Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Rafe was never in London long enough to seek out membership at a gentlemen's club. He was more at home at a tavern, anyhow. Tonight though, he had agreed to meet his old captain at a club full of toffs and titles, with far too many brandy, cigars, and pretentious egos.

His late father's friend, now Admiral Michael Ackerman, sat down across from him at the small table he had found for himself.

It was the closest he could find to a corner. There was too much noise and far too many people.

"Are you going to touch that glass of scotch or look at it?" Admiral Ackerman tapped his hand against the tabletop, drawing Rafe's attention back from earlier this afternoon when Lily had shied away from his touch.

It was only right. He had done that, and he had no one else to blame.

"It's for you. I'm not touching the stuff anymore."

The older man reclined in his club chair. Years away from a ship's deck had made him portly. He narrowed his blue eyes, hidden under wiry silvering brows. "This is new. Last I heard, Henry was called to see you out of the gaol and dragged you away from London."

"I went with him… somewhat willingly." He sat forward in his seat, un able to still his body. If only he could swim or sail, if only he could wear his body out until he was bone-tired enough to sleep, then perhaps this would all be more tolerable.

Instead, he sat across from the man who had essentially raised him after his father's passing. He had sailed the world with Admiral Ackerman. He had attended both of his daughters' weddings. He had fought the French alongside him.

And one night, in a wicked gale, he had watched as Captain Ackerman then slipped and fell from the fighting top, breaking his leg and shoulder. He barely survived the accident, and all the while, Rafe had been by his side, wishing more than anything not to lose someone close to him again.

"You look awful, Rafe."

He shrugged.

"I have good news to share with you, unofficially of course. You need to report on Monday. But something tells me it won't be welcomed news."

"Why would you say that?"

The admiral slid the scotch across the table, then took a long sip with a leveled look at Rafe.

He placed the glass down with a small shake to his hand. Rafe noticed then how the admiral's fingers were gnarled and swollen, and his once blond hair was fading to white.

"I've been a navy man for my entire life, started young like you. I was lucky and had a good run of head and gun money and saved up enough that I married Patricia. That wasn't without hardship. In the beginning, it was difficult. The sea runs in my blood—" He pointed to the table, tapping his index finger until Rafe met his stare. "And I know it's the same for you. I know because I've watched you grow into an excellent sailor. It has been with great frustration that you haven't moved past lieutenant yet because you have most certainly earned it."

Rafe scanned the room, annoyed at the card games and laughing, annoyed that everyone there appeared to be in good spirits. Here he was about to receive news he had craved to hear since he was an apprentice tying knots and scrubbing the deck .

"It's all I know." Such a small confession for such a big truth.

Rafe reached into his pocket and plucked out a cigar. The admiral held out a match, and with a short puff, it was lit.

"But it's not what you want."

Rafe froze, clutching the cigar. "What's that?"

"You may have the sea running through your veins, son, but your heart isn't with the Navy. It hasn't been for a few years, and as I look at you now, I can tell you made a critical mistake—you fell in love."

"That doesn't matter now. I've mucked that up well and good."

"Then why are you here talking to me?"

He laughed in spite of himself. "You asked to meet me, remember?"

"I did, I did. Then I will only say this. You are being given a promotion to captain. They want to give you your own frigate, and you'll set sail in two weeks' time to India."

Two weeks' time. For once, leaving England's shores didn't sound so welcoming.

"You could retire. You've served honorably."

"Not sure everyone would agree with that."

They both chuckled. The admiral drained his glass and set it down. "It's late, and I don't wish to leave Patricia any longer. I came only as an old friend tonight to share some news should you like to make other plans."

"I haven't slept much these past weeks, but I can still see that look on your face, Admiral. It was the one you gave before we charged after an enemy ship."

"You can listen to what everyone wishes for you to do. You've done that your entire life. You'll make an excellent captain, and one day, I'm sure the admiralty will welcome you. But our days aren't promised. You've seen that more than you should have. Think about it before you move forward and accept."

"What am I supposed to do if I turn it down?"

"Oh, I imagine you take up Hawkins on his proposition."

Rafe sat back and stretched, certain he was hungry but too tired to do anything about it. "How do you know about that?"

"My boy"—the admiral laughed and placed his hands on his round stomach—"he came to me as well. He was smart to leave when he did, and he's an enterprising fellow. You'd do well joining him and starting that shipping company."

"With what coin, Admiral?"

The admiral stood and waved to another gentleman across the room. "I'll put up the money, and you can pay me back. I'm too old to start something like that now. You have years ahead of you, good years where you can make something of yourself on your own terms. Not in the image of your father, no matter how much your mother and brother wish for it."

Rafe stood, dragging in another puff of his cigar. "You're the very devil, you know that, Admiral?"

Mirth danced in the man's cloudy blue eyes. "I know you will figure this out." He reached out and tweaked a button on Rafe's uniform. "Sew this for Monday. No loose buttons."

"Very well, sir."

Lily stood on the shore as twilight fell around her shoulders. The breeze danced through her hair as she smiled at him, her eyes big, brown, and full of love. He reached for her, but she remained too far away to touch.

In the distance, the clouds grew black and heavy, and thunder rattled the sky.

Rafe froze, then startled awake, rubbing sleep from his eyes as a knock pounded at his door.

"Coming," he hollered, grabbing his trousers from the floor and quickly dressing as he ripped open the door.

"You fecking eejit." Liam Hawkins strolled in, a smug look plastered on his too handsome Irish face. "I've been knocking for an age. Where the hell have you been?"

"Sure, come in," Rafe grumbled. He ran his hand into his hair and blinked hard, uncertain of the time or day, but sure for the first time in weeks that he had slept. He shut the door behind him and leaned against the wall, attempting to calm his nerves.

True, he hadn't slept much over the past weeks, but when he had, it was always the same dream. Lily was on his sailboat instead of Mari, just out of his reach, as a terrible storm was about to bear down on them.

"No rest for the wicked."

"I think it's weary."

His friend shrugged. "Either way, it's damn well time to get out of bed."

Hawkins had been in the Navy once, not for long. Rafe sat in on the tribunal that led to his friend's dismissal almost six years ago. And since then, Liam worked over London, squeezing out every pence he could from the gentleman of Mayfair in one business venture or another.

And it showed.

"That's a nice jacket." Rafe stood still as Liam paced the small room, then peeked out the window to the busy street below.

"I wrote. A few times. Figured you could write a good friend back."

"I've been… busy," Rafe settled on at last.

"So I've heard."

How was it that everyone in his life knew everything about him all the time?

Liam scratched his jaw, his brilliant blue eyes shining brightly beneath two thick ashy brown brows. "What's your decision? Visited the admiral this morning, and he told me the arrangement. Seems like you've nothing to lose by agreeing, yes?"

Rafe had everything to lose. He might not love the Navy, but it fed him and paid him, and he hadn't a worry about whether his wages would be enough because he needed little else. But retiring meant a small pension, very small, and no guarantee after that. He would need to find a place to live in London.

And Lily.

If he remained, he might have a chance at making things right with Lily. But if he accepted and sailed to India, they would be finished. He might finally have secured a salary large enough to support a family, but he would be gone for months, maybe years at a time. And as much as he loved the sea, how could he manage to leave his heart behind again and again?

Rafe walked to the small dining table, grabbed the loaf of bread he had bought the day before, broke off a piece, and took a bite. It wasn't a scone, but his life had been far from ideal lately.

"It's an interesting proposition."

"Interesting?" Liam waved his arms incredulously. "It's more than interesting. I'm asking if you'd like to join the team and help build a fleet of ships that are faster than what's available now. The war is over, and everything is changing. There's opportunity right in front of us, and we both know you can't stand following rules."

"The admiral said as much last night."

They both laughed until silence settled in.

"It's a big ask, Hawkins. I am comfortable where I am, and rumor is, I'll be captain soon."

"I know what the rumor is."

"Of course you do," Rafe grumbled. "I imagined I would become a naval captain like my father. And I am so close."

And yet, he didn't wish to become captain.

He didn't wish to spend his years at sea, away from those he loved. Rafe had had an honorable career, and if he continued to keep busy, he could retire and transition into something just as respectable. He had no interest in wasting his time drinking and gambling any longer. He was restless for something more, something far more fulfilling than being a constant disappointment to his family.

"Listen, I won't beg, but I trust you Rafe. I know you'll work as hard as me. I refuse to live small, and to hell with anyone who says otherwise. I might have been born in Sligo, but I don't mean to die there."

Rafe expected to live and die by the Navy. Maybe because he had seen too many die to think he would have found that small sliver of time where he would live beyond the confines of a ship. He expected it, but he hadn't wanted it for a long time.

"We would be partners? Fifty-fifty?"

"I figure with your experience, you can manage the drafting and building of our fleet of ships, and I will secure the investors. It will be a steep hill to climb to become profitable, but I see this being a very successful venture."

It was a good offer, a solid offer. He felt everything within him tense as if ready to jump. Rafe glanced over to the table once more. A half-eaten loaf of bread sat beside a few fresh peaches and an advertisement he had cut out of The Times earlier that week. "Where would we be based?"

"That is why I am here." Liam circled the brim over his top hat with his hands. "I am on my way to see a potential office space. I thought it only right to ask if you would like to join."

When he had visited his mother in Wales, she reminded him about being made for adventure. What would that look like if he chose to remain here in London and start a shipping company with Liam? He wasn't certain, but he knew remaining in the Navy would be more of what he had done for the past eighteen years.

Rafe rested his forehead in his hand for a moment, the other on his hip. With a steadying breath, he opened his eyes and held out his hand toward Hawkins.

"Very well. I believe we have some ships to build, partner."