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“I’ll go with ye only if ye promise—in writin’—that ye’ll leave the Honeysetts alone. And…and that ye make the repairs to their lugger.”

Uncle barked out a laugh. “I’m afraid you have no bargaining chips to make that happen, my dear niece.”

She raised her chin. “Once I become engaged to Mr. Foss,” she paused, swallowing the disgust rising in her throat, “you’ll not mention a word of my thievin’, for fear of it tarnishin’ your relationship with my future father-in-law—your future business partner.”

His smile faded, his eyes narrowing.

“Without that over my head, nothin’ will stop me from makin’ Mr. Foss ever regret takin’ me for his wife.” She raised her chin, forcing her voice to remain steady. “Then I’ll do whate’er it takes to ruin the merger ’tween your two companies.”

The look of hatred in his eyes appeared once again, and like an old friend, she welcomed it. This could only mean that she’d struck a nerve within him.

“But,” she continued, “if ye agree to the arrangements I’ve set, I’ll return with ye. I’ll change my accent, my behavior. I’ll encourage the union ’tween the two companies and ne’er make ye regret another thing. And I’ll…I’ll be an obedient wife to Mr. Foss.”

Her eyes flickered to Trevik’s, and his heavy frown wore at her heart.

This is the only way you’ll be safe and your family protected, she thought, willing him to read her mind.

“No, Morvoren,” Mrs. Honeysett whispered again from behind, but Morvoren kept her gaze steady on her uncle’s.

Finally, he jerked his head to the side, as if cracking his neck in irritation. “Very well. You have an agreement.” He turned to Trevik. “Meet me at the Golden Arms this evening. I’ll send for my man of business, and we shall sign the papers before we set off for St. Ives.”

Trevik didn’t respond. Poppy sniffled behind her, but Morvoren nodded. “I’ll retrieve my things.”

She made her way into her room—Poppy’s room—and gathered her few belongings, taking one last sweeping glance before she returned to the sitting room with her portmanteau.

Uncle still waited outside in the pouring rain, wiping his bloody nose with his handkerchief, but the Honeysetts had converged within the house, awaiting Morvoren.

“Ye can’t go with ’im, Morvoren,” Poppy whispered, tears streaming down her face.

Morvoren took her hands in hers. “I don’t want to leave, especially ye. But I can’t see your family be injured on account of me or my uncle any longer.” She reached forward, embracing her tightly. “I’ll try to write to ye.”

She released her, then moved to Mrs. Honeysett. “We can fight this,” Mrs. Honeysett said softly. “Ye don’t ’ave to go.”

But Morvoren knew Mrs. Honeysett understood her plight. “I thank ye for all ye did for me. I’ll ne’er forget your kindness.”

“Come, Miss Hollow,” Uncle called from the doorway. “I’ve grown weary of being in this rain.”

Morvoren humbly followed her uncle’s voice, pausing in the doorway where Trevik stood guard. She looked up at him, and his brown eyes found hers in an instant.

“I be sorry for everythin’,” she whispered. “And I ’ope ye can forgive me one day.”

Trevik’s jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth, but he said nothing in return.

She longed to wait, to force something from his lips, but Uncle wrapped his long fingers around her arm and pulled her out into the rain.

She followed him down the pathway, past the Cardys’, where Edern stood outside, watching with a curious gaze. He needn’t worry about Morvoren any longer. She’d never be back to Tristwick. She’d never see him or the Honeysetts again.

At the thought, she looked over her shoulder, not caring if she tripped on the trail as Uncle led her swiftly to where his carriage awaited.

The Honeysetts stood outside their home, Mrs. Honeysett and Poppy embracing with silent cries. Trevik stood a few paces in front of them, as if he’d followed after Morvoren. Their eyes connected, and despite the distance, she could see the ache in his gaze, the longing for her to stay.

And that was enough for her.

She faced forward again at Uncle’s tugging, and she obediently followed, though she knew she was walking toward a future she’d never wanted—a future she should have known she couldn’t escape.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Trevik made his way to the Golden Arms that evening with a heavy heart. He didn’t usually travel across land at night, the lugger being his normal place of residence.