Chapter Eleven
Sally took the most direct path that would bring her to her grandfather’s study, trampling across a bare garden bed in her haste. She paused outside the garden door a moment, stomped her feet, smoothed her gown, and checked her hair before entering without knocking as if nothing unsettling had occurred that morning.
“I am sorry I am late.” She hurried forward. “Ellicott wanted to see Torre Cottage with Louisa and me, and we lost track of time.”
What she had not expected when she took in the room was to come face-to-face with Felix Hastings. She had been trying to forget him all over again, and his presence rooted her to the spot. He unwound from his chair and stood at his full height of six feet three inches, and her heart slammed into her ribs rather painfully as he bowed.
His dark hair was just as unruly as it had been the night before, and she longed to run her fingers through the curls to tame them. His pale blue eyes widened as she stared, and his lips pressed together, reminding her of where they had last kissed her skin. Oh, how those wicked lips had corrupted her.
She tore her eyes away from him, blushing fiercely, and gave her attention to the duke. “Forgive me. I thought you wanted to see me, but if you are otherwise engaged, I can come back another time.”
“We were waiting for you. Please.” Her grandfather gestured to the writing desk placed beside his own. “You must take notes.”
She blushed and quickly took her usual place. Grandfather disliked sharing family matters with servants, and for the past five years when her aunt was engaged elsewhere, Sally acted as secretary to him. She wrote most of his correspondence and recorded his thoughts in a journal he kept. His hands, weary from walking with canes, often refused to cooperate for even the simplest of writing tasks on most days.
She noticed a fresh journal had been placed on her table, and she turned to the first page. “A record of Captain Felix Hastings’s actions at sea” had been penned on the front along with his date of birth and dates of his promotions in the service. He had advanced very quickly, she noticed. She recognized her aunt’s penmanship, so she did not doubt the accuracy of the record.
She took up a quill, checked the inkpot was plentiful before meeting her grandfather’s gaze. “I am ready.”
“Very well.” Her grandfather sat back, drink in hand despite the early hour, and pierced Felix with a direct stare that would make many men squirm. “I am told your quick thinking saved my grandson’s life and that of every man on board the Adelaide.”
Felix shrugged, crossing his long legs at the ankles, and her eyes were unwillingly drawn to the movement of his limbs. Time had only improved his physique, and warmth crept up her cheeks and heated parts of her body that should now be silent. “I did my duty, Your Grace.”
“Come now, sir. Modesty will do you no favors in this enquiry.”
“Enquiry?” Sally asked, forgetting her role as silent observer in the surprise of hearing why Felix was at Newberry. He must have done something terrible to have been dragged from his command.
She dropped her eyes to the notebook when the duke cast a stern look in her direction, cautioning silence. Her grandfather might indulge her in many matters, but he did not ever like to be interrupted.
Felix let out a long sigh. “The Adelaide was well engaged when we were close enough for guns. However, since Captain Ford would undoubtedly wish to claim the prize, I ordered my men to board after the first round rather than repeatedly fire on them and risk sinking either ship.”
“You led the boarding party, I am told.”
“Yes, Your Grace. Lieutenant Laurence Ford took command of th
e Selfridge during the encounter and did an exemplary job of it.”
“You saw my grandson fall?”
“Captain Ford did not fall,” Felix corrected. “He stood his ground despite his injury and fought until the battle was won.”
Sally sat forward, eager for news of her cousin. She had not known the Selfridge had been part of that action. “You saw what happened to William?”
Felix faced only her grandfather, but his jaw clenched at her question. “I made a full report to the admiralty and left nothing out of the telling.”
“That is not good enough,” she bit out when he did not elaborate or look at her. She would not be ignored.
He turned toward her slowly, frowning. “Injuries obtained in war are not fit to be spoken of around a lady.”
“You will tell me,” she demanded with uncharacteristic heat. He must understand their need. “You will tell me so his sisters and cousins can know what has happened to him.”
His brow creased and he glanced toward the duke as if puzzled. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but surely Admiral Templeton has relayed the relevant particulars to the family.”
“Somewhat,” Rutherford murmured. “However, a firsthand account is better than a fifth person’s retelling. Do explain in detail for my granddaughter’s edification before she uses that quill to cause you bodily harm.”
Sally blushed and quickly set aside the implement she had been writing with. She should not have lost her temper, but Felix provoked her.
Felix sat up a little straighter. “You will need to read Captain Ford’s report for the battle’s beginnings. We were some distance away when the guns rang out and made haste to join the fray. As I said, it was my decision to not risk sinking either ship but to engage hand to hand and support the Adelaide’s crew. We split our boarding party between fore and aft, crossed the French vessel without encountering much resistance. I engaged those at the stern of the Adelaide and fought forward. By that time Captain Ford was heavily pressed and against the main mast.” He paused a moment too long and Sally feared he would stop. “He was struck by a saber across the face. I immediately feared it a mortal injury and doubled my efforts to reach him. It caught his mouth and split his skin from the corner almost to his ear. I had never seen anyone survive such a wound, but he fought on regardless. In pain and bleeding.”