If I Fall (40 page)

“What will happen now?” Sarah asked finally, as Marcus took this all in.

“I would rather not incite a panic, so Phillippa is trying to minimize the rumors that will be flying—but this may be beyond even her abilities. We’ve been holding this in too long,” Marcus surmised. “Meanwhile, the Comte will stay with us as we research his connections, and search far and wide for Mr. Pha. But I have little hope he’ll ever been found.”

Jack thought of the men at the London docks, workers and mates on merchant vessels. Half were English, half dark-skinned. Mr. Pha, who apparently had experience in subterfuge, would have no trouble blending in there, and sneaking aboard a ship.

“I can go down to the docks,” Jack offered. “Ask around and see if anyone has seen Mr. Pha.”

“And I can talk to Georgina,” Sarah piped up. “Ask her about her brother’s friends in India.”

“And there is still something strange about the house, and the painting—according to Lord Forrester, the Duke of Parford would never agree to sell the Holbein.” Jack mused rapidly. “I think the Comte sold it, to fund his activities.”

“Which if we can prove,” Sarah jumped in, “would be proof enough to—”

“No,” Marcus said. “Thank you both, but no. We are looking into the sale of the Duke of Parford’s belongings, but you have both done your part. And as long as the whereabouts of those men are unknown, I would like to distance anyone not employed by this agency as much as possible.” He looked at Jack’s eyes as he spoke. “The men that work for me take an oath to protect their country with their lives. And my wife—well, she just inserts herself without my asking anymore. But I never should have demanded such from you through blackmail. For that I apologize.”

“But—”

“You have already gone above and beyond the call of duty” Marcus interrupted, pulling a sealed envelope out of a desk drawer. “And you should be rewarded for it.”

He held it out to Jack, who took the paper with a certain
amount of trepidation. His heart began to beat faster as he recognized the seal of the Lord of the Admiralty.

“These are orders,” Jack said astonished as he read. “To report as first lieutenant on the
Dresden
on Monday.”

Sarah’s eyebrows went up. “I … I thought it was impossible to get a position on a ship now,” she stuttered.

“It is. In fact, this is the post my friend Whigby is to fill,” he looked from Sarah to Marcus.

“It’s the position he
was
to fill. I have it on good authority—via my wife—that your friend Whigby proposed to and was accepted by Miss Juliana Devlin, and has decided to forgo his naval career to learn her father’s business.”

Jack blinked twice in astonishment. Although, why should he be astonished? Those weeks that he had spent avoiding Sarah for fear of his secret coming out, he had dragged Whigby with him to pay cursory calls on Miss Juliana. It seemed, however, those calls were more than cursory for Whigby.

“When I discovered the post had been abandoned, I called in a favor,” Marcus finished. “Unless, of course, you would rather not take it.”

“No!” Jack cried. “Of course I will take it. Thank you very much, sir.”

He held out his hand to Sir Marcus who shook it readily. As he stood, he turned to Sarah, expecting to see a happy smile on her face for the successful resolution of all their worries.

Her lips were white, a shocked tear rolling down her cheek. Suffice to say, it was not what he was expecting.

“Sarah, wait!” Jack called after her as she trotted with increasing fury down the corridors of the Horse Guards. But she would not stop. Her hands resolutely clutching her reticule, moving with the prim determination of someone who simply had to get out of there.

Which way should she go? Left? No right—right was the way out. If only she had paid attention when being led in instead of ruminating on what they had been doing in the carriage. It was all going to be her undoing. All over again.

Her mind was stuck on the same refrain. The same ache that had occupied the pit of her stomach all winter.

Twelve hours ago, this was not the turn she pictured their lives taking. In the halcyon bliss that they discovered comes after lovemaking, she pictured they would have an intimate wedding in a few months, and then settle on an estate purchased with her dowry, and … and life would start.

Not this.

“Sarah, hold on one minute,” Jack said, finally catching up to her, gently taking hold of her arm, turning her toward him. “You have to tell me what is amiss.”

“Nothing is amiss. You’ve gotten a commission. Congratulations.” Her voice shook as she said it.

“That doesn’t mean I’m leaving you,” he said softly, stepping closer to her.

“No, just the hemisphere,” she retorted. “I thought you were tired of life on a ship. I thought you said … it would be the
Amorata
that you missed, not the life at sea.”

“It is,” he admitted. Then he looked to the side. “You’re right, I can only hope to find a home so well suited to me.”

You can find it with me
, she wanted to say.
You can have that here
.

“But it’s the only thing I know how to do, Sarah,” he argued. “It’s the only living I can earn.”

“But you do not need to earn a living,” she countered. “I’m sure my father will settle enough on me—”

“Oh, hell yes I do!” the words came from him savagely, shocking her more than his hand tightening on her arm. “You think that after all your father has done for me I can come to him and say, by the bye, I’m marrying your daughter without ability or means to support her? I cannot be any more of a charity case to your family, Sarah.”

“You never have been,” she replied quietly.

“If you ever stood on my side of the equation you would not say that,” he intoned grimly.

He dropped his hand from her arm, letting it slide down, trying to take her hand. But she wouldn’t allow it. She pulled away.

“I have a dowry, Jack.”

He shook his head. “I won’t come to you with nothing, Sarah.”

You did last night
, her callous heart whispered treacherously.

“But with some luck,” he gently persuaded. “I’ll have saved enough to support you in a few short years, and—”

“A few
years
?” she practically screeched. “A few years.”

“Yes—maybe less if I get promoted to captain, or if combat occurs—”

“A few years before we can get married. A few years that you’ll be out to sea, coming home rarely, and if there’s combat, maybe never. And a few more years that I am left wondering when my life is to start. Left waiting. Again.” Her response was fevered, but quickly her voice broke and the tears began to fall.

Jack stood there, simply watching her, his mouth agape. Unable to answer, or even begin to try. Instead he wrapped her in his arms, and held her steady while she cried.

But this couldn’t be. As much as her heart craved his arms around her, her head knew better. They were in the middle of a public hallway, making a spectacle. There were men in uniform, passing with their eyes straight ahead, but she knew they were listening.

This time tomorrow, she knew, she would not only be the “Girl Who Lost a Duke.” She would be the Girl Who Lost a Lieutenant. The girl who lost control of her own life.

And she had to get it back.

She took a deep, resolute breath. Dried her eyes. And stepped back from him.

“Do you even want to stay with me?” she asked quietly, calmly.

“Of course I want to stay with you,” Jack replied, his voice filled with emotion—but to Sarah it sounded placating. “It’s only in these past few weeks that I’ve discovered that my home, my true home, has always been with you. But I have to earn a living. I would detest myself if I became idle on my wife’s money; you must see that.”

“So last night—that meant nothing to you. You can go on a ship in a week’s time and forget it.” Her voice was a whisper.

“Last night will be burned in my brain forever. Because I was making love to my
wife
. To you.”

“No,” she countered, her voice steely. “You were not. You were making love to a foolish girl who … fueled by the excitement of the day and the intrigue, let romantic curiosity get the best of her. And that’s all.”

“Sarah,” Jack pleaded, his face white, his eyes lost, “this is lunacy. I love you and we will get married. I promise.”

“And in the meantime … I wait,” she replied coldly, her voice as hard as crystal.

When they informed the Forresters of the news, the entire family enveloped Jack in a celebratory mass of excitement.

“Oh, my dear boy, I could not be happier,” Lady Forrester was saying, in between tears.

“Marvelous! Simply marvelous!” Lord Forrester cried, pumping Jack’s hand. “I knew there was something suspicious going on this morning between you two.” His keen eye fell on Sarah, who was blushing in the corner.

“Indeed, Father,” Sarah replied. “I can take no credit for it. Sir Marcus felt Jack was the best man for the job and told the Admiralty of the Navy so.”

“Yes, but you are the one who introduced them, I know it,” Lord Forrester leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Therefore, Jack must acknowledge that some of his good fortune is to your credit.”

“But that means that you are leaving!” Amanda complained, tugging on Jack’s arm. “Much too soon!”

“Oh heavens!” Lady Forrester exclaimed, her face going from joyous to bleak at an almost comic speed. “I hadn’t even considered that! Dear boy, whatever will we do without you?”

As the raptures over hearing of Jack’s new position aboard a ship as illustrious and mighty as the
Dresden
continued, swinging wildly from congratulatory to mournful to celebratory again, Jack found himself at a loss to explain how his life had altered so radically in the space of a morning.

He had intended to ask Sir Marcus if he could come to work for him. That was what he was going to do this morning. Not as the Blue Raven of course, but as a clerk, or a scout—a job where he could learn, and could grow. He was willing to start at the bottom, and work his way up. The truth of the matter was, something had become clear in those hours of climbing and running around rooftops—he found the work interesting. In the same way he had expected to find life on a ship interesting, when he was young and there was important
work to be done, defending a country, not defending merchant vessels from piracy.

It was raw, honest, and important. And he could do it.

But then … then Marcus had spoken of the mission they had just finished as a complete and utter disaster. If only he had captured Mr. Pha! If only he had prevented his escape! Jack cursed himself. He knew, in that moment, he had blown any chance he might have had at working in the War Department.

Even though the last thing he wished to do was leave, his body screaming in protest against it, he cowardly took the consolation prize. The one that would still save his pride, his status as a gentleman, and give him income enough to eventually carve out a life with Sarah.

Until Sarah rejected that notion, too.

So here he was, being feted by the family that loved him most for this perceived triumph, and all he could think was … he was going to lose everything.

As Amanda and Lady Forrester demanded Dalton bring out a few glasses of champagne—in either celebration or mourning—Jack could only stand by and watch as Sarah slipped quietly out of the room. For the first time in months, she went unnoticed.

“Jack.” It was Bridget. She slid up to him, her voice low. Not that it would have mattered. Lady Forrester had apparently decided to plan a farewell dinner for him, and was busy ordering the staff and Lord Forrester around accordingly. Amanda seemed happy enough following after her mother, and being allowed to take part in this very grown-up activity instead of her lessons for the day.

“I … I don’t know if you’ll need this aboard your ship, but I thought you might like to have it back anyway.” Bridget said as she reached into her pocket, pulled out something, and pressed it into his hand.

He knew what it was simply by the feel. Her fingers drew back from his hand and revealed his false moustache, looking rather small and pathetic in full daylight. He almost laughed. To think, that such a tiny thing had acted for so long as his safeguard against discovery.