She glanced at her brother, who shot back an accusatory glare, as if she were to blame for Mr. Finch’s presence. Did Rourke’s brothers and sisters give him the same fits Charlie gave her? Yet Rourke got along famously with her brother. And Father did not object to those visits. Apparently his disapproval of Rourke extended only to her.
Mr. Finch looked at her as if he’d asked a question.
She nodded and smiled again.
Charlie scowled.
Father grinned and clapped his hands. “Good. It’s settled then. Shall we say seven o’clock? We will want to arrive early with such an announcement to make.”
“Announcement?” Elizabeth asked, but neither of them appeared to hear her.
“Excellent.” Father’s pleasure rumbled forth with the addition of a raised wineglass. “I have looked forward to this day for years. We will take my carriage.”
The air squeezed out of her lungs. “The carriage?” What had she just agreed to?
Mr. Finch gave her a doting smile. “You wouldn’t want your lovely gown to get dusty, would you? The hall is a goodly distance from here.”
“The hall.” Elizabeth quickly pieced together that she had just agreed to attend the Harvest Ball with Mr. Finch.
“Dearest Elizabeth.” Finch laughed. “Where else would a ball take place but at the hall? There isn’t another room large enough.”
“Nor is there a better place to announce your engagement,” Father added.
Engagement? Panic rose like a storm tide. When had she agreed to an engagement? One of those polite nods must have been mistaken for agreement. “You misunderstand.”
“Not to fret, my dear.” Finch smiled. “We all make mistakes from time to time.”
“Mistake. Yes, that’s it. This is all a big mistake.” The blood pounded in her ears. What had she done to make him think she would ever approve his suit? Had she not refused him outright twice already? “I can’t. I won’t.” She pushed back from the table.
“Elizabeth.” Father’s gray eyes pinned her in place. “This is what we agreed upon.”
No, it wasn’t. This was what Father and Mr. Finch agreed upon. Not her. She could not abandon Rourke for a pale substitute, even if she must wait a year.
“No,” she croaked.
The men ignored her words. The air thickened. She could not breathe, could not think, could not hear. Her hands shook. She had to leave. Now.
She rose.
“Are you all right, dearest?” Mr. Finch hopped to his feet and took her arm.
His hovering presence and heavy perfume only made her feel worse.
“I-I can’t.” She pulled her arm from his grasp and ran from the room. How, she did not know. She could not feel her limbs. Her ears buzzed. The furniture blurred as if underwater. She grabbed the staircase railing. Her room. She must get to the safety of her room.
“Elizabeth?” Finch’s voice shot through her like a bolt of lightning. “Dearest?”
“No,” she gasped, struggling to gather her wits. “No. I’m not. I can’t.”
“Take her to the parlor,” Father instructed, his disdain at her feminine weakness evident.
Finch reached for her.
She pulled away. If only she could climb the stairs, but she could not summon the strength to lift a foot.
“Come with me,” Finch demanded, this time tugging on her arm.
His grasping recalled the last time, when he had gripped her arms so tightly that they’d bruised. If she hadn’t insisted upon strict Christian morals, he would have forced a kiss upon her. His lips had been so close that she’d reeled from his fetid breath. She could not do this. She could not. The eddy was swallowing her. Soon she would be lost, and she hadn’t the strength to fight. Her lips formed words, but nothing came out.
Then she felt a tug on her skirt.
“I want to talk to my sister,” Charlie said. “She’s coming with me.”
To her shock, Finch stepped away. Father acquiesced. Aunt Virginia stayed silent. In that moment, Elizabeth saw who ruled the house. Her brother, who had seemed so weak, was in truth the strongest of them all.
“Wheel me to my room, Lizzie.”
Elizabeth gratefully obeyed.
After sailing east-northeast until well past sundown, Rourke doubled back and nestled the Windsprite into a quiet mangrove cut within rowing distance of Key West. The waxing half moon offered enough light for Worthington to find the vessel, yet as the hours passed without one sign of the lad, Rourke regretted sending the least experienced of his crew on such an important mission. He should have been here by now.
Rourke paced the deck. At every about-face, he pulled out the spyglass and scanned the moonlit channel entrance.
“He come,” John said. “He see de mast.”
That was true. No nearby cove could completely hide a vessel the size of the Windsprite. Rourke had expected John to be the only crew member to make the crossing with him, yet all had remained. Good men. Loyal men. Men who deserved to know the full truth. If Worthington returned.
“He should have been here by now. If Benjamin catches him prowling about, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”
“Tom not tell secrets.”