♤45. Favour🕷

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The ship creaked in the stillness of the early night, its sails billowing softly against the darkened sky. The moon cast a silvery glow over the deck, illuminating the figures of Declan and Stephen as they leaned against the rail, gazing out over the endless waves. Declan's jaw was set in an uncharacteristic tension, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if it held answers to questions he'd long been struggling with.

Breaking the silence, Declan finally spoke, his voice low and steady. "When we return to London, I intend to send a letter to the Duke. I'm going to tell him... that I've taken Julie as my lover."

Stephen's brow furrowed, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the ship's railing. He knew this was Declan's way of proposing a solution, even if it was a difficult one. Still, the cost of such a decision weighed heavily in the air between them. The wind played with Stephen's hair, brushing it back, exposing a thoughtful and slightly troubled expression. He glanced over at Declan, noting the usual coolness in his demeanor was gone, replaced with something more vulnerable.

"You're aware," Stephen began carefully, choosing his words, "that this will change everything for her? No more invitations, no more protection from her title. She'll be just another ordinary woman in London, and an outcast at that."

Declan gave a curt nod. "She knows." His voice was strained. "She's willing. More than willing. She's done with that life and would rather disappear from it entirely if she could." He paused, his shoulders tightening. "Still, it will be a blow to your name as well, Stephen. The Duke won't be quiet about this. They'll talk... and not just for a few months."

Stephen weighed this, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. He was aware of Declan's intentions toward Julie. The normally stoic Declan had an edge of protectiveness that Stephen hadn't seen in him before, and he wondered if this admission was as much for her freedom as it was a declaration of something more personal. Still, Stephen didn't press; he understood the boundaries men like themselves kept around their emotions.

"Aye," Stephen replied finally, his voice resigned. "Bernie will be furious, but I reckon he'll stand by me." His gaze drifted from Declan to the sea, eyes narrowing as he weighed the repercussions, the scandal that would ripple through London's high society. It was no small matter to align himself with Declan's plan, but the more he thought about Julie's plight, the more he saw the necessity of it.

Declan observed Stephen's expression, catching the subtle flicker of hesitation before it hardened into a decision. He wanted to say something more, perhaps explain that this was about protecting Julie, that it was nothing more, but he could feel Stephen's eyes on him, and words failed him. He'd already decided to sacrifice his reputation-and Stephen's-to give Julie her freedom. No further explanation was needed.

In a rare moment of acknowledgment, Stephen clapped a hand on Declan's shoulder, the gesture lingering. "Do what you need to. You'll have my support."

Declan allowed a tight nod, grateful for Stephen's trust, but a hint of regret flickered in his eyes. "Thank you, Captain," he said, voice laced with a strange reverence. Then, as if shielding himself from any more vulnerability, he turned his gaze back to the horizon, the waves silently carrying their pact into the night.



The market was bustling with vendors calling out prices and the faint scent of fresh bread and spices hanging in the air. Julie moved through the crowd, her shawl pulled close around her shoulders, clutching a small bouquet of flowers. She hadn't wanted to leave the house, but the loneliness had pressed on her too heavily, it had been three weeks now, and she found herself craving the little piece of normalcy the market offered.

Her fingers traced the soft petals absently as she walked, lost in thought, until she felt a familiar but unwelcomed gaze on her. Anita Hawthorne, a woman Julie knew from the endless society gatherings, was watching her, her eyes sharp and calculating. Julie froze, her heart hammering. She remembered Anita from the glittering balls, the hushed gossip, and the judgmental stares, and wasn't sure if the woman could be trusted.

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