“Frannie, I’m leaving New York.”

I spun to him. “Leaving?”

“Yes.” He reached into his coat and handed me a letter. “I came today to give you this before I go.”

The lock rattled. Hurriedly, I slipped the letter under my cloak. The door swung open and Maggie gasped.

“Miss Emmeline, look at the state of you! Come in! Come in from this cold! Mr. Latimer, do come inside.”

“Thank you, but I won’t be staying. Your servant, Miss Coates.” Asa bowed and returned to the carriage as I watched in a stupor.

All I wanted to do was break the letter’s seal and read it, but I’d have to wait. Lucy had arrived only a short while before me and was still awake. We’d been sharing a bed to stay warmer and to conserve firewood. I quickly changed into a dry shift and climbed in beside her.

“Thank heavens you’re here. I’ve never been so cold,” she said, snuggling close, “but it was worth it, wasn’t it? Today was the most fun I’ve had in months.”

“In years,” I said.

We whispered about the day’s adventure for a while as we slowed thawed. When I was sure she’d drifted off to sleep, I slid out of bed and tiptoed to my cloak for the letter. Lighting a fresh candle, I opened it with unsteady hands and read.

Frannie,

In August, I arrived in New York with the intention of staying a few days. A week, perhaps.

I should have known better. I did know better, in fact. I will get to that in a moment.

The day I was forced off the Ambrosia was the worst day of my life. I feared I’d never walk again. Never sail again. Never heal from the pain of our parting. I understood why you refused me, but it did not lessen my suffering, nor the regret I have felt for spoiling our friendship.

The connection we share with my uncle is not the coincidence you might think. Captain Jansen needed a lawyer in New York to help with Miss Coates’s will—I gave him the name of a judge I trust above all others.

I have written to my uncle over the years to inquire about Miss Coates, whom I knew on the Ambrosia, asking him to never mention me to you. I beg you not to think ill of him for this—he is the best man I know and was forced into the pretense by me.

You wanted to know why I did not contact you through him, but I was quite sunk by you that day, Frannie. And the answer, simply, is self-preservation.

And yet, when my uncle wrote that you were on the cusp of marriage, I had to come. Not to try to win you, nor to interfere with your happiness. I only wanted to see you once more. I came and I did see you. Then I needed to see you again, and then again, and in this way, five months were made to vanish.

Now the time has arrived for me to return to sea. My only hope is for us to have a better parting than the last. I should very much like to count you my friend again. We were good at it.

Adieu, Comet.

None but yours,

Asa