Chapter Eighteen
September 1, 1817
When a knock sounded on his door just after sunrise the next morning, his breath stalled in his chest. With a yawn, he tumbled out of bed and to his feet, holding out hope that perhaps Elizabeth had returned to give him a second chance, but when he wrenched open the door, John Butler stood there, concern lining his visage. “John.” Cold disappointment sank into his chest like an anchor.
“Are you well, my friend?” The bigger man shooed him out of the way so he could enter the room. “When you didn’t return to the taproom last night, I grew worried.”
Brand swallowed the ball of unshed tears in his throat. He didn’t care that the evidence of his personal storm from the night before probably still showed on his face, but he did scrub at some of the dried moisture on his cheeks. “For the first time in years, I think that I am.”
“Good. I figured you needed time alone, so I didn’t come looking for you.” John nodded. “By the by, I gave the boys a tongue lashing and sent them on their way last evening. They didn’t know any better and wanted to help in their own ways.”
“I know.” Brand waved a hand. His stomach growled. Damn, but he required nourishment if he were to survive the ordeals the day would bring. “Once I put my affairs in order, I’ll talk to them.”
“So then, what now?” His friend’s deep voice echoed in the empty chamber. “You have the look of a resolute man even if you do resemble a dog’s breakfast presently.”
Despite the gravity of the situation, a laugh escaped Brand. Oh, it felt so good, so freeing to do such a thing. “Perhaps I am resolute.” He glanced at the floor beside his bed. The tortoiseshell combs glittered there in the morning sunlight. “I’m going after Elizabeth.”
John’s brow creased with worry. “Her ship has no doubt left. Harbor’s been abuzz with activity this morning already.”
Damn it all to hell.But he’d fought against greater odds before. “Perhaps it has, but it hasn’t had that much of a head start. You know how slow and delayed passenger ships are, especially ones loaded with cargo for the East India Company.” With urgency plucking at every nerve, Brand quickly changed out of his rumpled clothes into the dark evening suit he’d worn two nights before when he’d discovered that he loved Elizabeth. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course.” John sent a speculative glance at his attire. “I’ll always be your first mate.”
Brand tucked the combs into an interior pocket of the jacket and hoped to God he didn’t look too much of a desperate suitor. “Glad to have your support. You’ve been closer than a brother to me these years—the Storme I chose, the brother I actually wanted.”
A faint wash of red infused John’s cheeks. “I don’t know about that…”
“Well, I do, and brothers stick together.” Damn it all to hell. With that statement, the realization that he needed to make up with his own slammed into him. She had done that. He pulled on a pair of boots. “Speaking of brothers, I’m certain Elizabeth’s had something to do with splitting us up downstairs, and I mean to get to the bottom of that as well. That buggar beat the barmaid, of that I’m certain.”
“I look forward to you giving him his just desserts, Captain.”
“Not as much as I am, I’ll wager.” Then he sucked in a breath. “Forget that. As God is my witness, I will never wager again.”
John snorted. “Can’t say as I blame you, since this one caused such chaos.”
“And brought me exactly to the place I needed to be,” he added with a wink.
“Aye.” John laid a staying hand on Brand’s arm. “Best pack a bag, at least, unless you wish to return to Ipswich after your daring rescue.”
“Right.” He tapped his temple. “You’re always thinking ahead.” Then another thought occurred. “If all goes well and I snatch Elizabeth off that ship, she’ll need rigged out as well.” He looked at John, who shrugged. “I’ll need to make a quick stop at a shop before we go.”
*
By the timeBrand reached the harbor and made a few inquiries, he discovered that the HMS Bright Hope had already sailed, its destination Bombay, India, about ninety minutes before.
A sense of cold desolation chilled him to the bone even though the summer sun lay at the ten o’clock position in the cerulean blue sky. He rubbed a hand over the side of his face and the stubble there, for he’d forgotten to shave in his haste to leave. Then shoved it through his hair, equally unkempt. “I’ve lost her.”
“Perhaps not.” John glanced over the harbor where a bustle of activity filled the waterway and the River Orwell beyond. It was Monday and time for the fishermen and merchants to resume their workaday lives. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never given up without a fight for the things you believe in.”
“I can’t fight for her if she’s not here, mate.” Brand put his hands on his hips while inside his heart broke anew. It was odd, this letting emotions have at him in the moments they occurred, but he hoped it would prove beneficial later when they wouldn’t have a foothold to crush him.
“Sounds like giving up to me.” John shook his head. “Isn’t love worth doing anything to claim it?” He slid his gaze to Brand’s. “If it were me and I’d just been given the news that the love of my life had sailed away from me, you wouldn’t even have to think twice that I’d go after her. Nothing in heaven or hell could keep me from that mission.”
“Of course, you’re right.” A slow grin curved Brand’s lips. “What would I do without you?”
John shrugged. “Die of loneliness as a confirmed rake, I suspect.” He dropped a hand on Brand’s shoulder. “She’s been good for you these past weeks. Don’t discount that and don’t let her go without fighting for her. Go be the man she believes you are, the man I know you can be.”
Gratitude surged through his chest. “Thank you.” Then urgency spurred him into action. “Is the schooner ready for sailing?” Damn, he really needed to give the ship a new name.