The Captain Read Online Free PDF Page A

he’s someone of importance.”
    Mr. Wormwood lifted his head and smoothed his thinning gray hair. “Dressed to the nines, is he?”
    â€œWell, no, sir.”
    The old solicitor took a long swig from a cup that was full of spirits and a little coffee. “Dripping in jewelry, is he?”
    â€œNot even a single fob, sir.”
    Wormwood looked at his clerk, his brushy gray brows drawn together. “Have you been nipping from my cup, Ned?”
    Shock reflected on Mr. Elliot’s face. “Not a bit of it, sir.”
    â€œThen how the devil do you know the man’s of some importance?” Mr. Wormwood slid his glasses on and peered at his now frightened employee.
    â€œHis name, sir. It’s Morrow. ’Tis the family name of Baron Rowland, is it not?”
    The solicitor frowned. “Can’t be. Rowland’s heir ran off years ago. It was quite a scandal in Somerset at the time. Lad was only sixteen or so as I remember. The baron gave him up for dead.”
    â€œThat’s as may be, Mr. Wormwood, but the gentleman introduced himself as Captain Drew Morrow and he’s wishin’ to speak with you on a matter of some importance.”
    The old man sat back in his worn leather chair, his face full of surprise. “I do believe the boy was called Andrew. Can it be the same?” The solicitor gestured at the clerk to hurry. “Stop your dawdling, man, and send him in.”
    The clerk opened his mouth to protest, then decided it was pointless and hurried out. Minutes later a tall, lean gentleman with darkly tanned skin stepped into the room. The visitor was not fashionably attired, but he wore his clothes with an easy assurance of self that defied fashion. His dark hair was longer than the current fashion. It brushed the top of his shoulders, the ends sun-streaked blond. Yet the thing that struck the old gentleman the most was the distinctive half-moon scar that arched down from the man’s right eye. Wormwood had asked about it once while staying at Rowland Park. He’d been told it was a childhood burn the boy had acquired while the farriers had been shoeing a horse. This was his lordship’s long lost son.
    Wormwood rose rather unsteadily and extended his hand. “Why, it is you, sir. You were scarcely more than a lad the last time I was at Rowland Park. Elliot tells me you are Captain Morrow these days. Well done!”
    A half-smile exposed teeth that gleamed brightly in contrast to the man’s tan cheeks. “I was hoping you would remember me, sir. I have come desiring information about my father.”
    Mr. Wormwood gestured toward a seat. After both gentlemen were settled, the old man stared across at the face that he was certain women would find handsome. Ah, to be young and appealing again ... but he put the thought aside and asked, “After all these years, what prompted you to inquire? Why not write the baron directly or better yet, pay him a visit?”
    Drew Morrow fidgeted uncomfortably in the worn chair. The solicitor was so altered he almost hadn’t recognized him. Had his father changed so much as well? The young captain pondered the old gentleman’s questions. He’d been such a fool all those years ago, and it was always difficult to put one’s actions into words for they seemed all the more foolish. He wasn’t sure he could make Wormwood understand. Drew had a need to reconnect with his roots but was uncertain that Lord Rowland would wish his return. Truth be told, Drew wasn’t even sure he understood himself. Perhaps it was the emptiness of life at sea or merely the passage of time that had matured him. More likely it was a sense of his own mortality. All he was certain about was a desire to heal the rift he had opened eight years earlier by his flight in the face of adversity. He needed to do this.
    He leaned back and sighed. “I should have done so sooner, sir. But”—he shrugged—“the