Speculative light sparked in Mr. Keith’s green eyes. “Trust him... with what?”
When she made no reply, he watched her face a moment longer, then ordered another pint. “Does he know I’m here in town?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. Is it a secret?”
“No. Though he won’t like to hear I’ve abandoned my charge.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “He has his nurse, and Wesley has me. Or he did have, until he left without me.”
She didn’t understand what he meant about the captain having a nurse, but the publican appeared with a fresh pint, so she didn’t ask.
Keith drained half of it, then set down his glass with a decisivethunk. “Stephen Overtree is stern, stubborn, and self-righteous. Humorless, and about as much fun as a guilt-ridden puritan. He has a bad temper, little conversation, and is infamous for his black moods and black looks. We soldiers called him Captain Black. And Wesley the same, as well as Marsh. Or sometimes, Blister, because he considers his younger brother an ever-present pain. Of course, Wesley has a nickname for everyone. I’m CK or sometimes Flap, on account of my wing here.” His eyes glittered with challenge. “Do you want to know what he called you?”
“No.” Sophie exhaled. “I don’t think I do.”
Mr. Keith rose to leave, and Sophie’s heart sank at his grim assessment of Captain Overtree’s character.
Then the man turned back. For a moment the ironic humor faded from his florid face and he said earnestly, “I could bear a year in Wesley’s company better than a week in his brother’s. But if I were in trouble, the captain’s the one I’d turn to.”
Late that afternoon, Sophie sat at Mrs. Thrupton’s kitchen table with a cup of tea.
Mavis looked at her in concern. “You’ve made your decision, then?”
Had she? Sophie had let herself get swept away by romance with Wesley, and look where it had gotten her. She couldn’t afford to let her heart rule her any longer. She had to think practically about her welfare and the welfare of her child.
She took a deep breath. “Yes. Captain Overtree may never love me, but I hope he will care for, or at least provide for, my child.” She pressed a hand to her midriff. “This is his niece or nephew, after all.”
“Are you sure this is what you want, my dear?”
“Want? No. But it seems the lesser of evils.” Better to be an unloved wife or even a war widow, she had concluded, than a shamed woman shunned from society and her family. She hoped she was doing the right thing—for the baby’s sake and her own.
The kindly woman leaned forward and grasped her arm. “Then I shall pray that he will treat you kindly. And never give you cause to regret it.”
“So shall I.”
“And I will accompany you. At least to the coast. That way, you may report to your family and his that you were chaperoned on the journey. Besides, my dear, it will give me time to observe him. Assure myself he is of good character and will not ill use you.”
“At least while you are with us.”
“Well. Hopefully never. He is Mr. Overtree’s brother, after all. He would have mentioned if the man were a criminal or a notorious rake, would he not?”
“I suppose so. We shall have to ask his permission, I suppose, about your going along. As he is hiring the chaise and driver.”
Mavis lifted her chin. “I’d like to see him try to refuse me.”
Sophie bit back a grin. Mavis Thrupton should be the one marrying Captain Black—they would be better suited, despite their age difference.
“I suppose I must tell Maurice,” Sophie said, dreading the task. “I don’t want to risk him sending word to my father that I’ve disappeared—or worse.”
“Perhaps you might leave him a note. And you will write to your father as well, I trust?”
“Yes, I had better. Heaven help me work out what to say....”
Mrs. Thrupton supplied paper, quill, and ink, and Sophie sat down to write.
The few, impersonal lines to Maurice came easily. But when she began a letter to her father, she was surprised to find tears blurring her vision. She reminded herself that she would have happily moved away from her family if she’d married Wesley. And that she would be ostracized from them if she married no one. At least as a respectable officer’s wife, she could still visit and be received in their home—and not lose contact altogether.
Dearest Papa,
I have some surprising news. By the time you read this, I shall be a married woman. I know this is sudden, and unexpected. I met my intended after you left to fulfill your commission—though I have known of his family for more than a year. His name is Captain Stephen Overtree. You are acquainted with his brother, Mr. Wesley Overtree. At all events, everything between us happened quickly, and because Captain Overtree must depart soon to return to his regiment—too soon to allow time to ask your blessing, or post banns—we plan to marry on the Island of Guernsey as soon as may be. I know this will come as a shock to you, Papa. I am sorry for it, and hope you and Mrs. Dupont will not be overly disappointed.
