Page 103 of Project Duke

His heart shattered at the sight of the red scar on her forearm. He pulled her into his arms and engulfed her, wishing with every part of his being he could shield her from every single drop of harm.

“How are you feeling?” he murmured against her head.

“It still hurts,” she said. “But I’m feeling well otherwise. One more excuse to never have to wear fancy dresses.”

He leaned back and looked her over at arm’s length. “What are you talking about?”

She chuckled softly, sadness in her eyes. “Well, I don’t have to wear sleeveless dresses anymore, the ones that are so fashionable now. Therefore, I’ll be deemed unfashionable and won’t be invited to certain social events, or to dance at balls, or be called upon by gentlemen.”

He blinked, not ready to contemplate young bachelors pursuing any of his sisters. “Any young man would be lucky to call on you, love,” he said. “You’re a beautiful, intelligent, kind person, and I’m very fortunate to call you my sister. I’m very sorry I failed to protect you and shield you against this.”

“You didn’t,” she said softly. “And I never wanted to get married, anyway. My way will be in the world of intellect.”

“And I will support whatever you want to do,” he said, squeezing her small, warm hand.

He looked back at Calliope’s room.

“She’s at the docks,” said Violet.

His stomach lurched. “Where?”

“At the docks. About to board the ship to America.”

Nathaniel’s heart fell. She was going away—she and the child she carried. On board that ship, she would surely face seasickness, the danger of unwanted male advances, and the reality of heading to a battlefield.

But he loved her. And he understood now that if he loved someone, he had to let them choose their own path.

Danger was real, but he couldn’t control what happened. And in trying to do so, he’d alienated those he loved and kept them at a distance.

No one knew what might happen to cut their time short. But with the time that he had with his loved ones, he chose to support them and help them achieve their dreams rather than hold them back.

Even if it meant losing them.

Losing Calliope.

He wouldn’t try to stop her from going to America. Instead, he would go with her to support her. Not to control her. Not to limit her. But to help her and witness her brilliance.

Nathaniel’s mind raced quickly, calculating. He just needed to write a letter to the Admiralty. He was sure his rank would mean something on the ship, and in Quebec.

“I must go there, darling,” he said. “I must go with her.”

Violet’s eyes widened, but then she nodded with understanding.

“Good luck, brother,” she whispered. “And Godspeed.”

In thirty minutes, he was at the docks and pushing through dockworkers, passengers, and whores to get to the ship that was boarding.

The docks of London were a hive of frenetic energy, even under the scorching August sun. The heat created a shimmering mirage over the worn cobblestones, blurring the outlines of ships, large and small, bobbing in the Thames. The salty tang of the sea mixed with the musky scent of laboring bodies, barrels of fish, and tarred ropes. Men heaved crates onto wagons with sweat dripping down their foreheads, leaving their shirts darkened with dampness. Seagulls cawed overhead, swooping down to grab scraps of food discarded by dockside vendors who shouted their wares, their voices echoing above the constant drone of bustling activity.

Children darted in and out of the crowds, playing tag with one another, while pickpockets saw an opportunity in every unsuspecting traveler. Women with colorful shawls draped around them touted their services or goods, and the hum of negotiations permeated the air.

Suddenly, there she was. Calliope.

He could die at that moment, and he would know he’d lived a worthy life and would have no regrets but one—being apart from her for even a single day.

Her blue eyes were two oceans, so bright and beautiful, his breath caught in his throat.

She stood upright, but something was wrong. She was thinner than he remembered, her hand clutching at her stomach. Her shoulders weren’t squared like usual, and her back wasn’t straight. She was breathing too hard.