They both looked to Nora in the wake of the question. Nora, who had moved to fill the teakettle. “Don’t mind me. I’m barely paying attention.”

She turned back. “I’m sorry I tossed you from a carriage.” His response was instantaneous. “I’m not.”

“Can’t be no one, Aug,” Nora pointed out, mouth full of biscuit. “You’ve a hole in you.” “Yes. I noticed that.”

And there it was. Her answer. “That’s what this is; you keep me safe from him.” He met her eyes. “Until my dying breath.”

“How you landed her is beyond understanding,” Whit said. Devil’s smile was nearly audible. “I wonder at it every day.”

Nora gasped, and Nik was out the door for the doctor, and Hattie tightened her hand in his, and said, “That was a very tempting offer.” He laughed at the words, unable to keep the tears from spilling down his cheeks. “I’m very happy to hear it.” Her hand came to his head, her fingers tangling in his hair, weak, but there. “Tell me,” she whispered.

“So far above you, you can barely see her,” Devil said softly. The words full of memory.

Both children had grown up in the rigging of the Sedley ships; both of them had spent their early years—those before their father had been offered a title—at their father’s heels, learning the business of shipping. Both had learned to heft a sail. To tie a knot. But only one of them had learned well. Unfortunately, that one was the girl.

And I should like very much for that life to be so long that we grow old next to each other, rattling about in our home, with our children and grandchildren coming and going and rolling their eyes at how I never stopped being a fool over you.”