When the hackney halted, Eamon stepped down and whistled a signal. Several burly men appeared out of the fog to haul Rudyard from the hackney and toward the gangway of the small ship, which sailed for Amsterdam in the morning.
“All right, Stone?” the mate joined Eamon on the dock amid the swirling activity, while Rudyard limped up the wooden gangplank between men not about to let him go.
“I am now.” Eamon couldn’t stop a grin. “When you’re next in port, I’ll thank you properly. You won’t pay for a drink for your entire shore leave.”
The mate chortled. “You’ve done me plenty of favors over the years, including my post on this ship. Captain is a reasonable man.”
“You deserved it,” Eamon said warmly. “You kept ruffians from beating a frightened lad senseless in this very dockyard. I’d have been dead or maimed for life if you hadn’t happened along.”
“You’d have talked your way free if I hadn’t,” the mate said with an answering grin. “You have the gift, Stone.”
“When your jaw is half broken, speech does no good.” Eamon touched his face, recalling how blood had filled his mouth when the older, tougher boys had wanted to teach him who ruled the docks. “Your rescue was timely.”
“That may be.” The mate held out his hand. “Well met, once again.”
“And you, sir.” Eamon accepted the firm handshake. “Make certain Berridge doesn’t fall overboard. He’s an idiot, but I think his best punishment will be having to live with himself.”
The mate’s eyes twinkled as he released Eamon from his grip. “He might be a bit sick on the crossing, though.”
“That, I don’t mind.” Eamon turned up the collar of his coat against the damp. He’d come away without his greatcoat or hat, and the night had turned wet and smelly, especially along the river. “Until next time, my friend.”
“Get yourself indoors,” the mate advised. “It will be a foul night.”
“I think it’s beautiful.” Eamon scanned the thick fog, into which the masts of the merchant ships disappeared. “A splendid evening, one of the most splendid I’ve seen in my life.” He laughed at the mate’s incredulous look. “I’m in love, sir. With a beautiful woman who just might love me in return. Life is sweet, and all the world walks in beauty.”
The mate shook his head. “Well, you’re lost, ain’t you? Good night, Stone. God keep you.”
“And you.” Eamon sketched a salute, then turned and strode, whistling, into the fog, toward the waiting hackney.
Caro leaned back in the desk chair, surrounded by Leopold’s books and papers in his old study on the third floor. She rarely came into this room, finding reminders of her brief but contented time with Leopold too painful.
She’d been fond of Leopold for his kindness and quiet affection, for his love of books, and the art he liked to gaze at. For the amusing way he’d shield her from the nude statuettes they happened to pass. For his pride in Leo the few years he’d been able to know his son.
What Caro felt for Eamon was different but did not diminish her tenderness for Leopold. He’d had a special place in her life, one she’d never regret. How could she, when Leopold had unashamedly loved Caro and given her Leo, her greatest joy?
Now Eamon, out of the deep kindness he tried to hide from the world, had provided Caro with some means of helping Leo resolve his father’s debts and start him on a path to do great things. Hence, Caro’s morning spent looking through Leopold’s desk.
Most of the estate’s bills were with Leo’s man of business, who was now busily paying them with proceeds from the sold Rembrandt. But Leopold had kept other vowels here, personal debts to friends or bills for indulgences such as little gifts for Caro or Leo.
Caro was determined to have their man of business repay these debts as well. Leopold’s friends had mostly been understanding about them—they’d lent the money to Leopold out of affection for him in the first place, as they knew how feckless he could be.
Caro did not wish Leo to be obliged to these friends in any way, so he could begin life free of worry. Many aristocrats lived awash in debt, but Caro’s simpler upbringing had taught her that being beholden to no one was a more comfortable way to exist.
She sighed and continued to leaf through the ledger before her, noting that Leopold had marked a page of unpaid debts with a loose piece of paper. An old piece, Caro realized as she touched it.
No, not paper, her fingers told her, as her heart beat faster.
Vellum.
Caro turned the sheet over, and wonder met her eyes.
Chapter 27
Her Grace wishes to see you in the study, sir,” Singleton announced as he took Eamon’s wraps the morning after Eamon had escorted Rudyard to the docks.
Eamon had overslept, after sinking into his bed late the night before, full of whisky and relief. He’d won a battle for Caro, and it felt splendid.
There would be more battles to come, Eamon reminded himself. Other gentlemen might try to control Leo and his upbringing, hoping for influence over a future duke. Eamon would be there to help Caro defend Leo against them, whether she wished what they’d begun between them to blossom or not.
