his ships, but you did not accept.”
“At the time, I had unfinished business in Bretagne. Now he assures me he has, how do you say, sweetened the deal? He has something up his sleeve. Do you know what it is?”
“No, but let’s go and find out.”
They continued to the harbour and walked along the old stone quay.
Several ships were moored in the calm waters of the protected bay, and there they saw Mr. Gillan in a smaller boat with a crewman rowing to shore.
He waved to them. “Ah! You came. Excellent, Captain. And Miss Callaway too. Good.”
“Morning, sir,” Alex replied as the men drew closer.
The boat reached the stone steps, and the older man climbed nimbly up them.
“I have exciting news,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I bought a French privateer for a very good price. The Royal Navy captured her on the way back from the Indies with a cargo of spices, sugar, and coffee. The British crew shared the prize money, but for some reason they did not take her back into service. Their loss is our gain.”
“How so?” Alexander asked.
“She sails remarkably well and has a history I think you’ll find interesting. The ship was originally a Spanish brig until the British captured her. After that she was captured by the French, and then recaptured by the British. She’s seen more changes of home port, names, and loyalties than most can boast.”
Alexander smiled sheepishly. “I can relate.”
Mr. Gillan swept his arm toward a stately ship moored in the harbour. “Would you like to guess her original name?”
“How would I . . .” Alexander stared at the vessel. “Wait. Are you saying this ship was the Victorine?”
“That’s right.”
“It can’t be. I never thought I’d see her again.”
“You can do better than see her, you can command her, if you’re willing, Captain Carnell.”
Alex turned to Laura. “I am willing, but it is up to my wife.”
Mr. Gillan’s brows lifted. “Wife, ey?”
Laura laughed. “Give us time. First there is the wedding to take care of, and the honeymoon to enjoy. . . .”
“Hear, hear.” Alexander slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side. Then he said, “You know, my love, with such a ship at my command, we might visit your family and friends in Cornwall, as well as my sister-in-law and nephew in Brittany.”
“Good point.”
“So you agree?” he asked.
“Absolument.”
His eyes gleamed. “Your French has improved, I see.”
“Merci, mon amour.” She rose on tiptoes and kissed him again, right there on the quay, in front of God, and for the whole world to see.
Standing on the quarterdeck, surrounded by the sounds of the splashing sea, flapping sails, and snapping rigging, Laura counted the hours until she would reach Fern Haven. Nearby, Alexander consulted with Mr. Gillan over a chart and instructed the helmsman at the wheel. They were sailing to Cornwall together—Alexander and Laura, Aunt Susan and Mr. Gillan, and a modest crew.
It was Aunt Susan’s first trip back to the mainland in more than fifteen years, and Laura and Alexander’s first voyage as man and wife.
They’d had a small, simple wedding, with Aunt Susan, Mrs. Tobin, and Mr. Gillan in attendance. They had enjoyed a few days at a seaside inn before embarking. And now, their honeymoon continued aboard the Victorine II. The newly wedded couple shared the great cabin together at Mr. Gillan’s insistence, while he and Aunt Susan each had small cabins of their own. Aunt Susan and Mr. Gillan had not yet married but planned to do so soon.
Laura’s heart rate accelerated as they passed Trevose Head, then neared Stepper Point. As the ship approached Padstow Bay and the estuary, Laura searched each familiar headland and cove with growing excitement. Recognizing Trebetherick Point in the distance, she strained her eyes for a glimpse of Fern Haven at its summit. Understanding her longing, Alexander handed her a glass, and through it she saw the dear whitewashed house at last and smaller Brea Cottage as well.
Within the hour, she was once again in Uncle Matthew’s embrace.
He held her close, as if he would never let her go. “How I have missed you, my girl.”
“And I you,” she whispered over a tight lump in her throat.
Eseld greeted her next, throwing her slim arms around her in an enthusiastic embrace. “My dear cousin! I could not wait to see you, so I came here to await your arrival.”
“I am glad. How goes life at Roserrow?”
“Very well. I could not be happier. Did I not