“It appears I shall. God help me.” He locks eyes with her, and there’s something else in them besides resignation. Concern, running deep, and that same affection she spied before. “What happened to not wanting to aid the French?”
The sun pours in through the windows, into her skin, into her veins. Her mind throbs with it. She’s going to sea.She’s going to sea. She’s going!“Oh, thank you, Jack! I care not one jot about the French!” This isn’t entirely true, but it’s true right now, in this moment. She wants to embrace him; she wants to kiss him. She stays in the chair, clasping the glass so tightly she half expects it to shatter.
Jack says, “It’s worth it for the look on your face, I suppose. Though I must warn you, I don’t like to be told what to do.”
Smiling, she says, “I don’t like to be told what I cannot do.”
He shrugs. “That’s your lot as a woman. But do not fear, I shan’t tell you what not to do. Here’s what youwilldo. You’ll report to my house no later than six in the evening on Sunday. I will take you to theRapide;I won’t tell you where she’s anchored.We finish loading the cargo and sail at nightfall. You may bring a small satchel with personal belongings, but nothing more. Every bit of space is reserved for the goods we pick up in France. Understood?”
“Yes,” she says.
Jack says, “It’s ‘aye, Captain’ aboard the ship.” A smile tugs at his mouth. “I’ll expect you to work. It’s not a cruise for pleasure.”
“Of course.” She’ll do anything, she thinks, any task he’ll set her. TheRapide—could there be a better name for a ship?
“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this, but not a word to anyone. Not to Lady Darby or anybody else. Make up some story in case Lieutenant Sowerby comes calling. I heard him threaten to do so. A visit to relations a fair distance away will do.”
“Very well.” She is smiling again—she’s still smiling.
“As I said, it’ll be dangerous,” Jack says soberly. “TheSwallow’s prowling the coast and you’ve seen up close what a revenue musket does to a man. Not to mention her guns. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” A beat, then he says, “And I as well.”
Over the edge of her glass, she says, “Do you promise? You won’t change your mind?”
“Upon my honor. I’ll take you with me, but only for the one run.”
“That’s all I ask.” A sip, then, “I would never have betrayed you to the Revenue Service.”
“I knew it. But here’s why your idea pleases me, now that I’ve had a moment to think it over. See, you wouldn’t have betrayed me, but aside from your character, which seems dependable enough, I had no assurance of the fact. Now I do. From now on, I can be certain you’ll never talk, for you’ll be one of us. If they start stringing up smugglers, you shall be one.”
He taps his glass again. The sound reminds her of a bell. Despite the sun pouring into the room, she has grown cold. She hadn’t thoughtof this.You shall be one.She’ll be a criminal. What would George have said? But he loved the sea; he loved the navy. He would’ve understood, wouldn’the?
Jack says, “Are you certain it’s what you want?”
“Yes,” she says. “Not the smuggling, but the sailing—yes. I’ve always wanted it. And as His Majesty’s Navy won’t take me, a cruise aboard a smuggling vessel seems just the thing.”
Jack says, “You’re a strange woman, Isabel Henley.” But he’s smiling again and she thinks,he doesn’t mind that Iam.
When they finish their coffee, there’s a pause long enough that Isabel says, merely to say something, “I had best get home. I should like to try to get some mackerel when they bring in the catch.”
Jack says, “I’ll take you back to Helford. I’m meeting Tom Holder to discuss some arrangements.”
“What sort of arrangements?” she says.
“Is it your aim to make my business your own?”
“I believe it was you who made it mine when you decided to have your men carry you into my cottage so you could bleed all over my bed.”
“And a lucky decision it was,” he says warmly. “I couldn’t have wished for a better nurse.” Voice low, he adds, “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you standing there across the room at Weatherston, looking for all the world like you’d never belonged anywhere else.”
“I used to belong,” she says, placing her glass on the small round table next to her chair. “I don’t anymore. If I looked as if I belonged, it’s a testament to my skill at making pretense.”
Jack says, “We’re similar in that respect. I, too, once belonged in silk-clad drawing rooms and can pretend if I need to.”
“And where do you belong now?” she asks.
“In the back rooms of inns. In the coves at night, unloading goods and storing them in caves.” He chuckles. “With my neck in a noose, if you ask Lieutenant Sowerby.”
“Don’t joke about it. I can’t bear the thought.”
