Mavis swallowed. “Then I wish to come along as chaperone, at least as far as the coast. Plymouth, is it?”
“Yes. We will find a ship to carry us the rest of the way from there. If Miss Dupont wishes your company, I have no objection, Mrs. Thrupton.”
Sophie hoped the dear woman had not expected gratitude. After all, the time to save her reputation, or at least her virtue, was long past.
Mavis added with a timid smile, “And will not your family approve when they learn Miss Dupont traveled with a chaperone?”
He pulled a face. “Considering the circumstances, Mrs. Thrupton, I doubt they will approve of our nuptials in any case. But the gesture can’t hurt. I might ask where this urge to chaperone Miss Dupont was a few months ago, but I shan’t.”
Mavis breathed, “Well, I never...”
“And therein lies the problem.” He laid his table napkin beside his plate, and asked coolly, “Any other questions, ladies?”
Sophie looked at Mavis, a part of her hoping the woman would find a reason to object to their marriage, another part of her afraid she would. But the usually outspoken woman seemed as intimidated as she was and remained silent.
When the women left, Stephen sat there a few minutes longer, his heart beating dully in his chest. He could hardly believe he was soon to marry a woman he barely knew. An attractive woman, yes, but one who loved his brother and carried his child. His stomach knotted at the thought. Had he done the right thing? God forgive him if not.If this not be your will, Lord, show me....
He settled his bill with the innkeeper, then walked toward the stairs leading up to his chamber. He glanced into the taproom as he passed, the long counter lined with men bent over pints or glasses of something stronger. The smoke of cigars, pipes, and several cheerful fires hung hazy in the lamplight. There was a time when he would have joined those men—sat too long and drank too much. But those days were over, thank God.
A familiar face caught his eye, and Stephen paused, scowling.
“Keith?”
His former lieutenant looked up, then raised his hand in surrender. “Sorry, Captain. You know how your brother is. Off on a whim without so much as a by-your-leave. He’s gone to Italy, to paint in the land of Michelangelo.”
“So I’ve heard,” Stephen said dryly. “Why didn’t you go with him?”
“I found myself with insufficient funds for the journey, and Wesley disinclined to pay my way.”
“I gave you a hefty purse....”
“I know you did, sir. I know you did. But the expenses here—everything must be carted in from Barnstaple. Very costly to eat and drink and well... everything.”
Stephen sat on the stool next to Keith’s and waved away the barman’s offer of a pint. “Did Wesley leave an address with you, or tell you when he would return?”
“No, sir. All he said was, ‘I’ll be all right on my own, CK. You go on home to Overtree Hall, and let my family know where I’m bound.’”
“So why are you still here?”
“Oh, I will be on my way soon, Captain. But first I aim to win back the money I lost here. My luck is about to change—I know it. Unless... Do you have another commission for me? I hope you don’t want to send me off to Italy now, sir. Not on my own.”
“I suppose not.” He glanced at the empty glasses at Keith’s elbow. “Something tells me you would drink or gamble away the passage money before the next ship sails. Had we Wesley’s direction, perhaps, but as it is, no.”
Did he really even want Wesley to hurry home now? Now that he was about to marry Sophie Dupont? For his parents’ sake, he should want his brother back in Overtree Hall. For himself? Not so much.
Keith sipped his ale, then asked, “And what about you, sir—returning to Overtree Hall as well? Shall we travel together? You still have a few weeks leave, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Yes, but I’m not returning directly. I have something to attend to first.”
“Oh?”
“I travel to Plymouth tomorrow, and from there, sail to Guernsey.”
“Guernsey? Whatever for?”
“A personal matter.”
“Shall I accompany you, sir? Or do you prefer to travel alone?”
