Page 110 of A Devious Secret

Chapter Sixteen

Later that evening, Stephen sat hunched over at a table in the corner of White’s as he nursed the drink in his hand. He wanted to forget all these blasted memories that haunted him every time he closed his eyes. But he was unable to do so. They kept reappearing, reminding him of how he had failed his crew.

His hand tightened around his glass as he raised it to his lips. No matter how much Gemma tried to convince him that it wasn’t his fault, he knew differently. It was his job to keep his crew safe. Yet he had allowed a traitor to permeate the highest folds of the crew.

How had he not seen Benjamin for what he was- a traitor? He had been so distracted by doing his job that he failed to see what was right in front of him. And it had cost him everything.

Stephen lowered the glass to the table, keeping his gaze downcast. He would never be able to convince himself that he was worthy of Gemma. She had endured hardships, but the goodness inside of her had never left her. She had fought her battles and had come out stronger because of it. Sadly, he could not say the same.

If Gemma knew how troubled he truly was, she would leave him be. It was no less than he deserved.

Hugh’s voice broke him out of his grumblings. “I assumed we would find you here.”

“Go away,” he muttered, not bothering to look up.

With a chuckle, Hugh pulled out a chair and sat down. “I see that you are being your usual pleasant self this evening,” he joked. “We are here on Marielle’s behest.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Stephen mocked.

Hawthorne spoke up as he came to sit down next to his brother. “We couldn’t help but notice that you were rather despondent during dinner.”

Stephen looked over at the earl. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be but here, bugging me?” He knew he was being rude, but he wasn’t in the mood to converse.

“There are many places that I could be, but I feel I am needed here the most,” Hawthorne replied.

“Do you take pity on me, then?” Stephen asked.

Hawthorne shook his head. “I do not pity you.”

“No?” Stephen asked, his voice rising. “Perhaps you think me a fool.”

“My opinion of you has not changed,” Hawthorne responded in a calm, nonengaging manner.

Stephen scoffed. “How can it not?” he asked. “I was trained to engage with our enemies, but apparently I can’t even do that correctly.”

Hawthorne leaned closer to him and lowered his voice. “You are being much too hard on yourself.”

“You would have spotted the traitor,” Stephen declared. “One look, and you would have known.”

“Stephen…” Hawthorne started. “You are grieving and aren’t thinking clearly.”

“I am not grieving that traitor. He was a man that I had thought was my friend for all those years,” Stephen declared. “I am glad that he is dead. He got what he deserved.”

Hugh glanced between them with a curious expression and asked, “I take it that something transpired between you two?”

Stephen saw no reason not to take Hugh into his confidence and learn of his shame. “Right before my first lieutenant killed himself, he confessed to giving the French our ship’s route, allowing them the element of surprise when they attacked us,” he explained.

Hugh stared at him with a look that could only be construed as pity. “I’m sorry…”

He put his hand up, stilling Hugh’s words. “I do not want your sympathy,” he said. “If I had been a better captain, I would have known.”

“Your logic is faulty,” Hawthorne remarked. “You couldn’t have predicted that one of your own would have turned on King and Country.”

“I keep replaying every conversation that I had with Benjamin, but I still can’t find any indication of his devious nature,” Stephen shared.

“A person’s true nature is revealed when they are faced with great adversity,” Hawthorne said. “Regardless, no one faults you for what happened.”

“I fault myself.”