Free Unclaimed Heart by Kim Wilkins Page B

persuaded the local seller to let him take it. So my rich cargo was gone. The trip had been all for nothing. I gathered together an alternate cargo, small, low-paying items. Letters home to England by the sackful. And we made our way back. Then, near the Mascarene Islands, one of my crew spotted a Portuguese ship.”
    Father stopped and gazed off into the distance. He was silent a long time.
    Finally, Constance said, “Was it the ship that had taken your cargo?”
    Father shook his head, smiling ruefully. “No. Of course not. That ship was weeks ahead of us. This was simply a ship flying the Portuguese flag. I knew that, the crew knew that, and yet . . . and yet we wanted somebody to be punished for what had happened and there it was. . . .”
    He put his hand to his head, rubbing his eyebrow with the heel of his palm. “There it was.”
    He straightened, smoothed his waistcoat and nodded decisively. “It was regrettable. No man was injured—they were a much smaller vessel and surrendered quickly. We incarcerated the crew. I sent a man aboard to sail it alongside us to the nearest port. By this time, I realized my folly and set them all free, letting them keep their cargo. On my return to England I made a full confession to the Company and was ordered to pay reparation. They were lenient with me on account of my good record thus far and on account of the recent loss of my wife. I spent a month in prison, Constance, when you were little more than a babe.” He hung his head, and Constance realized he was ashamed. “You wouldn’t have noticed; you were used to my being away.”
    â€œFather, I’m so sorry.”
    There was a long quiet, when all she could hear was the sound of the waves splashing against the ribs of the ship. So the Irishman had not told the truth, but an exaggerated rumor. She felt foolish, ashamed. When Father spoke again, it was so softly that she barely heard him. “If your mother had died, Constance, it would have been easier.”
    It was true. Not knowing was the worst of it. “What do you think happened to her?” she asked, dreading the answer. In the distance, the boat had started its journey back to Good Bess . De Locke was gone.
    â€œI don’t know. But she was a strong woman. I know she could survive much hardship.”
    â€œThen why did she not come back?”
    â€œPerhaps she has no recollection of us. Or perhaps she is constrained somehow. We know she has been here, across the miles. If she has no money, no way to get home . . .” He shook his head. “There is no benefit in speculation. I will uncover all the clues I can and, God willing, bring her home with me.”
    â€œI want to help, too,” Constance said. “Will you let me help you, Father? I have a good brain. I don’t want to be stuck at home with Howlett’s daughter. I don’t—”
    â€œHow do you know about Howlett’s daughter?”
    A rush of heat. Constance’s heart began to pound. “I . . . you must have told me.”
    â€œIndeed no, I did not tell you.”
    She forced a laugh. “Well, you must have, Father because I . . . I know of her.”
    â€œI deliberately made no mention of Orlanda because I was not certain that she would be at home and did not want to raise your expectations of a companion.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Constance, did you read my letter to Violet?”
    She finally knew the true meaning of the word “speechless.” She literally could not speak.
    His temper, held in check for the entire conversation, finally escaped him. “I have clearly misjudged you. Here I am, treating you like an adult, when you are little more than a willful child.” He began to stride away from her.
    â€œFather, wait!”
    â€œNo, Constance. No. I have business to take care of. I have spent enough time on you. We will be in Nagakodi within thirty-six hours. I