Prologue
England 1814
Sadness sat heavilyon Malcolm’s bent shoulders. He slumped inward, trying to make himself as small as possible as he sat in a chair in the corner of his brother’s study. His dead brother. His breath hitched painfully in his chest. In fact, his chest ached at the effort it took to keep back the sobs he wished he could let escape. What was going to happen to him now that he was all alone?
Across the room, his family’s solicitor spoke with one of his father’s oldest friends, the Duke of Hartwick. The solicitor’s panicked voice carried across the room.
“No one can ever know the circumstance surrounding his death if the boy is ever to have a chance to right the title. There was no will, no guardian appointed. There is nothing left after all the creditors descended. A tragedy is what it is.”
“The elder Lord Kingsbury was a close friend. I will not let another of his sons fall into despair. How old is the boy?”
“Fifteen, your grace.”
“All right, old enough then. I will procure a letter of service from the crown and pay for a naval commission. He is too young yet to claim his title anyway. At least he will have a career and a path to follow. Close up the estate house. I will pay severance to the servants.”
“That is most generous of you, your grace.”
“It is the least I can do. I wish I had kept a better eye on Paul after their parents passed. How did he manage to waste it all in such a short amount of time?”
Malcolm watched the duke run a hand down his face. Then, his father’s friend turned and walked toward him. The duke crouched in front of Malcolm’s chair. He had kind eyes, soft and gray as the sky on an April day.
The duke’s heavy hand patted Malcolm’s knee and stayed there, warm and comforting. “Son, you won’t be going back to school. Instead, I will see that you start a new career as a naval officer. I have an old friend, a Royal Navy captain, and I will request you be put on his ship. Would you like that? A chance to sail the open sea and travel the world?”
Malcolm understood what wasn’t being said. He was not a small child. He knew there was nothing left here for him. Everyone he loved was dead. And even though the fear that had been ever-present since he had been told the news of Paul’s death still felt tight around his heart, the idea of escaping all the sadness of the past few years was tempting. Perhaps the sea air could wash away some of his pain.
He sat up straight and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Chapter One
England 1826
He was late.Malcolm glanced down the busy London street, which looked exactly the same as the one on which he had just walked. One of the two should be Charing Cross, which should lead him down to Whitehall. He turned and peered down the opposite direction, but the streets at this corner appeared to meet almost like spokes on a wheel.Shit.
Then, across the road between a bakery and a haberdashery shop, both bursting at the seams with customers, he spied a narrow building sporting a wooden clapboard sign emblazoned with a book. It looked quiet and empty; perhaps the bookshop owner could give him some directions.
He strode across the street, dodging carts as they rumbled over the cobblestones. To his right, a horse whinnied, and Malcolm side-stepped out of the path of a carriage just before gaining the safety of the walkway. Why hadn’t he taken a hack instead of thinking walking would be easier? It had been ten years since he had stepped foot in London. It seemed as though the city had grown ten times in size.
The bookshop was blissfully quiet. Rows of dark wood shelves filled the space. Each row was neatly marked by category. Malcolm peered down the rows to see if there was a desk with the proprietor anywhere. But the only person he spied was a diminutive lady standing precariously on a three-legged stool. She balanced on her toes, one arm outstretched, and reached for a large volume on the top shelf. Her other arm was full of books.
Malcolm hurried down the aisle. Coming behind her, he reached over her shoulder and plucked from the shelf the book that was about to fall on her head. Unfortunately, his presence startled the lady so badly that she gasped, wobbled, and fell off the stool straight into his arms. Her books scattered onto the floor.
“Oh dear!” Her exclamation came out breathy as she stared at him owlishly through a pair of round spectacles. Wide, luminescent eyes of golden brown blinked rapidly several times as though she needed to make sure of what she was seeing. She smelled divine, like vanilla and spice.
He should put her down but couldn’t quite convince himself to let go just yet. She was a tiny thing, and he cradled her easily with one arm. Malcolm couldn’t help but grin at her horrified expression as she glanced down at the books strewn about. “I saved this one at least,” he said, holding aloft the leather-bound volume.
“Yes, but what of the rest?” She stared down at the mess around his feet. “You scared me to death! Now, would you kindly put me down?”
“I don’t think I care to put you down. You feel just right.” He winked and gave her waist a squeeze.
“Sirrah, put me down. This is entirely improper.” Her feet kicked in the air.
He set her down on her feet. “I apologize for scaring you, but you were about to be knocked unconscious by this book.” Flipping it over, he read the title.Catalogue of Nebulae and Clusters of Stars. His eyebrows shot up. “No wonder it is such a large volume.”
The lady snatched the book from him. Her gaze veered back to the books on the floor. “Yes, well, I have been searching for this volume for quite a while, and the proprietor, Mr. Pierce, has disappeared again…” She bent and began to gather books.
Malcolm crouched down to help. “Perhaps this is too many books for one small woman.” How was she going to get all of these books home?
“I beg your pardon. But there is no limit on learning, even for women.” An adorable small divot appeared between her brows as she frowned, upending his usual unflappable composure.
