If I Fall by Kate Noble Read Free Book Online

the bow of the ship, Dingham, one of the carpenter’s mates, whistled and clamored at a group of bonneted ladies far distant on shore. It was impossible that the ladies could hear Dingham over the wind and at that distance, but he insisted on making a fool of himself anyway.
    “Oh hell, the bloody fool’s starting up again…” Jack rolled his eyes, and took a half step in the carpenter’s mate’s direction before Whigby clamped a hand on his shoulder.
    “Let me take care of it, Mr. Fletcher.” Whigby said, his expression suddenly stern. “After all, I’ll have a lot more men on the
Dresden
to command. I’ll need the practice.”
    Jack would have glared at Whigby then, if the serious set of that man’s brow hadn’t been so comical. But suddenly, that serious expression cleared, and Whigby hastily felt through his pockets.
    “I nearly forgot! There was a letter in the packet for you, too!”
    Jackson took the small packet of paper with some surprise. He rarely received letters. He had gone away from home at the age of thirteen to attend the Royal Naval College in Portsmouth, and while he’d had loving and kind parents, they had lived in Lincolnshire, and his chosen path had made visits home difficult. He’d sent them letters when he could, but life at sea made the ability to post anything erratic at best. Receiving mail was just as difficult, if not more so.
    In fact, there was only one person he received letters from with any regularity.
    He turned the packet over in his hand, a pleasant sensation spreading through his chest when he saw the handwriting.
    It was the same handwriting that had surprised him twelve years ago, as a young cadet in Portsmouth. The same handwriting that kept him apprised of life in England for the past nine years. The same handwriting that had tearfully informed him of his parents passing. The handwriting that had become his only tether to a home.
    “Lady Forrester,” he murmured, as he broke the wax seal.
    The letter was dated a little over a month ago—which to a man at sea was practically of the moment.
    My Dear Jackson
—it began, sounding in Jack’s head the exact same way Lady Forrester would pronounce it, with the sugar and starch she reserved for her own children.
    My dear Lord Forrester and I send you greetings. We are well here, as are the girls…
    The letter continued on in this manner for a few paragraphs, speaking of nothing beyond the everyday life of a family about town, undergoing the rigors of the social Season. Pleasant as it was to hear of his friends, Jack’s brow did not pick up until he read down the page, to the heart of the letter:
    We read in the
Times
of the
Amorata’s
sad circumstances. I also understand that you will be docking in London while the ship awaits word of her fate.
    (Jack took some small hope at that—even with the British navy being reduced at an alarming rate, the fact that the
Amorata
was not pronounced dead in the
Times
was good news, surely.)
    As we are in London as well, I would invite you to pass your time with us. I may know little of the modern navy officer’s preferences, but I do know that you, Jack, would much prefer Cook’s currant scones to that any boarding house could supply. Add to that, I know my dear Lord Forrester suffers mightily from what he has termed “feminiaphobia”—that is, a fear of being overrun by all the females in his household. He would welcome your presence as readily as I.
    Also, it would be of the utmost kindness to me—I hesitate to mention this, but you will come to know the circumstances at any rate: our dear Sarah has lately suffered a severe disappointment, and I am at a loss as to how to distract her from it. I saw the notice of your ship in the paper, and thought it fate. You always managed to keep her in good spirits as a child, and I canonly hope that some stories of adventure on the high seas can do the trick again. Do come to us at your earliest convenience. Not only would you be