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Silently, he signed the three copies of the agreement before him, one for him, one for Mr. Truscott, and one for Mr. Oates. It was bad enough that Trevik was making this deal with the devil. But knowing it was in Morvoren’s benefit—and that he had a copy of the contract clear as day for himself, as well—it was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make.

The paper was slipped from his grasp the moment the pen left the paper, and Mr. Oates rolled up the document and secured it in his bag before standing.

Mr. Truscott stood with his own copy of the agreement, gulping down the last of his drink. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Honeysett. Although, you’ll excuse me if I wish our paths never cross again.”

Trevik sniffed. At least he and the man could agree on one thing.

He walked past him. “Now, I’m off to write yet another agreement with my niece. Good day.”

He walked away without a glance back. Trevik remained at the table, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, wracking his brain for anything that might help him save Morvoren from a life of misery.

But with the document signed, what could he do?

He dropped his hand, his shoulders sinking forward as he stared at the agreements before him. He’d just signed away the security of his lugger being fixed to ensure Morvoren was safe. And yet, she still had to marry a cad—and she still had to interact with her uncle.

So what had it all been for?

How he wished he could pull her from the room she was locked away in upstairs and take her back to Tristwick to marry her himself.

But it was too late. She would live the rest of her life just out of Trevik’s reach, forever alone, forever unhappy.

And it was all his fault.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Morvoren stared out of her bedroom window, eying the sea she could only catch a fraction of.

One week had passed since she’d seen the Cornish seas in all their glory from atop Tristwick’s cliffs. Since arriving in St. Ives, Uncle had kept her indoors, attempting to reteach her all of the manners and elegance he’d said she’d lost while with the Honeysetts.

She’d done her best to speak properly, to smile at his friends, to curtsy, eat, speak, and dance in a manner befitting a proper young lady. She would show Uncle that she could keep her end of the bargain because he’d kept his—repairing Trevik’s lugger and leaving the Honeysetts alone.

Though she felt peace knowing she’d done all she could to help the family her uncle had injured, it did not stop her tears at night. Nor did it stop her from standing atop the bench near her window to catch a glimpse of the sea whenever she could.

She’d always loved the view, just as she’d always loved the sea. But now, eying the sliver of the lilting, turquoise water meant more to her. Now, it reminded her of Trevik.

The door opened behind her, and her lady’s maid appeared. “The Fosses are ’ere to call, miss. Your uncle bids ye to come down.”

“Thank ye,” Morvoren said, but she quickly shook her head. Hearing the maid’s words always brought back memories of her time in Tristwick. “Thank you. I will be right there.”

Morvoren left the safety of her room behind and walked down the stairs of Uncle’s townhome, rallying her courage and fortitude for what lay ahead.

Her time in Tristwick had seemed like an utter dream compared to the way she was living now. But it wasn’t time to dwell on such a thing. She was already dawdling, and Uncle despised it when she did so.

Would her betrothed, too?

After a week of dinners, balls, card parties, and more, Morvoren still had not spoken more than a few conversations with the man. He was still more interested in the women standing near to him during card games or the ones eager to share a moment in the gardens with him during balls.

Morvoren tried not to let it bother her. After all, Uncle had told her she’d experience such infidelity no matter whom she married. She might have believed him once. But after knowing Trevik…

She swallowed the emotion rising in her throat as she reached the landing of the stairs. This was her decision. Her choice had allowed Trevik and his family the security they so desperately deserved.

Besides, she shouldn’t be dwelling on such things when she had a wedding to plan. The banns would be read for the first time in two days, officially announcing their engagement, and from that point forward, she would be Mr. Foss’s.

She allowed herself one final shudder before she straightened her spine, raised her chin, and walked into the drawing room.

Uncle and the Fosses stood in the center of the room. The curtains had been opened, allowing the bright early afternoon sunshine to fill the room to its capacity. The walls were a soft, light blue, the wooden floors immaculately polished, and grand cushion-backed chairs were placed comfortably about the spacious room.

It was opulent, yes. And neat and beautiful and striking. Yet Morvoren found herself longing for something simpler. Floors scuffed with the marks of hard-working boots. Uncomfortable wooden benches that held the weight of an entire family. Dark walls that surrounded a room like a warm embrace.