She was still awake when Jocelyn left. She had steadied her breathing so that it was deep and even, hoping to persuade him that she was asleep. It appeared to have worked. He had leant over to kiss her temple, then rose softly and left the room.
She rolled onto her back. Tears seeped from her eyelids, and she gave a little gasp of relief. Finally, she was alone, she could grieve.
Grieve for her non-existent childhood. Grieve for her youthful errors. Grieve for the aching love she felt for the captain who preferred the sea to her.
She hiccoughed and rolled over again. The pillow was fresh. She buried her cheek in it. She could almost smell the liniments and potions of the old nurse who had once looked after her in these rooms.
She dozed off, drifted into a slumber that did not seem much
