Redeeming the Reclusive Earl - Virginia Heath Page 0,37

‘I was wondering if you had a girl in every port?’

He paused, his mouth opened as if to speak then he clamped it shut again. ‘Well, I wasn’t expecting that... You say the damnedest things.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘My fault. I did encourage you to ask it.’ She thought he would leave it at that, but he surprised her. ‘I suppose the honest answer is not every port.’ She could tell by his expression he was recalling one of two of them now and that made her even more curious about him. And those girls. Except she knew that really would be wrong to ask, so instead changed tack.

‘Your ship was called the Artemis? Goddess of the hunt.’

‘I always thought it was a fitting name.’ He sighed, remembering, then swung the pickaxe again. ‘She was fast, manoeuvred swiftly and was more than a match for any other vessel foolish enough to take her on or try to outrun her.’

‘Was?’

He paused and shook his head wistfully, his dark eyes sad for a moment before he turned away. ‘She was dismantled after we returned from America. They told me the fire damage was too great to repair. Better to start afresh.’ Then the pickaxe came down with such force he sent rocks flying everywhere as she realised she had inadvertently struck a raw nerve.

‘You never got to say goodbye.’

‘I was probably being given the last rites when the decision was made.’ More stones flew as he aimed the blade again. ‘I think I received them so many times in the first month I could probably recite them.’

Something which didn’t bear thinking about. ‘Is that how you were wounded? The fire?’

He nodded curtly, then, jaw clenched, directed all his focus to the task in hand. Obviously hurting. She wanted to comfort him, but didn’t know how to. In the end, she decided the best course of action was not to ask a single one of the many questions she desperately wanted to ask. Instead, she did her damnedest to load the wheelbarrow as quickly as he was dismantling the wall, wishing she knew what to say to make him feel better.

* * *

After ten tense, silent minutes, he threw the pickaxe to the ground and kicked the loose stones in the bottom of the trench. ‘For pity’s sake! I can hear the blasted questions whirring in your mind like a cog, Miss None-of-your-blasted-business!’

‘I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business—and I have no intention of prying.’

‘Good.’

‘And actually, in my case, if I am being pedantic, questions spin in wildly like a top more than whir like a cog.’ And so many unanswered questions gave her a headache. ‘I cannot stop them.’

‘Then ask the damn things, woman, and let’s be done with the inevitable inquisition before that big brain of yours explodes!’ He started to pace within the narrow confines of the trench, both hands fisted, his expression furious. But for some reason she knew it was at circumstance rather than at her specifically. When she remained quiet, he stopped pacing and glared hands on hips, daring her to speak.

‘As you say, it is none of my business.’

‘I’d rather you heard it from me rather than Eleanor. Or, heaven help me, idle and misinformed gossip from people with nothing better to do than speculate and fabricate their own answers when none is forthcoming. That used to drive me mad on board ship. Rumours... Panics... Fairy tales... If you are going to dig on my land and make friends with my interfering sister, Miss No-peace-for-the-wicked, then you might as well know the sorry truth.’

‘All right... How did it happen?’

‘We were part of the blockade anchored outside New York tasked with preventing cargo entering or leaving the harbour. A stupid waste of time, if you ask me, and a foolhardy gamble with the lives of sailors when all the aggrieved parties would have been better off sitting around a table and hashing it out like adults instead of playing silly games to maintain the stalemate for two years. But what would I know about such things?’ The sarcasm was accompanied by a frustrated shake of the head. ‘I