The Pirate's Duty (Regent's Revenge #3)(81)
“Is that what I think it is?” she asked, scooting toward him to narrow the space between them.
“It is.” He handed her the note, no doubt aware of how impatient she’d become to hear from her brother.
Recognizing Pierce’s handwriting immediately, Chloe popped open the wax seal and flashed Basil a broad smile. “The Captain has written at last!”
“I’ve never understood why you address him so.” Basil cut his gaze to the liquor cabinet. “He’s a lord, a revenue officer, and a pirate, among other things.”
“It was at my brother’s request that we called him ‘the Captain’ from the moment he acquired the rank.” She patted her husband’s arm reassuringly. “I admit the moniker has grown on me. After all, he sacrificed a great deal to take your place as the Black Regent, Basil. Do not forget he’s been forced to make everyone believe he was dead and how horribly my parents have suffered because of it. By taking over your duties, he’s allowed the two of us to open your father’s home to orphans. Think of the good we shall accomplish by teaching the deceased sailors’ children to read.”
“To read gothic romance novels?” He bristled.
She smiled and placed her hand over his. “In time.”
“I suppose I can live with that. Now,” he said, pointing to the letter, “read it. I know how anxious you have been to hear from Walsingham. You’ve waited long enough as it is.”
Chloe spread out the parchment, and to her surprise, another missive tumbled into her lap. “Not one but two letters, Basil!”
“Who is the other one addressed to?” he asked, brow furrowing.
“Our parents.” Her hands trembled as she read Pierce’s letter silently.
Dearest sister,
Rest assured that as I write this long-overdue letter, the scourge plaguing our shores—the one to which you almost lost your life, and which threatened that of your husband—has been eradicated and my duty fulfilled. In our years together, while you suffered my indulgences and learned the protective arts, have you ever known me to founder? Nay, my earnest desire has always been to see you happy, and I know that you are in safe and capable hands with my good friend the marquess.
Now, my dearest Chloe, gather your wits for what I relay to you now will come as a surprise, the likes of which you probably never expected but hoped to hear. I have decided to tell Mother and Father that I am alive. But the telling must come with the greatest consideration. It is my dearest hope that you will deliver the letter I’ve included and addressed to our parents. Soften the blow of my existence and comfort Mother especially, for it is because of her unstable emotions that I fear she might suffer some sort of collapse. Go with haste to lessen our parents’ sorrow with my joyous news.
But first, you beseeched me once to recall the promise I made to you on your wedding day. How could I forget my duty to Blackmoor, Underwood, Cornwall, you, and Miss Thorpe? You may rest easy knowing Miss Thorpe is safe and happily settled at the inn, and she continues to help the orphans in Mrs. Pickering’s care.
It’s my earnest prayer that my letter arrives in plenty of time for you to relay my good news before they read of it in the weeklies. Miss Thorpe, your dear friend, and I are determined to marry, and we hope that good day will happen on the twentieth of November at Talland Church. Yes, there it is. The duty that I labored long to fulfill, causing my delay in writing to you, hinged on whether or not I could save Miss Thorpe’s life. In fact, dearest Chloe, the opposite is true: I confess, she has saved mine.
Tell your husband not to be alarmed. I have assured the regency is in good hands. Cornwall will never be without eyes and ears, and there will always be a promise of black sails on the horizon.
Your dutiful and content brother,
Pierce
“Oh my!” Chloe placed her hand over her mouth.
“What is it?” Basil asked, concern written all over his face. “Did the tart make you ill?”
“No. No.” She waved him off. “We must make preparations to visit my parents with the utmost haste. The Captain is getting married to Miss Thorpe in a fortnight! Oh! We must invite the duke and duchess, too.”
Basil took both of Chloe’s hands in his. “First, where are my thanks for delivering you Walsingham’s news?”
“Right before your eyes, my love.”
“Where?” he asked, pretending to be blind.
“Here,” she said, moving her lips to his.
A peal of six bells chimed in heart-pounding harmony from the detached bell tower of Talland Church. Horse-drawn carriages, many with elegant crests adorning them, lined the road leading to the church as children from Mrs. Pickering’s School for Orphans happily played, running up and down the steep hill, past aging tombstones leading to the coast.
Oriana’s heart was full. She’d never believed she would be standing in Mrs. Pickering’s parlor, staring at herself in a looking glass mere minutes before being wed to the man she loved.
“Is it too much?” She turned, admiring the white satin gown with purple accents at the caps of her long-slashed sleeves and fingering the trailing purple ribbon that lined the front. Jane, Lady Chloe’s maid, had arranged her hair in spiraling braids at her crown and dotted the strands with pearls.
“Oh!” Mrs. Pickering dabbed her eyes. “I’ve never seen you look more beautiful. I am so happy for you, my blessed girl.”