Surrender the Dawn (21 page)

Luke headed for the front door, the
slip-tap
of Mrs. Barnes’s slippers following him.

“What business do you have?” she demanded.

Luke swept the door open and stepped outside. “I’m not gambling, sweet lady, if that’s what you fear. I’m helping Noah bring cannons to the fort.” He headed down the pathway. “Although I may attempt my hand at cards this evening,” he shouted over his shoulders with a wink.

With an exasperated snort, she waved him off. “You are incorrigible.” Then chuckling, she closed the door.

Cassandra stepped out from the mercantile, her mother, Darlene, and Mr. Dayle following behind her. She lifted her face to the hot sun. Summer’s warm abundance was at full swing. Not just in the weather, but in Cassandra’s family, in her life, in her heart. Until now, Cassandra hadn’t believed in fresh starts. She hadn’t believed in miracles. But today, anything seemed possible. The scent of sweet ferns drifted by her nose. A bell rang in the distance accompanied by the
clip clop
of horses’ hooves over the cobblestones.

“Where are we going now, dear?” her mother asked as Darlene slipped her hand within Cassandra’s.

Cassandra glanced down at her list. “Let’s see. We’ve paid the mercantile, the chandler, blacksmith, millinery, cobbler, and the seamstress. Now all we’ve got to do is pay the butcher and then buy something delicious for dinner. Perhaps a chicken to make some soup for Hannah. And also some cinnamon to settle her stomach.”

Turning, she glanced at Mr. Dayle who was already loaded down with packages and sacks. “Just a few more stops, Mr. Dayle.”

“No bother, miss.”

Her mother patted her tight golden curls. “Oh, I would so love some
new fabric for a gown. I haven’t had one in months.”

“Can we wait on that, Mother?” Cassandra headed down the brick pathway. “I don’t want to spend money on luxuries just yet.”

“But we have so much money.” Her mother tugged at her white gloves with a whine.

For now. But it would be gone in a flash if Cassandra allowed her mother full rein to buy whatever she wished. Why, the entire amount would be gone within the year. And if Cassandra’s brothers never returned, and Mr. Heaton never captured another prize …

And Cassandra never married—which appeared to be a greater possibility with each passing year.

“We must make it last, Mother. You don’t want us to end up destitute again, do you?”

“No, of course not, dear. But we should enjoy our success.” She furrowed her brows at Cassandra. “What has happened to you? You used to live life so vivaciously, with reckless abandon.”

“I seem to recall that you detest that about me.”

“Well, I did. I do,” she mumbled. “I simply do not see why you must change now.”

Halting, Cassandra gave her mother an incredulous look. “I took on the support of the family, Mother. I had to grow up.”

“Oh, pish.” Her mother plucked out a handkerchief and began dabbing her neck. “You are so much like your father. He never let me buy anything.”

“Father took good care of us.” Cassandra proceeded down the walkway.

Friends and acquaintances waved at them as they made their way through the crowds. A few stopped to stare, their heads dipping in conversation as they passed. No doubt discussing Cassandra’s recent privateering success. Baltimore kept few secrets. But Cassandra didn’t care. Whether they approved of her business venture or of whom she had chosen to align with, she had done what few women had. She had provided for her family. More than provided, in fact.

With her head held high, her list and reticule in one hand, and Darlene holding the other, Cassandra sauntered down Baltimore Street.

“Mr. Heaton!” Darlene slipped away from Cassandra and dashed down the street.

“Darlene, ladies do not run!” her mother yelled after her, but to no avail.

“Oh, bother.” Holding her hat down against a blast of hot wind, Cassandra stormed after the girl, weaving in between people, horses, carriages, and wagons, leaving a trail of angry rebukes in her wake. “Pardon me.” Cassandra attempted to placate one angry footman who sat atop a fancy phaeton as he jerked his horse out of her way. She continued onward.

Then she saw him.

Dressed in his usual black breeches, white shirt, and black waistcoat, Mr. Heaton was perched on the seat of a wagon beside Noah and Marianne. Spotting Darlene, he yanked on the reins and leapt to the ground just as the little girl halted before him. He leaned down and laid a finger on her nose, giving her one of those smiles that would melt any female heart. Then straightening his back, his eyes met Cassandra’s and an odd moment of understanding stretched between them before he graced her with the same smile. Only this one held a hint of desire that made her stomach spin.

“You’re looking lovely today, Miss Channing,” he said when she approached.

Cassandra tugged her sister away from him, remembering the ease with which this swaggering rake thought he could procure a kiss from her. “Save your flattery, sir. I am not a woman easily swayed by idle words.”

“Then pray tell, miss, what
does
sway you?” He cocked his head with a smile.

Noah cleared his throat.

“Forgive me, Noah.” Cassandra gazed up at her friends. “Marianne, so good to see you.”

“And you.” She dipped her head, a knowing grin on her lips.

“Darlene, how many times have I told you to not run off like that?” Her mother’s shrill voice blasted over them from behind. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she greeted Marianne and Noah.

“Good day, Mrs. Channing. Mr. Dayle,” Marianne said.

“Congratulations on your privateering success, Cassandra.” Noah took the reins and stilled the horse.

“I believe it is Mr. Heaton you should congratulate,” Cassandra said.

“Indeed,” Noah replied. “But the credit goes to you for choosing a good captain.”

Luke rubbed his palms and looked away as if embarrassed by the compliment. Sunlight turned his hair into liquid obsidian.

“Do forgive us for not getting down,” Marianne offered, “but we
must be on our way.”

“Where are you heading?” Cassandra peered in the back of the wagon where thick sheets of canvas covered up whatever they were hauling.

“Naval guns.” Mr. Heaton flipped an errant strand of hair from his face and squinted in the sunlight.

Noah tipped his hat up and glanced toward the bay. “Major Armistead and General Smith asked us to strip them from any idle ships in order to reinforce the fort.”

Cassandra’s mother plucked out her fan. “Oh my, he doesn’t expect an attack on Baltimore, does he?”

“Just a precaution, I’m sure, Mrs. Channing,” Noah said.

Cassandra turned to Mr. Heaton. “I had no idea you were so patriotic.”

His eyes smiled. “There is much you don’t know about me.”

Darlene tugged on Cassandra’s skirt. “Can Mr. Heaton come for dinner?” She looked up at him. “We’re having a celebration tonight.”

Cassandra’s mother groaned. “I’m sure Mr. Heaton has far more”—she scanned him with disdain—“interesting things with which to entertain himself.”

Mr. Heaton’s shoulders seemed to sag.

Embarrassed by her mother’s impudence, Cassandra took a step toward him. She owed him a great deal. Certainly the least she could do was offer him a decent supper. As a bachelor, he no doubt rarely partook of a home-cooked meal. Besides, the prospect of getting to know him better was not completely without appeal.

Though why she dared not ponder overmuch.

“What could be more interesting than a fine meal?” Cassandra asked. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Heaton?” Yet even as she said it, Cassandra could not in good conscience apply the description to Miss Thain’s cooking. “I insist you join us.”

Darlene smiled up at Luke and grabbed his hand.

“That’s quite impossible, dear.” Cassandra’s mother snapped her fan shut. “I’ve already invited Mr. Crane for supper tonight.”

Cassandra’s stomach soured. “You did? When?”

“Why yesterday, dear. He came to call on you, but you were busy attending to Hannah.”

“Oh, bother.” Cassandra tapped her foot. It would never do to have them both to dinner. Especially after Mr. Heaton had all but pushed Mr.
Crane into the bay.

By the look of amusement on his face, Mr. Heaton was no doubt enjoying the same memory.

“How is your sister faring?” His tone sobered to one of true concern.

“Much better, thank you.” Cassandra eyed him curiously.

Marianne grabbed her husband’s arm. “We’re very happy to hear it.”

A breeze swirled around Cassandra, cooling the perspiration on her neck. Laughter shot from a group of men across the way. Oh, what did it matter if Mr. Crane was coming? It should be up to Mr. Heaton to decide if he wished to endure the man’s presence or not. She wished she had the same choice. Besides, Mr. Heaton would offer a pleasant diversion from Mr. Crane’s annoying ways. “Do say you’ll come to dinner, Mr. Heaton.”

His pointed gaze shifted from Cassandra to her mother and back to Cassandra as if considering the genuineness of the invitation. He must have decided the offer was sincere—at least on Cassandra’s part—for he dipped his head and said, “I’d be happy to accept.”

Ignoring her mother’s groan and shrugging off the odd delight that drifted through her, Cassandra gazed up at her friends still seated on the wagon. “And you must come too, Marianne and Noah. We have much to celebrate.”

The couple exchanged a loving glance. “Some other time perhaps.” A pink hue blossomed on Marianne’s cheeks. “This is Noah’s last night in town before he sails out again.”

“Oh, I see.” Cassandra’s face heated, and she shifted her gaze, noting a twinkle in Mr. Heaton’s eyes.

“Very well, then.” Cassandra cleared her throat, suddenly anxious to leave the awkward scene. “I should allow you to attend your business. Good day to you all.” Tugging Darlene away from Mr. Heaton, she turned and headed down the street. “Seven o’clock sharp, Mr. Heaton,” she shot over her shoulder.

“See you tonight,” Darlene shouted as they made their way once again across the street.

Cassandra bit her lip. Mr. Crane, Mr. Heaton, and Cassandra’s mother all eating at the same table. Yes, this would be a very interesting evening, indeed.

  CHAPTER 15  

L
uke waited for the ladies to take their seats before sinking into his chair around the oblong table covered in white linen. Pewter dishes, crystal goblets, and silver platters glowed beneath the light of several candles perched at the center. From her spot at the head of the table, Mrs. Channing glared at him with the same disapproving scowl she’d worn since Luke had first entered the house and been led into the parlor. Where he’d been curtly reintroduced to Mr. Milton Crane, the foppish cur who now took a seat beside him. The man had grunted that he’d already had the pleasure of Luke’s acquaintance, but both his spiteful tone, and the way he assessed Luke as if he were a spoiled piece of meat, spoke otherwise. Thankfully, Crane’s pride forbade him to mention his swim in Baltimore Bay for Luke doubted he could apologize for something that still brought a smile to his lips.

And though Miss Channing had attempted to include Luke in the pre-dinner conversation—an action that endeared her to him even more—the banter between her mother and Mr. Crane would not permit a word.