Chapter 242 - 242: The Other Slater Brother

The following afternoon, wind swept across the harbour, carrying the scent of salt and wet timber.

"I am late!"

Lachlan exhaled a white mist, dragging his leather-bound trunk across the wooden planks of the pier. When he caught sight of the large merchant vessel still at the dock with a noisy crowd gathered near it, he breathed a small sigh of relief.

As he drew closer, however, he heard the sharp voice of a merchant. "What do you mean we aren't departing?!" gesturing furiously at the stacks of crates left sitting in the cold. "I paid a premium for passage on this ship!"

A dockworker wiped his hands with a rag and sneered, "Unless you fancy a private tour of the ocean floor, no one's setting foot on this ship for the next three weeks or a month. There are massive holes clean through the lower hull and water's pouring into it."

"A month?!" the passengers began to grumble.

Lachlan stopped, leaning his weight against the handle of his trunk, and let out a long, weary sigh.

"Ah, just my luck..." he muttered under his breath, scratching the back of his neck.

A month? He checked his coat pockets, counting the coins he had left from the journey. Considering his limited resources, he decided to head to Father Anthony's house, which was located behind the church.

"My, my. Still on dry land? I could have sworn you were in quite a rush to catch the morning tide." A smooth voice drawled just behind him.

Startled, Lachlan turned only to find the pureblooded vampire from yesterday's wedding standing casually.

Dane was dressed in a tailored coat which had silver fox fur on the lapels. His hands were tucked leisurely into his pockets, and his lips were curled.

"Mr. Slater," Lachlan offered a polite bow. "It seems my travel has been delayed because of some damage. The ship won't be setting sail for days."

"What a terrible tragedy. Ships these days are constructed so terribly fragile, aren't they? One stray rock in the bay and an entire voyage ruined," Dane shook his head in disappointment, while his eyes carried a sharpness.

"Indeed. But there's nothing I can do about it," Lachlan smiled.

"You are welcome to stay at the Slaters mansion," Dane suggested but the human shook his head.

"Thank you, but Father Anthony may need me because of his health. I would rather not trouble your family, and it would be better if I stayed with him."

Dane hummed, his eyes flickering over the young man. He then said,

"My carriage is just past the pier," he gestured with a tilt of his chin. "I would be more than happy to escort you back to your stay."

Lachlan blinked, entirely taken aback by the sudden generosity of a nobleman he barely knew. "That is very kind of you, Mr Slater, but the church isn't far. I can manage with the local carriage."

"It is no trouble at all," Dane purred smoothly as he led Lachlan toward the carriage. "In fact, I insist."

Lachlan bowed gratefully and followed the pureblooded vampire as they walked towards the carriage. He then asked,

"What brought you to the harbour?"

"I lost something here and came to retrieve it."

The human had once been woven into the very attempt to drag Dane back from death and whatever remained of that connection had survived more deeply than memory.

"Oh. Were you successful in finding it?" Lachlan asked as he climbed inside the carriage.

Dane's eyes briefly met the dockworker's eyes before he turned to look at Lachlan.

"Yes, I was," the small smile returned before he followed inside the carriage and soon it left the harbour.

The wheels rolled unevenly over the frozen road, the noise from the harbour gradually fading behind them until only the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the occasional creak of the carriage remained.

Lachlan rubbed his hands together. Colour slowly returned to his fingers as he stared outside the window, unaware of the pureblooded vampires eyes on him.

Dane studied the relaxed expression on the human's face. It was strange seeing Lachlan so completely at ease in his presence. In the life before, suspicion had almost always lingered behind the man's eyes.

"You said you were raised in the South," Dane remarked.

Lachlan looked away from the window to look back at the person who had offered him a ride. "Yes. Almost my entire life."

"Hm. What made you enter the Church?" Dane's expression remained pleasant.

Lachlan seemed surprised by the question. With a slight thoughtful expression, he replied,

"As an orphan, I was raised in the parish house in the South. Father Wyatt raised me as his own, and I wish to dedicate my life to helping people."

Dane turned to the window briefly, muttering, "How noble."

Outside, the carriage finally arrived near a church and Lachlan leaned closer to the window. "Father Anthony's residence is just behind there. You can leave me by the front gate."

"Of course."

The carriage slowed down before coming to a stop along the narrow road beside the old church. The coachman hopped down to set the trunk onto the pavement from behind, and Lachlan reached for the carriage door, stepping out. He adjusted his coat, turning back toward the open carriage where Dane remained seated.

"Thank you for the ride, Mr. Slater," Lachlan said, offering a respectful bow. His breath misted faintly between them, his expression open and sincerely grateful. "I hope I can repay you for the ride someday."

Dane's finger lightly tapped on the surface of the seat. His red eyes, narrowed into lazy crescent slits, fixed unblinkingly on the man.

"Do you take confessions?" Dane drawled.

Lachlan blinked. He then replied, "I do. Even as an apprentice, I am permitted to hear them and offer counsel."

Dane hummed before saying, "Then I suppose I'll come see you."

Lachlan, suspecting nothing beyond a high-ranking nobleman harbouring a few lingering burdens of the conscience, returned the smile with gentle warmth. "The chapel is open every evening. You are always welcome, Mr. Slater."

With a final, polite nod, Lachlan gathered the handle of his trunk and turned toward the church.

Dane watched Lachlan disappear through the heavy wooden door. As the latch clicked shut, the polite smile melted from his expression, replaced by a smile that promised nothing resembling repentance.

"Drive on," he murmured to the coachman, leaning back into the cushions.