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But that life seemed to be in his distant past now.

He entered the small inn, looking around for a moment before spotting Mr. Truscott—the filth of the earth—occupying a table at the corner of the inn, taking a drink of brandy.

Another man sat beside him, but Morvoren was nowhere to be found. Not that Trevik expected her uncle to allow them to see each other.

It was better this way, though. Trevik didn’t know if he could bear seeing her without taking her in his arms, throwing Mr. Truscott flat on his back once more, and warning the man to never lay his hands on the love of his life again.

It had taken everything within him not to do the very same hours before, but Mr. Truscott had delivered too many threats, and Trevik had had to concoct a plan if he had any hope of helping Morvoren’s situation.

As Trevik approached, Mr. Truscott waved him over to the table, motioning for him to take a seat across from him. “This is Mr. Oates. He will be overseeing the signing of the agreement to ensure all is in order.”

Trevik couldn’t be more grateful for the rush Mr. Truscott seemed to be in. He was ready to be finished with the whole business himself.

Mr. Truscott pushed forth a piece of paper, sprawling script across the length of it. “As you can see, my niece has already signed at the bottom, agreeing to her part of the arrangement.”

Trevik looked at the document, scanning the words. Ever since Mr. Truscott had taken advantage of Father, Trevik had made it a point to ensure he was learned enough in the ways of contracts and business arrangements. He was grateful for that now, for Mr. Truscott seemed to wish to confuse Trevik with his wording, what with how loquacious the document was.

Finally, he reached the end, Morvoren’s scripted signature at the bottom imprinting itself on Trevik’s heart just as it had the paper.

He’d been shocked when he’d discovered her to be Mr. Truscott’s niece. But not once did he blame her for not saying so. After everything they’d been through, after how harshly Trevik had spoken with her, how could she have entrusted him with such knowledge?

How he wished that she had. Instead, he was stupid enough to believe that she was leaving for Bodmin because she didn’t love him, because she didn’t want to accept a life of a fisherman’s wife, not because of her connection with her uncle.

How foolish he’d been. How foolish they’d both been. If they would’ve just shared their feelings, not given in to the hurt they’d caused each other, they might have been together still.

“As you can see,” Mr. Truscott said, bringing Trevik back to his dismal reality, “you will receive the materials for your lugger in but a few weeks, and I will forgive Miss Hollow of her debt. In exchange, my niece has agreed to be a dutiful wife to Mr. Foss.” He paused, leaning forward just a fraction. “In all matters.”

Trevik fisted his hands beneath the table, refusing to give in to the man’s goading this time.

“Might I suggest you sign swiftly?” Mr. Truscott continued. “I am every bit as anxious to be done with this business as I am certain you are.”

Mr. Oates offered the pen and jar of ink to Trevik, but he merely stared at it. “Thank ye, but that’ll not be necessary at the moment.”

Mr. Truscott’s severe scowl appeared instantly. “What do you mean, Honeysett?”

“I will not be signing that agreement.”

Mr. Truscott’s eyes darkened, as they had while looking at his niece. What devil had possessed this man to behave so cruelly to his own family?

“Did ye truly think I’d sign this after what ye did to me father?”

Mr. Truscott’s nostrils flared, but he drew a deep breath and placed a calm smile on his face. “Mr. Oates, will you excuse us for a moment?”

“Certainly,” the man mumbled, and he looked almost relieved to leave the tension-ridden table to enjoy a drink at the bar by himself.

Once they were alone, Mr. Truscott took a sip of his brandy. “You cannot leave the past to die, can you?”

“Clearly ye can’t either in regard to your niece.”

His smile turned grim. “You can’t imagine the half of my trials with a niece like her. Since the moment she stepped over my threshold, she has caused me nothing but grief. I’m certain you can attest to the amount of trouble she is, no matter your feelings for her.”

Trevik would have smiled in a different situation. How often had he called Morvoren trouble? How often had he lost patience with her, cried out with annoyance due to her behavior? But then, those things that drove him mad were also the things he loved most about her. Her passion, her honesty, her loyalty to those she loved.

“So tell me, Mr. Honeysett,” Mr. Truscott continued, “why will you not sign the agreement?”

Trevik leaned back in his chair, forcing a look of ease as opposed to his insides roiling. “I’ve another proposition for ye.”

“Do go on.”