Christian nodded. “The lust for power and recognition can turn men into scoundrels. He would have seen it as a means to prove his loyalty to the regime.”
“Once François awakened, I had to get you away, fast.” His grinned. “You put up quite a fight.”
“You knew I would demand to confront him.”
“I suspected you might, sweetheart.” He tightened his arm around her. “I couldn’t take that chance.”
Verity’s fingers gently probed her sore chin. She winced. “Did you have to hit me so hard?”
“I tried not to. Can you forgive me?”
She rubbed her wrist, but remained within the circle of his arm. “Perhaps you did save my life, so I suppose I must.” She frowned and looked out into the night. Henrietta saw despair in her eyes. Why was she so against returning to England?
Henrietta leaned back against a coil of rope. “I am so glad you are coming. You’ll be safe there.”
“I shall return to the theatre.”
“I’d love to be an actress,” Henrietta said. “Perhaps you could help me.”
Verity looked amused. “Perhaps.”
Henrietta caught the glance between her father and Christian. “You think I couldn’t?” she challenged them.
“Daughters of viscounts do not go on the stage,” Anthony said, his hand on the tiller, staring ahead as the boat churned through the waves.
“The Drury Lane actress, Lady Atkyns, is married to a peer.” Henrietta rose and lurched against the roll of the swell. “Papa, you’ve always told me to live the way I wanted. If I didn’t want to marry, I didn’t have to. I could live like Aunt Gabrielle.”
“I don’t believe I mentioned the stage,” he said wearily. He grinned at Christian. “This will soon become your husband’s concern, Hetta.”
He narrowed his eyes and stared into the hazy distance. “But first we must get to England.”
