Henri stared down at the wave-washed sand, wishing his mind would come clean, but his thoughts were knotted as rigging. He felt akin to a dismasted ship. It had been nearly a fortnight since those gravely serious meetings in the palace. Governor Dinwiddie awaited his reply. All of British America teetered on the brink of war as matters on the frontier grew more explosive.
While he dallied.
For the first time in his entire naval career, he had no wish to return to sea. The Relentless could stay beached forever. Somewhere between the last few cruises and setting foot in York, he’d lost something. His moorings. His true north. His mind.
A few months before, a broken spar had knocked him down. Had that something to do with it? He still had headaches but thought himself mostly healed. Lifting a hand, he traced the scar above his left brow. Nay, he could not blame his indecision on an accident. He knew the real reason. But what would he say to Dinwiddie and his officials?
I’ve decided to forsake all duty to my country and let France gain the upper hand on the high seas, not only on the colonial frontier, while I attend dances and learn to ride and sip chocolate and try to woo the woman I lost a decade ago.
Headache or no, his prayers seemed to reach no farther than the cottage ceiling. The dilemma was even stealing his sleep.
Lord, make Your will plain to me.
“Captain.” A familiar masculine voice turned him round.
“You’re back,” Henri said. Ned had been on the mainland for a sennight. Henri hadn’t expected his return so soon.
“I am.” Ned wore his town clothes, his buckled shoes digging deep into the sand as he walked toward Henri. A smile lit up his clean-shaven face. “I can wait no longer to share the glad news.”
Henri fell into step beside him. “Glad news? Is there to be no war?”
A low laugh. “War is the farthest thing from my mind. I believe I’ve met the woman I’m going to marry—or begin courting, at least.”
Henri’s hand shot out instinctively. “Congratulations, then.”
Ned shook with vigor, never missing a step. “I suppose you’ll not relax your rule about banning married men as crew.”
“Never. Especially newly married ones.” Curiosity overcame him. “So, tell me about her.”
A slow smile transformed Ned’s ruddy features. “She rather bowled me over. I forgot my manners. I nearly forgot to remove my hat at first meeting.”
Henri chuckled, stunned by his words. But Ned of all people deserved a helpmeet. A pastor, albeit a sea chaplain, shouldn’t be alone.
“She’s . . . perfect. Small in stature. Comes to about here.” He thumped his hand just below his shoulder. “Hair as black as a Brazilian diamond. Eyes a peculiar shade of jade.”
“Careful, you’re downright poetic.”
Ned laughed, a merry sound that further nettled Henri’s tempestuous mood. “Isn’t that what lovers do?”
“Does this beauty have a name?”
“Her name is as lovely as all the rest of her.”
“A Williamsburg belle?”
“Nay. York.”
“Where did you meet?”
“Shaw’s Chocolate shop.”
Henri snapped to attention. “Admiral Shaw’s daughter?”
“The same. Miss Esmée Shaw.”
Nay. A thousand times nay.
Henri stopped in his tracks. A sound kick in the gut would have made him gladder. For a few seconds he stood speechless. Then at last he asked, “Are you sure you weren’t just entranced by a surfeit of chocolate?”
“Not at all. I visited her twice there. Once when I first got to York and then today before my leaving.”
“Twice hardly equates to marriage.” Henri shot him a chary look and resumed walking in the direction of the Flask and Sword. “Women are far more complex than they first appear.”
“Where is your sense of romance, Captain?” Ned expelled a breath, eyes on distant York. “Once or twice is often all that’s necessary.”
“I would caution you of the lovesick sailor phenomenon. Lovesick chaplain, in your case.” Henri assumed his commander’s voice. “When one is away months or years at sea, anything remotely feminine appears utterly remarkable.”
“In this case there is no such delusion.” Ned studied him, a sympathetic light in his eye. “Have you never experienced it?”
Henri kicked at a pebble in his way. Aye. Had he not once felt the same? When Esmée had first entered a stuffy Rhode Island parlor, it was as if no other woman existed. Only Ned did not know of his and Esmée’s former tie, having been aboard a schooner till joining the Relentless crew.
“Lest you think I’ve completely lost my reason, I questioned my kinfolk at Mount Autrey about the Shaws, especially Esmée,” Ned said. “My aunts are a formidable hurdle—two of them, anyway.”
“Well . . . go on,” Henri muttered over his misery.
“I’ve made other discreet inquiries.” Ned was as earnest as Henri had ever seen him, removing all hope that this was one big lark. “Her character is sterling. Not vain but virtuous. Kind. God-fearing. She stretches out her hand to the poor and visits the almshouse regularly. She is a woman of spirit and industry, managing the chocolate shop like her mother before her. For the life of me I cannot understand why she has never wed.”
“A failed love affair, mayhap.”
Ned’s clenched brow eased. “Perhaps she was simply waiting for me.”
Henri would hear no more. “In short, the perfect chaplain’s wife.”
“Exactly. And since my father and mother are long buried, I ask your blessing.”
My blessing. “I suppose you’ve yet to tell her you’re hardly a humble chaplain but kin to the Autreys.”
“She did ask, hearing my surname. An insignificant detail.”
Henri nodded. This was what he most admired about Ned. His humility. His utter disregard for earthly mammon. In truth, Esmée had all the makings of a genteel chaplain’s wife. Together they could launch all sorts of charitable endeavors from Mount Autrey, one of the largest estates in Virginia, a veritable fount of funds.
“Now seems the time to leave the sea and settle down.” The note of finality in Ned’s voice seemed to seal the matter. “Though we’ve had many an adventure together of which I’m extremely grateful, Captain, my wanderlust has begun to tire, as we’ve oft discussed. I’m now intent on resigning my post, and I seek your blessing.”
In a few choice words, Ned had stated Henri’s own predicament. My wanderlust has begun to tire. I’m intent on resigning my post. So succinctly stated yet how infernally complicated. To leave the sea and settle down was Henri’s burning desire and had been for some time. For Ned it was entirely possible, while he himself felt shackled. By his reputation. His resources. His connections.
“I understand.” Henri forced a smile, tried to summon some gladness for Ned beyond a half-hearted clap on the back. “But my blessing is hardly needed. I wish you the best in whatever you undertake.” He took a breath and added, “There’s never been a more worthy man for such a woman.”
Ned’s brow tightened anew. “You’ve oft talked of settling down yourself.”