Page 2 of The Heart of an Earl

The very first thing Des had done once he’d stepped foot into Bridgetown was to find a ship leaving for England. Off one ship and onto the next. Luck had been on his side for the first time in forever, a passenger ship leaving Bridgetown within the same day on the tide.

Des hadn’t even had time to eat. One quick stop at the governor’s office, new clothes, and then onto thePrimrose.

Des cracked the black seal, a shake setting into his hand. He’d hoped against hope that they hadn’t declared him dead. That Corentine hadn’t found a new husband. A new father for their child.

But she was beautiful and full of life and it was only right that she would have moved on with her life. He’d known when he married her that she would always catch other men’s eyes. Her sparkling wit alone had him constantly fighting off other suitors. It was why they had married so young—he couldn’t stand the thought of travelling to the East Indies and leaving her behind with the jackals.

Des sucked in a deep breath, the thick humid air sponging into his lungs. He had to steel himself against that possibility. His wife with another man. Wolfbridge could very well be reporting that eventuality to him.

He unfolded the letter, focusing on Wolfbridge’s scrawling script.

Dated: June 1807

Des—Where in the hell are you?

Simple. Direct.

The tone changed.

I am devastated, as I know you will be as well. Corentine has died in childbirth.

His breath, his heart stilled. His eyes running over the line again and again and again.

No.

Not his beautiful wife. Not his love. Not Corentine. She couldn’t be dead. No.

No.

His legs dropped out from under him, the world spinning.

He staggered to the railing, collapsing against it, sliding down to the wood planks of the deck, the letter crushing in his hand.

He was on his way back. Home. Finally. On his way back to her.

And she was dead.

Pain swept through him in a tidal wave, crushing, suffocating him to the deck until there was nothing but numbness in his bones, in his heart, in his soul.

Nothing but a dull buzz in his ears filling his brain.

He didn’t hear the first canon shot.

Or the second.

Or the third.

It wasn’t until a sailor running past him tripped over Des’s leg and his cutlass clattered to the deck by Des’s hand that Des looked up. Slowly. His eyes unable to focus.

Panic—panic on the sailor’s face as he shuffled onto his hands and knees, the fear of the devil approaching in his eyes. The sailor scrambled to get the handle of his cutlass back into his hand and he scampered to his feet.

Des’s eyes bleary, he watched in a haze as the man leapt down onto the main deck.

A boom thundered in his ears just as wood splintered in the air to his left, the railing exploding.

Des jerked, his hand shielding his face as he spun around onto his knees.

Bloody Judas.

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