"None.” The reply was merely a grunt.
"Where are the others?"
"Tavern. It was a long night."
"Can't say as though I blame 'em," the foreman commented. "I don't like workin' late meself. All right, just sign here that you delivered the shipment." The man handed the driver the bill of lading. He chuckled at the description of the contents—building materials.
A signature was quickly scrawled. The foreman looked up as the man jumped down from the wagon and silently walked toward the big door.
"Hey, where you goin'?"
"Tavern."
For the second time in as many minutes the foreman shook his head. He didn't understand where the boss got people like that, and furthermore he didn't want to know. He vaguely wondered what had happened to Mr. Lash, not that he particularly liked the man. As a matter of fact, he was glad he hadn't come this time.
The foreman looked down, his brow wrinkling. "Hey! What kinda signature is this?" he yelled after the man, but the driver had already disappeared. He looked back down at the scrawl. The man must be joking with him. Raven?
"Yeah, and I'm the Archbishop of Canterbury," the foreman mumbled sarcastically.
Within hours, the second mate on theRevengehad the cargo secured in the hold. As the still night air gave way to the whisper of a good sailing wind just before dawn, mooring ropes were cast aside.
The harbor tugs labored to turn the majestic clipper about, nudging her graceful prow toward the open channel. Gulls cried overhead in a lavender sky as Tobias stood beside the man at the helm. He was glad to be putting London behind him.
At a sharply barked command the sails were unfurled. They billowed and caught the wind. Their course was set, south to Dover.
Elyse rubbed her throbbing temples. The dream had come again last night, but she didn't remember very much of it. What she did remember, she didn't understand. She'd slept badly after their hasty return to London two days earlier.
Pleading important business that simply couldn't wait until after the wedding, Jerrold had insisted they return immediately. Elyse had gratefully agreed. But she hadn't been prepared for the ride back.
The driver had practically ruined the team of horses, and Jerrold had pushed him to such a dangerous pace on bad roads, they'd broken an axle. She'd never seen Jerrold so furious. And now this.
She threw the stack of legal papers down on the table in her grandmother's drawing room. The wedding was this afternoon. There were still countless things to be done, including the final fitting of her gown. Now Jerrold had sent his solicitor round with a stack of legal documents she'd never seen before.
"I simply can't read through all this. There isn't time. If you'll just hold onto them, I'm certain I’ll have more time after the wedding."
After the wedding.
Why did she feel such a sense of dread? What the devil was wrong with her anyway? Her grandmother was treating her like some sort of invalid, and Katy was avoiding her altogether.
She thought of how sharply she'd spoken that morning and suspected that might be the reason. Then, too, she'd heard Lady Regina talking to Katy in the dining room before she'd joined them the evening before.
Bride's blues, her grandmother had called it, attributing it to fragile nerves. God's nightgown! She'd never had a fragile nerve in her life, and she couldn't stand people who did.
If everyone didn't quit treating her like some innocent invalid or helpless person taken with a case of nerves... Elyse tried to shake off her mood. She had nothing to be upset about, she told herself. She was marrying the most eligible man in all London, and her grandmother had known his family for many years.
St. James mocking words came back to her—Sounds like something one might look for in a good hunting dog.
"Miss Winslow...?"
Once more, she tried as diplomatic as possible to explain. Her grandmother had raised her to be astute and well informed. She simply would not sign these documents until she had thoroughly read them and had them looked at by Ceddy.
"I quite understand your concern, Miss Winslow, but I assure you, an agreement of this sort is quite normal when two people from families of substantial means marry."
"I'm sorry, but I have no knowledge of this. It will have to wait."
The solicitor tried again, meanwhile pushing his wire-rimmed glasses back up the length of an incredibly crooked nose.
Elyse closed her eyes, praying for divine intervention as the man repeated his instructions.
