Surrender (16 page)

She was sending Jack Greystone into France, a country torn by revolution and uprisings. And the Loire Valley, where they were, was in the midst of rebellion. As he had said, there were troops everywhere.

If anyone could succeed in this mission, it was Jack. But she was afraid for him. She did not want any harm to befall him, and for the first time, she truly began to calculate the risks involved in his attempting to retrieve the gold. Hadn’t he insisted, from the very start, that the mission was simply too dangerous?

And why had he only now confessed that his ship could return to Britain without him?

Evelyn began to pace wildly. Suddenly she regretted the entire scheme. Yes, she was destitute, and, yes, she had to provide for Aimee, but surely, she could have found another way—or she could have sent someone else to France, anyone other than Jack. She sat down hard on his bed, terribly frightened now.

If anything happened to him, it would be her fault.

She was so concerned. First there was the attraction that raged between them—the kind of attraction she had never before felt. Now there was her vast concern. Evelyn became still. Could it be that she harbored genuine feelings of affection for him?

She had been infatuated once. But that had been out of gratitude, and it had been understandable. Being interested in him—being romantically inclined—was not sensible now. He found her attractive but he didn’t have a romantic interest in her, didn’t love her. Even if she were not in mourning, he would not be courting her. He was an adventurer—he would not court any woman.

If she were beginning to care, she might be setting herself up for more heartbreak.

The hours passed with agonizing slowness. Evelyn watched the sun rise. At noon, the same sailor brought her a luncheon—more bread and cheese, this time, with some brandy. She couldn’t touch a thing.

She lay down on his bed, staring up at the cabin ceiling, praying he would be all right. She realized she was exhausted, having stayed awake for most of two nights, but she still couldn’t sleep. Even when she closed her eyes, her mind raced impossibly. If only the château were whole, and if only Jack found the gold… If only he returned to his ship, alive!

Thud.

Evelyn jerked, realizing she had dozed off, and that her door had been thrown open. Her eyes widened as a chill rushed into the cabin. Outside, it seemed to be late afternoon, one gray and wet with an incoming fog.

She saw his silhouette first. Evelyn sat up as Jack stepped into the doorway, his hair loose and windswept.

The ship was rocking in the wind. And her first reaction was one of wild relief. He was grim, but he was clearly in one piece—he did not even appear tired. Jack had returned—he was all right.

Then she realized he was
very
grim, and her heart lurched, all relief vanishing. “Jack?”

He stepped inside the cabin, closing the door behind him. “We found the house. I am sorry, Evelyn, it has been gutted.”

She nodded, clenching the sheets. The château had been destroyed. Poor Henri… “And?”

“We tore up the area between the trees—there was no chest, I am sorry.”

She felt herself still. “That is impossible.”

“We spent five hours digging up the area. We could not have missed a buried chest.” His gaze held hers as he braced against the rocking ship.

There was no gold?

“I am sorry,” he repeated more softly.

That gold was her daughter’s entire future. “It has to be there,” she said harshly, standing.

“It isn’t.”

She looked at him, reeling, but still in disbelief. Aimee would grow up impoverished? And she would be left penniless? There would be no dowry, no future?

“You will find a way to make ends meet, I am certain,” he said, his tone odd—as if he meant to be kind.

She sank back down on the bed, barely having heard him. How could the gold be gone? Henri had left it for them! “I don’t believe you,” she gasped, panic rearing up. Aimee could not be left with nothing! “It has to be there!”

This time, he regarded her with what could only be compassion.

And his look of sympathy undid her. She began to shake as her sense of panic escalated. She tried to rein it in. She knew she had to be calm, she had to think. If the gold was truly gone, she would find other means!

Oh, God. There was no gold. She was going to leave her daughter with nothing!

“Evelyn?”

Evelyn’s father had left her with nothing.
As a child, left behind with relations who did not care for her, she had never been able to understand why she was with her aunt and uncle, and not with him. She could not understand why her clothes were used, or why she spent half of her time in the kitchen. Every time he had come to visit, as infrequently as that had been, he had promised her a future—one only a dowry could buy. Every time he had promised her the life of a princess, she had believed him. But he had been killed and his promises had been empty.

How often had she reassured her daughter that all would be well? How many promises had she made to Aimee?

Evelyn began to shake more fiercely.

Jack was sitting beside her, trying to hand her the brandy she had not taken with her lunch. “You need a drink.”

She swatted the glass away, spilling some of the amber liquid. “No!” She looked at him, aware of the tears filling her eyes and blurring her vision. Desperation began. “Henri left us a fortune.”

“If he did, it is gone now. Stolen. Here. Take a sip.”

She shoved the glass violently away, against his chest, leaping to her feet.

There was no gold. The promises she had made to her daughter were as empty as the ones her father had made to her.

Oh, God.

She was no different than her own father—she was leaving Aimee with nothing
.

“Evelyn, you should lie down.”

“No!” She looked wildly at him. “My daughter is my life. She means everything to me! Did you know that my own father left me with nothing? That I was a penniless orphan? That if Henri hadn’t married me, I would have been a governess, a seamstress, a housemaid?”

He was pale.

“Now I am leaving my daughter the very same way—as if I don’t care!” She choked on a harsh sob.

And it was as if her entire life flashed before her eyes, a life in which she had been abandoned and left penniless, not once, but twice. And now her daughter would suffer the same fate....

“Damn him!” she cried, thinking of Henri. She knew it was wrong to curse him, but she did so again. “How could he do this to us? Damn him, damn him, damn him!”

“You have had a shock,” Jack said softly.

“He is exactly like my father,” she shouted. And she was furious. Evelyn covered her eyes with her hands. There was no gold—Henri had left his own daughter with nothing. Vaguely, she heard Jack leaving the cabin. She cried harder.

* * *

E
VELYN
OPENED
THE
CABIN
door and shivered, greeted by the silence of the night. The moon was full, and a few stars were scattered in the night sky, but clouds scudded there, too, occasionally crossing the moon. It was so serene. Canvas flapped, rigging rustled, wood groaned. The sea lapped against the ship’s great hull. Evelyn trembled and she stared at the ship’s helm, where Jack Greystone stood.

He was looking over his shoulder at her.

She didn’t even try to smile at him now, acutely aware that she did not wish to be alone. Had he been kind to her, when she had lapsed into hysteria? She seemed to recall so.

She had wept for a long time—for the first time since Henri had died. She hoped that she had been grieving properly, at long last, but she knew better. She had been so furious with her deceased husband.

And then, as the tears had subsided, childhood memories had filled her mind, as had recollections from the past nine years of her marriage. She had begun to genuinely see her husband as a weak man—as someone very much like her own father.

And if she did not know better, she would almost think the bout of tears some kind of pent-up expression of a lifetime’s worth of anguish.

She was exhausted, but the need to weep and shout was gone. The panic had dulled, too. She would find a way to provide for her daughter and give her a bright shining future—nothing would stop her now. However, she was aware of being entirely on her own for the first time in her life. It was frightening, but she forced herself to ignore the fear.

The first order of business would be to stop feeling sorry for herself. Henri had failed to provide for them—therefore, she would find a way to do so. The mine was a possible source of revenue for them. She would restore the mine, if it really needed maintenance. She would borrow the funds to make whatever repairs were necessary.

And there was the possibility of remarriage. Of course she would consider that option, not immediately, but when the time was right.

She stared across the deck. Jack had turned back to face the ship’s prow, his hands on the huge helm. He was such a powerful man, such a reassuring figure. He had been kind to her, when he had never been kind before. She hoped he did not think badly of her for her inexcusable bout of tears and self-pity.

She hadn’t been invited on deck, but she had come up to find him. Maybe it was his recent kindness, or maybe it was that being near him always made her feel safe and protected. He was the kind of man who could weather any crisis, the worst storm. Instinctively she knew he was her safest harbor.

Besides, she had been in that cabin for a day and a half! She closed the cabin door and crossed the deck, pausing beside him. “May I join you?”

His gaze was searching, moving slowly over her face. “Of course.”

She did not remind him that she had not been allowed on deck until then. “I must look a fright.”

“You could not look poorly.” He faced forward again. His profile was stunning, but his expression was solemn. His hair was loose now, a shoulder-length mass of tawny waves.

“You are being gallant.”

He glanced at her, almost smiling. “Perhaps.”

She smiled ever so slightly back. “I wish to apologize.”

His eyes widened. “There is no need.”

“There is every need. I exposed you to the worst case of feminine hysteria—I am sorry.”

He studied her. “You had every cause to weep. I do not blame you.”

“You have never been kind to me before!” she exclaimed, studying him closely. “If you don’t think poorly of me, are you feeling sorry for me?”

He seemed to be intrigued with his ship’s bow, staring ahead at it now. “I am not allowed to have some sympathy for you?” he finally asked softly.

“I think you told me that I will find a way to make ends meet, and I intend to do just that.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you do not need—or want—my sympathy?”

She felt a genuine smile begin. “No. I actually like your sympathy.”

He turned to her, his gaze becoming speculative. “You are a strong woman—I see you have bounced back.”

She felt her body tighten in response to the light in his eyes. She wondered if it would always be this way, if he would look at her so frankly, and she would desire him in return.

She lifted her face to the night’s soft breeze, its scattered stars. “I am not all that strong. I have been dependent on one person or another my entire life. Now, my daughter is dependent on me—and I must depend only on myself.”

He looked away again, guiding the ship slightly, as the helm moved in his hands. “As I said, you are strong.”

It was so pleasant, to be thought of so highly now. It felt like a miracle, considering that, two nights ago, she had been in his arms, and he had been angry with her. She gazed openly at him. It was enjoyable being with him when he wasn’t accusing her of manipulation, when they were not arguing over one thing or another. How had they reached this new ground? she wondered. “Have we finally arrived at a truce?”

His smile was brief. “Were we at war?”

“There were certainly several battles.”

“I owe you an apology, Evelyn, for making the wrong assumptions when we first met—for being terribly rude.”

She was stunned. “You are forgiven.”

“That was too easy, surely, I must redeem myself in a more exemplary manner.”

He was serious, she realized. “You risked your life for me,” she began.

“I did not bring you the gold.”

Her eyes widened at his mention of what was truly inside the chest. “You knew?”

“Yes, your uncle assumed you had told me about it.”

“And you do not think that I wished to cheat you?”

“No. I think only a very foolish woman would have told someone she wished to hire for this run that a pot of gold was its objective.”

She wondered if she were lucky now. Somehow, she did not think that he would have been so understanding a day or two ago. “I will not be chasing any more pots of gold,” she said slowly. “Do you know anything about mining?”

He started. “No. But my brother does.”

“My tin mine needs repairs before it can be profitable—or so I have been told. But I was also told that the previous manager was stealing from us. I don’t know what to believe, but that mine could be the source of revenue I need for my daughter to have the future she deserves.”

“The Greystone estate is a small one, and most consider us an impoverished family, but it isn’t true. There is a tin mine and an iron quarry, and both are highly lucrative. Lucas took over the reins of the estate when he was still a boy. He probably knows as much about tin mining as anyone.”

“If I could speak to him,” she cried in disbelief, “I would be so grateful!”

“I will make certain he helps you,” Jack said. “I will see that he visits your mine, speaks with the manager and goes over your books. If that mine can produce revenue, Lucas will determine that.”

Evelyn was thrilled. She also realized that Jack thought very highly of his brother. “I will look forward to meeting him,” she said, “and not just because he can help me with the mine.”

The wind had picked up. She shivered a little as a peaceful silence fell. “Tell me about your father,” Jack said softly.