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He nodded, pulling her in closer, making her heart ache all the more. She didn’t know if he believed her, but he allowed her secrets to keep.

Morvoren needed to tell him. She knew that. But how could she find the words to admit that her uncle was the one who’d caused Trevik’s father’s an early departure from this life?

The words stuck on her tongue, emotion burgeoning painfully in her throat.

Why, why had heaven played such a cruel trick on her again? Why could she have not discovered the truth before…before she’d given her heart away to the one man who’d protect it? The one man who seemed to want her?

The one man who shouldn’t want her?

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Morvoren had slipped away from Trevik the moment they’d arrived at the Honeysett’s home, sliding into bed and feigning sleep before Poppy had even come in to dress.

It was for the better. Morvoren knew she’d have to tell the family the truth, but the mere thought of looking them in the eye and admitting that her uncle was the man who’d ruined their lives…how could she do such a thing when she could hardly fathom the truth herself?

She prayed that sleep would provide her with the rest she needed to feel better prepared to tackle the issue on the morrow, but instead, she spent a restless night tossing and turning on her tear-soaked pillow.

By morning, the pulsing across her brow and the tightness in her neck could attest to the sleep she hadn’t received. She dressed for church services and walked with the Honeysetts to the grey-stoned chapel.

Mrs. Honeysett’s and Trevik’s watchful eyes continuously shifted toward her as their small party walked across the cliffside, then shuffled along the wooden bench in the church. She did her best to pretend that all was well, delivering feigned smiles and striving to listen to the sermon, all while ignoring the confusion Trevik must have felt for her odd behavior.

In truth, she didn’t know how to behave around him any longer.

Trevik had chosen her last night. Above his crew, above his security, above everything. Deep down, she knew he would forgive her eventually, as would the rest of his family. But Tristwick, the Cardys, would not. Her presence had been divisive enough for the fisherman’s crew in the last three weeks, and she couldn’t put them through more.

She knew she shouldn’t be blamed for Uncle’s actions in regard to the Honeysetts. And yet, she still felt the sorrow of what her uncle did as if she had done it herself. And she knew, as much as the Honeysetts would profess otherwise, their hearts would ache each time they peered into Morvoren’s eyes, for they would be seeing the niece of the man who’d killed their father.

How could she survive that? After everything she’d already put the family through, after risking their future with the fishermen of Tristwick, after putting herself upon the family and taking advantage of them. She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t allow that constant reminder to them that she was the connection to their pain—a pain that would never leave.

So she would leave.

The sermon stretched on for what seemed like days, Morvoren willing the vicar, Mr. Biddle, to sit down and cease his prattling off scriptures. As much as she dreaded speaking the truth, she knew the longer she waited, the harder speaking would become.

Finally, when Mr. Biddle ended and bade farewell to his congregation, Morvoren followed the Honeysetts from the church.

When she caught sight of Captain Kendricks near the carriages, however, she held back from the Honeysetts and slipped toward the captain instead.

“Miss Hollow,” he greeted with a tip of his hat to her.

“Good mornin’, Captain,” she greeted, looking over her shoulder.

Mrs. Honeysett and Trevik were speaking with the Bosankos, Poppy with a friend of hers. None of them had yet to realize that she’d slipped away.

“I trust your ankle has fully recovered,” the captain said, smiling kindly.

“It has, thank ye. I…I be wonderin’, has Mrs. Honeysett spoken to ye about any connections ye might have in Bodmin? Anyone who might be in need of a maid or shop assistant?”

At this point, she’d settle for a job in the workhouses. Anywhere would suffice, so long as she could no longer hurt the Honeysetts.

“Oh, yes. She did mention that. I have a few friends in the navy who have settled there, quite happily. I believe one of them might need maids at an inn he’s acquired. I’m not certain about the others, though…”

She nodded. “Do ye know if the work be needed soon?”

She glanced over her shoulder, her heart skipping as Trevik’s gaze found hers. Blast. She’d been hoping to do this without notice.

Captain Kendricks winced. “I’m afraid I don’t know when he’d need help. I will be sure to ask him.”

“Thank ye. I…I’d prefer to depart from Tristwick as soon as possible. I’ll be ready the moment he needs me.”