He and Tommy had ridden out from Chester and into Wales on the north bank of the Dee to face a decision at Connah’s Quay, where the river widened into the estuary. Should they continue along the north bank back into England to Parkgate or follow the southern shore through Wales?
Eli stood in his stirrups, gazing out at an empty mass of reeds and wetlands to the north. The road twisted due that direction and back away from the river at that point. Parkgate might be a candidate but equally likely could be a regulated port, and the route would most certainly be roundabout. He decided to follow the course to the south. Decision made, he and Tommy found their way across the river.
Mazes of water tracks, natural and man-made, confusing and dotted with expanding industrial facilities, blessed them less than the weather had. They passed riverboats, barges, small crafts, and small quays, with no sign of anchorage for a rich man’s yacht. They passed large stretches of land watered only at high tide. Frustration and the knowledge that nothing could be accomplished in Chester that day drove them on past first one fishing village and then another with no luck. They made only brief stops to rest and water their mounts.
Tommy suggested they turn back if they were to make it to Chester before dark, but Eli knew that the arrogant little canon had scheduled Eli’s appointment for late the next day.
Eli had become a man obsessed. Visions of Fanny drove him. Fanny in the hands of the brutes behind the Happy Cock. Fanny shoved to the rail of the Great Pagoda. Fanny forced to shoot a man on the road. Fanny trembling in his arms after riding cross-country. Visions of her nearness, the press of her body to his, tormented him. The maniac behind her peril had to be found and stopped—thoroughly, completely, permanently.
They reached the Irish Sea at sunset. The publican in the fishing village of Prestatyn served a decent ale and food that was filling at least. The man offered little by way of information regarding private anchorage and suggested they return back toward Mostyn for overnight accommodations. Temptation to continue around the coast seized Eli, but Tommy reminded him they had to return to Chester in the morning.
Retracing their steps, they found Mostyn and the inn their publican had called “honest,” an ancient-looking place that boasted a crowded tavern, one tiny bedroom to let, and a clean bed. Tommy sank into slumber as soon as he nestled on his side of the bed, his snoring regular and soft.
Eli lay awake. He felt a fool, lodging in a decrepit hostel in Wales while Fanny remained at Clarion Hall, unable to get on with her life. He stared at shadows on the ceiling and allowed visions of the woman he loved free rein. It wasn’t as if he could keep her from his thoughts anyway.
Sleeplessness persisted until he threw his legs over the side and padded across the room. A multipaned window, wider than it was tall, hung on the wall, at eye level. He pulled back the shade and gazed out at moonlight on the water. The inn lay just past a spit of land that jutted out into the Dee estuary shimmering in the pale-blue light. He glanced at the road where it passed his location. Tomorrow he would confront the bishop, get the privileges Fanny wanted, and return to her.
What will you do after that, Benson?
His body, hot and reckless, rose to make one answer, while worry about his employer’s response intruded. Would Clarion frown on his courtship of Fanny? Eli didn’t know, but it wasn’t Clarion’s business. Eli no longer fretted that Fanny was an earl’s daughter and above his touch. Rob’s wise counsel had put a period to that nonsense. He recalled his brother’s encouraging words about his position, and he knew himself well able to support a wife.
In the end, his heart urged him to its true desire. Memories of her response to his kisses filled him with hope stronger by far than any of those other considerations.
Put your love to the test—for what else could this madness be? Ask the woman to share your life and your bed.
The thought terrified him. He would almost rather confront the criminal behind her abduction than put his heart at risk.
Fear holds you back, then, Benson?Some hero he was, needing courage to propose to a woman. His mocking mind reminded him that he was hardly the hero of her dreams, but he didn’t care. He had reason to hope she felt as he did. A smile tugged the side of his mouth. He would do it. Once he’d obtained what she wished for, he would pay his addresses.
At the thought, a light across the water winked at him, as if to celebrate. Or warn him. He scanned the water until he saw it blink again. When it did, shapes in the distance, outlined by the light of the moon, came into focus. A ship bobbed at anchor out there.
Eli dressed quickly in the dark. He returned to the window, his eyes going unerringly to the ship. How had he missed it in the daytime? He wouldn’t mistake it again. He’d be there when the sun came up.
