The Shipmaster's Daughter (27 page)

“A very bold move, by the way.”

“—front of everyone, and I lost my head. I was angry for betraying Katherine and our love, so Aliana’s story made much more sense because I was angry with myself. It offered me the chance get rid of what I most scared of doing.”

Shaking his head, Jack took a sip of his wine. “Reed, I still think Luciana did it. Aliana may be superficial, but–”

“I was wrong, Jack,” Reed said. “I let my anger and my pride cloud my judgment. You know me. I assume things about people, don’t I? I assumed Aliana was telling the truth; I assumed Luciana must be embarrassed by what I did and so she was reduced to spilling her true feelings about us all. But in reality, I’ve never heard Luciana utter one harsh word against another human being.”

“So what now if indeed you are correct?”

Reed leaned back with a shrug. “Nothing.” His chest clenched at the hopeless word. “I’ve thought about what happened non-stop for past month. Even if I am right—and I may never know—she would never have me. Her pride is as big as mine.”

“Well, maybe you are right. I’d take some more convincing, though.”

“You befriended her before anyone.”

Jack shrugged. “You were the one that fell in love.”

“Yes.” Reed sighed and tossed his napkin onto the table. “Now if we could refrain from speaking of her again.”

“You were the one to bring it up.”

“I know.” Reed smirked. “I just had to get that all out in the open.”

Lifting his half-filled glass, Jack said, “To the past staying in the past.”

They touched glasses and Reed threw back his wine. “To the past staying in the past,” he muttered.

If only the past would stay in the past. He knew with experience it never did.

Weeks passed. Work on the firm took complete control of Reed’s life. He knew it would be difficult going into it, but he didn’t realize just how much work it truly was. Thus far, he had acquired one client and that was fast according to Harper.

He worked tirelessly alongside Jack day in and day out. They refurbished the building as best they could, though they had little to no knowledge of how to fix plumbing; they hired someone for that bit. Walls were painted, the floor was redone, and more furniture was placed into the main room and offices. Finally, “Hargrave Investment” was coming together.

And all throughout those weeks, Reed only allowed Luciana to enter his passing thoughts. He would have liked to keep her from his mind all the time, but he still loved her. He always would, and he would always regret acting as hastily as he did.

“How long has it been since you’ve been home?” Jack asked one morning.

Reed looked up from a stack of legal papers. His eyes were sore from the small print and it took him a moment to adjust. “I went home for a Saturday two weeks ago.”

“You shouldn’t be away for this long.”

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the time being.” At Jack’s dark look, he sighed. “I’ll go home this weekend for the whole weekend if it’ll get you to shut up.” He pointed to the envelopes in Jack’s hands. “Is that the post?”

“Yes, just arrived. Here, there’s a telegram from Yellow Brook.” Jack handed it over and slumped into the seat across from Reed’s desk. “Oh, and a letter from Marybella.”

Reed flipped open the telegram, snickering. “Tell me what she says.”

“She opens with a colorful curse.”

Reed was poised to comment when his heart sank to his feet. He swallowed past his dry throat, rising to his feet as his eyes rescanned the telegram. This had to be wrong. There was no way—

“Esther is ill.”

Jack didn’t look up from his letter. “The flu is going around, I’ve heard.”

Reed shook his head. “No, it’s pneumonia.”

Jack stood and reached for the telegram. His face drew white as he read the words for himself. “Pneumonia?”

“And she’s had it for a week and half.” Reed ripped the paper out of Jack’s hands. “Did no one think to contact me?”

“Maybe they were waiting to see if it would blow over?”

Halfway out the door, Reed shrugged on his coat. “I’m her father. I should be there!” He crumbled the telegram and shoved it in his pocket. “I’ll leave at once.”

Jack caught his elbow. “But what about Luciana?”

Reed stared at him incredulously. At a time like this, what did she matter? “What about her?”

“She’s in Eastbourne. How are you going to make sure you don’t try to win her over?”

“My primary concern is my daughter, Jack.” His tone was clipped. “Can you take care of the firm while I’m gone?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“I’ll keep you lot in my prayers.”

“You don’t pray.”

“I’ll start.”

Reed shook Jack’s hand, his heart and stomach in his throat, and was on the next train out of London.

Chapter 29

“W
here is she, Peters?”

“In her room, sir.”

Reed let go of Peters’s sleeve and wiped his damp palm against his pant leg. He patted Peters’s shoulder, wincing. “Sorry for manhandling you.”

Peters shook his head. “Understandable, sir. Mrs. Evan and Brigette are sitting with Miss Esther.”

“Thank you.” He handed off his coat and hat. “You’ll know where to find me if you need anything.”

The walk to Esther’s room felt like a thousand miles. Sickness made Reed scared. Illness had killed his grandfather, his mother, his wife. He couldn’t imagine what he would do if it took Esther, too. He paused and gripped the banister, steadying his shallow breathing. Unbidden tears rose in his eyes. What was he doing? He didn’t cry. He’d cried the day Esther was born and Katherine died and never again. He rubbed at his eyes until he saw bright spots. With an amount of strength he didn’t feel, he continued up the stairs and to Esther’s room.

He knocked on the door. “Mrs. Evan?”

The door cracked open. Mrs. Evan sunken gaze stared back at him. “Oh,” she whispered, parting the door more. “Mr. Hargrave, it’s you.”

Reed slipped inside and closed the door behind him. His eyes were slow to adjust to the intense darkness. Esther’s curtains were drawn back, blocking out any light from the sun. Only one candle on her desk illuminated the room, but barely. Brigette sat on the edge of Esther’s bed, spoon-feeding her broth. Esther herself looked minuscule compared to the pillows and blankets around her. In the darkness, he couldn’t make out the pallor of her cheeks or if she had lost weight, and, for that, he was thankful. Hearing her phlegmy cough was enough to tell him she was more than sick.

Brigette looked over her shoulder when he came up behind her. “Sir,” she said, rising to her feet. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

He nodded to the bowl in her hand. “Could I have that?” He hoped his voice didn’t sound too strained. To him, he sounded like a man who lost his voice.

“Of course.” Brigette gave him the bowl and backed away.

Reed settled on the edge of the bed. The bowl was hot and it burned the flesh of his palms. Steam smelling of chicken and ginger curled before his nose. With shaking fingers, he dipped the spoon into the broth.

“Esther?” She moaned. “Esther, drink this.” He pushed the spoon against her lips until they parted. With some difficulty she swallowed and then closed her eyes. Reed set the bowl aside and turned to Mrs. Evan. “How long has she been like this?”

“A week and a half,” she said, her thick Irish accent jumbling her words.

He smoothed back the hair on his daughter’s slick forehead. “Why did no one tell me?” he whispered. The comment was directed toward no one in particular. He only needed to say it aloud. Still, Mrs. Evan responded.

“We thought you wouldn’t want to be disturbed.”

“She’s my daughter.” He doubted Mrs. Evan could see the clenching of his jaw or the gritting of his teeth in the dark. Once again, he was thankful.

“Yes, sir.”

Esther’s forehead was hot, but her body trembled beneath the covers. He tucked her in tighter. “What has the doctor said?”

“He said it could be much, much worse.”

“Treatment?”

“Only that she needs a lot of rest and fluids. Mr. Hargrave, you needn’t worry. The doctor said this case was barely worse than a regular bout of the flu.”

He turned away and took Esther’s cold hand into his. “Ladies, I think I would like to be alone a while.”

“Certainly, sir.”

There came the sound of feet shuffling against the floor and then the door opening and closing. Reed slid into the spot beside Esther, putting his arm around her shoulder. She opened her eyes and yawned.

“Father?”

“You should be asleep, little girl,” he said. He, too, needed rest. He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. It was enough to simply sit with her.

“I’m not tired.”

“That’s a lie.” He smirked as she yawned again. “How do you feel?”

“Like my insides are tired.” She looked up and managed a weak grin. “But my head isn’t.”

Reed returned the smile with one of his own. He patted her shoulder. “Rest now. I’ll stay here with you.”

Esther leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed, her eyes fluttering shut. Reed felt tears obscure his vision again, but he pushed them away, letting go of a shaky sigh. He didn’t know what he would do without her. Pneumonia was deadly; it wasn’t to be taken lightly. He prayed fervently that the doctor knew what he was talking about and this was indeed only a minor case.

“Father?”

“Esther, go to sleep,” he murmured.

“I want to see Luciana.”

His eyes flew open, adjusting to the dark once more. “What?” He peered down at her sleepy stare, though it shined with resolve and determination.

“If I’m going to die—”

Seizing her shoulders in his hands, he put their eyes at the same level. “Don’t you dare say that again.”

For a moment, her lower lip quivered. He rarely grew stern with her, and when he did, it never failed to startle her into crying. But then she composed herself and started again.

“If I’m going to die, I want to see Luciana again.”

He frowned, shaking his head. “Why?”

“Because I love her.”

“She didn’t even say goodbye.” He hadn’t given her the chance, but he doubted it would have made much of a difference.

Esther considered this and then shrugged. “Sometimes people do funny things.”

Reed hadn’t told Esther the reason for Luciana’s departure. The girl was too attached to her and he didn’t want to risk breaking her heart, in addition to his. One broken heart was enough for a house. Her words made him laugh and cry—he only allowed one tear to slip—at the same time. She loved so deeply, without abandon. Reed wished he could love like her.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

She nodded. “I want to see her. She’s my friend. Do you promise you’ll get her? Tomorrow?”

“I don’t even know where she lives.”

“You can find her.” She paused and raised her eyebrows. “Tomorrow?”

Who was Reed to deny his sick daughter her wish? Jack would kill him if he found out. Still, he nodded. “Tomorrow.”

He got little sleep that night. His head was filled with worry for Esther and worry for the new day. What would Luciana do when he found her? Would she run? Slap him? Deep within, he knew what she would do. She would stand and face him like the strong woman she was. She wouldn’t waver or crack, though he might.

God, his heart was beating fast.

He sat up and drank from his glass of water. He heard Esther cough down the hall. His heart clenched as he laid back down. He prayed that she would recover. And to the sound of her coughing, he fell asleep.

Dawn came too early. He rose, washed, and dressed himself. Breakfast could wait; he had no appetite. He glanced himself over in the mirror and pulled the sides of his hair into a loose bun. That was as good as it was ever going to get. He shouldn’t even bother. With sluggish steps, he found Peters near the door.

“Do you know where Miss Renaldi works in town?”

Peters nodded. “Aye, sir. At Sam’s Dresses, on the corner of Main Street and Fourth.”

Reed donned his coat. “Thank you.”

“Will you be needing the barouche, sir?”

“No thank you. I’ll walk.”

Reed found himself walking quickly toward the shop. Urgency spurred him onward, as well as his beating heart. Nausea coursed through him, causing him to nearly vomit. He stopped to catch his breath and swallow the bile before trudging forward, head bent against the wind.