Tucking the earplugs of wax into his jacket pocket, he listened. Blocking out the noise around him, he tried to hear the voices on the approaching vessel. It was being buffeted by both sea and wind, but he heard snatches.
Screaming, he thought, going cold. Women were screaming, and men were yelling. God’s blood, what was going on on that boat? Where were Samantha and her maid? He almost hoped they’d missed the crossing.
“I fear they could be injured, Archie.” Warwick looked at his valet, footman, and general all-around servant. In fact, the only one he had in his new lodgings. He’d stolen him from his eldest brother’s household.
“It looks a nasty crossing, sir.”
Archie, like Warwick, had his eyes on the approaching vessel.
“Do you know Lady Samantha’s maid, Archie?”
“I do. Penny, sir.”
“If they are injured or separated, you find her, and I will find Lady Samantha,” Warwick said.
Archie nodded, grim faced.
The cries grew louder, but he could not decipher Samantha’s among them, which was entirely reasonable as so many were on board, but not being able to identify her voice simply hiked his tensions.
“I hope the doctor is ready,” the man to his right said. “This is going to be right nasty.”
Warwick felt ice slither down his spine. In London, there was Lilly. She could heal with just a touch. But she was three days away if Samantha needed her.
The boat seemed to limp into the dock and then bumped into the end. Men sprang to take the ropes and secure it to the moorings.
Warwick started moving to where the gangway was being lowered. He watched the anxious faces above him on the deck, peering down from the railing. None were Samantha. As soon as the men had secured the gangway, he brushed past them and began to climb with Archie on his heels.
“Hey! You have to wait. They need to come down!”
Warwick ignored the warning and reached the top. The gate was still closed, and passengers were trying to get it open. A huge press of bodies attempting to escape the hell they had just endured. Warwick climbed over, pushing people aside. They were covered in the effects of the hazardous trip and smelt rank. Some wept, others were supported by people. He kept moving through them, listening, looking. So far, he had not heard her voice.
Something was very wrong. The bitter taste in his mouth told him that as did the tension in his back.
“Samantha!” He called her name above the heads of the passengers. No reply was forthcoming. He filtered through sounds as he moved. It was slow going, working his way through the thick mass of sick and scared humanity, but he did it. Had to do it for her. Searching for anything that would alert him as to where she was.
“Archie?”
“Here, sir, at your back!”
He kept moving through the people, eyes going left and right. She had to be here somewhere. Unless she had not made the trip? That was a possibility, and yet the anxiety he was feeling told him she was here on this boat somewhere. Warwick walked toward the stern.
Don’t let her be hurt.
It was then he heard her voice. She was calling for help. He moved as quickly as he could in her direction and found her huddling with another. People were buffeting them from all sides. Knocking into them, stepping over them.
“Back away!” he roared, dropping down beside her. Warwick wrapped his arms around her and the other woman. “Samantha.” His words sounded hoarse. “It’s me, Warwick.” He spoke into her hair. “I have you now, sweetheart.”
“W-Warwick?”
Lifting his head, he found her face inches from his. Eyes red from crying, her hair a mess, face pale. She’d never looked more beautiful to him. It was instinct that had him placing a soft, gentle kiss on her lips.
“It’s all right now, I have you.”
She shuddered and then pressed her face into his neck. She was ice-cold.
“My m-maid, P-Penny is injured, I c-cannot leave her.”
“Archie, take Penny,” Warwick said, rising with her in his arms. “My man will care for your maid, Samantha.”
