Captain Of Her Heart (7 page)

“Do I ever chase you?”  The woman could steal candy from a babe.

“There is no need, as I am yours, Captain of my heart.”  Alex framed his face and drew him to her, but he pulled up short when he spied tears in her blue eyes.  “And I am so sorry I disappointed you.  I offer you my solemn vow, as a lady, that I will never again keep secrets from you.”

“I believe you, love.”  Comforting warmth soothed his nerves and his pride, as Jason nipped her nose.  “And I owe you an apology, as I should not have been so cross.”

“Then I am truly forgiven?” she inquired in a small voice.

“It is blood under the bridge, sweetheart.”  Jason peered at the stain manifesting the proof of his desire and the limits to which Lady Seymour had pushed him, and he had yet to bed her.  Had he thought her dangerous?  “Now I should ride into town and fetch our dinner.”

And perhaps the cool evening air would chill his other appetite, which had grown by epic proportions and had nothing to do with food.

#

Monday morning, Alex idled at the stoop, humming a frisky little ditty and tapping her foot in rhythm, and fixed her gaze on the end of the gravel drive, as she awaited Molly’s arrival with baited breath.  How she wished she could share the truth of her situation, as Alex was bursting with joy.

The captain of her heart had departed for the shipyard, after she had cooked a delicious and substantial breakfast with nary a mishap.  And to her inexpressible delight, her knight had lauded her efforts with a soul-stealing kiss that warmed her to her toes.  At last, their troubles seemed behind them, and now she wished to celebrate another victory.

Given her extensive lessons on attracting the stronger but not so astute sex, and subsequent success with Jason, Alex envisioned all manner of possibilities for Molly’s future with Mr. Penniman.  “Perhaps we should plan a double wedding?”

Closing the door, she assessed the cottage.  After washing, drying, and stowing the dishes, Alex wiped the stove and table clean.  Had she checked the barrel?  When she noted the depleted supply, she dusted her hands and exited the house.

At the single stall stable, she collected the shoulder yoke and two buckets.  In minutes, she pumped water from the well into the pails, attached them to the ropes, bent and shrugged into the yoke, and slowly returned to the cottage.  It required an awkward use of her dancing skills to negotiate the front entry without spilling a drop, but she managed, much to her relief.

Once she had filled the barrel, Alex returned the yoke to the stable and then gathered wood.  When she opened the door, she discovered the charwoman standing in the great room.

“Molly, I am so glad you have, at last, arrived.”  Alex stacked the logs beside the hearth.  “Do tell, how did it go with your beau?”

“I never should have burdened you with my troubles.”  The cook-maid doffed her coat, bonnet, gloves, and boots and stored them by the front door.  “And Cap’n does not pay me to engage in gossip.”

“My dear friend, are you all right?”  As Molly turned, Alex gasped.  “Oh, no.  What happened?”

“Nothing of consequence.”  She shrugged.  “And I should complete my chores for the day.”

“Molly, I know well the face you sport, as I have spent the past month behind a similar expression, so I recognize the signs of disappointment and heartbreak.”  Trepidation traipsed her spine, as Alex escorted the charwoman to the table and pulled out a chair.  “Sit, and spare no detail, as I should make a pot of tea.”

“But my work—”

“—Can wait.”  Alex lit the stove, poured water into the kettle and set it on the range, and then scooped two spoons of tealeaves into the chipped porcelain teapot.  “Did your Mr. Penniman visit you on Sunday?”

Molly nodded once.

“Did you follow my advice, to the letter?”  Alex resituated the empty chair so she could perch beside her friend.  “And did you wear the gown I gave you?”

Molly dipped her chin.

She searched her mind for the hiccup in her plan.  Given the inherent naïveté of the backwater population, Alex’s strategy should have landed the stablemaster with little if any difficulty, as he was no match for a lady of means and education.  “Then what went wrong?”

“Oh, Alex.”  Molly emitted a half-sob.  “It was horrible.”  And then she burst into tears.

The water in the kettle boiled, and Alex stood and retrieved a towel.  After filling the teapot, she closed the lid.  Then she drew two cups from the open shelf, along with two napkins from a drawer, grabbed the teapot, and carried everything to the table.  As Molly wept, Alex set the table and poured the tea.

“Feeling better?”  With a napkin, she daubed Molly’s cheeks.  “Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”

“Well, nothing went as planned, even though I adhered to your instructions.”  Molly made a startling blare, when she blew her nose on the napkin.  “According to my Tom, men do not marry loose women, as he called me.  He said my behavior was shameful, the gown was indecent, and he accused me of cavorting with unscrupulous ladies.”

“I beg your pardon?”  In that instant, Alex wondered whether or not Jason kept a bottle of brandy in the cottage, as she needed a drink.  “He dared call me an unscrupulous lady?”

“Not exactly.”  Molly sniffed.  “Tom does not know you.”

“That may be, but he insulted me, however indirectly.”  Alex folded her arms and humphed.  “I am offended, just the same.  And that dress is all the rage in London.”

“But we live in Plymouth, not London.”  Sporting a pained expression, the charwoman bit her lip and sighed.  “And I am no grand lady, as are you.  When I loved him with my eyes, as you showed me, he thought I suffered some sort of seizure.  I am a simple country girl, and perhaps that is what Tom wants.  Never should I have tried to be someone I am not.”

Molly’s words struck Alex as a bucket of water in the face, as the maid’s predicament mirrored Alex’s situation.  Had Jason not reminded her on occasions too numerous to count that he was not to the manor born?  Other than his recent commission and knighthood with the Brethren, he held no titles, and never had he referred to himself as Sir Collingwood.  What if he preferred a bride of similar station?  Was that why he had not proposed?

“Oh, Molly.  I fear I have erred grossly on two fronts, and I will never forgive myself if I have cost you the attentions of Mr. Penniman.”  Alex mulled her position and the possibilities.  “And I should summon the coach and depart for the city, at once.”

“I do not follow.”  Molly blinked.  “And why should you leave?  Have I done something wrong?”

“No.  But I have done you wrong, and I vow to make amends.”  Alex clasped hands with Molly.  “Forget everything I told you, as you are a charming young woman, in your own right.  And never should you mask your true nature to attract a man, as you cannot build a future on a foundation of lies.  But I want you to keep the gown, as it suits you.”

“But what of you and Cap’n?”  Molly squeezed Alex’s fingers.  “I know you are not siblings.”

“Excuse me?”  Alex averted her stare, as it unnerved her that Molly had guessed the truth.  “I know not—”

“I swear I will never tell a soul.”  With another gentle wrench of Alex’s fingers, Molly said, “I confided in you. Will you not vouchsafe the same?”

For several seconds, Alex pondered Molly’s request.  How she wished her sisters were within reach, as she needed their wise counsel.  Given she had not apprised them of her destination, it was too late to divulge her secrets, and she desperately needed to talk to someone.

“You are correct, in that I am not what I have claimed.”  In minutes, Alex disclosed her identity, the length of Jason’s courtship, the plot involving Lance and Cara, and the ensuing disagreement with her captain, which had led to the spontaneous journey to Plymouth.  “I must face the fact that I may not be the woman Jason desires.  If I must alter my character to garner a proposal, then I am not the wife for Jason, as much as it pains me to admit it.”

“That is so unfair, in light of your efforts, which I think so very brave.”  Molly frowned and sipped her tea.  “By the way, this is delicious, but you should no longer assist with my chores, as you are a fine lady of rank, and I am far beneath your station.”

“No small thanks to you, as you taught me to brew tea.”  Alex reclined in her chair and drained her cup.  “And I deem your acquaintance priceless, dear friend, as you have made me a better person.  Caroline once said that polite society is anything but polite, and I did not quite comprehend her meaning, at the time.  But one of the perks of being the daughter of a duke is I can bend the dictates of feminine decorum, to a degree, without serious repercussions, and no one determines my alliances, so hell will freeze before I cede your fellowship.”

“Then promise you will not leave, at least, not yet.”  Molly refilled their cups.  “As I have so enjoyed your visit.  And I believe Cap’n cares for you.  Would you give up your fight before the battle is won?”

“No, as I am no coward.”  In silence, Alex calculated the days, as she would not risk discovery and a forced marriage, which she deemed a fate worse than death.  “All right.  I will stay a few more days—a sennight, at most.  But then I must return home.”

#

“What a deuced dilemma.”  Alex stood before the stove, stirring something in a pot.  “However am I to make sense of this mess?”

Jason closed the door quietly and tiptoed until his lady was within striking distance.  Without warning, he slipped his arm about her waist, rotated her to face him, and kissed her hard and fast.  “Perhaps I can be of service?”

“Oh, you horrible man.”  Her pitiful attempt at reproach fooled him not, in light of her arresting smile and glowing countenance.  “You startled me.”

“That was the plan, love.”  He nipped her nose and then set her at arm’s length, as he untied his cravat.  “So what troubles you?”

“Well, if you are sincere in your request, I tried to help Molly with her beau, but nothing went as planned.”  She returned her attention to the pot, as he shrugged from his greatcoat and frock.  “Now I am unsure how to correct the damage in her relationship with Mr. Penniman.”

At the washstand, he flinched.  “Alex, stay out of Molly’s affairs.”

“But I have to make things right, after—”

“No.”  He tossed the towel into the basin and rested hands on hips.  “Given your last disastrous turn at matchmaking, I will not allow you to meddle in my maid’s concerns, as I rely on her to run this house.”

“But—”

“I said no, and I meant it.”  The mere thought of his lady working her magic on the country boys gave Jason collywobbles.  “If you interfere in her dealings with Tom, I will put you over my knee and heat your posterior, so not another word about it.  Now, I am starved, so what is for dinner, as it smells delicious?”

“Filet of turbot with lobster sauce, boiled carrots, and fresh Bath buns.”  Alex pouted, and he longed to suckle her bottom lip.  “Have a seat at the table, and I will serve you.”

“I like the sound of that.”  When his society miss settled his plate before him, he scrutinized the fare.  In the interest of self-preservation, after her initial catastrophic gastric concoction, he approached every successive meal with a healthy does of caution.  To his utter amazement, Alex had managed to surprise him again.  “This is superb, darling.  You have outdone yourself.”

“I am glad you like it,” she murmured, as she shuffled a carrot in circles.

Wait a minute.  He paid his pampered miss a compliment, and she scarcely noted it.  No gloating, innuendos, or double-entendres?  “So did you have a pleasant day?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“And you cleaned my shirts?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Might I splay you on the sideboard?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“As I should much prefer to feast on the bounty between your legs.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“
Alex
.”  Jason pounded his fist on the table.

“What?”  She blinked and dropped her fork.  “Is something wrong?”

“May I have a glass of ale?” he inquired, with a smile.

“Of course.”  She jumped to her feet.  “How could I have been so forgetful, as I know you take ale with your dinner?”

It touched him that she showed genuine concern for his welfare.  And when he challenged her to assume partial responsibility for Molly’s chores, never had he presumed she would fulfill her part of the bargain with such gusto.  In her own way, she had won him all over again.

Yet he could not wed her.

At her young age, if he made Alex a war widow, she would be destined to spend her life as a plaything for the rich, passed about as a favored toy.  London society fretted not for her rank and connections, when it came to a failed marriage, regardless of the circumstances.  And he cared for Lady Seymour too much to condemn her to an empty existence as another man’s mistress, subject to the
ton’s
derision and censure for the capriciousness of fate.

“Jason, might I ask you a question?”  Alex handed him the glass of ale and returned to her seat.

“Anything, love.”  But he wondered if they could enter into an arrangement, which would enable her to continue her life sans the stigma of widowhood, should he meet his demise at sea, while binding them, should he survive.

“Do most men not appreciate bold women?” she inquired in a small voice.

“In what capacity?”  He surmised her query had everything to do with Molly and the stablemaster.

“I am uncertain.”  Alex shrugged.  “As a wife, I suppose.”

“In truth, no.”  On the few occasions he had dealt with Penniman, Jason presumed the lad would prefer Molly’s quiet, unassuming disposition.  “I would wager most men seek not a spirited bride, rather, they prefer the opposite.”

Of course, he neglected to mention that he tended toward the latter, when it came to her.

“Oh.”  Was it his imagination, or had she appeared crestfallen?

In deafening silence they dined, until Jason pushed back his chair, stood, and stretched.  “That turbot was inspiring, my lady.  Believe I shall read the newest edition of the
Mariner’s Mirror
.”

“Would you mind doing so in your bedchamber, as I wish to complete my kitchen chores and retire early.”  Alex collected and stacked the dirty dishes.  “And Molly wishes to teach me how to jar preserves, tomorrow.”