Jo Goodman (35 page)

Colin's account was finished in the same tone it had begun, as if he were offering information that had no bearing on the child he was or the man he became. "The promise wasn't really made to them; they were too young to understand. I made it to myself. I promised I would find them and we would be together." His low laughter was filled with self-mockery. "I didn't realize then what a task I had set for myself. When Greydon's new mother said she didn't care for his name, it didn't mean anything to me, but after searching these past ten years, I have to believe his name was changed. He could be anybody and called anything."

"And Decker?"

"I think he was adopted by French missionaries but I've never been able to verify it. I've been to ports in the South Pacific, and I've made inquiries through French missions. I've even looked at manifests and passenger lists of ships that were lost around the same time he was taken, but there's never been so much as a thread to follow."

Mercedes ached for him. She said nothing because words were inadequate. She had no words for the hurt in her heart and no words that could heal the hole in his.

The first splash against Colin's skin was like a scalding raindrop. It was quickly followed by another. With the third drop he identified the source. "Mercedes?"

She didn't lift her head or acknowledge her name.

"You're crying." He had never seen her cry. Even when he thought she had cause to do so, she invariably seemed to swallow her hurt and her tears. He had seen her gray eyes glisten with the evidence of her pain or anger, but she had never let him, or anyone—if the stories he heard were true—see her cry.

Now she was crying for him. Colin was moved powerfully by this gift, just as he was by her rare and beautiful smile. His fingers threaded in her hair and the fragrance of lavender and musk was lifted in the air. He bent his head and laid his lips against the crown of her dark hair.

"I gave each of my brothers one of our mother's earrings," he told her quietly. "She had entrusted them to me before she died. They were very old and valuable, a gift from my father to her and they had been in the family for generations, presented by the queen."

Mercedes pulled at one corner of the sheet and tried to surreptitiously wipe her eyes. She was thankful that if Colin noticed, at least he didn't comment. Her voice, however, was still thick with unshed tears. "The queen?" she asked. "Do you mean Anne or Mary II? That would make them more than a hundred years old."

"The earrings are nearly twice that," he said. "I was speaking of
the
queen. Elizabeth. I believe they were made for her as a coronation gift. If memory serves, that would be 1558." He enjoyed watching Mercedes try to take in this information. She was sitting up now, reaching for the bedside lamp to light it. When she'd done so, she held it aloft a moment, staring at him as if she'd never seen him before.

Mercedes's brow was furrowed and her mouth was pulled to one side as she considered what he'd told her. "You have earrings that were given to someone in your family by Queen Elizabeth?" she asked with no small amount of skepticism.

"Had," he corrected. "I
had
the earrings. Now Grey and Decker have them. And they were given to my great-great-great grandfather for some service he performed for his queen."

Mercedes replaced the lamp on the table. "Then you're English," she said slowly.

He laughed a little at that. "Most Americans were," he said, "at one time or another, but it's not a point we dwell on."

"No," she said. "I mean
you're
English."

"Not any longer."

"But you were
born
here."

"I thought you knew that."

"How would I know?"

"Most people can tell by my accent."

"You speak like a Yank."

"To Yanks I talk like a bleedin' Limey." Colin cradled his head in his palms and watched Mercedes. For reasons he didn't understand, she seemed taken by this information. "Is it so important?" he asked.

"No," she said quickly. Then, "Well, yes, it is." She looked down at her hands, wondering how to explain, and back at him when she found the words. "It's about Weybourne Manor you see. I didn't think I minded that it would become the property of an American. I didn't think I could be so small about it, but I suspect I was, because now that I know you're English, well, it's something of a relief to me."

"And it doesn't hurt that I once held a pair of earrings that were worn by the queen."

His dry tone mocked her but Mercedes entered into the spirit of it. "It never hurts to have royal connections," she said haughtily. "The Leydens were particular favorites of Queen Elizabeth, and I believe she took one Earl of Weybourne for a lover."

"Yes, but did he get to keep her earbobs?"

"Better," Mercedes said, her eyes flashing mischievously. "He got to keep his head."

Colin's deep laughter rumbled in his chest. He pulled her down and kissed her winsome smile away. He might have been able to do more than that except her curiosity was piqued and questions kept slipping in between the kisses.

Mercedes lay on her stomach beside him, supported by her elbows and a pillow she had folded and stuffed under her chin. Chocolate-brown hair framed her face and spilled over her shoulders. In contrast to the Madonna-like aura that surrounded her, Mercedes's features were seriously composed. Her wide gray eyes regarded Colin gravely and there was a small crease between her brows where her forehead puckered.

"Tell me about the earrings," she said. "They must be singular if they were fashioned for the queen."

"They were pearl studs with a raindrop of pure gold dangling from them. The letters ER were engraved in script on each drop and the pearl stud was set in a gold crown. I'd know them if I saw them again."

"Elizabeth Regina," Mercedes said, awed. "How did you manage to pass them to your brothers?"

"When I held Grey for the last time I turned my back and slipped one between his gown and his blankets. I placed the other in Decker's pocket the morning he went to meet his new parents. Decker would have recognized the earring as one our mother wore. I have no idea what the couple who took Grey made of what they found in his blanket, or if they even found it." Colin drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. "At eight I knew that I may never recognize my brothers again. The earrings are the only link I have to them." His laughter was quiet, even a little sad. "And it's not likely I'll come across them wearing one of the queen's bobs."

Mercedes had thought the same thing but she hadn't the heart to say it. "Do you really think if you quit searching now it will be breaking the promise?"

Colin didn't answer right away. He stared at the ceiling, watching shadows chase light as the bedside lamp flickered. "It will be giving up," he said at last. "It will be admitting I failed at the only thing I ever set out to do."

"Failure?" Mercedes asked. "At the only thing you... but what about the records you set in your clippers, the wagers you've won? You've had men at your command and a fleet of ships for your use. Weybourne Park is yours. How can you say you've never set out to do anything save find your brothers?"

It was in Colin's silence that Mercedes finally grasped the answer. "It was never about the sea," she said softly. "The ships... your career... the Remington line... it's always been about finding Decker and Grey."

She realized then how little she had ever known about him, more than that, she realized how little she understood him. Mercedes had imagined the sea was his life, the clippers, his love, and now she saw that they had only ever been a means to an end.

"I would have gone with anyone," Colin said. His glance dropped away from the ceiling and found Mercedes's light gray eyes watching him. "Just to get away from Cunnington's I believe I would have gone with the devil himself. I was fortunate it didn't come to that. Jack Quincy was a better bargain. Not that he gave much for my chances of making it through that first voyage. He told me later it was why he kept a close eye on me. He expected me to keel over and he didn't want me slipping overboard. I think he had plans to return my body to Cunnington and demand his money back."

Mercedes's eyes widened. "You're not serious."

Colin merely raised one brow.

"I think he
was
the devil," she said, appalled.

"Jack was practical. He worked hard and he didn't get where he was by squandering his money or that of his captains. It wasn't a square-rigged clipper that took me from London to Boston. In those days it was a three-masted schooner and she rode the waves hard. We carried a full load of cargo and no passengers. The captain of the
Sea Dancer
was John Remington himself. He fell ill on the voyage to London, laid low by the same fever that killed his cabin boy. Jack came to Cunnington's looking for a nursemaid."

"And he took you."

Colin nodded. "I promised to return what he paid Cunnington for me with interest."'

"He must have fancied that."

"I think he did."

"You survived the voyage."

"Yes," he said. "I survived." He had no intention of telling her how he survived or that lives had been taken to save his own. "Quincy kept watch and Remington took a liking to me. It was easier to stay alive than I first thought. The food was better and more plentiful. There was exercise in the guise of hard work, but there was also fresh air and sunshine and an almost endless sky."

"And you had your promise to keep."

Colin smiled faintly and pushed back a heavy lock of hair that had fallen over her shoulder. She was beginning to understand. "I'm certain that had a lot to do with my tenacity." He let his hand fall back. "When we arrived in Boston Mrs. Remington was waiting at the dock to meet her husband. She had her newborn daughter in her arms. The captain hadn't even seen his child yet. You can imagine there was a great deal of excitement on the wharf. No one really knows how it happened—there were as many different versions as there were witnesses—but everyone always agreed on the ending. Mrs. Remington took a spill off the gangway and she and her daughter landed in Boston Harbor.

"The captain never hesitated. He dove right in after his wife. Her skirts and petticoats pulled her down deeper and faster than you can imagine—unless you've taken a dive like that yourself?"

Mercedes shook her head. "What about the baby?"

"Captain Remington came up with his wife and his daughter's blankets, but no daughter. I suppose I was the first one to realize they didn't have the baby between them. That's why I jumped in. Jack always said he missed me before anyone missed the baby. He wondered what the hell I was doing. By the time he understood, I was bringing Jonna to the surface."

"Jonna," Mercedes said softly, more to herself than to Colin. "Jonna Remington. You write to her. I've posted letters."

"I
work
for her," Colin said.

Mercedes blinked. "You mean she owns the line?"

"That's what I mean."

"But she must only be Chloe's age."

"A year older."

"But surely she doesn't manage it," Mercedes said.

Colin's mouth pulled to one side in a narrow, lopsided grin. "I confess to finding your disbelief a surprise. How long have you been managing Weybourne Park?"

"It's not the same thing."

"It's very much the same thing. Only Jonna's had more help than you. There's no one she's ever had to fight for her inheritance. The Remington Line became hers when her father died. She was fifteen at the time."

"Her mother?"

"Like your Aunt Georgia, she died in childbirth when Jonna was six."

"I never imagined you worked for a woman," she said slowly.

He laughed at that. "Your entire
country
works for a woman, and she's younger than you."

"Only by a year or so," she said with some asperity. "And you can't compare Queen Victoria to Jonna Remington."

"I know. Jonna doesn't have to put up with Parliament." He heard Mercedes sigh. "You're really quite amazed, aren't you?"

"I suppose it's not flattering to my own sex, but yes, I am. For a woman to manage a business... it's just not done."

"It's that sort of thinking that entailed estates and helped you lose Weybourne Park," he said, giving no quarter. "You can stand on ceremony too long. Eventually it crumbles under your feet."

"You're not English at all, are you?" she said after a moment. "You're a thorough Yank."

Colin's grin was spontaneous and rakish. He didn't know that it took Mercedes's breath away. "Through and through," he said. "I have been since the day I fished Jonna out of Boston Harbor."

"Did the Remingtons take you in?"

"Not exactly. I didn't live at the house, if that's what you mean."

Mercedes had the impression that it had been Colin's decision. She imagined him as he must have been at eight, thin and reedy, with great dark eyes in a narrow face.
She
would have taken him in. For saving her baby she would have raised him as her own.

"But they showed they were grateful in other ways," Colin went on. "Mrs. Remington made certain I was schooled. I was the only member of the crew with my own tutor. I wasn't always happy about her manner of saying thank you, but she was not someone you could refuse. Jonna takes a lot of her stubborn will from her mother."