Not irony. Rather, a mockery of decency.

“Thank you,” he replied. “I have the honor of conveying a lady from Trinidad to Devonshire, the daughter of Lord Carlyle. I have no doubt she would be infinitely more comfortable aboard a ship of the line in the company of naval officers, than otherwise.”

Eccles nodded. “We have accommodation for ladies aboard. Modest, but suitable. My wife is with us and will be glad for feminine company. Will you join us aboard then?”

“I will accompany you in my vessel.”

Eccles nodded. “The more guns the better should we meet with threats.”

Jin swallowed the last of the rum, and felt the heat slide down his throat into his gut.

“Eccles, might you have room aboard your ship for yet another passenger? I have an acquaintance, also on Trinidad now, who may be looking for passage to England shortly as well.”

“We can make space for him if you wish.” Eccles lifted his glass. “Any friend of yours is welcome aboard my ship. Who is he?”

“A planter. English-born but now quite American. And he is a friend of the lady. His name is Castle.” The man who would spend the month with her instead of him, as she would have if he had not found her and altered her life.

He glanced at Joshua’s half-filled glass still on the table. After three years, his search for his father would soon come to an end. And after two years, he would finally cease living with Viola Carlyle as the purpose for his actions. His quest would be over, his debt paid.

Eccles raised his rum. “To England, then,” he toasted.

Jin shifted his gaze to the querulous sea. “To England.”

Chapter 18

Fellow Subjects of Britain,

The arrogance of the aristocracy never ceases to amaze. Consider the following, which I received yesterday from the Head Bird Man:

My lady,

It is with great pleasure that I alert you to the news that Sea Hawk has returned to England and is forthwith available for you to run to ground. I fear that once you become acquainted with him you will have no use for the remaining members of our inconsequential little club; as many sea captains, he tends to turn ladies’ heads. If this comes to pass, my heart will suffer for loss of your attention. But I cannot regret that finally you may discover the identity of one of us. Therefore, if you should in fact learn his true name, pray do me the honor of conveying to me your meeting place and time so that I might hide in the bushes and sigh over the loss I am myself now bringing about. A lady must be given that which she wishes, however, and if I am able to fulfill your desires even in this manner I will eagerly do so, even though it is to my disadvantage.

Yours devotedly, &c,

Peregrine

Secretary, The Falcon Club

He teases as though I were some demirep he could charm with childish flattery. He imagines women bereft of the capacity to reason, susceptible to empty foolishness instead.

Note this, Peregrine: I am unmoved by your flirtation. I will discover Sea Hawk’s true identity and will reveal him and all of you to the poor citizens of Britain whose wealth you squander playing games like little boys at Pick-Up Sticks.

– Lady Justice

Chapter 19

“It is… bigger than I remember.” Viola stared through the carriage window at the house rising before her.

Not house. Mountain.

Savege Park was a rambling mass of stone, mortar, parapets, and about a hundred chimneys, with dozens of windows to the west reflecting the ocean, and windows to the east mirrors of emerald green hills dotted with sheep and striped with late-summer crops.

The country home of her sister, the Countess of Savege.

Not five miles away, Glenhaven Hall, the manor house of the Baron of Carlyle where Viola had lived her first ten years, was tucked behind a high bluff. But when they had disembarked in Exmouth and Jin offered her the choice, Viola decided to come here first, to meet Serena before again encountering the man who was not truly her father.

Possibly she had made a mistake.

“But I only saw it once or twice, I think,” she mumbled. She was weary from the swift journey, her bones and muscles rattled from the carriage’s constant bumping, but her nerves jittered like a cabin boy in his first squall.

“It’s a pity your friend, Mr. Castle, is not here to enjoy the sight,” the gentleman sitting beside her said pleasantly. Mr. Yale was always pleasant, although slightly satirical, and certainly inebriated. But the latter did not seem to affect his gentlemanly address or the clever glint in his silver eyes. During the long drive he had provided agreeable company. Distracting company.

Jane, the dust-colored-beanpole maid Jin insisted she accept in Trinidad, barely said a word.

Jin had ridden.

For a man who six weeks earlier said that he would not allow her out of his sight until he delivered her to her sister’s home, he’d been conspicuously absent lately. In Trinidad before departing they had a single conversation in which he introduced her to Jane and told her she would be traveling to England with the navy. It seemed he had many influential friends. Like the Admiralty.

During the voyage she’d seen only glimpses of him across the sea. They were two ships strong, and encountered no unfriendly vessels. Captain Eccles’s frigate boasted one hundred twenty guns, and the ship Jin had acquired in Tobago was remarkably fine-not as beautiful as the Cavalier but considerably better than the April. Viola had not been worried, merely perpetually out of sorts.

Aidan’s company aboard hadn’t helped. His announcement at Port of Spain that he must travel back to England to visit his family astounded her. He insisted he could leave the repairs to his farm in the hands of his steward. But his solicitous, appreciative attention on board had swiftly begun to chafe, and Seamus’s company was predictably awful. The naval officers as well as Captain Eccles’s wife provided some relief. But mostly she’d kept to herself reading in her cabin. She didn’t like being a passenger aboard another master’s ship. She wondered how Jin had borne it.

And now he was fulfilling his promise to deliver her home. He had been a shadow for a month. Shortly, he would disappear altogether.

It must be for the best. She could not forget him if he remained constantly in her life.

“Yes, I suppose Mr. Castle would like it,” she replied, shifting her gaze from the sprawling mansion to Mr. Yale. At the dock in Exmouth, Aidan had taken one look at the darkly attractive Welshman who was to accompany her and Jin to Savege Park, and his face went stony. Viola didn’t know why he should bother being jealous. The elegant Londonite was certainly handsome, his black hair, coat, waistcoat, and breeches giving him a decidedly mysterious air. But he couldn’t hold a candle to the former pirate. Still, Aidan had been fidgety about leaving her to see his parents in any case, constantly repeating during the final days of their voyage how sorry he was not to be able to be there for her reunion with her family.

“He’s no doubt accustomed to this sort of thing,” she murmured, “being English, of course.”

“As are you, of course.” Mr. Yale slanted her a sidelong glance.

He hopped gracefully out of the coach, then proffered his hand. She maneuvered her skirts over the steps without tripping. Despite the gentle admonishments of Mrs. Eccles, she’d worn trousers and coat during the voyage. But when Captain Eccles informed her they were to dock, she changed into the dress. She hated herself for it. She hated her weakness.

The cause of that weakness dismounted, gave his horse into the care of a waiting servant-a servant wearing, good Lord, black and gold livery-and moved toward them. His gentleman’s clothes suited him, his garments simple although their quality seemed finer even than Mr. Yale’s.

But she didn’t care about that. Just as that morning in the gray of dawn at Exmouth, she met his dispassionate gaze and the nerves in her belly clumped together in a sticky mass.

The door of the mansion swung open and a woman came to the top of the stair. She was beautifully gowned, elegantly coiffed, and-despite fifteen years-perfectly, achingly familiar. The same thoughtful, smiling eyes sparkled with tears now. The same lovely long fingers spread upon her cheeks. The same wide mouth opened in an O of wonder.

“Vi-Viola?” she uttered. “Viola?” she whispered.

Viola nodded, a few times, tiny quick jerks of her head.

Serena flew down the steps, skirts fluttering, and enveloped her in an embrace. She was half a head taller, and fragrant of cinnamon, and Viola buried her nose in Serena’s square shoulder, cinched her arms about her sister’s waist, and squeezed her eyes shut. She had not known what to expect. But somehow, this had not occurred to her. This homecoming. This love. She thought, perhaps, that she was a very poor prophet of her own life.

Serena loosened her hold only enough to draw back and curve her hand around Viola’s cheek.

“I do not know where to begin.” Serena’s eyes, wonderfully mismatched blue and violet and bright with tears, seemed to drink her in. “I would exclaim what a beauty you have become, but you always were a beauty. I would barrage you with a hundred-score questions, but you must be weary from your long journey.” Her arms tightened. “But mostly I will stare in utter bemusement. I cannot believe it is you.”

“It is I.” Viola spoke in barely a whisper. Now, here, beneath the adoring gaze of her sister, her insides jumbled entirely. Only three further words came to her. “I am sorry.”