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

“We’ll get underway now. Signal the cutter to round the point, and send a boat to the pier to pick us up,” Marcus ordered. He opened a chest by the front door. Sophie hadn’t noticed the box before. Partridge vanished into the dark rain without another word.

Marcus whipped out a scruffy cloak and a brace of pistols. He tossed another heavy cloak to Charles, who didn’t seem surprised at the contents of the chest. Mr. Lythgoe took a sidearm and a coat as well.

“What are you going to do? Who has Thea?” She gripped Charles’s arm.

“We planned this action this afternoon. While I was in jail and Marcus was scouring the countryside for evidence to exonerate me, he also left some men here to watch the real culprits. We thought they would probably try to move the smuggled goods tonight, and when Partridge gave the signal, we’d spring the trap we’ve laid.”

“And somehow Thea has gotten entangled in this?” Sophie let go of Charles’s arm and yanked her cloak off the hall tree. “I’m going with you.”

“No. This will be a sea chase, and there could be violence. Not to mention that you get seasick in calm waters, and the sea tonight is choppy at best.” Charles strapped on his saber. The admiral armed for battle behind him. “This won’t be a pleasure cruise.”

“I’m going, and that’s final. Thea is my …” Her voice broke. “She’s our daughter, and she’s in danger. I won’t get in the way, but I’m going with you.”

“Soph—” Marcus began.

She held up her hand. “Don’t start. I’m going. Now stop wasting time.”

Cold rain splattered her face when she stepped outside, and she pulled her hood up. They ran through the long, wet grass to the staircase leading to the pier. Marcus carried a lantern, and his strides were long. Water soaked her skirts, making them heavy. When Sophie fell behind, Marcus and Charles each grabbed her upper arms and helped her hurry.

“Nearly there.” Charles sounded grim. But focused as well, which was what Thea needed him to be.

They reached the cliff edge, and Marcus raised the lantern. A light flared below, and he moved to the side. She could only see a few feet of the staircase before darkness swallowed the rest.

Sophie’s head spun. She wasn’t fond of heights or this rickety staircase even in broad daylight, but in the darkness, with rain making each step slippery … Her heart jumped into her throat and lodged there.

“I’ll go first. Hurry.” Charles stepped onto the platform. “Send Sophie next so I can guide her.”

Marcus ushered her onto the wet planks, but after that, Charles took command. “One step at a time, Sophie. Keep one hand on my shoulder and the other on the rail.”

He spoke over his shoulder all the way down, his voice calm and reassuring. “Revenue officers have kept an eye on the village, making it difficult for anyone to move the illicit property quickly or openly. While the officers were being overt in town, Marcus’s men were moving in the background to confirm the main persons involved. When they had that information, we decided to lay a trap for them. Yesterday the Revenue men were withdrawn from the town in the hopes that the smugglers would feel safe enough to gather and stockpile the goods in one location here on the estate before moving them to the Shearwater. Our hope was that if word spread that I had returned to Gateshead, they would move quickly. We’ve been waiting for Partridge’s signal all evening.”

She was so focused on what he was saying, she forgot to be scared. His shoulder was firm under her hand. The sound of the surf grew louder, and before long her shoes hit the rough sand. The cutter rounded the eastern point and entered the cove. By the time Marcus, the admiral, and Mr. Lythgoe arrived at the bottom of the steps, she could see the splash of the oars digging into the water from the smaller boat that would ferry them to the cutter. A clattering above announced Mr. Partridge’s descent. He leapt the last half flight, his boots puncturing the sand.

“The Shearwater is nearly out of sight to the west.” His chest rose like bellows.

The dory arrived at the pier. Marcus jumped in first and held his hands up for Sophie. Charles put his hands on her waist and lifted her over the gunwale into Marcus’s grasp.

Her hair hung in rattails, and she had barely caught her breath when Charles landed in the boat beside her. His arm came around her waist, and he anchored her into his side on the seat. His cloak covered her, providing her additional protection against the rain and wind, and she buried her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and willing herself not to become dizzy or sick.

The rowers shoved off, and in seconds the small craft lurched over the incoming waves as the men bent the oars. Almost immediately dizziness swirled through Sophie’s head, and her gorge rose. If only she had skipped dinner. The few bites she’d managed threatened to make a reappearance.

Just the thought of the fillet of sole she’d eaten made her feel pea green and clammy.

Thea. Focus on Thea. She needs you.

Oh, God, please protect that child. Don’t let evildoers escape.

After that she could only pray that God would help her survive this rescue mission, as crest after crest of nausea poured over her. She clung to Charles, trying to stay out of the way of the brawny rowers.

Finally a hulk loomed out of the darkness, and the boat bumped into the side of the cutter. Sophie had only to stand, bracing her feet on the bottom of the dory. Partridge and Charles lifted her up to strong hands that brought her over the side.

“Come with me. We need to let the men do their work and stay out of their path. The Shearwater has quite the head