The Rapscallion's Romance, page 24
“Aye, that is my intention, if she will have me.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Sean snorted. “The lass is as smitten with you as you are with her.” He finally glanced over at him. “I assume you’ve told her you love her?”
Atticus resisted the urge to fidget, but his silence was damning enough.
“Clare…” Sean began in warning.
He held up a hand. “Calm down. The lady was… tired. But I promise that as soon as she wakes up, we will have a long talk and everything will be revealed.”
Sean’s narrowed eyes slowly turned back to the sea. “I’ll hold you to that.” He must have felt that enough had been said on the subject, for he turned the conversation. “I wish she had been able to learn the truth of her parentage. Father O’Leary promised me that he would do what he could to find out more about Eoin O’Malley and Moira Burleigh. He even planned to travel to Castlebar to see if anyone was still alive from the days of the famine that might remember them.”
“I will hire the best investigators that Dublin have if that will cause Fallon to rest easy. And if the news that is uncovered isn’t what she is hoping for, at least I will be there to comfort her.” He turned to Sean and he hoped that the intensity of his feelings carried through to the other man. “I shall make it my new mission in life. To make her happy.”
Finally, a hint of a smile broke through the rough, Irishman’s demeanor. “I know you’re an honorable man, or I would have never joined the Raven and his band of misfits. While I shall miss our adventures, I’m thankful to have Atticus Clare as my partner in trade.”
Atticus lifted a brow, a grin forming on his face. “Is that so? And what if another merchant offers me a better offer?”
Sean shrugged. “Then I suppose you’ll have to turn it down.”
Atticus laughed richly now, and he realized he had never felt more free and… happy as he did in this moment. It was a rather strange sensation, for while he’d been relaxed or complacent in the past, he hadn’t been truly contented in quite some time.
So this is what it’s like to be at peace.
Chapter Nineteen
“We’re home.”
Fallon blinked as the sound of Atticus’s soothing deep voice roused her from sleep. She sat up, clutching the blanket to her naked chest and looked to where he sat perched on the edge of the mattress. He was already fully dressed, his hair pulled back in his usual, slick queue. The British merchant had returned and gone was the devil-may-care pirate. She would have mourned the loss if she didn’t see the same mischievousness twinkling in the midst of those dark eyes.
“We’ve already made it back to England?” she asked. “Just how long was I asleep?”
He grinned and her heart skipped a beat. “Don’t worry about that.”
With a heavy sigh, she sat up. “I suppose I should get dressed.”
Atticus glanced down at her breasts, which had been put on full display. He reached out and tweaked a nipple with his thumb and forefinger. “You should put those away before I decide to keep you as my hostage.”
She eyed him flirtatiously. “Would that be so terrible?”
“Minx.” He stood up and tossed her the items she’d previously worn. “I would love to let you change my mind and take you up on that tempting offer, but unfortunately, there is someone who is demanding to see you and if I don’t let Eliza see for herself that you are unharmed, she might just break down the door.”
He walked out the door, and Fallon stilled. Eliza was anxious to see her. Not her cousin, not any longer. She couldn’t claim any familial ties with her dear friend as much as she might have wished it to be so.
With her spirits somewhat dampened by the emotion of her return, Fallon prayed that she wouldn’t have to suffer Francine’s company for long.
A short time later, fully dressed and as presentable as she could make herself by combing her hair with her fingers, Fallon walked across the deck in the early morning dawn. She spied Sean and Atticus standing with Brendan Hayes, but it was the woman with dancing, blond curls and a cornflower blue dress that rushed over and embraced Fallon amid a shower of tears. “Oh, Fallon! I’m so glad you’re back! I’ve been beside myself with worry that something dreadful had happened to you!”
Guilt settled on Fallon’s shoulders, for while she had intended to write Eliza when she’d arrived in Ireland, circumstances had kept her from doing so. “I’m sorry, Eliza. I didn’t wish to cause you any unnecessary concern over my wellbeing.”
As Eliza pulled back, her blue eyes brighter than usual from her emotion, she reached out her hands and took Fallon’s in her own. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. Where do I even begin to atone for everything you’ve had to endure? It pains me to no end to think that you couldn’t trust me, or come to me for assistance, but I suppose you had good reason. I’m so angry about the ill treatment you suffered at the hands of my mother!” She shook her head. “I honestly had no idea she could even consider such a dastardly thing as to conspire with that venomous snake, Martina Durmor! Nor that she found it acceptable to conceal her debts from me! I would have tried to help if I would have known, but now I fear she is on her own.”
Fallon frowned. “What are you talking about?” she asked cautiously.
She fished out a handkerchief from her reticule and waved it about the air as she dabbed at her eyes. “You weren’t the only one my mother lied to. For years, she kept it concealed that she was one step away from debtor’s prison, that too many failed investments had drained the last of my father’s generous stipend when he died. Even my dowry is gone!” She took a calming breath, although her voice still shook with emotion when she spoke. “Thankfully, Brendan is a man above measure and he is weathering the scandal with me, as his future bride.”
Fallon’s joy at this news was not fabricated. “Oh, Eliza! I wish you both every happiness. You deserve every bit of it, especially in light of what you just told me.”
Eliza patted her arm fondly. “My father always warned me that we shall reap what we sow and while I may lament the outcome, mother was taken to Tothill Fields in London just this morning. I don’t know when she’ll be released, but I hope she returns wiser than before.”
While Fallon wasn’t pleased that Francine was gone for Eliza’s sake, she also prayed that her daughter was right and she would come back to Southampton some day with a changed mindset.
That just left Martina Durmor and Locklyn.
But when Fallon would have dared to ask about them, Eliza rushed on to add, “I daresay I’m surprised to see you with Mr. Clare.”
Fallon tried to appear nonchalant, but inside, her nerves were screaming. “Why?”
“I suppose because I didn’t expect him to be returning from Ireland, and on the same ship with you, when Brendan told me that he’d left for London with Josephine Stuart.”
Fallon blinked. “She’s gone?”
“Indeed,” Eliza confirmed with a nod. “After Martina was arrested for the conspiracy to murder Josephine Stuart’s husband, she packed everything up and left.”
The air around her suddenly became rather thin and she found it difficult to draw a full breath. “What did you say?”
Eliza leaned closer as if to impart a secret. “It turns out that Josephine wasn’t seeing Mr. Clare because they were reconciled lovers, but because they were working together to gain enough evidence to prove that Martina covered up the murder of Josephine’s husband, who had been a dear friend of Atticus. But to make their time together appear convincing, and so Martina wouldn’t become suspicious, they chose to make it look as though they were having a tete-a-tete. When you were gone, Martina attempted to clean up another mess that her son made, the murder of a harlot, but she was quite literally caught in the act and hauled off to gaol where she finally broke down and confessed to the rest of her sins.”
It wasn’t often that Fallon was at a loss for words, but after what Eliza had just imparted…
Eliza looped her arm through Fallon’s. “Let’s get you home.”
She glanced over. “Home?”
“Of course.” Eliza scrunched up her nose. “Shawsea Hall is still your home as far as I’m concerned. Even if you might not have fond memories of your stay there, I hope that will change. You are certainly welcome and I daresay I can’t wait to hear about your adventures abroad.”
“I… suppose.” Fallon hesitated, for she hadn’t thought further ahead than the cabin on board the Algonda. But now that she was back in Southampton, she did need somewhere to stay and since Atticus hadn’t yet mentioned anything about going with him, she had little choice but to take Eliza up on her generous offer.
Eliza pulled her over to where her betrothed was still speaking to Sean and Atticus. “I’m taking Fallon to Shawsea Hall for some friendly chit-chat.”
Fallon’s gaze shifted to Atticus to see his expression, but it was carefully shuttered. “I think that’s a good idea. I imagine some female companionship will do you some good.” He walked forward and brought her hand to his lips. “I’ll see you later tonight.”
It was the sincere promise in his gaze that made Fallon breathe a bit easier. She nodded her head and departed with Eliza and Brendan, who offered to escort them.
Fallon climbed into the carriage and risked a look back at the docks one last time, before allowing the curtain to fall back into place.
“Why did you let her go?” Sean scolded at Atticus’s side.
As the carriage rolled away, Fallon’s face appeared in the window and she flattened her palm on the glass. Atticus resisted the urge to lift his hand at the same moment, as if by doing so, he could feel the touch of her hand from this distance.
Instead, he reluctantly turned to Sean. “Don’t you think it’s better if I approach her with a ring in hand when next we meet?” He lifted a brow. “I’m going to the estate to retrieve my grandmother’s wedding band.”
Sean snorted. “I suppose I stand corrected. For a ruthless bandit, you have a bit of a romantic side to you after all.”
“Former bandit,” Atticus returned. “And I have my moments.”
As he parted ways with Flannery and retrieved his horse from the stables, he headed for Clare Manor.
Normally, his parents weren’t in residence, but he was surprised to find that they were home when he handed his horse over to the groom.
When Atticus walked up the steps, he was greeted by the butler who offered a respectful bow. “Mr. Clare. The squire requested a brief word with you when you arrived. He is in the study.”
Atticus nodded and headed in that direction. It wasn’t often that his father asked much of him, so he was inclined to humor him out of curiosity if nothing else.
He knocked briefly on the door and then let himself inside.
Wade Clare was seated behind the oak desk and was writing something in a ledger when Atticus entered. The relief on the older man’s face was evident as he set down his pen and leaned back in the chair. “I’ve been worried about you, Atticus.”
It wasn’t the greeting that he’d been expecting, although he was grateful for it. For so long he’d been at odds with his father it was refreshing to know that his sire cared about his welfare. He spread his arms wide. “I am alive and well as you can see, but then, living a merchant life isn’t known for its perils.”
“No, I suppose not.” Wade smiled, the slight crinkles around his eyes deepening, making the silver streaks at his temples a bit more pronounced. “But raiding English vessels can certainly cause irrefutable damage.”
All the teasing abruptly left Atticus’s voice. “What?”
“I may be old, but I do know my son.” He stood and walked around the desk. “Care for a drink?” He headed for the sideboard and poured some brandy into a crystal tumbler.
Atticus frowned, for he’d never known his father to imbibe unless he was particularly upset over something. “Indeed,” he murmured.
The squire moved forward and handed him his glass and then took a seat in one of the leather chairs by the fireplace. He waved a hand, inviting Atticus to do the same. With stiff shoulders, Atticus sat.
For a moment, neither man said anything, just allowed the silence to intrude. “I know I was particularly hard on you when you claimed you were going to be a privateer for England, rather than fight in the Crimean War.” His father said, and then took a sip of his drink. “I realized how harsh I must have been when you’d returned when the main reason for my upset was because I had heard the word ‘coward’ bandied about when I knew you were nothing of the sort. But I allowed my prejudices to overrule my clear thought. In hindsight, I see that it was a fool’s errand on England’s part. But it was how I treated you so coldly that I lament most. For that, I apologize.”
Atticus slowly sat back in his chair. For all these years, the subject of those days had been pushed to the side. He didn’t recall his father ever speaking of it before now, and it had always caused a certain strain on their relationship because it was always hovering in the background, but never fully addressed.
“Why are you bringing this up now?” Atticus wondered.
“Because I’d like to meet my maker with a clear conscience.” When Atticus’s eyes widened, Wade chuckled and waved a hand. “Don’t be alarmed. I was given a clean bill of health when I saw my physician last month in London, so it appears I will continue to bedevil you and your mother for some time yet.”
Atticus smiled slightly as he took a drink.
“To answer your question,” The elder Clare continued. “I’ve known of your more recent pursuits against the Crown for some time now, and while I thought it was honorable to take on such a task, even though I feel it will fail miserably in the end for the Irish aren’t properly equipped with the proper avenues in which to perform a successful rebellion, I do admire your ability to raise up an entire country with hope and resistance.”
For a time, Atticus didn’t know what to say. But, since Locklyn had already taken the fall as the Raven and he didn’t think that his father would counter the claim, he said slowly, “How did you find out?”
“As I said, I know my son,” he reiterated. “And working for Parliament in matters of intrigue, along with knowing how much you had been trying to curry my favor over the years, it didn’t take long for me to deduce that you and the Raven were one in the same.”
After this admission sank in, Atticus said, “I guess I should be grateful that not everyone has your ability to solve mysteries, then.”
“Not to worry. I had an alibi prepared should you have been captured.”
“Even if I was on board my ship at the time?”
His father winked. “You should be ready for any outcome. It’s all part of the debate process.”
“I’m impressed,” Atticus said with true admiration coating his tone. “It’s no wonder my mother fell for your charms. She had no other option.”
“No, she didn’t.” His father smiled. He drained his glass and set it aside on a nearby table. “I understand that there is a particular young lady in your life that we will soon have the honor of calling a daughter.”
“You are correct. As long as she will have me, that is.” Atticus swallowed the last of his brandy, enjoying the burn down his throat.
“I don’t think that will be a problem. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in intelligence or prowess.” He rose to his feet and held out a hand. “I believe that the Greeks began this formality to symbolize peace and to prove that the other party was not holding any weapons. I have learned that those that are concealed can be as damaging as a steel blade.”
Atticus stood and accepted the offering with a firm, confident grip.
“Promise me that your adventurous endeavors are at an end and I can expect a grandchild by next summer.”
“I am happily prepared to spend the rest of my days on land in a boring shipping office,” Atticus announced. “And as far as the grandchild goes, I am more than eager to grant your request.”
Wade Clare smiled. “Then that’s all I ask.”
Chapter Twenty
Fallon was in her former room at Shawsea Hall, pacing the floor after she’d told Eliza that she wished to have some private time to write to Father O’Leary. Not only that, but she just needed some time alone that afternoon to fret whether or not Atticus would follow through on his promise to come for dinner.
Or more importantly, to come for her.
It had eased her mind greatly when Eliza had mentioned that Josephine Stuart was gone and would no longer be an impediment, but that still didn’t mean Atticus intended to propose marriage. He might have mentioned it briefly when she had been in the clutches of the Irish soldier, but since he hadn’t spoken of it again, she was given cause to wonder if it hadn’t just been a ploy to distract her captor.
With her mind whirling with so much conjecture, she had struggled to focus on relaying the events of the past few days to Eliza, who was eager to hear everything. But rather than confide about her yearning heart, she spoke of Mrs. Dailey and her cousin from the boarding house, Mrs. Hinks.
“They sound wonderful. How kind they were to offer you sanctuary,” Eliza had noted.
“Yes,” Fallon had agreed.
After that, she had made her excuses and gone upstairs to sit at the desk where her pen remained poised above the blank parchment in front of her. She honestly didn’t know what to say to Father O’Leary that would atone for leaving so abruptly with nary a word. She knew that he had to be concerned, but she just didn’t know where to begin.
Thus, she was left wearing a path across her rug while her thoughts were clouded with uncertainties.
