Page 82 of A Foreign Crown
The next morning, Lord Bartholomew approached her. “I’ve arranged passage on a ship to Oldenburg.”
“What?” Her heart pounded at the thought.
“Yes.” He leaned closer to her and looked into her eyes. “We could be happy here. You could carry on here with my mother and sister, but I know your heart is no longer with the estate.”
“You are correct; somehow, it’s not.” She studied his eyes. The kindness there had always impressed her. “I think your presence here, your goodness, has helped me to realize that the estate is in good hands. I only wish we had left you a better situation.”
“I look forward to the challenge of creating anew what it once was.”
Aribella smiled. “I wish there were a way I could thank you.”
“The first thing you can do is travel to Oldenburg to discover what might lie in wait for you there. And if the situation is not as pleasing as you would have hoped, you will always have a place here, in your home.” His subtle emphasis of the wordhomebrought tears to her eyes.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” He lifted her hand to his mouth. Then he leaned back, releasing her hand. The finality of the motion spoke to Aribella. The corner of his mouth lifted in a grin that might be called handsome to some. Aribella hoped he found every happiness he deserved. “I am quite pleased with my gift to you. You will board the ship within the week.”
“Oh my word!” Her mind spun with excitement and a bit of trepidation. “Do you think—do you worry that I might be attacked? By the French?”
“I am putting you in the care of a retired naval admiral and his fleet of merchant ships. They have their methods and will often fly different colors, depending on the water they cross. I think you will be safe. You will be in the best hands. But it is not entirely without risk. You must determine if the journey is worth such potential challenges.”
She nodded and, almost without hesitation, stood, determined. “It is worth the risk.” And it was. What life did she have at home with the duke and his mother and sister? What life did she have at court without Layton? Where would she live? Who were her friends? The only place she could envision herself moving forward was a place she’d never been with a man she had no hold over, no agreement from, who might feel obligated to Princess Mary and to the Queen of England. But she couldn’t explain even to herself the compulsion she felt to go. So she would.
The duke’s grin grew. “I thought you would say as much. Your carriage leaves tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Weeks went by. The waterswere still not clear of pirates and at times were peppered with French ships, threatening, sometimes firing their guns. Only when Oldenburg had clearly chosen sides did the French realize just how pivotal their small country might be to this war. Napoleon now seemed relentless in his efforts to control the waters surrounding Oldenburg. Privateers abounded. Every merchant ship that arrived had a full bounty of goods to be pilfered, and Layton’s team sailed at full capacity, every ship out on the waters every day.
The British naval ships were indispensable, as was the ability for Oldenburg to fly the British flag when necessary. And yet, Layton would not call their waters clear or safe yet. Perhaps they would never be so—not while Napoleon continued his mad seizure of the world around him, not while countries determinedly resisted tyranny.
After coming in off one of his patrols to answer a summons from his mother, Layton now sat in Brittiny Castle with a pile of correspondence she’d insisted he answer. He sat at one end of his long table in a glorious dining room that overlooked the ocean. In truth, almost every room on this side of the castle overlooked the water. The waves crashed below him in a furious white-foamed frenzy. Their tips crashed farther out into the water. The dark sky mimicked Layton’s mood. The vast room felt lonely today. But he would return to his ship as soon as he could. The waters would be clear of threats if he had to personally sink every ship that threatened his country.
With a sigh, he reached for the pile of letters. They toppled to the side, spreading out in front of him, when one seal caught his eye. It had come from the royal palace in England.
As he broke the seal and noted the length of the prose, he groaned. Princess Mary. But he forced himself to read her words. Partway through the letter, he could go no further. She spoke of her day, her family, her father, all of which he found interesting. Her father was no better. They were all in mourning, at the Queen’s request. And then Mary wrote, “I sit here with Lady Aribella, who is helping me pen these words. She says that love finds a way. Isn’t that romantic?”
Layton paused, the words searing through his consciousness. He brought the paper up to his chest and then scoffed at his ridiculous behavior. Aribella. How had she felt assisting Princess Mary in writing a letter to him? Had she loathed the task? Did she miss him? Did her heart yearn for his every hour of the day like his did for hers?
He gazed across the ocean to where he knew she lived and hoped all was well with her and her father. Would he ever see her again? He cursed the length of time it took to send or receive correspondence across the sea. His letters might have arrived in England by now, and he would then have to wait for a response.
His gaze dropped to the letters. Another caught his eye—an unfamiliar seal from England. He broke it and smiled. The Duke of Sumter, Aribella’s father.
My son,
I hope you will forgive the familiarity of calling you my son, but I fear I will not live long enough to call you such in person. I will be quick and to the point. You have captured my Aribella’s heart, and I cannot think of a more worthy captor. I am not long on this Earth, and once I leave and have gone to be with the woman who has my heart, I will send Aribella to you. Be good to her. She is all I have of value and deserves every happiness.
Yours, etc.
Layton stood, a bolt of energy flashing through him. He double-checked the date of her father’s missive. The date of her arrival would depend on when she’d left after the passing of her father. He sifted through the other letters, seeing another from her home; he read of her father’s death in an announcement that was signed Lord Bartholomew, now His Grace, Duke of Sumter. There was no mention of Aribella from him, but if she’d left within days of her father’s death, she could arrive any day, and the waters were not safe. Most ships coming in to port were stopped and challenged, no matter the flag they flew. His heart ached for her. She’d lost her father. And in her loss, she was coming across the ocean, traveling to him? Had she dared? His heart clenched in a hopeful agony, part sorrow and part expectation.
He ran from the room, calling for his staff. He sent someone to ready his ship, to gather anew any crew who’d gone ashore, determined to search every ship, encounter every skirmish—seek out, in the narrow strip of water, any possible risk to Aribella, find her, and escort her safely to land.
He could not feel anything but a mild form of panic and a determination to protect her. The thought of her safe in his arms, in his home, propelled him with a desperate energy. Aribella would come to Oldenburg. And she would be safe at all costs.
He could not feel at ease until his ship was out on the water. Bless his ship’s crew for their rapid departure. He was certain every member wondered at his rush, at the shortness of their shore leave, but Layton heard no complaint. They exited out into the bay, and Layton called a council with his first mate and the barrelman.
“We are here to protect a ship coming from England that carries a noble, a dignitary from their country, the daughter of the Duke of Sumter.”
