the carriage.
He leaned back, eyes closed, as he replayed the scene in the drawing room. What the devil was going on? Which was the true Heather Morgan? The fiery spirit who’d returned his kisses with such passion or the mealy milquetoast with whom he’d just shared tea?
He tried to think of any reason to explain her sudden change of character. It made sense that night at Coal’s, for he was certain she’d been instructed to accept whatever orders she might be given by the man paying for her. It didn’t make sense now, at least not to him. He had no aversion to the occasional disagreement, no aversion to her speaking her mind.
He smiled as he thought about his mother, Rebecca, and his younger sisters. Emma, the older of the two girls, was married now, and the mother of a daughter herself. It would be nice to see them again. He had missed his family during his absence, for they were a close-knit group.
“Well, we’ll be there soon enough,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “Although, I do not relish the questions Heather’s presence will bring. I haven’t a clue how I’m going to explain her presence here, with me.”
How the devil would he explain her?
His family was no stranger to scandal. After all, scandal was what landed Emma her husband. But this was different. He had no idea how they would react should they learn how he’d met Heather in the first place. Drew didn’t think his father or Garrett would be overly troubled.
At least, he hoped not.
He’d worry about that when the time came. He had more pressing matters at hand and one of them concerned one greedy harbormaster and a restless crew. He needed to settle up with the former and round up the latter, then he could set sail for home.
Chapter Nine
The next two days were a blur of activity as Heather’s time in London drew to a bittersweet close. Anticipation mingled with regret at the thought of leaving her home, but she tried not to dwell on it.
Her spat with Drew had gone by the wayside since he was so busy preparing his ship for their return to America. She saw little of him during those two days, but when their paths crossed, at least he smiled, or had kind words for her. These filled her with a sense of relief. At least their quarrel changed nothing.
Finally, it was her last day in London. It was a gray, misty morning and it didn’t take long for her to finish what little packing she had to do.
Drew returned at noon and told her they would be leaving with the evening tide. The entire staff was busy stowing the last of his trunks, making certain he left nothing behind, and getting Heather’s trunk tucked in with the others.
When it was time to leave, Heather said a quick goodbye to the maids she barely knew and to the housekeeper who still radiated hostility. She lingered over Jameson only, giving the older man a warm embrace that clearly moved him.
“Take care of yourself,” he whispered, giving her a squeeze. “Don’t let that boy push you around any.”
I won’t,” she told him, stepping back and blinking back tears. She would miss the kindly old man.
“I tease you. I’ve known that boy for several years now and his heart is always in the right place. Just take care to watch his temper. It’s fierce, but then, most of the passionate ones are. He’s a good man, Captain McKenzie is. A good man. He will take care of you. Good care of you.”
Heather wasn’t certain how to respond. She was quite sure the man had no idea how she came to be in Drew’s company, and she wasn’t about to enlighten him.
Drew came into the front hall. Ever the gentleman, he had dressed for the trip to the harbor in black trousers and dove gray shirt, complete with cravat and a sapphire blue frock coat. “Are you ready then?”
She nodded. “I am.”
“Let us get moving, shall we?” He offered his hand to Jameson. “Take care of yourself, Jamie. Watch out for the ladies. They’re nothing but trouble.”
Jameson gave
He leaned back, eyes closed, as he replayed the scene in the drawing room. What the devil was going on? Which was the true Heather Morgan? The fiery spirit who’d returned his kisses with such passion or the mealy milquetoast with whom he’d just shared tea?
He tried to think of any reason to explain her sudden change of character. It made sense that night at Coal’s, for he was certain she’d been instructed to accept whatever orders she might be given by the man paying for her. It didn’t make sense now, at least not to him. He had no aversion to the occasional disagreement, no aversion to her speaking her mind.
He smiled as he thought about his mother, Rebecca, and his younger sisters. Emma, the older of the two girls, was married now, and the mother of a daughter herself. It would be nice to see them again. He had missed his family during his absence, for they were a close-knit group.
“Well, we’ll be there soon enough,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “Although, I do not relish the questions Heather’s presence will bring. I haven’t a clue how I’m going to explain her presence here, with me.”
How the devil would he explain her?
His family was no stranger to scandal. After all, scandal was what landed Emma her husband. But this was different. He had no idea how they would react should they learn how he’d met Heather in the first place. Drew didn’t think his father or Garrett would be overly troubled.
At least, he hoped not.
He’d worry about that when the time came. He had more pressing matters at hand and one of them concerned one greedy harbormaster and a restless crew. He needed to settle up with the former and round up the latter, then he could set sail for home.
Chapter Nine
The next two days were a blur of activity as Heather’s time in London drew to a bittersweet close. Anticipation mingled with regret at the thought of leaving her home, but she tried not to dwell on it.
Her spat with Drew had gone by the wayside since he was so busy preparing his ship for their return to America. She saw little of him during those two days, but when their paths crossed, at least he smiled, or had kind words for her. These filled her with a sense of relief. At least their quarrel changed nothing.
Finally, it was her last day in London. It was a gray, misty morning and it didn’t take long for her to finish what little packing she had to do.
Drew returned at noon and told her they would be leaving with the evening tide. The entire staff was busy stowing the last of his trunks, making certain he left nothing behind, and getting Heather’s trunk tucked in with the others.
When it was time to leave, Heather said a quick goodbye to the maids she barely knew and to the housekeeper who still radiated hostility. She lingered over Jameson only, giving the older man a warm embrace that clearly moved him.
“Take care of yourself,” he whispered, giving her a squeeze. “Don’t let that boy push you around any.”
I won’t,” she told him, stepping back and blinking back tears. She would miss the kindly old man.
“I tease you. I’ve known that boy for several years now and his heart is always in the right place. Just take care to watch his temper. It’s fierce, but then, most of the passionate ones are. He’s a good man, Captain McKenzie is. A good man. He will take care of you. Good care of you.”
Heather wasn’t certain how to respond. She was quite sure the man had no idea how she came to be in Drew’s company, and she wasn’t about to enlighten him.
Drew came into the front hall. Ever the gentleman, he had dressed for the trip to the harbor in black trousers and dove gray shirt, complete with cravat and a sapphire blue frock coat. “Are you ready then?”
She nodded. “I am.”
“Let us get moving, shall we?” He offered his hand to Jameson. “Take care of yourself, Jamie. Watch out for the ladies. They’re nothing but trouble.”
Jameson gave
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