nodded and picked up the reticule that seemed to be her only possession.
They made their way to the deck and stood at the railing. A narrow line on the horizon slowly formed into land.
‘Where will we sail into?’ Claire’s heart beat faster. Would she remember anything once they landed?
‘Bray,’ he responded.
‘A fishing village, is it not?’
‘You know it?’ His brows rose.
She gazed at the land, now rising green. ‘I know of it, but I do not know why.’
She had asked him many things about his life over the last three weeks, because, of course, she knew nothing of her own life, but she’d never asked him what would happen when they reached shore. That was as black to her as the night, as black as her past. As long as they were on the boat she’d been content to avoid the topic.
‘You will travel to London, I expect. For your new ship.’ She watched the shore coming ever closer, not daring to look at him for fear she’d crumble. ‘Will you catch another packet from Dublin?’
He would leave her and be as distant and unattainable as her past.
He paused before answering. ‘I will see you safe to your brother, first.’
She swallowed. ‘No, Lucien. I have troubled you enough. I am certain I can manage.’ Somehow.
* * *
‘I will see you safe to your brother,’ Lucien repeated. ‘I’ll not leave you on your own.’
Lucien had no desire to meet the present Earl of Keneagle, but he could not simply leave Lady Rebecca to fend for herself. True, she could mail her own letter to her brother and arrange her own transportation to his estate, but how difficult would it be for her to not even know if a man standing before her was her brother or someone else?
‘We will travel together to Dublin and contact your brother from there,’ he said to her. ‘I will be able to draw funds from the bank there as well.’ He’d dealt with a Dublin bank to transfer funds to his uncles. ‘We should be able to purchase whatever we need, as well.’
She lifted her reticule. ‘I have some money. Perhaps I have other funds to repay you.’
He shook his head. ‘I am well able to afford whatever we need.’ What else did he need his money for?
He leaned his arms on the railing.
‘We are getting closer to land,’ she said in a shaky voice.
* * *
Soon enough the ketch was moored at a dock and they were saying goodbye to Captain Molloy and his men. To Lucien’s surprise, Lady Rebecca hugged each man who, after three weeks, like him, was rather reeking of sweat and fish.
Captain Molloy pointed. ‘Walk to the top of that street and you’ll find the inn. My cousin runs the place, Niall Molloy, so give him my name and he will see to your needs.’
Lucien shook the Captain’s hand. ‘We owe you a great debt of gratitude.’
The man looked abashed. ‘Aw, ’twas nothing. You more than earned your keep. The lady, too, poor bhean.’
Still, Captain Molloy and his men would each receive a generous gift from Lucien as soon as it could be arranged.
He climbed off the boat and on to the dock, turning back to help Rebecca disembark. She jumped the gap and landed in his arms. She felt too good in his arms.
She found her footing and turned back to say a final goodbye.
He offered his arm. ‘Your legs may take time to get used to land.’
‘I will miss the crew.’ She allowed him to steady her as they walked away from the dock up the street.
On the small boat, they were rarely not in someone’s company.
‘At least you will have a room of your own in the inn,’ Lucien reassured her.
She sighed. ‘It will seem strange after the fishing boat.’
They found the inn and entered its public rooms, seeking out the innkeeper who was serving ale to several men seated at tables.
‘Niall Molloy?’ Lucien asked.
‘That I am,’ he answered.
‘We are off your cousin’s boat,’ Lucien told him. ‘Rescued at sea from the wreck of the Dun Aengus.’
The man’s bushy red eyebrows rose. ‘From the Dun Aengus? We heard news of it. Finn picked you up? Is that not a jest? My cousin. Imagine. How long before Finn rescued you?’
‘The second day,’ Lucien replied.
‘I imagine that was time enough.’ He wiped his hands.
Lady Rebecca broke in. ‘Can you tell us about the shipwreck. Did—did many die?’
The innkeeper lowered his head. ‘All but a handful, reports say. Maybe a dozen survived, as I recall it.’ He smiled. ‘A dozen plus the two of you.’
Her face pinched in pain.
‘Well, sad it is, but the sea giveth and the sea taketh away.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘You need a room? What else may I do for you?’
‘Two rooms,’ Lucien said. ‘But, for now, a good meal.’
The man laughed. ‘Finn’s food not the best, eh? I guarantee we will show him up.’
He gestured for them to sit at a table separate from the other diners and quickly served them large tankards of ale and mutton stew.
The other men seated there did not hide their curious glances.
‘Am I not presentable?’ Rebecca asked. ‘They keep looking at me.’
Lucien turned and glared at the other patrons and they quickly averted their gazes. ‘Presentable enough. They probably are not accustomed to seeing a lady here.’
She looked up, her eyes questioning. ‘Should I not be here, then? If I do not belong here?’
He must remember that much would be new to her. ‘You can certainly be here.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Because I am happy to be eating so well.’
So well? Compared to the last three weeks, perhaps, but surely this food was as beneath her as the simple fare on the fishing boat.
She dipped her spoon into her stew and lowered her eyes. ‘They are staring again.’
He shrugged. ‘More likely, then, it is your beauty that attracts them.’
Her eyes flew up and were filled with anxiety.
