The Passion (Notorious 2)

"I know something about running off to sea," Nicholas interjected mildly.

"You do?" Harry's look became interested. "You sound like a Colonial."

"I am American. But I have some experience with the British navy. There are numerous sailors on my ships who were impressed illegally by your country and forced to serve."

"You are a ship's captain?" His eyes lit up.

"Not a captain. Owner. I have a fleet of merchant ships."

"A fleet! That is capital!"

Nicholas smiled. "If you knew the hardships you would face in your navy, you would not want to join, believe me. The life of a tar is remarkably unpleasant compared to the one you're accustomed to. You would do much better to apprentice in the merchant marine."

Aurora gave Nicholas a quelling look, annoyed that he would encourage the boy in such wild fantasies. "Harry is going to join neither."

Harry's jaw set mutinously as he clutched his drumstick. "I am, Rory."

Nicholas shook his head. "Well, this is not the way to go about it. Not only would you distress your mother, but you are ill-prepared to begin your venture. I'll wager you don't even have a letter of introduction."

"I must have a letter?"

"If you want to be more than a scullery, you do. You need someone in a position of authority to vouchsafe your character, and you will need money to outfit your sea chest."

"I have money. I am quite rich."

"Then instead of becoming a tar, you might consider buying your own ship and becoming the employer. Trust me, that would be far more agreeable than swabbing decks from morning till night."

Harry grinned broadly, obviously keen on this new idea.

Nicholas returned a slow grin of his own. Watching his irresistible smile, Aurora felt a knife of longing twist inside her. She should have known he could relate to a rebellious boy. The encounter gave her a glimpse of what Nicholas must have been like at that age. And yet she was dismayed to see him using his ruthless charm to wrap Harry around his thumb.

Waving the drumstick, the boy went off on another fantasy. "If I had my own ship, I could go to France and spy on the Frogs, like Geoffrey."

"What do you mean, like Geoffrey?" Aurora asked.

"He was on a secret mission when his yacht sank – " Harry glanced around him surreptitiously. "Oh, I should not have said that. Geoffrey made me promise not to tell."

Aurora put no credence in Harry's comment. She could not possibly conceive of bookish Geoffrey dashing off to France to spy. Perhaps Harry simply had concocted that tale to give meaning to his brother's senseless death at sea.

Evidently he was even more in need of a friend than she first suspected.

There was no question that she would be that friend. She felt a strong duty toward the boy. Harry had been underfoot much of the time when he was growing up, even when Geoffrey was officially courting her. Harry was horse mad and had wanted any excuse to visit the Eversley stables. And he had trusted her judgment in horseflesh more than his brother's. She, rather than Geoffrey, had chosen his first pony.

She had always thought of him as a younger brother, and he would have been her brother by marriage had not fate so callously intervened. Moreover, she well knew what it was like to want to escape a domineering parent. So despite her qualms about abetting his rebellion, she would allow Harry to remain with her for now. At least until she could persuade him to give up his nonsense about running off to sea in search of adventure.

When he yawned hugely, Aurora realized he was exhausted. "You should be in bed," she said gently. "I'm certain we can sort this out in the morning."

"You won't send me home?"

"Not immediately, although I shall write your mother directly in the morning and let her know you have arrived safely, and ask her permission to let you stay with me for a visit."

"You are a grand sport, Rory!" Getting up from the table, he ran around to her side and threw his arms around her neck.

Aurora couldn't help but smile. "Did you say you had lost your clothing? We shall have to find you a suitable nightshirt."

Danby, who was hovering discreetly just outside the door, appeared as if summoned. Aurora extricated herself from the boy's bear hug. "Would you please see Lord March settled in the green bedchamber, Danby?"

"As you wish, my lady."