Prologue
Friday, 5 April 1799
Inmarsh House, Berkeley Square, London
Two in the afternoon
“No! Tell meit’s not true! He cannot be dead!”
Lady Elspeth Westridge rushed into the drawing room of her parents’ town home and stomped her foot, her voice clogged with grief, her muslin pinafore clinging to her stockinged legs, crumbs of dirt bouncing off her slippers. “Please! It is not true! Miss Garner said he was murdered. Murdered!”
Her father, William, Third Earl Inmarsh, sat in his favorite wingback by the fire, his feet on an ottoman, his body hidden behind his beloved newspaper. Bending one page down from the corner, he peered at his daughter. “Good heavens, child, you are covered in mud. Where have you been?”
“The conservatory! With Miss Garner!” She could not believe her father seemed more concerned with a bit of dirt when she was inquiring about the death of a magnificent man. “Father! Is it true?”
“Of whom are we speaking?”
“James!”
“And why would your governess tell you this James had been murdered?”
“I do not know! Please! Tell me! Is it true?”
The earl looked from Elspeth to his wife, who sat at a nearby table, leafing through one of her favorite books of exotic plants from the Americas. “Anna, do you know a James? One who was murdered. I have seen nothing in the newspaper about it.”
Anna removed her gold-rimmed spectacles and laid them on the book. “I do not.” She looked at Elspeth, whose tears streamed warm down her cheeks. “El, darling, you must be more specific when asking such a question. Who is this James?”
Elspeth clinched her fists, beating them on her thighs, her exasperation with her parents almost overwhelming her.How could they not know!Her teeth ground together. “The captain.” As her parents exchanged puzzled looks, she released a long, frustrated sigh. “Captain Cook!”
Her father snorted and disappeared behind his newspaper. Her mother motioned for her to come closer. Reluctantly, Elspeth went to her, acquiescing as her mother pulled her onto her lap, smoothing red curls away from wet cheeks. She plucked a lace-trimmed handkerchief from somewhere and began to clean the dirt from Elspeth’s face and hands. “El, darling, I’m afraid Captain Cook died some time back. Before you were born. And, yes, he was killed by some of the people on an island he discovered in his travels.”
“But I was going tomarryhim!” Elspeth sobbed, leaning her head against her mother’s shoulder.
Anna tucked the handkerchief into her sleeve, then put both arms around Elspeth, tugging her closer. “My darling, Captain Cook was already married. A rather remarkable woman named Elizabeth Batts, if I remember correctly. And you are but nine years old. He would have been far too old for you.”
Elspeth raised her head. “That would not have mattered. Old people get married all the time. And wives die. I see it in the newspapers. A lot!”
Another snort from her father was followed by a muttered, “I told you not to let her read the newspapers.”
Elspeth crossed her arms. “How else am I to know what is going on at the Royal Society?”
“You could ask your mother.”
“Liam.”
Elspeth sniffed, amazed as usual at how her mother could make one word sound like a warning from the good Lord above. Her father flicked his newspaper and turned the page but did not respond.
Anna shifted, adjusting Elspeth on her lap. Between her mother’s gentle hug and the warmth of the cozy room, Elspeth began to relax, and she sighed. “But I love him.”
Anna smoothed Elspeth’s skirt, picking at a particularly stubborn spot of mud. “My darling, had Captain Cook still been alive, he would have been two and sixty when you were born and almost eighty by the time you could have married him. When the time does come for you to wed, your father and I will help you decide on one of the many young men who will come to our door, hoping to court you. Because I know you will be an incomparable, a diamond of the first water. A debutante of no equal. And you will have a much in-demand dowry. In fact, we have already had inquiries in that regard. Gentlemen will be clamoring for your hand, and you can pick whomever you want from amongst them.”
“Only if she stops reading the newspaper.”
Her mother cast a withering glance at Elspeth’s father, then went on. “You will find as you grow up that you will want a household of your own, with a bright young man who can give you a position and children.”
Elspeth scowled, thinking of the three children upstairs, her two sisters and a brother. “No, I will not. I must marry an explorer. No other man would do.”
“Why not?”
