Autumn, 1813

"Have you ever thought of taking a man to your bed, Ellen?"

There was no disguising the shock Oliver's question rendered. One moment Ellen was perched on the edge of a barrel, coiling a bit of loose rope for Beebe, and the next, she was sitting atop the mass of rope on the deck, having jerked off the barrel in surprise. Instead of offering her a hand like the gentleman Ellen knew he'd been raised to be, her cousin continued languidly rolling his cigarette as he leaned against the deck rail. Eyes pinched in a glare, Ellen hauled herself back to her feet, grabbing hold of the end of the rope, and resumed her perch on the barrel.

"I do not think that's any of your business, dear cousin."

Oliver didn't respond right away, choosing to strike a match and light his cigarette before throwing the smoking remains into the lapping waves. Only after taking a few long draws, Oliver shifted his body to face Ellen, arms crossed over his chest, his expression one of great disappointment. Ellen knew her comment hadn't dissuaded him in the slightest. Still, he at least had the decency to wait until the lollygagging deckhands had moved on to their duties elsewhere before he continued the audacious line of discourse.

"Ellen, it's been two years."

She had a unique talent for raising one eyebrow at a time, a talent that had always perturbed Oliver, namely because he had never mastered the movement. Ellen did this now, pausing in her work just long enough to earn a sigh from her cousin when he noted the rising, single eyebrow as her nonverbal way of responding.

"You are still quite young. Wealthy. Intelligence. Beautiful." Oliver shook his head and looked away when Ellen raised her other eyebrow to match the first, amused that he felt the need to compliment her while he lectured her. "No one expects you to lock up your heart and body for the rest of your days out of a sense of loyalty to Uncle Borlas. You are free to move on."

"Is that why you think I have remained alone?" Ellen shook her head, resuming her work with a bemused smirk. "No, Oliver, I am not fighting off perspective paramours out of loyalty to Borlas." Dropping her hands to her lap, Ellen glanced around the deck and gave an exaggerated nod to its empty nature. "Where are the potential suitors you wish me to interview? Or were you thinking young Mister Killick would do? I hear he is quite popular at all our regular port-of-calls."

"You know that is not what I mean, Ellen." Oliver's cigarette drag was more aggressive this time, his tone of voice darker, filled with pent-up frustration. "It is just a damn shame that you are here, and there's no one here for you. With you."

Reaching out, Ellen patted Oliver's shoulder. "I do not feel lonely, Oliver. I do not lack purpose. I feel at peace with my place in the world. And in many ways, I am positioned in a far better place than many of my peers." Ellen raised a single shoulder and dropped it heavily on a shrug, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she again refocused her gaze on the remaining bit of rope still needing attention. "I am curious what brought this on so suddenly."

Oliver held the cigarette between his lips, using both hands to fish a letter out from his vest pocket. Passing it to Ellen, he took over the last of the rope work while she glanced over the letter's contents. She finished and wordlessly handed it back to Oliver before sliding off the barrel and moving to stand next to him against the deck rail. Ellen felt his gaze on the back of her neck, but took her time responding.

"Have you done anything to encourage her sentiments?" In her peripheral vision, she saw him shake his head. "Have you communicated with her outside of our mutual visitation to Roscullen Hall?"

"A letter here or there, but I did not think it would be seen as an encouragement of such affection." Oliver braced his elbows on the railing and lowered his head. "I truly admire and respect her, and she is absolutely breathtaking, but I never thought she noticed me. At least not in that manner. I presumed she saw me as your colleague and family and likewise looked upon me as a friend."

Ellen chuckled. "Judith has always had her own mind about her. Even before I came into her life and filled her mind with all sorts of scandalous hogwash, as her governess described." She bounced her shoulder against Oliver's, drawing his gaze back to her face and away from the undulating wood designs of the railing. "What makes you so afraid of her affection?"

"I never said I was afraid." Oliver surged to his full height, nearly dropping the cigarette from his fingers.

"The way you've presented this unexpected potential love story has had all the dramatic demeanor of a eulogy, Oliver. Judith is a member of the British aristocracy, yes, but she is also my stepdaughter, and I know she is a kind and compassionate woman of good character. Furthermore, I know her brother, my stepson, would never look up a non-landed, non-British suitor with disdain." Ellen held up her hand and, as she listed out details, held up one finger at a time, "You are wealthy, you are well-educated, you come from a well-respected family, you are young, and I presume virile," he blanched making Ellen grin before continuing, "and you have no scandal to speak of associated with you. Well," she dropped her hand and chuckled, "aside from your business and familial association with the former Viscountess Carney. Depending on who you talk to among the ton, that is quite scandalous indeed."

"I do not think myself ready for marriage, Ellen." Her cousin chose to remain vulnerable in his reply, overlooking the opportunity to tease. "And Judith has only been out for one season. With the family connections and beauty, I am certain she could do far better than me, a man who has yet to feel he's come into his own. To marry her now, when I feel I am only part of the man I want to be, would be unfair."

Ellen placed a warm hand on his back, nodding in understanding when she caught his gaze again. "My advice is to tell her that. Not in a 'wait for me' sort of manner but in a respectful acknowledgment of her feelings. She deserves more than silence, that's for certain."

Oliver flicked the last of his cigarette into the waters, the two of them watching it bob on the surface before it fell into the darker depths, unseen. A few moments of silence followed before he turned to face her again, a mischievous smile once more on his face. Ellen frowned, already not liking whatever it was he was about to say.

"I will write that letter when you find a man to love."

Drawing her lower lip between her teeth, Ellen nibbled on it as she studied Oliver's features, her mind racing down myriad paths before it was her turn to smile and Oliver's to brace himself.

"Write the letter NOW, and when I find a man to pursue, you will woo Judith for yourself." Oliver looked ready to argue, but Ellen shook her head firmly. "Manly development be damned, and my own sense of contentment alongside that as well." His eyes widened. "In truth, Oliver, it will take us more than a few weeks or months to overcome our prideful obstacles, keeping us from stepping forward into the next part of our lives. So our pact," she held out a hand for him to shake, "is that when I begin to court a man, you do the same with Judith."

He eyed her hand as if it were a snake for a few breaths before his shoulders slumped, and he accepted the pact, looking for all the world like Atlas when the mass of the Earth had first been set upon his shoulders. Ellen laughed, focusing on his juvenile mannerisms instead of her own sense of foreboding.