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Authors: Grace Elliot
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shoulder, the older man laid his hand over hers. Gone
was the brash Hope, her green eyes huge and transparent. Instead Huntley saw a
vulnerable young woman who had done what she had to survive. A moment of
understanding passed between them which sent Huntley's cosy world reeling.
"My
stepbrother does what he can, but the fishing was poor this winter."
He wanted to
touch her, to give simple human comfort, but years of military training kept
him in check. "But to do what you did...to risk your life?"
"And the
other choices? The workhouse or starve." Her face pale as wax, all the
fight went out of her. Huntley opened his mouth and shut it. She was right—compared
to that, smuggling was good odds.
"Next time
when you're caught, I won’t be able to protect you." He spoke sincerely.
There was no
triumph in her voice, just calm acceptance. "I know."
Huntley's blood
chilled. Seeing how sick her father was, he knew she would not stop her illegal
activities. By bringing Hope home, he might as well have walked her to the
gallows. His mind raced. Hope was proud, she would not accept charity—but if
there was something he could do perhaps for her father—an offer of work. But
one glance at the slumped man in the chair and his heart sank.
Hope turned back
to her father, tucking a rug around his knees. Huntley thought furiously; it
was as though there was an obvious answer, but he couldn’t remember what is
was. A recent conversation—an offer declined. He nearly groaned aloud. How
could he have been so stupid? His mother!
Huntley's heart
pounded afresh, this would take careful handling.
"Mr. Tyler,
you worry about your daughter. Surely, you can’t want to see her in danger?
What if there was another way?"
William Tyler's
sunken eyes were full of guilt. "I begged her not to go out, but will she
listen?"
Huntley smiled,
her stubbornness he understood. "But if there was a way to keep Miss Tyler
safe and still provide for the family?"
"I hope as
you're not proposing anything indecent?"
Huntley felt
colour rising in his cheek. "Sir, I resent the insinuation."
To her credit
Hope looked equally aghast. "Father!"
"Well, it
had to be asked, doll."
"No it
didn’t, because I'm not leaving you."
Huntley groaned
inwardly. Even half an hour ago, if anyone had told him what he was about to
suggest, he would have laughed in their face and called them a fool. On his
honor, once the offer was made, it could not be taken back. And the cost? That
was obvious —his command would be untenable, at best he'd be reposted, at worst
he'd be court-martialed. He pushed the thought away to be dealt with later; his
mother was right to remind him he hadn’t joined the navy to persecute the
defenceless.
Words came out
of his mouth as if someone else was speaking. "Lady Ryevale, my mother,
would like to offer your daughter a position at The Grange. I came to ask your
consent."
Hope seemed
shocked. "You mentioned nothing of this to me."
Huntley bowed
stiffly. "It must have slipped my mind."
"I'm not
leaving. I can’t, not with Father like this."
He began to feel
irritated. Damn it but he was the one putting his career in jeopardy, the least
the chit could do was be grateful. "And when you end up in jail, then who
will help your family then?"
Hope stood very
still. "I'm needed here, this minute."
Filling the
small parlor with his bulk, Huntley started to pace. "With the position
goes a salary, bed and board; so you can send your wages home to Mr
Tyler." Damn it, he wasn’t going to beg.
Hope weakened,
glancing from her father to Huntley. Will Tyler gripped her arm. "You know
I love you as my own, and I'll not stand in your way. You decide."
Slowly she shook
her head. "I will not leave you, Father. Not now."
A pulse ticked
in Huntley's temple; think of this as a military campaign like any other, so
what tactic would best achieve his ends? Slowly, it came to him that it was
necessary to fool the enemy into thinking you were
was the brash Hope, her green eyes huge and transparent. Instead Huntley saw a
vulnerable young woman who had done what she had to survive. A moment of
understanding passed between them which sent Huntley's cosy world reeling.
"My
stepbrother does what he can, but the fishing was poor this winter."
He wanted to
touch her, to give simple human comfort, but years of military training kept
him in check. "But to do what you did...to risk your life?"
"And the
other choices? The workhouse or starve." Her face pale as wax, all the
fight went out of her. Huntley opened his mouth and shut it. She was right—compared
to that, smuggling was good odds.
"Next time
when you're caught, I won’t be able to protect you." He spoke sincerely.
There was no
triumph in her voice, just calm acceptance. "I know."
Huntley's blood
chilled. Seeing how sick her father was, he knew she would not stop her illegal
activities. By bringing Hope home, he might as well have walked her to the
gallows. His mind raced. Hope was proud, she would not accept charity—but if
there was something he could do perhaps for her father—an offer of work. But
one glance at the slumped man in the chair and his heart sank.
Hope turned back
to her father, tucking a rug around his knees. Huntley thought furiously; it
was as though there was an obvious answer, but he couldn’t remember what is
was. A recent conversation—an offer declined. He nearly groaned aloud. How
could he have been so stupid? His mother!
Huntley's heart
pounded afresh, this would take careful handling.
"Mr. Tyler,
you worry about your daughter. Surely, you can’t want to see her in danger?
What if there was another way?"
William Tyler's
sunken eyes were full of guilt. "I begged her not to go out, but will she
listen?"
Huntley smiled,
her stubbornness he understood. "But if there was a way to keep Miss Tyler
safe and still provide for the family?"
"I hope as
you're not proposing anything indecent?"
Huntley felt
colour rising in his cheek. "Sir, I resent the insinuation."
To her credit
Hope looked equally aghast. "Father!"
"Well, it
had to be asked, doll."
"No it
didn’t, because I'm not leaving you."
Huntley groaned
inwardly. Even half an hour ago, if anyone had told him what he was about to
suggest, he would have laughed in their face and called them a fool. On his
honor, once the offer was made, it could not be taken back. And the cost? That
was obvious —his command would be untenable, at best he'd be reposted, at worst
he'd be court-martialed. He pushed the thought away to be dealt with later; his
mother was right to remind him he hadn’t joined the navy to persecute the
defenceless.
Words came out
of his mouth as if someone else was speaking. "Lady Ryevale, my mother,
would like to offer your daughter a position at The Grange. I came to ask your
consent."
Hope seemed
shocked. "You mentioned nothing of this to me."
Huntley bowed
stiffly. "It must have slipped my mind."
"I'm not
leaving. I can’t, not with Father like this."
He began to feel
irritated. Damn it but he was the one putting his career in jeopardy, the least
the chit could do was be grateful. "And when you end up in jail, then who
will help your family then?"
Hope stood very
still. "I'm needed here, this minute."
Filling the
small parlor with his bulk, Huntley started to pace. "With the position
goes a salary, bed and board; so you can send your wages home to Mr
Tyler." Damn it, he wasn’t going to beg.
Hope weakened,
glancing from her father to Huntley. Will Tyler gripped her arm. "You know
I love you as my own, and I'll not stand in your way. You decide."
Slowly she shook
her head. "I will not leave you, Father. Not now."
A pulse ticked
in Huntley's temple; think of this as a military campaign like any other, so
what tactic would best achieve his ends? Slowly, it came to him that it was
necessary to fool the enemy into thinking you were
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