“What’s this?” Doyle asked, the fight in his voice fading.
“My brother by law—one of us nobs, as you’re so fond of saying—was a ship captain,” said Nick. “It so happens he still has a vested interest in his family’s shipping concern. And I happen to know one of those East Indiamen will be departing for southern seas within the week.”
“What’s it to me?” Doyle demanded, fear rather than fight driving the question.
“You will be on it,” Jamie stated, low and implacable.
While Doyle sputtered and generally searched for words, a thin, wavery voice sounded in the void. “Ye’ll not be takin’ me Felix nowhere.”
Above the room, halfway down the staircase, stood a woman whose age could have been anywhere between one hundred years and eternal as the hills, judging by the deep grooves life had carved into her face. Layers of winter nightclothes piled on her frail form, she wore a diamond and sapphire tiara atop her head. Afakediamond and sapphire tiara. She could be none other than Doyle’s beloved mam.
“Just a jape ’mongst friends, Mam,” Doyle said placatingly, scrambling to his feet and crossing the room to her, of a sudden her doting and belovedFelix. “Now ye take yerself off to bed, and we’ll have a laugh o’er morning tea ’bout it.”
The woman shot Jamie and Nick a parting glare over her shoulder as Doyle helped guide her up the steep staircase and closed the door behind her.
“I canna leave me mam,” said Doyle, turning to Jamie and Nick. He seemed to have gained a proper understanding of the situation as his demeanor had entirely shifted from cocksure to supplicating. “I’m all she has in this mean ole world. She won’t survive without me.”
“Accommodation could be made on the ship for her,” said Nick, utterly dismissive of Doyle’s concerns.
The old rogue looked stricken. “She canna survive that journey. Search yer heart, ye know it.”
Jamie didn’t want the death of Doyle’s mam on his hands, but neither could Doyle stay in London. “You must leave London.”
Nick clearly picked up on the direction of Jamie’s thoughts. “Find another town.”
Hope lay behind Doyle’s spectacles. “Me mam has a older sister out Exeter way.”
Older?How was that possible? But Jamie had no time for the mysteries of the universe. “Be cleared out of London within three days. One minute longer, and you’re on a ship bound for lands unknown.”
“And,” Nick added, “I’ll be keeping an ear out for you. Don’t let me hear of any eels slithering about Exeter.”
Doyle shook his head, eyes wide, hands spread, manner obsequious and pacifying. Gone was the Flick Doyle of ten minutes ago. One could almost admire the man’s keen sense of keeping his hide intact. “Oh, no, no, no, it’s the straight and narrow fer me, no mistake.”
“You forget you ever knew Hortense,” Jamie said. “You cause her no worry or trouble from this moment forward, or there will be no end of the earth you can go and know safety.”
Doyle’s brow creased in confusion. “Hortense who?”
“And one last thing.” Jamie wasn’t quite finished.
“Anythin’, milord.”
Jamie extended his hand. “My signet.”
Doyle’s expression turned sheepish. Without delay, he slid open a drawer and shoved his hand inside. Jamie shot Nick a glance. His brother stood, feet planted wide, arms crossed. He wasn’t giving an inch. Jamie felt a pang of something he hadn’t felt for Nick in years, something he’d been too numbed by spirits to feel—brotherly affection. Nick had his back when it counted. It meant more than Jamie could put into words.
The clunk of metal on wood pulled Jamie’s attention. On the table sat the signet.Hissignet. It was part of him, always would be. It was time he accepted that fact. He slid it on the middle finger of his right hand. For the first time, the fit felt exactly right.
“Within three days,” he said to Doyle.
“Don’t have to tell me a third time.”
With that, Jamie and Nick set off into the new London morning.
“Are we off to inform Hortense?” asked Nick, his eyes bright with purpose.
“No,” said Jamie. He’d been giving this some thought.
“No?” Nick sputtered, incredulous. “Why the ever-loving hell not?”
