“Stephen admitted things had gone awry,” Huntley was saying. “He said he should have sent the woman away to have his child, then disposed of him in an orphanage. By the grace of God, Stephen came to me instead. He knew I would never turn my nephew away. I was outraged at my brother’s behavior, but I kept his secret, for I knew exposure could only bring suffering to my brother’s family, not to mention the damage to Benjamin. With me, the boy would be loved and cared for, free from the scorn of his illegitimacy. I took legal action to assure he carried the Huntley name and would become heir to all that entailed.”
Nathaniel Huntley frowned with deep regret. “My sympathies, Captain, but you should know Benjamin did not forget you. When he first came to us, he cried for his papa in his sleep. You see now why we continued to let him believe his father did not leave him, but died at sea.”
A great pang wracked Brogan’s chest in the form of tears he could not shed. Until he’d come along, the lad rightfully believed both his parents were dead. The truth would break his heart.
Brogan had one final question. “The fire that took Abigail. Your brother was rumored to have been seen near the blaze. Was Stephen with her that night?”
Huntley nodded, his expression grave. “I ministered to my brother on his deathbed and entreated him to ask forgiveness for his sins. It was then Stephen made another shocking confession to me. He had wanted to end their relationship, but your wife would not hear of it. She flew into a rage, threatening to go to his family. Stephen abandoned the notion of discontinuing their affair until one wintry evening . . . their last together, he knocked over a candlestick, quite by accident, while she lay sleeping. He told me he watched it burn up the carpet, an idea forming. The flames crept to the draperies, and before he knew it, the room was ablaze. He had barely enough time to steal off in his nightshirt. He slipped away quietly on his horse, leaving the poor woman to die. He kept to alleys and back roads, riding through the snowfall, then walked across his own fields to wait in his stable for one of his servants to retrieve dry clothing from the house. He got away with murder, and all the while his wife, Ellen, thought he was at his club. The irony was, in making his escape, Stephen caught pneumonia and set in motion his own demise.”
It was a wicked tale, and Brogan could not bear another moment of it. He made for the door and flung it wide, his emotions ready to explode from the grief and anger swelling inside him.
Upon his exit he nearly collided with Lorena, who was standing just outside. She stared up at him, uncertain, her small face lost in a thick cloud of spicy-brown ringlets, her soft brown eyes larger than ever. She must think him the biggest fool. She’d known the truth and yet had allowed him to believe they could be a family.
Brogan stormed past her, down the hallway, and out the front door. Outside, the smell of salt and sea mulled about in the humidity. Clouds had begun to move in again. He heard Lorena calling for him as he ran toward the beach.
He pushed the jolly boat into the surf, then climbed in and grabbed the oars.
And started rowing.
20
Lorena chased Brogan out onto the front stoop. She called to him as he sprinted down the brick walkway, past the flower beds and box elder toward Squire Huntley Road. He was headed for the shore, and as she lifted her hemline to follow, her father halted her.
“Let him go. He’s suffered a great shock and needs time alone. You must give him that time, Lorena, for if you intrude upon his grief before he’s had a chance to face it on his own, he may say hurtful things you’ll both regret later. Only the captain knows the extent of his pain, but once he’s accepted facts, he will return to you.”
A sob arose from deep within her throat.
She had yet to accept Brogan’s offer of marriage. She yearned to tell him she loved him. He needed to know the indispensable place he held in both her and Drew’s lives. Brogan wasn’t alone in his pain. She felt it, too.
She’d never forget the haunted, stricken look in his eyes as he opened the door to her father’s study. Lorena lifted her face toward the wharf and, through a blur of tears, watched Brogan shove the jolly boat into the bay.
“What did you say to him, Papa? Did you give him your blessing?” Lorena asked of the man she’d always turned to in times of trouble. This time her papa could not make it all better. “Tell me everything you said to him.”
Her father wrapped her in his arms. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, Lorena, but understand this. Nothing any of us could have done would have made the news any easier for the captain to bear. What happens next is entirely up to him. We can offer our comfort, but in the end he has to make his own choices.”
“I can’t not reach out to him, Papa. I need to do something.”
“The captain’s desire was to give a father’s love, and now he feels that dream is lost. He believes he is alone in his grief. You and I know that’s not true, Lorena. We know God loves him, but before Captain Talvis will hear our words of encouragement, he needs to experience a father’s love for himself. The love of his heavenly Father.”
“How, Papa? How can I convince Brogan of a heavenly Father who loves him at a time like this? How can I help him if I cannot speak to him?”