The Shipmaster's Daughter (5 page)

The dining room was vast, much like every other room in the house. Furnished with only a table, four chairs, and a buffet, the high ceilings and tall windows seemed to double the room’s size. Light flooded through the window, bathing the room with a soft glow. Above the buffet was a large portrait of a young woman. She stood before a square pillar, holding a white fan in her hand. A straw hat with white feathers sat upon her head of rich auburn hair. Her nose and lips were both pinched, but she didn’t appear unfriendly. In fact, her mouth was somewhere between a smile and a smirk, as if she were about to tell a devilish secret.

“Who is she?” Luciana broke the heavy silence, eager to divert her mind away from her aggravating day. “She’s beautiful.”

Reed looked over his shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Katherine, my late wife.”

Luciana bit her lower lip and drew her eyes away from the portrait. Death seemed to follow her. First her mother, then her father and brothers, and now she was staying in the home of a widower.

“So, Miss Renaldi, how long do you think you’ll be staying with us?” he asked as he methodically folded his newspaper.

“Forever,” Esther said.

Luciana’s eyes drifted down the table. She felt her upper lip curl into somewhat of a smile. In truth it felt like a grimace, but what could she do? She’d always felt uncomfortable around children. With limited experience and limited interest, Esther had Luciana feeling squirmish. Reed didn’t respond to his daughter, but the hard set of his jaw made Luciana think they agreed on one thing: She should be out of Yellow Brook as soon as possible.

“I’ll be gone once I can secure passage back to Italia. I must write my aunts and see if they’ll take me in.”

“Yes, of course. You are…welcome to stay until that passage is finalized.” He avoided her eyes and focused instead on the wilted flowers.

Luciana sighed heavily, no longer concerned about masking her irritation. Why did he make it seem like her presence was the worst thing to happen to him? Weren’t the English supposed to be hospitable and caring? He was quite the opposite.

“You’re too generous,
Signore
Hargrave.”

At her biting and harsh tone, she should have expected the sharp glare he sent her. He’d done it before. But the steely stare made her look away in embarrassment. Perhaps she should have tried a little harder to suppress her feelings. A gentle touch on her shoulder saved her from any unfeeling words he might have for her.

“Miss Renaldi?” A young girl stood behind her chair, shoulders slumped, face ridden with red blemishes of youth.

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Peters says she has a message for you.”

A spark of hope ignited in Luciana’s chest. Had someone back home heard about the shipwreck already? Had they sent her passage back? “A message?”

“Yes, miss.” She cocked her head toward the door on the left.

Luciana pushed her chair back, rising slowly. She nodded to Reed, who looked at her and then back at his paper, mumbling something incoherent under his breath. She glanced at Esther whose blue eyes, much like those of her father, shimmered.

“Mi scusi,”
she muttered and followed the girl from the room.

Once in the hallway, air flooded her lungs. The atmosphere in the dining room was constricting, more so than she thought. Reed was difficult. Why anyone would feel compelled to marry him, she didn’t know. Granted, she had tried to sneak into his office and had been bitingly rude at least once, but he should allow her a measure of grace considering her circumstances. Shouldn’t he?

After regaining her composure, she glanced about the hall. Mrs. Peters wasn’t there.

“Where is
Signora
Peters?” she asked, furrowing her brow. The girl beside her simply raised her shoulders in uncertainty.

“I’m here, child.” Mrs. Peters deep voice sounded as she skirted around the corner.

“You have a message for me?” Luciana asked. She willed the hope spreading through her chest to stop. She only knew of two living relatives in Italy. It was highly unlikely they knew of the wreck. Even so, it was difficult to keep hope at bay.

“I have a message of my own for you,” Mrs. Peters said. “Tread lightly, Miss Renaldi.”

Luciana recoiled, shocked by the woman’s abrupt words. She frowned and poised to defend herself from whatever else Mrs. Peters had to say, but the other woman continued.

“I know you’re lost and far away from home, but this is not Italy. I—
We
care for Mr. Hargrave and his family greatly. We do not appreciate blatant sarcasm and nosey guests. Especially when those guests have no reason for being here.”

Blinking, Luciana shook her head. “I’m sorry,
Signora
, but have I done something to offend you?”

Mrs. Peters batted her eyelashes, the corners of her mouth pulling in to a sly smile. “I’m only warning you of what trouble might come if actions like such in the dinning room were to continue.”

The message was a strike between Luciana’s eyes. Continue acting the way she was and she would get tossed out before figuring a way home. She pulled her lips into a tight line and nodded. Embarrassment bloomed in her chest. Mrs. Peters was right. She had no reason for being in Yellow Brook yet Reed continued to let her stay, and she’d acted rotten toward him.

From now on, she would be careful, just as Mrs. Peters warned. The house was full of eyes: the eyes of the housekeeper, the daughter, the owner. They were all watching her. And if she had any hope of getting home, she would need to watch her step.

Later that evening, after at last locating a sheet of paper, Luciana sat in her bedroom to pen a letter to her great aunts. They were nearing the age of seventy-five and widows, living together in a ramshackle home outside of Venice. She hadn’t seen them since she was eight years old and doubted they would even remember her. But if Luciana was to travel home, she needed somewhere to go. Despite wanting to make her own way, she was brave enough to admit she needed a little bit of guidance. Surely her aunts would be willing to provide wisdom and help?

Setting pen to paper, she wrote a short letter and wasted in no time in superfluous words:

She reread her letter twice before deeming it good enough. After finding their address scrawled on one of the pages in her father’s books, she sealed the letter shut and set it aside. It was her hope and prayer that within the next few weeks she would hear back from them and be able to return home. In the meantime, she would do whatever she could to make as little trouble as possible. She owed Reed that much.

Chapter 6

A
week had passed since Miss Renaldi—Luciana as Esther told him—informed Reed she’d written her aunts. To his great relief, he had seen little of her. Though she ate with them, she kept herself locked away in her room throughout the day. Sometimes he saw her outside standing in the knoll beyond his study window. And then there were the times he passed by her in the conservatory.

During their meals together, she sat quietly, staring at her plate with great interest. When he passed her in the hallway, she looked away. But when she was in the conservatory, he could hear her humming, murmuring to herself as she strolled through the aisles. It was the most at peace he’d seen her. He was glad she kept to herself, although part of him wondered what her story was. He didn’t wonder enough to warrant asking.

With a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other, Reed lounged in his chair. Finally a moment’s peace. Esther had pestered him the entire morning, requesting to play dolls. He had given in, of course, because he always did, and spent the better part of the morning playing as Mrs. Susie Mills, mother doll. Now he simply wanted to sit back, drink his wine, and read his book.

A knock on the door snatched his dream away like loose paper in the wind.

“Come in.” Reed snapped his book shut. It thudded on the desk

Peters poked his head around the door, looking sheepish. “Sir, Mr. Lipold is here to see you.”

The name sent Reed’s eyebrows rising. Jack Lipold was his oldest, and quite possibly his last, remaining friend. He’d been away on the continent for some time, wasting his inheritance on drink, women, and oriental rugs. Reed had heard little from his friend, but after writing him detailing the news from the last two weeks, he supposed Lipold couldn’t keep himself away. He’d always harbored a flare for the dramatics, and anytime someone was on the brink of scandal, Jack made sure he was there just in time for the story to break.

“Is he?”

“Yes, sir. He’s waiting in the foyer.”

“Thank you, Peters. You may go.” Reed rose from his chair and adjusted his waistcoat with a sharp tug. After making sure the ribbon at the base of his neck still secured his hair, Reed left his office, locking the door behind him.

He found Jack, as Peters had said, standing in the foyer, studying the vaulted ceiling. Jack was a few inches shorter than Reed’s six foot two frame, but he walked as though he towered over every head in the room. His face was round and padded with extra fat on the cheeks. With smooth, slicked back brown hair, women never failed to look his way when he entered a room. Though it wasn’t his looks that enticed them. It was his cheery personality and penchant for giving out one too many compliments throughout the course of an evening.

“Lipold,” Reed said when he reached the bottom step.

Jack looked away from the ceiling, his laughter echoing as he extended his hand. “Goodness, Hargrave, you look more and more like a beast every time I see you.”

Reed bit the inside of his cheek. A grin threatened to take over his face, but he refused to give in. He shook Jack’s hand with a few strong pumps and let go. “I’m not sure if I should accept that as a compliment.”

Jack smirked. “You shouldn’t.”

“I will anyway.”

“As you always do.” Jack elbowed Reed and then rubbed his hands together. “So, where is this Italian beauty?”

Reed cocked his head to the side. “I don’t recall mentioning such a person.”

“Come off it, Reed. You mentioned in your letter an Italian girl was staying with you. Everyone knows Italian women are the most beautiful. I want to see her.”

“Miss Renaldi? I hadn’t noticed her appearance.” Which was an outright lie. He had noticed her striking beauty when he first saw her sprawled out on the shore. And when she cleaned herself up, she looked even better. But Jack didn’t need to know that.

“You’re an awful liar, Reed, but I will get you to admit it before I go.”

Leaning forward, Reed narrowed his eyes. “Which I’m hoping is after supper?”

Jack clasped his hand against his chest. “You wound me. Is that any way to treat an old friend? I’ve been gone for months and you want me gone the day I arrive.”

A rueful smirk crossed Reed’s face. “Precisely.”

“That’s too bad, because I’ll be here for the unforeseen future.” His grin quivered, the humor in his voice gone. “I was evicted while away, it seems. I don’t know whatever happened to British hospitality.” He pointed to three trunks in the corner. “Those are my things.”

Reed wanted to be angry. All he wanted was a little peace, but Jack was a friend. He helped friends in need regardless of their annoying habits and hankering for card games that lasted until well after midnight. With a groan, he clapped Jack on the shoulder.

“I’ll get Peters to set you up a room.”

“Make sure it’s next to Miss Renaldi.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Reed huffed and dropped his hand. “Doubtful.”

“Uncle Jack! Uncle Jack!”

Both men turned to see Esther tearing down the stairs, Brigette close at her heels. Poor Brigette was anything but a governess. The girl was better suited for the kitchens. Reed made a mental note to speak with Mrs. Peters on the subject.

Jack caught Esther in his arms when she threw herself at him and twirled her about the foyer. Esther’s giggles and Jack’s laughter mingled together to create a booming noise throughout the hall. Reed couldn’t help but smile. Jack set Esther back on her feet and gave her chin a quick squeeze.

“How is my sunflower?” he asked, bending to her height.

“Better than all the rest,” she answered. She spun in a circle, arms outstretched. “Do you like my dress, Uncle Jack? It’s brand new, from London.”

Jack cast Reed a surprised glance. Reed could only shrug. He indulged his daughter too much but what else was he to do? She was motherless, practically friendless, living with—what had Jack called him?—a beast of a father. He could put the money from his inheritance and Katherine’s dowery to good use by spoiling her once and awhile.