Chapter Twenty-Two
12:55 p.m.
Price, Sebastian thought when Olivia had left, and with her clothes not looking nearly as rumpled as he thought they ought, was in his element, what with the fire having ruined one coat of middling quality and landed two newly destitute woman at Pennhyll. One of the ladies was not at all well, and the other, well, actually, Sebastian wasn’t certain what Price thought of whatever he’d seen. And now an unexpected guest bearing God only knew what sort of horrible news. “Captain Egremont?” he said, facing the desk as if fascinated by its contents and not the least interested in his visitor.
“Will you see him?” Price asked.
“Show him in.” By the time Price returned, Sebastian had managed to make himself decent. He wondered if he’d imagined Olivia. He didn’t think so.
The sight of a Naval uniform jolted him when Egremont walked in behind Price. Then the memory of sea air, of tar and caulk, of sails snapping in the wind, men shouting or singing, all of it came so clear in his head he could taste the salt. He walked to Egremont, hand out to clap him on the shoulder. Lieutenants together and fast friends through Sebastian’s rise through the ranks until, at last, Sebastian had his first command, and they were separated. “So, it’s Captain Egremont, now.”
Egremont stood, an uncertain smile on his rugged face. With Sebastian’s hand still on his shoulder, he bowed, hand sweeping the top of a boot still damp from the snow. “I have that honor, yes. My lord.”
“How are you, Captain?” Sebastian said.
“Fine, thank you. My lord.”
“Not ‘my lord.’ Sebastian,” he said. “And sit down, for God’s sake.”
“Yes, sir.” When that brought a scowl, Egremont managed a thin smile. “You’ve recovered from your wound.” He sat on the sofa. He sat on the sofa where just minutes ago Sebastian may or may not have embraced Olivia.
“Yes.” Sebastian clasped his hands behind him and walked to the fireplace.
Egremont laughed softly. “Earl of Tiern-Cope, but still Captain Alexander. I’d recognize your walk anywhere; hands behind your back pacing the quarterdeck while you sail us into battle.” Egremont crossed his arms over his chest then uncrossed them. He tilted his head, studying the fireplace. “I’m on my way to Falmouth.”
“By way of Pennhyll Castle?” Sebastian said.
“Falmouth by way of London and Pennhyll Castle, if you can believe that.”
“What ship have you got?” God, he could feel it all, the snap of canvas in a freshening wind, wood creaking, a ship splitting the water.
“The Adventure.”
“Thirty-four gun frigate.”
“Captain at last.”
“You deserve the post, Egremont.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, I hope you’re staying for a good long visit.”
He shook his head, smiling. “Not long, I’m afraid. We’re on blockade in French waters. My lord.”
Sebastian wished he could smash the reserve between them. “Nothing’s changed, Egremont. I’m still the same man who beat you at cards every night.”
Egremont looked around him. “You live in a castle. The butler calls you my lord Tiern-Cope.”
“I’m still a sailor.” He shrugged. “A sailor.”
“How is your wound, sir? I heard at least once that you’d died of it.”
“Fansher’s looking after me.”
His grin widened, looked more natural. “Must be nice to have the old man about.”
“It is. Will you stay the night at least? There’s a damned fancy party here tonight. And a severe shortage of dashing gentlemen.”
“I left my things down the hill and walked up here.” He grinned. “I wondered if I’d be allowed through the front door. Thought I might be sent round the back.”
“I’ll send for your things and for tea, too, if you’d like something to drink and a bite to eat.”
“A meal would do me well just now. I’ve been traveling for days, it seems. And, if it’s not terribly bold, I wouldn’t mind a room straight away. I feel like I’ve not slept in a month. My lord.”
“Egremont,” he said, “if you call me anything but Sebastian, I’ll knock you flat.”
He laughed. “You’ve done well for yourself, and I don’t mean the title or the castle.” He sat again, crossing one booted foot over a knee. “This suits you, you know.”
“What?”
“Pennhyll. Living here.”
“Tell me about the war.”
“The Glory, I was first lieutenant there as I hope you recall, was on blockade most of the last year. Near Toulon. Not like you, sailing to hell and back.”
“Much action?” He glanced at the corner. The Black Earl stood there, silent as the grave.
“Some.” He grinned. “Not like you, but enough prize money to ask Kate to marry me.”
“Bring her here after you are married.” He wondered at the invitation, for like as not he’d be thousands of miles from Pennhyll when Egremont got married. “I’d be pleased if you did.”
“A kind offer, and one to which I shall hold you, Cap—Sebastian, when the war is over. Kate would much like it.” They fell silent while tea was brought in. It was done with silent efficiency. All Sebastian had to do was lift a hand to signal his satisfaction.
Egremont stirred milk into his tea. Leaning back on his chair, he said, “You’ll think I’m ripe for Bedlam, but I dreamed of you last night. We Welsh set great store by our dreams. Did I ever tell you my grandmother was a witch?” Egremont’s mouth twitched, but his eyes stayed serious. “It’s said my mother inherited the self-same talent. They had the second sight. Both.”
“You, too?”
Egremont shrugged.
“Might have told me that before now. Could have come in useful.”
“Kate’s the one who told me certain dreams are sure to come true. Now, let me tell you about the dream I’ve just had and be done with it.”
“Go on.”
“Three times I dreamed of you. Each time I knew you by your eyes. That uncanny blue.
I dreamed of you in the chapel. At your side was a woman with red hair. The priest read the vows, and you were married and happy, Captain. Happy at long last.” He threw his hands in the air. “There you have it.”
“And you believe dreams are a portent of the future?”
“Kate would say I must tell you. In all three, you wore a tunic down to your knees, in brilliant blue and gold, as one of your fine ancestors might have worn.”
“I take no stock in dreams.”
Egremont refused to laugh. “She was so real. Red hair and curls like my Kate would kill to have.”
Behind him, the fire popped, and Sebastian shivered.
“Red as a new penny, Captain. And very pretty, if I may say so.”
“I’ve had my bloody fill of dreams.”
Egremont reached into a pocket and drew out a thick envelope. “From the Admiralty, my lord Captain.” He held it out. “Command of a fleet, I’m sure.” He grinned, looking much more like the man who’d been his friend and trusted Lieutenant. “If Fansher’s been looking after you, then no doubt you’re hale and hearty. There’s talk of an offensive, smashing what’s left of Boney’s Navy. If ever a nobleman was fit for command of a fleet, it’s you. Perhaps I’ll be sailing under your commmand again.”
Sebastian took Egremont’s packet, thick enough to be several commissions. The Right Honorable Sebastian, Earl of Tiern-Cope. His orders had come at last.