Page 74
“The sextant is not stolen!” Cassio said, losing control for the first time. “The captain gave it to me. I had no idea there was a seal attached!”
“Why would he give his first mate such a valuable instrument, obviously designed for his family?”
“I am part of the family!” Cassio snarled. “He had no son, and he has offered his daughter as my wife!”
Joshua stepped forward, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword. “You, who just described yourself as having neither birth, power, nor wealth?”
Cassio smirked. “Her father promised me an estate along with her hand in marriage.”
The sword slid from its sheath with a dangerous sound. Cassio’s eyes widened, but he held his tongue.
“You will never marry Miss Tyron,” Joshua growled. “Do you understand me?”
“I understand that you don’t know who she is!”
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
The first mate’s smirk deepened. “She’s not good enough for me, but I’ll take her.” He leaned forward, his chin jutting. “You ask the captain about that sextant, and then I’ll have an apology when you set me free.”
Joshua had control of himself; he allowed his sword to slide into its scabbard. “If it’s an apology you want, I’ll leave it to the hangman. I believe he apologizes before doing his work.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
PARENTAL SACRIFICE AND ITS REPERCUSSIONS
Years ago, Lady Wharton had told Daisy and Livie about the moment she learned of her mother’s death: she had “turned to ice” on hearing the news. Livie had nodded sympathetically, but now, as a chill shot down to her toes, she truly understood the emotion. She felt cold, small, and pathetic.
A hailstone. A useless bit of ice, cast to the side.
Beside her, Lord Devin made a rough noise and edged sideways until his shoulder brushed hers.
“What do you mean?” Livie managed to ask the man glaring at her. The man married to her mother. The man who had never shown any signs of loving her.
The man who was apparently not her father. Her heart hurt as from a blow, and she wanted—she couldn’t stifle it—she wanted Joshua. She scarcely knew him, and yet she wanted Joshua beside her rather than Lord Devin, for all his kindliness.
“I’ve always known,” Captain Sir Tyron stated. “You’re none of mine.” Her expression must have made him feel guilty because he looked to the wall rather than meet her eyes.
Lord Devin cleared his throat. “You suspect your wife of adultery?”
Livie turned her head and found his lordship was regarding the captain with the disgusted air of a man who’s turned over a cobblestone and found a writhing earthworm underneath.
That disgust would be directed at her from all sides soon enough, Livie thought numbly. Perhaps not from Lord Devin, but from the rest of the world. If she understood her father—no, the captain—correctly, she was illegitimate. A bastard.
No wonder her mother showed so little interest in her, never bothering to visit. No wonder she had grown up in her aunt’s nursery. She, Livie, was living proof of infidelity.
“I was at sea for a year and came home to … her,” the captain told the wall. “Not my heir, never my heir, though I gave her a dowry out of Christian charity.”
Color had mounted in his cheeks. Livie thought he regretted blurting out the truth—not for her sake, but because he didn’t want anyone to realize he had been cuckolded.
Still, he couldn’t be the only one who knew. Her aunt, Lady Wharton, would certainly have recognized that her brother was at sea when his daughter was conceived.
And yet Livie’s aunt had never indicated by the slightest gesture that she considered Livie less precious than her own daughter.
“I never went near the strumpet’s bed again,” the captain continued, turning to Lord Devin. “I didn’t forsake her, though. I made a vow in God’s church, even if my fidelity meant I’d never have an heir, nothing other than a bastard child. I did my best to fashion what I had into something better than her mother.”
“That’s why you always assumed I was a strumpet,” Livie said. She was rather proud to discover that her voice was clear and calm.
Not friendly, though. Icy.
