Loving Sarah (29 page)

My time with you has meant more to me than you could know. Even though I fought the marriage in New York harbor, the voyage home showed me how very wrong I was in my initial assessment of your character. You are a caring, exemplary leader for your crew, and they respect you for it.

I have fallen in love with you. Because I feared your reaction to my words, I tried to show you through my actions how deep my feelings for you have grown. I had hoped that when we were together you would recognize my sentiments. As of this writing (the night before we arrive in Liverpool), I’m not sure you did.

Even so, I believe one day you will make a wonderful father. And if what I suspect is true, that blessing will occur before you arrive home from your tea run.

Godspeed my captain.

Yours, etc.,

S.

What did he do now? Sarah loved him. Or at least she loved him at the time of the writing of this note. She’d somehow fallen in love with him even after telling her he’d felt trapped into the marriage. And when she was upset over not carrying a babe, instead of consoling her he told her he was happy she wasn’t.

How much more insensitive can a man be?

Not that she likely held any love for him now, he hoped when he arrived to Haldenwood he could make it up to her. He didn’t deserve her love after the things he’d said. He just hoped if he came to her with his heart in his hands she would forgive him and want him back in her life. And if she said no, he’d remind her that they were already wed, then use his charm to force her to fall in love with him again.

He looked the note over once more. At the time she wrote this, she suspected she might be carrying his child. He sensed her hopeful longing in the letter. But something must have happened between this day and the next evening when he saw her in tears in her room in Liverpool. There she’d been upset thinking she was not. Several days later, she was still ill. He wondered how Lucky could say with certainty that Sarah was carrying.

If she was still carrying, she would have had the babe by now.

He wondered if he had a son or a daughter. Ian realized he would be happy whether Sarah had a child or did not. But there simply was no way of knowing yet.

And if there was a babe, he could only hope to live up to Sarah’s expectations of him. She’d said he would make a fine father. Now he had to work hard just to be half the man she thought he was.

He’d didn’t have any more time to think on that right then. There was a banker in town waiting for him and Lucky. He moved to set the note down on the bed and saw a post script on the back. Lifting the sheet, he read her final words.

Please forgive me for borrowing one of your instructional texts. I have been studying it intently since coming aboard. If you have a need for it again, please let me know and I shall return it—personally.

What instructional text could she mean? There were all manner of texts in the drawer, most remainders from his university days. Since they were all books he intended to incorporate into a library one day, he’d kept them. So he’d like to have it back, though it might be rather absurd for him to ask his wife to return it, as they’d soon be sharing the same library.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he wondered which topic had aroused her interest. After he returned from the bank, he’d have to see if he could figure it out. Perhaps if he presented her with a gift of another text in the same field of interest, she might be slightly more inclined to forgive him for the way he’s treated her.

“
I
don’t know what could be keeping my partner,” Ian told the bank’s manager, Mr. Chumworthy. “Normally, he’s the one who’s on time and I’m the one who runs late.”

The portly, balding gentleman smiled behind his spectacles and rubbed his hands over the desktop. “We can give him a few more minutes. Beyond that, and we shall have to reschedule. I have another appointment in fifteen minutes.”

“As do I, sir,” Ian replied, knowing he still faced the unpleasant task of delivering the pay of his deceased crewmen to their widows before going in search of Sarah.

No sooner had he finished saying the words, than the banker’s secretary knocked on the door and introduced the Conte di Lorenzo. Lucky strode in, the ledger for
Avenger
in his hand, and greeted the banker.

Lucky took a seat next to him, then leaned over and whispered, “When we are done here we must speak. It’s very urgent.”

“Now then, how may I be of assistance to you today, gentlemen?” Chumworthy said, politely ignoring the whispered conversation.

Ian spoke up. “We are here to pay you the annual payment plus interest on the boats and make a request.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Chumworthy,” Lucky said. “My partner does not know of the developments that occurred while we were away. They were the reason I was detained.”

Ian gave a half smile as he turned a curious, wide-eyed look at Lucky, then at Mr. Chumworthy. “What developments? Is there something I should be made aware of?”

“Mr. Ross-Mackeever,” the banker said as he smiled at Ian, “the remaining balance on your half of the mortgage on your ships was paid in full several months back.”

“What? There must be some mistake. According to my ledger, there is sixty percent on the principal, plus the accrued interest, remaining.” He looked at Lucky. “We have six years left. Don’t we?” After telling her brother to keep the monies in her name, Ren had gone and paid off his half of the mortgage on the two boats with Sarah’s dowry. Ian wondered where he’d come up with the idea for that. It had to be Sarah’s doing. She was the only person who knew how much these two ships meant to the start of his business, and she had the motive and capital to do it.

Damn her. These boats were his and Lucky’s. His business and banking transactions were his affair and not her family’s.

Mr. Chumworthy showed Ian and Lucky the contracts that his secretary had pulled prior to the meeting, and clearly both sets were marked paid in full.

Paid. He owed no more on his mortgage to the bank. But why did she do it? He told Sarah and Lucky, and later her brother and Lord Camden as well, that he wanted none of her money. Why did she go against his wishes?

Ian muttered a quiet curse. “What else has been done?”

“Nothing,” said Chumworthy. “That was all. His Grace sent a legal representative with contracts, which had been signed and witnessed by that same representative and the Earl of Camden. After satisfying the balance, the remainder of your wife’s dowry was placed in an account bearing your name.” The banker passed him a small leather-bound ledger with his name embossed in gold leaf on the cover.

Ian grabbed the book, then stood and rather stiffly thanked the man before marching from his office. Instead of hiring a hack, he chose instead to walk to the docks. He needed the air. His head spun with the news. Damn her! He wondered how many people, aside from Mr. Chumworthy, now thought him an opportunist for marrying an heiress.

“Ian, wait!” Lucky called out from behind him.

Ian ignored him and kept his stride intent on his destination, which right then was away from any member of that damned family. Soon he heard running footfalls as his partner came up from behind.

“Stop. We must talk.”

Ian kept on in the direction of the dock. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and it yanked him around.

Ian threw his hand off. “You were there. I told her brother I did not want the money. Silly me, I thought he understood.” He tried to leave, but Lucky stepped in front of him. Ian stepped around him, unwilling to listen to anything he had to say regarding his wife just yet.

“You stupid American,” Lucky hissed. “This is our way here! Ren did what he had to do to protect you, your children, and Sarah. And if you intend to upset her in any way, I’ll not tell you where she is. Do you understand me? You self-centered, arrogant ass….” Lucky grabbed his arm, and the look he gave Ian made him stop in his tracks.

Ian felt the wind leave his sails. He knew the English customs and her brother, as guardian, had done nothing out of the ordinary. It was, as Lucky had said, custom here to dower the bridegroom. Marriages here were rarely love matches. More often than not, they were financial transactions in which the father of the marriageable-aged daughter sought the best title for what he could afford to dower.

He considered what Lucky had said. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I guess I am often proud to the point of extreme.”

“Damn right you are. But I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t understand you and forgive you.”

“Thank you,” he replied.

Lucky clapped him on the back. “Think nothing of it.”

“So, is that why you were late? Does Sarah know we’re home? How is she?”

“I went to Caversham House and turned the little one over into the capable hands of Mrs. Steen. No, Sarah’s not here in London and I’m going to assume she does not know we are, as we’ve been here for less than twenty-four hours and I have not yet sent anyone out to notify the family of our return. They’re still in the country.”

“How is Sarah? Is our babe well?”

“No one would say. Though I was ordered to bring you without haste to Haldenwood.”

Ian’s heart sank into his belly as he worried about Sarah and the child. He closed his eyes and whispered a plea to the heavens. When he opened them, Lucky’s face held no hint of his usual jovial manner. “I have an odd feeling. Something doesn’t seem right to me, and I’d feel better if we got you to Haldenwood as soon as possible.”

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

I
an followed his brother-in-law, the formidable Duke of Caversham, as he led him and Lucky into the study at Haldenwood. His Grace sat behind the broad, intricately carved, highly polished desk, and Lord Camden sat on the edge of it facing them.

“What took you so long?” Ren asked. “You arrived yesterday.”

“Business,” Lucky said. “We got here as quick as we could.”

The atmosphere of the room weighed on Ian, and he knew intuitively something was not right. “Where’s my wife?”

“Ian,” Ren said, “we must talk before you see her.”

“Is she well? Did she have the baby? Is it well?” Having been cooped up inside the coach for over five hours, he now paced the bare expanse of carpet before the chairs facing His Grace and Lord Camden. The odd reception in the home fed the nervous fear building inside him. Ian’s heart began to race as he sensed tragedy hanging in the atmosphere of the entire home.

“Ian, have a seat,” Michael said gently as he pointed to a chair, then waited until Ian sat before him. “There is no easy way to tell you this other than to come right out and say it. Sarah lost both babes. Twin boys.”

“They were born prematurely, Ian. We are so very sorry,” Ren said.

Ian just stared at his brother-in-law, unable to think as he attempted to digest the news. His heart twisted with pain for his wife. He cleared his throat, then swallowed back the knot of nerves that threatened. “Is Sarah well?” he asked, cursing the unusual hitch in his voice. “How did she handle the loss?”

“When she awoke, we told her,” Michael said, “by then we had already buried the babes.”

“Awoke?” He felt the color drain from his face, and his eyes began to burn uncharacteristically. “Awoke from what? What happened?”

“She’d lost a great deal of blood and was unconscious for over a week,” Ren said.

“We’re lucky she’s alive,” Michael added. “For a while there, we thought we might lose her, too.”

“But that isn’t the worst of it, Ian,” Ren said solemnly. “Though Prescott has assured us that she is well, he doubts she can ever carry again.”

“Oh, God.” Ian dropped his head into his hands. He wanted to cry. He wanted to run from this nightmare. He felt responsible for all that had happened to Sarah. His beautiful, effervescent, charming Sarah who wanted nothing more than to be a mother.

“There’s more, Ian,” Michael said gently.

He twisted his body away from the two men, these bearers of tragic news, unable to think of anything other than how much Sarah had already gone through. He cleared his throat again. “How much more could there be? She’s suffered so much already.”

Michael shifted uncomfortably, as he sat on the corner of Ren’s desk. “Ian,” Michael said, “Sarah doesn’t remember you.”

“What?” The thought was incredible. Oh, he’d heard stories of those who’d lost their memory, but never knew of a person first hand. Always it was the friend of a friend or someone’s relative’s relation, never someone he knew directly.

“She doesn’t remember much of the last year,” the earl continued. “She doesn’t remember the sailing race at all. Thus, she has no recollection of your time together or of marrying you.”

“Surely she knows she had to have been married in order to have been carrying a child,” Ian said.

“She does. But she doesn’t remember
you
. She realizes she miscarried but doesn’t remember any of it.”

“Can I see her?” he repeated. “Maybe seeing me will trigger her memory.”