Francie wondered if she lacked character because she should still be worried about her cousin and her future, but found that she rather enjoyed sitting in this dimly lit room chatting with Mr. Burnham over their meal. When he wasn't being overbearing he had a certain charm. The sort of earnest, forthright manner that she admired in a man. It was, she thought, good on the Crown that they'd not employed him in any sort of subterfuge because she couldn't imagine him prevaricating. Quite the opposite of Phoebe's slippery father who seemed inclined to lie for no reason at all.

Thinking of Jack Grenard only led Francie back to worrying about her cousin again. "Do you think Phoebe will be safe with Mr. Manners-Sutton?"

Mr. Burnham was silent for a moment, as though thinking over his answer. But as she'd expected, it hadn't occurred to him to mollycoddle her even with a polite lie. "Harry is capable of handling himself, although any man can be overset if faced with enough foes. My only reassurance is that he plans to seek help from his brother-in-law, and I doubt that Caversham would allow anything to befall them. If you're wondering about your cousin's reputation. Well. They seemed sweet on one another, but I can't imagine Harry taking advantage. Not with Wally's sister."

She nodded. "That was my thought as well."

"Do you wish we'd gone with them?"

She blew out a breath. "I don't know. I need to finish this order or our business is completely done for, but it all seems rather desperate and useless. Whatever reputation we had left after my mother's passing has surely been torn to tatters now. London debt collectors haunting the streets, and then men staying in our establishment? Cleadon is too small a town to forgive such things."

"Most towns are too small for such things."

She nodded a bit sadly. "That's true. Well, I'd best get back to sewing if I'm ever to get this dress ready."

He rose when she did, a reminder that he was a gentleman. "Can I help in some way?"

Could he? She'd not really considered it. "If I need something held or cut, perhaps. Tonight I am finishing a dress, though, so unless you embroider there is nothing you can do."

"No, my talents do not run to the needle, I'm afraid. I could read to you while you sew if you like."

"What would you read to me?"

"Well, er, that is if you have a book. I'm afraid all that I have with me is a mechanical arts journal."

She laughed. "I could never afford a book. But read to me from your journal. I'm sure it will be more entertaining than listening to the candles gutter."

 

* * *

 

Reggie was surprised he'd volunteered to follow her downstairs and read to her. He wasn't sure if he was more or less surprised that she'd agreed to hear his journal on the mechanical arts! It might have just been loneliness, but he'd not wanted their supper conversation to end and it seemed perfectly natural to stay with her. She set to her sewing again, charming little trailing leaves and flowers in white thread over cream fabric. Perfect for a young lady. Sitting nearby he angled his journal to catch the light, cleared his throat, and began to read. "On the Friction of Fluids."

He saw her brow arch and lips curve, but she didn't comment as he read through the lecture on hydraulics. Nor did she complain when he stopped periodically to share his own thoughts on the topic. Considering how they'd met, and fought, it was a surprisingly cozy evening.

Once she started yawning and stretching every few minutes he closed his journal. "You'd best go up to bed. At this rate you'll poke yourself bloody."

She smiled sleepily. "I fear you are correct. Have a pleasant evening."

They had already begun something of a habit at night. She would walk around with her key ensuring the doors were locked, and as soon as she was on the steps to her room he would check them both again. A consequence of serving on a crowded ship at war meant he wasn't the lightest of sleepers. He didn't need much sleep, but once out he would probably need her to dash water on his face to even notice anything was amiss. He could hardly be effective protection if he wasn't awake to guard her.

That made him rub his shoulder gingerly, wondering again if she needed his protection. Although much quieter without her cousins in residence, he doubted that her aim had grown any worse. And he knew that she'd primed her gun and taken it upstairs the first night they'd been alone together. A none too subtle hint that she would ultimately see to her own protection, even from him.

However, even such a stubborn girl couldn't take on two ruffians alone. And the truth was that his greatest protection lie in the fact that the two wouldn't want to tussle with him, whereas they wouldn't have such qualms about harassing a single lady on her own. They had no reason to know that she was far more likely to put a bullet in them rather than wait to see if things turned dire first.

The truth was that Reggie didn't care for killing. He didn't care for death at all. There was far too much of it in the world for his taste. Two of his siblings had died in infancy. Two of his friends had died when they were captured to be pressed into the Navy. Countless enemies and comrades had died at what little action he'd seen at sea. Then there were the men who fell to the fever.

Wally had been the worst, the most unexpected. Who would think such a young, vibrant man would succumb to a fever that so many of them had survived? If he had the choice, Reggie would have traded places with him. Wally's sisters clearly needed him. No one needed Reggie, not really. His siblings had all made the quintessential 'good matches' that ton mamas raved about, thus his sisters needed no protection. His brothers were, to a man, happily settled into the lives of gentlemen. Only Reggie had diverted from the regular course, and that quite by accident. Because he'd been at supper that night with his friends. Three of whom now had their final rest. And Harry? Well, he was going to return to Scotland and become the doctor he'd always wanted to be. And it was a fair bet to think he would have Wally's sisters in tow. So Reggie couldn't even serve the memory of his friend by helping with the sisters. Not that he begrudged Harry anything. No, all Reggie really wanted to do was return to Irish Island and set to work on foundations for the fort.

He just wished that his friends had survived instead of him.