The Indebted Earl by Erica Vetsch (love letters to the dead TXT) 📕

She took his hand, drawing him toward the bed, and for a moment he couldn’t think beyond the contact. Soft as down, her small hand fit into his like a pocket watch. Her fingers were cool but insistent. His heart skipped like spinner dolphins over the water, and he swallowed against the tightness of his cravat.

When was the last time a woman had voluntarily taken his hand? Some officers’ dance once upon a time? All he knew was that it was long ago, and even then it didn’t affect him the way Sophie’s touch did. He took hold of his thoughts and forced himself to pay attention.

“Sit here.” She guided him to the edge of the bed.

Out of habit, he went to adjust his sword at his waist, but his hand hit empty air. She let go of his hand, and he quelled his disappointment.

Betsy, instead of cringing away as he’d anticipated, sat up and held out her arms. “Good night, Cap’n. I hope you have happy dreams.” They were the first words he’d heard her utter, and before he could catalog them, her little arms went around him, and she buried her head in his waistcoat.

Startled, Charles held his hands away from his sides, looking to Sophie for help. What on earth was the girl doing? Sophie made a small hugging motion, smiling, and he gradually lowered his arms to embrace the child.

She had small bones and a warm, sweet fragrance. Completely foreign, and yet not unpleasant. So fragile and vulnerable.

When she turned him loose, she lay back on the pillows, a satisfied smile on her little bow lips.

“Why’d you do that?” Thea asked her sister, her red brows arrowing down.

Betsy shrugged. “He looked like he needed a hug. I don’t think captains get hugged enough.”

She spoke so matter of factly, Charles wanted to laugh. It was probably true. Ah, the wisdom of babes. He patted her shoulder awkwardly and rose.

“I bid you good night, ladies.” He bowed. “Rest well.”

“Don’t know how you expect us to rest well when you won’t even say if you’re keeping us or not,” Thea muttered loudly enough to be heard, flipping onto her side and turning her back on the captain.

Such insubordination should probably be dealt with, but he didn’t know how or if it was his duty. Making his way to the door, he motioned for Lady Sophia. “When they are settled, perhaps you will join me in the room I was in previously? Bring Lady Richardson if you like. There are things to discuss.”

A quarter hour later, she came into the alcove. He’d left the curtains open, and the only light in the room was near the door so as not to pollute his view of the stars and the water. She had been correct in her earlier surmise that the vista was even better on the upper floors of the house. He gave in to the preposterous notion that on a clear day he could almost see to the Channel Islands.

If only his feet were firmly on the deck of a ship, he would be at rest in his spirit.

“They’re finally settling down. Mamie wanted to stay with them until they’re asleep.” Lady Sophia came to stand beside him, breathing in the fresh air through the open window. “She’s quite taken with the girls, for all they’ve only been here a few hours.”

“Is that all it’s been?” A wry tone seeped out.

She laughed softly. “They certainly add a bit of noise and commotion, don’t they? They’re sweet. And worried.”

“I suppose they’ve a right to be anxious.” He was anxious himself.

“Their lives have been turned upside down multiple times in just two years. Losing their parents, being sent away to school, and now shuttled back here. They’re not sure what’s coming next.” The question stared at him from her blue eyes.

What was he going to do? Every way he turned, he was hemmed in by new responsibilities. If this continued, he’d never untangle his ratlines enough to get away.

“If it would help …” She paused.

“Yes?” He was willing to grasp any lifeline.

“I’ve spoken with Mamie, and she agrees. If it would help you, we could stay on a bit, until you decide what you’re going to do with the girls.”

His heart leapt, and the muscles of his chest and arms tensed. For days he’d dreaded parting ways with the ladies, and here she was offering to prolong their contact.

“I don’t even know my options as far as the girls are concerned,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

She turned and sat on the broad windowsill, silhouetted by the moonlight. “You have three options that I can see.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and paced the small space, head down. “Yes?” The alcove was hardly big enough for a proper stride, but it would do for the time being.

“One, you could send them to an orphanage or poorhouse, where they will await adoption, indenture, or growing old enough to be turned out to fend for themselves. In each of those cases, they will most likely know depravations and be separated from one another.”

Though the words she chose were objective, the passion in her voice told him what she thought of this option.

He remembered Betsy hugging him with minuscule strength, and the softness of her curly head against his chest, and couldn’t imagine tendering the child into the keeping of an orphanage.

“Two,” Lady Sophia continued, holding up two fingers. “You could follow in your uncle’s footsteps and continue as their guardian. You could find a suitable ladies’ boarding school and send them there. Out of sight, out of mind. Duty fulfilled, at least to the letter of the law. They would be housed, clothed, fed, and educated, all far away from the place of their birth. There are any number of schools in England, Scotland, Wales. You would only need to pay tuition and provide transportation to the school.” Again her voice held no censure, but no enthusiasm. “Assuming