Elizabeth lowered her voice. “Don’t deny you left. I saw you.”
Anabelle lingered in the shadows, beyond the reach of the moonlight but not that of her mistress. “His sloop has not arrived.”
Elizabeth drew in a shaky breath, the anger wiped away by the realization that Anabelle had risked arrest in order to bring her news of Rourke. “Oh, Anabelle.” She raced to her friend and wrapped her arms around her. “You shouldn’t have taken such a risk. If he had arrived, he would still be here in the morning.” She squeezed her eyes shut to hold back tears, both for her shame at leaping to the wrong conclusion and for her gratitude that Anabelle would do this for her. “Thank you.” She drew back. “But don’t break curfew again. Promise?”
For a second, Anabelle said nothing. “I will not seek your captain again after curfew.” The light was just enough for Elizabeth to see her lips curve. “Unless you ask.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You haven’t grown up one bit. Remember how you used to help me sneak out late at night?”
“And tell you that you’d get a whipping if your daddy ever found out. Turn around.” Anabelle began unfastening Elizabeth’s clothes.
“He never did.” Her thoughts drifted back to the harbor as Anabelle slipped off her gown. The appearance of the Joseph M today had raised her hopes. Often one wrecker’s return signaled another was on its way. “What can be keeping them?”
Anabelle quickly unlaced the stays. “It takes time.”
Elizabeth knew that, but knowing didn’t ease her impatience. She nibbled at her lip as stays and petticoats fell away. “No news must be a good sign.” She let Anabelle slip the nightgown over her head. She must content herself with the hope that Caroline’s report had instilled. Rourke had waited for the woman he loved. That woman must be her. It had to be. “He will return to me. I’m sure of it.”
“Perhaps.” Anabelle turned away to hang the gown and undergarments. “But take care.”
“What are you saying?” Elizabeth fought a rising tide of fear. “Did you hear something about Rourke? Is he betrothed?”
Anabelle closed the wardrobe doors and shook her head.
She sighed in relief. “Then what?”
“Your father does not favor him.”
Elizabeth groaned. “He wants me to marry the dreary Mr. Finch.”
“He wants what’s best for his daughter.”
She smiled at the bitterness in Anabelle’s statement. Her friend knew that Rourke claimed Elizabeth’s heart. “Tell me what to do. How can I change Father’s mind?” According to her aunt, she shouldn’t be asking advice of a servant, but Anabelle wasn’t just a servant.
“Some men can’t be changed.”
“Mother could ask him for anything.”
“Your mama was special.” Anabelle’s voice was thick with emotion. “So was mine. Now they’re both gone.”
Elizabeth drew in a breath, ashamed of her selfishness. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” Mammy had been Elizabeth’s nurse, an ever-present fixture in the household. Then one day she was gone. “Do you . . . miss her?”
“You know your mama is in heaven. I don’t know where mine is.”
“No one told you? I can’t believe Mother wouldn’t say.”
“She’s somewhere in Louisiana.”
“I remember that day,” Elizabeth said softly. “I cried and begged Father to tell me why.”
“What did he say?”
Elizabeth remembered the moment with clarity. Mother and Father had sat her in Mother’s bedroom late at night, after the servants were in their quarters. “He said that I didn’t need a nurse any longer. They wouldn’t tell me anything else. What did your mother tell you before she left?”
“My mama didn’t tell me anything. You remember that. Mammy didn’t say one word.”
Rourke smiled with satisfaction when the stevedores in Key West began hauling the salvaged cargo from the holds of the Windsprite. His muscles ached, but the week of hard labor would soon pay off. He had loaded the most valuable cargo on his vessel. When John had hacked into the forward hold four days ago and discovered bale after bale of tobacco, all dry, their fortunes rose considerably. He wouldn’t trust that to a Littlejohn ship.
Captain Cross scowled as the commission agent logged each bale. “I suppose you’ll want a bigger cut now.”
“Only what we agreed on.” Despite the man’s deliberate omission of the tobacco and his dragging out of the operation, Rourke would not go back on his word. A man’s word was his honor.