A few paces away, she stopped with a gasp. Her hand fell to the bodice at her stomach, and she bent at the waist, heaving for breath.

I pushed to my feet, swaying through a bout of wooziness, but I didn’t follow her. I could see the body well enough from here.

With the dagger protruding from the torso and the breeches unbuttoned at the waist, no words were needed. Comprehension glowed in her clever eyes.

But understanding didn’t beget compassion. I’d ruined her chance at returning to English society and stood before her as a murderer, covered in the blood of my crime.

Locking my knees, I braced for her condemnation.

“I would’ve done the same.” She lifted her chin and turned away from the body.

“Truly?” Shock stuttered my breath.

“Any man who meets with a prudent woman and offers to meddle with her, without her consent, shall suffer present death.”

“Even at her own hand?” My pulse raced.

“Even so. No matter the laws of man.” Her expression turned to stone. “Tis our law. Yours and mine.”

I stared at her, thunderstruck. Never had I felt a connection to another woman as I did to my mother in that moment. She met my eyes with more confidence and conviction than any titled lord. Her stubbornness was the bane of my existence, but I realized now that same ferocity would be used to protect me.

For the first time in my life, I saw what my father saw. A woman who was brave enough to cross the Great Western Ocean alone and pregnant. She was beauty and strength in her own right, a force to reckon with. If anyone could help me rescue him, she could.

I tamped down my rioting nerves and treaded carefully. “Has there been word of an arrest?”

“No one has discovered the body.” Returning to my side, she gripped my arm and guided me toward the horse. “I’ll send someone I trust to collect the remains. This will be our secret. One we’ll take to our graves.”

“No, I mean…” I stepped back from her grip, stumbling on shaky legs. “Someone else was arrested.”

“I’ve been searching for you all night. I haven’t been home to hear of any…” The blood drained from her face. “Who was arrested, Benedicta?”

“A seafarer.” I swallowed, and my eyes burned with tears. “A buccaneer.”

She went still, and her voice trembled to a whisper. “What have you done?”

“He’s…” I shook my head, faltering over the confession. “My father…”

“No.” She staggered backward and tripped on a branch. “No, no, no. He promised me.” With an ungraceful spin, she flung herself toward the horse. “He promised he would never get caught when he visited you.”

“What?” A fist clamped around my heart. “You knew?”