Breakwater Beach by Carole Ann Moleti Page B

My maid will be with me and serve as a witness.”
    “Won’t she give us away? What will happen when I leave, Elisabeth?” He never knew if he’d return from a voyage until they were safely back in port, but didn’t want to frighten her with that.
    “I trust Katherine completely. While you’re gone, I’ll make preparations. The marriage certificate secures me as yours, and distance will protect you should my father find out.”
    “Of course he’ll find out. How would you get to Liverpool for a steamship?” He’d never be able to set foot in London again with such a big price on his head.
    “I’m prepared to do what I must.” The charming pout returned. Like her father, the woman was determined to get her way.
    “And what happens when your father learns of it?” Being in irons was far worse than being poor, and he couldn’t help her from prison. And being kept in a gilded cage far better than wandering the back alleys attracting the attention of thieves, brigands, and opportunists.
    “As long as the marriage is consummated Papa will have no recourse. He’ll put me out, and I’ll find somewhere to stay in London. I’m already hiding things away so you won’t be taking on a pauper.” She crossed her arms over her chest like a defiant child.
    “Elisabeth, this is madness.” She seemed oblivious to more than just escape, but he was running out of objections.
    “Edward, please, if we wait, it might never happen.” Her lower lip trembled. “You can’t imagine the old drunks and other creatures he’s bringing by.”
    He’d dreamed of holding her on all those long nights when his shipmates were out visiting the taverns and barmaids. A flush of heat, of desire, burned in his gut. The thought of another man’s hands on her, hurting or mistreating her . . .
    Edward climbed over the rail and sat next to her. Their clasped hands rested in her lap. “I can’t subject you to such danger or filthy living conditions on my ship. I’ve seen women die in childbirth, from infestations, infections.” He surveyed the lawns and gardens beyond the trees for anyone who might be watching.
    “Edward, please. I understand it won’t be easy.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. She fell into his arms and nestled against him.
    His dream was coming true. The perfume in her hair and soft skin was more intoxicating than a shot of rum, lowering his inhibitions, destroying any semblance of reason.
    “Remember, Edward. I’ll be at the Kensington Hotel for four days, beginning Wednesday next.”
    He stroked her hair, nuzzled her neck, and brushed his face across her cheek. As their lips met, a figure darted out of the shadows and across the lawn. The bliss at finally being able to touch her vanished into the night. Edward leaped back over the rail, flattened himself on the spongy, damp grass, and pressed against the foundation of the structure.
    “Are you unwell, my lady?” Soft footsteps tapped the wood stairs, then moved across the floor. The maid was silhouetted next to Elisabeth in the shadows.
    “Yes, Katherine. I needed some air.”
    “I’ve set out your night things and became concerned. You were quite disappointed when Captain Barrett left so abruptly.”
    “I trust he’ll call again, Katherine. Let’s go.” Elisabeth dropped her handkerchief over the rail, and the two women walked off.
    The magic of the night dissipated. She’d run away and be alone and vulnerable in London if he didn’t meet her, and marry her. He’d convince her to return home to wait for him. Somersell had promised bonuses for prompt deliveries and extra work. If he hurried along the builder on his return to Massachusetts, the house could be done within a year. He’d collect furnishings while on his voyages and, if he took no time off, have the needed funds.
    Edward waited until their footsteps descended the stairs before picking up the lavender scented linen square. He rose again to peer over the rail. The two women disappeared into