“I shan’t.”
Jago and the oarsman appeared as if materializing in thin air. “Ready to depart, Miss Shaw?”
She wasn’t at all ready, but what choice did she have? If she had her druthers, the wind and the waves would keep her here. But the water was only slightly more ruffled now than when they’d left, a reminder of the hurdles to come. Telling friends and family. Fending off gossips.
She took a last look at the light and cottage with a keen yearning as Henri handed her into the boat. Raising the hood of her cape, she cast a look at him.
He stood unsmiling, looking thoughtful, making her wonder what he was pondering.
Lord willing, he’d still be here by Saturday next. She couldn’t imagine the island without him.
CHAPTER
thirty-four
You’rewhat?” Eliza stared at Esmée as if she’d sprouted horns in their very parlor.
“I’m to be the new lightkeeper for Indigo Island,” Esmée repeated, marveling at the calm that accompanied the decision, only slightly bestirred by her sister’s disquiet.
“A female lightkeeper? All your novel reading is giving you fancies! I can’t imagine it!”
“’Tis no different than any female tradeswoman,” Esmée replied, taking a seat on the sofa. “We’ve female printers, bookbinders, blacksmiths. Even an apothecary.”
“But my confinement—I—you won’t be here for the baby’s birth!”
“I’m hardly a midwife or nursemaid,” Esmée said in soothing tones. “And every six weeks or so I’m to have shore leave.”
“You know your sister is not one for society.” Quinn took a seat beside his wife, stroking her hand as it rested on the sofa. “Nor is she at your beck and call.”
A tear slid down Eliza’s plump cheek. “But...”
“I’m rather proud.” Father stood by the crackling hearth, armscrossed. “The admiral’s daughter has achieved something I never thought or expected.”
“’Tis partly Captain Lennox’s doing,” Esmée told them, passing Eliza a handkerchief. “He has had several interested parties, all men. I wasn’t sure he’d take me seriously.”
“He considers you because he’s still in love with you,” Eliza said with conviction. “I witnessed it in my own parlor but a month ago.”
The men chuckled as Esmée shook her head. “’Tis not what it seems—”
“Oh? ’Tis what all Virginia will think!”
“Let the naysayers spew what they will,” their father put in. “My daughter and Captain Lennox are above reproach.”
Eliza managed a short, tearstained laugh. “You do have a bold bone after all, Sister, if a tad belated, running off with the captain this way.”
Esmée sighed. “We are not—”
“What of the almshouse and your charitable endeavors?” Quinn interrupted gently, still smiling. “You will be missed.”
“The almshouse has had a windfall of late.” Esmée still longed to unravel that mystery. “An anonymous benefactor has given so generously, ’twill carry them through the winter and far beyond.”
“And the chocolate shop?” Quinn queried.
Father cleared his throat. “I’ve just purchased a hand-operated machine from Boston. ’Tis time Esmée was relieved of her duties there.”
Esmée warmed at her father’s words, for she’d been unsure of his reaction. Eliza still looked sullen, her usual high spirits dampened by sleepless nights and indigestion. Even now she winced, moving a hand as if to counter an uncomfortable kick.
She continued to pout. “When does your island sojourn begin?”
