The Passion (Notorious 2)

Nell blinked to see her normally modest mistress entirely unclothed. "I… I've brought your traveling dress for the journey this afternoon, my lady, and ordered hot water for your bath – "

"No." Aurora shook her head. Soaking in a hot bath might have eased the unfamiliar aches of her body, but there wasn't time. "Thank you, Nell, but I will make do with wash water. And then you must help me dress quickly. I must pay a call on the governor at once, and there isn't a moment to lose."

She had to try to save Nicholas, even if it meant defying his wishes and breaking any or all of her promises to him.

Aurora found the governor, Lord Hearn, at his plantation home, where she pleaded fervently with him to intervene with the navy and spare her husband's life. It took all her powers of persuasion to convince him simply to consider such a politically damaging step. Even then, his lordship insisted on discussing the matter with his lieutenant governor first.

She wasted precious time searching for Percy, making a fruitless trip home. By the time she tracked him down at his offices, nearly three hours had passed since she had said farewell to Nicholas in their bridal bower, and the day had turned chill gray, with dark storm clouds threatening to the south.

When she met Percy coming out of his offices, his expression looked as grim as she had ever seen it. He greeted her tersely, saying he was just on his way home to find her. And when she began telling him about the governor's possible willingness to intervene, Percy shook his head. "Aurora, I am afraid it is too late."

"Too late? What do you mean?"

"I received a message from Commander Madsen only moments ago. He has already acted. Nicholas is gone."

Aurora felt herself turn white. "No… that can't be true."

"I'm sorry. It is."

"He can't be dead," she whispered hoarsely. She pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to stem her cry of despair as pain lashed through her.

After a moment, Percy reached out to take her other hand. "Aurora, you know Nicholas would not want you to grieve for him. He wished you to forget about him and move on with your life…Indeed, we should be leaving shortly to find his sister. Not only did I promise Nick I would escort you there this afternoon, I don't like the looks of the sky. A storm is brewing, and we should make haste if we hope to outrun it My yacht is waiting to take us to Montserrat – "

"I want… to see him."

He frowned. "I told you he is gone."

"I want to see his body. Please, Percy… I cannot go without saying good-bye."

He gave a heavy sigh. "I feared you might feel this way, that you wouldn't be convinced to leave until his fate was final. Very well. I will take you to see his grave, if you insist. He was buried at the fortress."

She stood over the freshly dug grave in stricken silence, her heart as heavy as the dismal sky, while tears slipped relentlessly down her face. There was no headstone or marker. Only bare, pungent earth to indicate the passing of the man whose vital presence had touched her life so briefly… and so powerfully.

Aurora bowed her head, fighting to hold back a sob. She felt cold, sick inside. And along with the salt of her tears was the bitter taste of guilt. Guilt for not trying to do more to save him.

Nicholas, I'm sorry.

"Come now," her cousin murmured at her elbow. "You have a promise to fulfill."

She nodded mutely, the muscles of her throat locked tight.

Percy understood why she'd had to come here. Only seeing Nicholas's grave could convince her that he was truly gone.

Only now could she accept the finality of his death.

She donned widow's weeds for the journey to Montserrat – a traveling dress of black bombazine that she'd originally worn to honor the memory of her late betrothed. No sooner had Aurora and Percy boarded his yacht, though, when the dark sky opened up. They were forced to wait nearly an hour before the rain diminished enough to permit them to set sail.

Aurora was glad for the storm, for the weeping sky and lashing winds mirrored her mood exactly. She watched dully from the captain's stateroom as the storm spent its fury outside.

The worst of the squall bypassed them to the south, but choppy seas made the sho

rt voyage to the nearby island rough. However, by the time they arrived, the angry clouds had turned to scudding fleece, with the sun making an occasional appearance.

Because of its rugged green hills and considerable Irish population, Montserrat was known as the Emerald Isle of the Caribbean, and after the rain, it glistened like a jewel in the sun. When the schooner dropped anchor, the passengers were rowed ashore. Percy hired a carriage, which swept them past rich flatlands planted in sugar cane toward gentle, tropical-forested mountains. The climb offered a magnificent view of the sea, yet Aurora scarcely noticed. She was grateful for her cousin's silence, for she wanted to be alone with her own dark thoughts.

Eventually the driver brought them to a halt before a plantation home. The house had a certain charm, boasting the arched stonework and shaded balconies of the West Indies, brightened by colorful bougainvillaea and hibiscus. But it had seen better days, as evidenced by fading whitewash and peeling green paint on the shutters.

No grooms or footmen came to greet them, and when Aurora and Percy climbed the front steps to wield the knocker, a long wait ensued before they heard the sound of movement from within.