Lord Barstoke wagers Lord Emhurst twenty pounds that Mr. Isaiah Redmond will wed Miss Isolde Sylvaine before year’s end.
He stared at those words until they blurred.
He was not conscious of breathing.
He could not feel his limbs.
In recent weeks Jacob had heard the sound of a sword plunged killingly deep into another man’s flesh. He’d been tormented by hallucinatory fever dreams filled with writhing evils.
Nothing compared to the horror of reading those words.
He hadn’t realized this was his worst nightmare until he saw it emblazoned in White’s Betting Book.
It was dated only a few days ago.
“Anything wrong, old man?” Neeley was at his shoulder. Which was when Jacob realized he likely hadn’t moved for a conspicuous amount of time.
Jacob turned swiftly. Neeley took an alarmed step backward.
“Christ. Why are you looking at me like that, Eversea?I’mnot a pirate.”
Neeley knew nothing about Jacob’s attachment to Isolde. And Jacob wasn’t going to attempt to explain it now.
“My apologies.” Jacob’s voice sounded muffled to him in his own ears, as if he was speaking underwater. “It’s just I’m certain George would be none too pleased to see his sister’s name associated with such a fiction.” He pointed to the page. “She hasn’t even had a London season.”
Neeley peered at the betting book.
“Ah, I think I know how this came about. Finchley—you know how he is, Redmond boot licker, never forgets the name of a pretty girl—was here with Barstoke a few days ago, claiming he saw this Miss Sylvaine with Redmond underneath those famous trees in Pennyroyal Green or some rot. Barstoke—you know how he always needs tobesteveryone—saidheheard from a fellow in line at Smithfield Curtis tobacconists that a girl named Isolde has been seen walking about with Redmond. And Emhurst—he’s Barstoke’s cousin, not certain you’ve ever met him—was here and called both of them liars, just for the fun of it I suppose. Hence the bet.”
Jacob stared at him. “Walking. About.” He issued the words gingerly. As though they were lit grenades.
“Yes, you know that thing you do to get around on dry land? Ha!” Neeley thumped Jacob on the back. “So, it’s probably just the usual nonsense intended to muddy Redmond’s smug waters. Pity they had to drag George’s sister into it. But better Redmond leg-shackled than the rest of us, eh? Regardless,on ditis he’ll announce his engagement tosomeoneat the Pennyroyal Green assembly this Saturday. You won’t want to miss that, eh, Eversea?”
A hard,fast ride on two changes of hired horses got Jacob to Sussex before mid-day the day after he’d returned to English shores. He’d packed his saddlebags carefully and lightly with only the things he considered critical; the rest of his trunks remained at the Eversea London townhouse.
As he rode, he recalled George Berkeley, the philosopher who’d posited that nothing becomes real until it is perceived. Over the past few months, he had learned to hold himself at an emotional remove from horrors until it was safe to feel. And this is what he did as the gratifyingly swift horses ate up the miles between him and Isolde.
In Pennyroyal Green, he stopped at home long enough for the servants to ecstatically fuss over him and to learn that his parents planned to return from visiting his sister in time for the assembly tomorrow. Then he washed his sweaty, dusty body and changed into clean clothing, this time his own. All of it fit him too loosely, too.
He was distantly aware that he was perilously exhausted. Nerves, dread, coffee, and a fierce sense of purpose kept him artificially alert.
He glanced at himself in a hallway mirror as he left the house, and nearly recoiled from his reflection, just as Neeley had in White’s. His eyes were burning like an avenging prophet’s.
When he finally plunged into that fount of Pennyroyal Green gossip, Smithfield Curtis Tobacconists, the familiar pungent scent of the shop nearly made him sway on his feet.
The proprietors were standing together at the counter. Their heads lifted in unison at the jangle of the bell.
Then their face lit with delight.
“Good God, look who’s walked in! Well, it’s damned splendid to see you, young Mr. Eversea!” Smithfield thrust out his hand for Jacob to shake. “Had to pinch meself, I did. Ain’t ye the spit of yer father now, fine figure of a man he is, too.”
“I’m proud that you think so, Smitty, but since when have you needed to flatter me to get me to buy my favorite blend?” Jacob shook their hands.
They all chuckled good-naturedly.
“Rumors have been colorful, sir, about your whereabouts. We was all a bit worried, we was, when your ship did not come in on schedule.” Mr. Curtis twinkled at him.
“Saw sea monsters implicated in my demise in the betting books at White’s,” Jacob told them.
