Page 1 of The Heart of an Earl

{ Chapter 1 }

Waters off of Barbados

August 1814

Home.

Home to his wife. To his child.

The child he never met, the child born seven years ago. A boy. A girl. He didn’t know.

All of that—all of that time—robbed from him. Ripped away from him by battles that bloody well weren’t his to fight.

Desmond Phillips stared out at the waves cresting, salt spray cutting into the air with the brisk wind that had caught the sails. Just beyond the tip of Barbados, the land retreated behind the ship.

Good riddance.

He spun to the railing behind him, bending over as his right fist clenched, the mangled knuckle of his ring finger bobbing awkwardly under his taut bright white skin. The knuckle that had never mended properly.

His look lifted and he forced his stare on the horizon—on eastward. Forward. He needed to concentrate on that. Forward to home.

Out there, only weeks away, his family was waiting for him.

“Lord Troubant, Lord Troubant.” A cabin boy called his name, dodging busy sailors as he ran across the main deck to the forecastle where Des stood.

The lad waved a letter sealed with black wax as he ran. With the hop of youth, the boy scampered up the ladder onto the forecastle deck and skidded to a stop in front of Des.

“What is it?” Des stepped away from the railing.

“For you, m’lord. Captain Youngling told me to give it to ye. They found it in the bundle from the gov’ner’s office.”

Des’s eyebrows drew together. He’d been pressed into servitude on an American warship for the last seven years. No one was sending him mail.

“You are certain?”

The boy nodded. “Captain said the gov’ner’s note mentioned it had been in his vault.” He thrust the letter out to Des.

With a nod, Des took the folded missive with his name on it from the boy’s grip.

Weathered, the edges were crinkled, the paper crisping during the days—probably years—that it had sat in the vault. But the seal was still in place, uncracked. “Thank you…your name?”

“Georgie, sir.”

Des managed a forced smile, the motion foreign to his lips. “Thank you, Georgie.”

The boy nodded and scampered down to the main deck, disappearing toward the captain’s quarters. Captain Youngling had had the lad running from place to place since they had set sail—too many passengers and not enough cabin boys to serve them.

Des looked at the cream vellum clutched in his hand. The seal. Black. Insignia of a wolf head imbedded deep into the wax.

Wolfbridge.

His brother-in-law had to be wondering where in the hell he was. He’d probably been chasing after Des for the last seven years and had sent letters to all corners of the empire.

He was coming.

Finally.

Home.

---