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Aboard the Windswept Dream

East India Docks, London

23 December 1820

A quarter past eleven in the morning

From the poop deck, Jason ran a practiced eye across the bustling activity on the decks below. Everything was shipshape, and the Windswept Dream was ready to weigh anchor with the tide in four days. Her crew was experienced, the first mate, capable and professional, and the ship was one of Stapleton Shipping and Supplies’ finest.

Jason ought to be elated.

Instead, his mind returned to Lenora for the umpteenth time. He missed her. So much so that she was the first thing he thought of upon waking, and her name was on his lips when exhaustion finally lulled him to sleep in the early morning hours.

A permanent ache had taken up residence behind his breastbone in the vicinity of his heart. Was this what a broken heart felt like? Everything around him went on as before, except all of the joy had been sucked out of his life. He functioned in a fog, feeling only half alive.

Since the night of the ball, he’d sent Lenora a letter every day asking to see her. When the first several had gone unanswered, he’d delivered the last two notes in person only to be informed by Teeven in icy, condescending tones that she was not at home.

Not at home, Jason’s arse.

“Please see that she receives this.” Jason doubted Lenora would.

The intimidating butler had politely taken the letter Jason passed him before firmly shutting the door and leaving Jason standing awkwardly on the stoop.

Either she’d given orders not to receive him, or someone else had.

Keyworth. Interfering bounder.

Jason was positive Lenora felt something for him. He’d seen the way she looked at him, had tasted her sweet lips and vowed that he stirred a resonance in her soul as she did in his.

If she were behind Jason’s chilly reception at Keyworth House, it was unlike her.

That had never been her way. Honest and direct, she’d always faced conflict with commendable fearlessness. Good God, she’d taken on two street youths to defend his grandmother. She would not cower from a simple conversation.

And yet, she’d clearly bid him goodbye the other night. Had she slammed a door in his face, her message couldn’t have been more explicit.

You are free. Leave me be.

If Jason had an ounce of common sense, he’d leave her alone. He’d grant Lenora her desire to be done with him.

I cannot.

But he didn’t believe that was what she really wanted. By Jove, it wasn’t what he wanted either. What she wanted was a man who she could trust to be by her side, not halfway across the world when she needed him.

The idea of sailing without seeing Lenora, without telling her what she meant to him, was akin to a draft horse’s kick to Jason’s gut. No, being run down by a fully laden freight wagon was more apt.

In the hope of meeting her, Jason had gone to Hyde Park every day, arriving well before eight and lingering until nine.

Lenora had never come.

Because she’d known he’d be there?

Did she feel betrayed that he hadn’t told her when he was sailing? Did she feel as if he’d been playing with her affections these past weeks?

He should’ve told her about India, but the truth of it was that he wasn’t eager to leave England. To leave her. What if she married while he was away?

No. By all that was holy, no! That notion was as untenable as lobster left too long in the sun.

In Jason’s heart, Lenora was his.