few years after that, I was introduced to Estelle Winterbourne. She needed a companion and didn't mind that I came with a small child. She has grandchildren, but they were never able to visit because they lived in Ireland."

Emmie released a wistful sigh. "If you would have stayed with your mother, then I would have met you sooner. If not for Grandmother, I wouldn't have known where you were."

Daphne squeezed Emmie's hand. "The Lord was certainly helping us along, was He not?"

"Indeed. But that still doesn't explain why we received the same kind of notes fifteen years ago."

"No, it doesn't. Who would want us separated so desperately that they would go to such great lengths?"

"Well, Father thought Grandmother or one of your sisters was behind it at first."

Daphne shook her head. "My family didn't hate Byron. They just resented him for taking me so far away from them."

"Then who else would want to separate us?"

Daphne released Emmie's hand to sip her tea. Emmie sipped hers as well, hoping for some inspiration to strike. But the more they sat in silence, the more frustrated she became. Would they ever discover the culprit in this mess?

Suddenly, her mother's eyes widened. "Tell me, who signed the missive sent to your father that I was dead?"

Emmie tried to remember the events of that fateful day. "I was visiting a friend of mine, and when I returned home, Father had already received the letter. He was sitting in the parlor clutching your miniature and crying. The letter was on the table next to him." She paused, trying to remember more. "Come to think about it, my uncle, the lord chancellor, was there as well, consoling Father the best he could."

Daphne gasped and then muttered a curse that shocked Emmie, since she'd never heard a lady speak in such a way. Her mother stood and paced around the table.

"What is it, Mother?"

Stopping, Daphne closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "Oh, my dear. This makes no sense." She opened her eyes and looked at Emmie. "But your uncle was the one who sent me the letter about you and your father."

Emmie's body grew numb, and the teacup slipped out of her hand, falling to the floor and shattering. Her chest tightened as if a house had fallen on it. Tears built in her eyes as she shook her head, not believing what she'd just heard. "But… why would he do that?"

Daphne rushed to Emmie and took her in her arms. "Oh, my little Emmie. Your uncle never approved of me. All the while your father was courting me, your uncle tried to convince Byron that I wasn't the right woman. Several times during our courtship, he tried to separate us."

"Why?" A tear slipped down Emmie's face.

"Because he said your father was meant for better things. The ruthless man wanted Byron to go into politics with him. He didn't want Byron marrying anyone unless they came from a well-to-do family."

"But why didn't he stop to think of the little girl who needed her mother?" Emmie sobbed against her mother's shoulder. "I thought he loved me, but he doesn't. All he cares about is himself."

"I know, dear. I know." Daphne stroked Emmie's hair, rocking her slowly back and forth. "I feel so bad that I didn't realize it was the lord chancellor until now. After he sent me the letter concerning your deaths, he came to visit to bring me a few things of yours and your father's so I could have something to remember you by. It touched my heart that he was so thoughtful when I knew he didn't like me." She blew out a frustrated breath. "I should have known better. He was being too nice."

Emmie jerked back and stared into her mother's teary eyes. "Oh dear. What will he do when he discovers we have found each other?"

Daphne shrugged. "I suppose he is not going to like it when Byron hears the truth."

"I pray someone arrests my uncle and hangs him for treason." Emmie sobbed. "If he tried this, what is going to stop him from trying to separate us again?"

"Hopefully, your father will take care of that." Daphne offered a shaky smile and caressed Emmie's wet cheek. "But nothing is going to tear us apart ever again."

Emiline glanced at the table. "I'm sorry I broke Mrs. Winterbourne's teacup."

"There is nothing to be sorry about. I shall have one of the servants clean it up. I think you should lie down on my bed. I'm certain a little rest will do wonders for you."

"I think I will." Emmie wiped her eyes and started walking toward the door. Her mother went to the servants' door to fetch someone to clean up the mess.

Before Emmie reached the door, she noticed a movement out by the street again. Elias was talking to some man with abnormally orange hair, and another man wearing a hat who had his back toward her. But the way he stood, a spark of familiarity hit her, but she couldn't put her finger on who the man could be. The orange-haired man and Elias were discussing something serious—as was evident by their drawn expressions.

She almost stopped and called out to Elias but decided against it. She was certain her face looked a fright after she'd been crying. She didn't feel like talking to anyone right now, especially anyone new.

Slowly, she walked to her mother's room, her heart wrenching with sadness over her uncle's betrayal. How could he do that to his family?

Her head pounded with anger as well. She wanted to inform her father of what his self-centered relative had done, yet she needed to tell him face to face and let him see his wife as well. Soon all would be out in the open, and she prayed someone could stop her uncle once and for all.

She lay down on the bed, but the stuffy air and warm room made resting impossible. She rose and opened a window to let in the breeze before returning to bed. Just as she rested her head on the pillow, the sounds from outside drifted through the air, making her hear almost everything going on outdoors. More specifically, she heard her brother and the two men. Why did the street have to be so close to her mother's room?

Groaning, she rose once again to shut the window, but then one of the men spoke a name that made her pause. They couldn't have said what she thought.

Moving closer to the window, she peeked outside. All three men were hidden by the leaves from the bushes, but their voices were much clearer.

"You cannot let her near him," one of the men said. "He is a dangerous man. There is a reason Captain Hawk's name strikes fear into women and children."

She sucked in a breath and quickly slapped her hand over her mouth. Captain Hawk is still around after all these years?

"But how can I stop her from seeing him if you don't want me to let her know what is going on?" Elias asked.

"That, Mr. Langston, you will have to figure out on your own. We just came to inform you of what might happen to your sister."

"Does she know about Captain Hawk?"

"No, and I don't think you should tell her. Just protect her the best you can, and whatever you do, keep your sister away from him."

"As you wish. I shall try my best."

The two men left, but she couldn't see them very clearly as they walked up the street. Elias stood watching them for a few brief moments before he turned and headed back toward the house.

Her heart pounded fiercely. Why would they discuss her and Captain Hawk in the same conversation? Nothing made sense, and fright consumed her, almost as much as it had when she was younger and thought about sailing across the sea. At this moment, she felt vulnerable, which was something she could not feel.

Broderick will protect me.

Yes, she must go tell Broderick.

As she hurried out of the bedroom to find her mother, Emmie's mind was scrambled with thoughts about why her name would be connected to Captain Hawk's. Helplessness washed over her. If asking her brother would help, she would do it in a heartbeat, but she received the impression from listening in that her poor brother was nearly as confused as she was.

She found her mother quickly as she was coming from the kitchen. Emmie ran to her and clutched her hands.

"I must leave immediately. I need to talk to Broderick."

"Why so suddenly?"

"I don't know exactly what is going on," Emmie continued in a rush. "I shall explain later. I must leave." She tore away from her mother and strode toward the front door.

"My dear, let me come with you."

"Not this time, Mother. I shall be fine." She hurried out the door before her mother could say any more.

Halfway down the street, Emmie realized she hadn't grabbed her shawl or her bonnet. Nevertheless, she couldn't turn back now. She must find Broderick and tell him of what she'd heard, and she prayed he would be able to figure out this most confusing puzzle.

She turned a corner and quickened her steps, anxious to walk the five blocks to the inn. She passed couples strolling down the street as if they were standing still. At the moment, she didn't care what people thought of her. They didn't know her and wouldn't remember her once she left this town to return home to Devonshire.

As she passed an alleyway, she recalled there was a shorter way to get to the inn. Without giving it another thought, she turned up the alley and hurried faster. But from the echoes of quick footfalls stomping behind her, she wasn't the only person going this way.

She glanced over her shoulder briefly to see who it was. There was something recognizable about the man coming at her—besides the fact he had stood beside the man with orange hair that her brother had talked with.

Emmie stopped suddenly and faced him, ready to speak her mind and ask him why he would think Captain Hawk would be after her. "Why are you following—"

The man snickered and threw a blanket around her head, then wrapped his beefy arms around her so tightly she didn't think she could breathe. As she struggled and tried to scream, the man cackled.

"Now Captain Hawk will be mine very soon."