“Mother,” Alice gasped. “You know that Mr. Caldwell is much more than a mere tradesman. Why must you belittle him so? He is so much more than most of the men of the ton. The men you find so superior follow his lead, wait for his suggestion, depend upon his council. Why can’t you see what kind of man he is?”
Her mother’s pen stopped writing as she looked up to study her daughter. Her brow knitted in deep wrinkles as she looked deep into her daughter's eyes.
“You’ve grown fond of him,” her mother said gently. “Too fond, it appears. Remember dear. He is a rake at heart. He will never give you what you desire. Besides, he holds no title.”
“Is a title so important?” Alice asked before she realized she had not denied being fond of Mr. Caldwell.
Her mother continued to look at her, reading her soul.
“Yes, you know it is,” her mother said as if stating the obvious. But as she continued to look at her daughter, her eyes softened and she added, “Important, but not critical. Ladies have been known to marry an untitled gentleman. It happens. It is frowned upon. But it does happen.”
Alice winced inside. “Who said anything about marriage. I meant was a title important in how you judge a man.”
Her mother smiled, as she returned to writing to Lord Bradford. “As you well know, Alice. Ultimately, everything is about marriage.”
A sharp pain settled in the bottom of her stomach as she realized that her mother would never truly accept Nathanial. That he would never be able to meet her high standards. The thought saddened her.
What is more, she realized. Deep down, her mother didn’t think that a man such as Nathanial could love.
Please, she silently begged. Come home Nathanial, and prove her wrong.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nathanial spun the wheel, bringing the boat onto a starboard tack. Yes, he thought as he smiled to himself. He needed to do this more often. The taste of salt in the air, an easterly wind at his back, the sun setting in the west. It made a man feel one with the world.
Adjusting the helm slightly, he brought the boat onto a tighter course, his knees bending each time she dipped her bow into a wave. Yes, life was good.
Alice would love this, he thought. Oh, maybe not the channel. Not on her first voyage. But a gentle lake, or even the Thames. A nice day, a gentle wind. Yes, she would thoroughly enjoy it.
The thought of Alice sent a warm sadness through him. He missed her. It had only been two days. Yet he missed her. Everything about her. The way she glided across the room, her hips moving to some secret beat. The way her smile could light up his world and make him happy to be alive.
Shaking his head at his silliness, he tried to focus on the boat and keeping it on course. There would be time enough for Lady Alice Weston once this task was completed. Until then, he needed to remain focused.
“We’re making good time,” Warwick said as he stepped out of the cabin with a mug clutched in each hand. “I thought you might want this,” he said handing him one.
Nathanial took the mug and nodded his thanks as he took a sip. Damn, the rum burned all the way down.
“There’s a bottle of good whiskey down there, in the forward cabinet,” he croaked around the fire burning inside of him.
Warwick smiled as he took a sip. “I thought you sailors lived on rum?”
Nathanial laughed as he took another sip. Perhaps Warwick was right. Rum and waves and wind just seemed to go together.
“Jocko asleep?” he asked.
Warwick nodded. “It’s going to be a long night.”
Nathanial nodded as his stomach turned over. Things had to go well. He had plans for his future. Nothing must be allowed to interfere.
“Listen,” Warwick said as a serious expression came over his face. “If something happens. I want you and Jocko to abandon me.”
Nathanial pursed his lips, then smiled. “Of course.”
Warwick smiled at his friend's humor. “No, I am serious. If things go bad, you and Jocko break off. I’ll find another way home.”
Nathanial slowly shook his head at Warwick's ignorance. “You know perfectly well that we won’t. If the information is so important that you are willing to risk your life to obtain it. Then obviously, we must do so as well.”
Lord Warwick sighed as he leaned against the lee rail and gazed out at the distant French coast.
“So, Lady Alice,” he said as he glanced at his friend.
“What about her?” Nathanial asked as he fought the rising panic inside of him. This was the last thing he wished to discuss with Warwick at the moment.
“You should have seen Benson’s face when you kissed her goodbye,” Warwick said with a grin. “Not something he has been exposed to very often, I would wager.”
Nathanial scoffed. “My butler’s feelings on the matter are not a major concern at the moment. Getting you in and out of enemy territory is taking precedence for some reason.”
Warwick laughed. “Still, you haven’t explained your intentions with the Lady in question.”
Nathanial frowned as he studied his friend. Why the sudden interest in Lady Alice? Ah, the wager he realized. Lord Warwick wanted to know if he was going to win their bet.
“My intentions are none of your concern.”
“I don’t know,” Lord Warwick said with a smile. “Remember our wager. A thousand pounds will be very nice. Registering your loss in the book will be even better.”
Nathanial felt a sudden surge of anger at the thought of losing. But then a happy feeling quickly replaced it as he thought about what he would be getting in return.
“I don’t know, my friend,” Nathanial said. “Sometimes, a loss can turn into the best of wins.”
Warwick studied him for a long moment before returning to looking out over the waves. What could the man say? Deep in his heart, he knew that Nathanial was right. A man who could win Lady Alice Weston was a man who had won at life.
Looking to port, Nathanial glanced at an approaching squall. Yes, life was good. A following sea, a stiff breeze, the slap of the waves against a wooden hull, and a beautiful woman waiting for him at home. What more could a man want?
Later that night, a deep blackness engulfed their entire world. No moon and enough clouds to block out most of the starlight. A smugglers dream, he thought. Warwick had been right, this was the perfect night to approach the French coast undetected.
Jocko took the helm, explaining that he’d have to feel his way in. Nathanial nodded as he made his way to the mast, ready to adjust the sails as needed. Warwick was forward, ready to let go the anchor when directed.
Jocko froze for a moment, his ear cocked to the wind. Nathanial watched the Breton, waiting for instructions. He’d have to act fast to keep the boat in trim.
A distant splash drew their attention.
“The mermaid’s rocks,” Jocko said with a deep smile. Turning the wheel quickly, he brought the small craft onto a new course. “I had to know where they were before we could go in.”
Nathanial nodded. Like he had thought, the Breton was feeling his way in like a blind man in a strange room.
“Tighten her up a bit, Capt’n,” Jocko said as he adjusted his course.
Nathanial pulled the line hand over hand, bringing the boom into starboard. Glancing back, he caught Jocko nodding yes.
This is going to be close, Nathanial thought. The darkness made things much more difficult. If he had been commanding a ship, he would have hove-to and awaited the morning. That, however, was not an option.
“Almost,” Jocko whispered to Warwick. “When I tell you, let her go gently, no splash. Half of that Corsican bastard’s navy might be out there for all we know.”
Warwick nodded that he understood. Sound traveled far over the water. And no boat would be out in this night unless they were up to no good. Any sound, any light, and they might be discovered.
“Let her go,” Jocko whispered sharply.
Warwick slowly lowered the anchor while Nathan
ial pulled in the sail. Each of them held their breath as they waited to see if the anchor would hold. After a long pause, the small boat swung into the wind and settled. Nathanial sighed to himself. Things were going well.
Within seconds, they had the small skiff over the side. Nathanial reached out a hand to help Warwick down.
“Two lights,” he said to his friend. “Let us know you’re coming, we’ll answer with one to let you know it’s clear.” Nathanial glanced at the lantern atop the cabin, it had been rigged with blinders to ensure the light was only seen from the beach.
Warwick nodded. “If I’m not back by morning, you break away and try again tomorrow. I know the plan.”
Nathanial laughed slightly, “Just see that you hurry. I’ve got something I need to take care of at home.”
Warwick smiled as he pushed away and slotted his oars.
Nathanial watched him take two quick strokes and the man was gone. As if he had been swallowed by a dark beast.
“Now we wait,” Jocko whispered as he stared off into the darkness.
Yes, now we wait, Nathanial thought. We should be well. As long as a storm didn’t show up or the French navy, or a dozen other things that could go wrong. Why was he so worried? he wondered.
Because of Alice, he realized. Now that he had so much to look forward to, this little adventure didn’t hold the same appeal.
Sighing to himself, he took up position aft while Jocko shifted forward. He knew the area. Better he focused landward while Nathanial focused to the sea. Hopefully, they would discover any danger long before it reached them.
.o0o.
That was the thing about a night such as this, Nathanial thought. The lack of stars and moon made it hard to judge the time. Surely it had been hours. Had Warwick found his man? What if he had been captured and word sent to the Port Master just down the coast?
A quick glance at to the east showed no hint of the coming morn. He hated waiting, always had. But a sailor’s life was filled with such moments and he had long ago learned how to pass the time.
Dreams, wishes, and plans for the future filled his head. And each of them centered on a particularly beautiful woman named Lady Alice Weston.
He had seen it in her eyes. She would say yes. He knew people, he understood what they were thinking even when they tried to hide it from him. Yes, Lady Alice Weston would have agreed if he had but uttered the words.
But what if he was wrong? What if he had misread her? Surely the thought of a Lady marrying a commoner would make her hesitate. The fear of being attached to him for the rest of her life might make her balk. Alice was an intelligent woman. Surely, she could see all of the reasons that such a match might be difficult.
No, he told himself, he would not let such doubts and fears work their way into his heart. No, as soon as he returned he would formally ask her for her hand.
What had Alice’s day been like? he wondered, the question making him smile. Had she and Olivia gone shopping? Or had they spent a quiet day at home, reading, doing their needlepoint, planning their next campaign in the ton? Perhaps a day of visiting other ladies or a ride in the park.
Whatever it had been, he prayed that she had enjoyed herself. He also slightly hoped she had missed him a little.
His stomach rumbled with hunger and his first thought was to wonder what Alice had eaten that evening. Whatever it had been, it surely must have been more palatable than the hardtack and salt pork he had shared with Jocko and Warwick.
Smiling to himself he shook his head. God how he missed her.
A sound in the distance caught his attention. Furrowing his brow, he leaned forward to try and make it out.
Glancing forward he peered through the gloom to barely see Jocko doing the same. He’d heard it too.
Nathanial’s heart raced as he focused everything on that spot off the starboard stern.
Yes, there it was again. A short slap of a sound. His brow narrowed as he tried to discern its meaning. Then it hit him, the sound of a wave hitting a wooden boat.
“Damn,” he cursed under his breath. “Slip the anchor,” he hissed to Jocko but the man was already bent over the rail cutting the rope.
Nathanial raced to the boom to haul up the sail as his heart pounded. Desperately, he tried to work out how close they were. It would make all the difference.
Jocko slid past him to take the helm while Nathanial hauled at the halyard. Already he could feel the fishing boat starting to fall off as it responded to the wind in its sail. They had the windward advantage. But would it be enough?
The real question was, could they get away before being discovered? A thousand thoughts ran through his mind as he made the line fast and turned to peer into the darkness.
There, off the stern, the sound again. Yes, most definitely a wave hitting a hull. Then a new sound reached his ears and his soul turned cold. A French command, someone ordering a torch be lit.
The dark night was broken by the sudden glare of an oil-soaked torch bursting into flame as a sailor held it forward, peering into the night.
A French cutter.
Behind the man with the torch, two other sailors with muskets aimed towards them. Nathanial didn’t hesitate. This was war, and capture meant a long, painful death. Reaching atop the cabin he grabbed the musket and made sure the prime was still good to go.
Swinging around, he took careful aim. He’d only get one chance at this. The boat rocked as he tried to hold the weapon steady. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly and pulled the trigger.
The torchbearer screamed and dropped his light over the side as he crumpled to the deck.
Nathanial didn’t waste time admiring his shot. Instead, he grabbed the powder horn and began to reload. Every part of his being was desperate to get the weapon recharged. His future with Alice depended upon it.
The bright muzzle flash had ruined his night sight and returned the world to darkness. A blanket hiding them from sight. They might make it, he thought as he slammed the rod down the barrel.
“Tirer,” someone yelled in French.
“Damn,” Nathanial mumbled as the night was torn by the explosion from the French muskets. It was the last word he said before his world turned to black.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alice’s fingers shook as she tried to pull the needle through her work. Eight days, she thought. Eight, long, and miserable days. The worst days of her life without a doubt.
He had promised her he would return within four, five at the most. Yet, here it was more than a week since he left and still no word.
Where was he? Was he well? Was he even now, laying injured in a ditch somewhere? These and a thousand other questions tore at her soul. The not knowing was the worst. Her world was filled with doubt and questions. And there was no one to turn to. No one who could fix her problem.
Oh, how she had come to rely on Nathanial, she realized. He would fix her problem in but a moment.
Bending over her work, she saw that she had missed her stitch. Biting her lip, she pushed the needle back through and tried again while her mind began to wander to a dozen different thoughts.
She should have pressed him before he left. Should have demanded to know what was so important that it could take him away so easily. Her stomach turned over with fear. What if he never returned. What if she never again looked upon his face. Never saw that twinkle in his eye or felt his arms around her, making the world feel safe. How would she ever live without Nathanial Caldwell?
Sighing heavily, she stopped for a moment and glanced at her mother and Olivia in the corner, both of them trying to read. Both of them visibly worried. Like her, they could well imagine the thousand things that could have taken Nathanial from them.
Her mother glanced up and studied her for a moment. The look of concern in her eyes did nothing to make her feel any easier.
I have to say this, Alice thought to herself. I have to tell them, I will surely burst if I don’t. Holding back any longer would not change anyt
hing. And if she told someone, perhaps it would ease the pain.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “I have something I need to tell you, Mother. You too, Olivia.”
Both of the women looked at her with obvious concern.
“Before he left,” Alice began hesitantly, “I believe that Mr. Caldwell was about to ask for my hand.” There. It was out. The words that had been tearing away at her stomach were finally spoken.
“What?” her mother demanded.
“It’s about time,” Olivia said with a soft smile. “I knew he would.”
“Did he say anything to you?” Alice asked the young woman. Surprised at the anger that jumped inside of her. Had he taken the time to discuss it with his sister? Yet couldn’t spare an extra five minutes to formally ask her.
Olivia shook her head, “No, but I know my brother. He looked at you the way he looked at his first ship. As if you were his and nothing would ever take you away from him.”
“What did you tell him?” her mother interjected. “Did you accept? Why am I just now learning of this?”
“He didn’t formally ask me, Mother. We were interrupted before he could express his desires. I never had the opportunity to accept.”
Her mother stared at her for a long moment, studying her daughter for any lie or deception.
“Details,” Olivia said with a small laugh. “I want to know everything.”
Alice sighed and told them the story. How Nathanial had been nervous. Of his statement about how little he had to offer when compared to a titled gentleman. How she had been so certain he was about to ask her when Lord Warwick interrupted him.
Olivia continued to smile, obviously enraptured by the romance of the entire situation.
“And how would you have responded?” her mother asked sharply.
Alice took a deep breath and began to respond when Olivia interceded.
“Why yes, of course,” Olivia said. “What woman in England wouldn’t fall in love with Nathanial? I ask you. He’s handsome, extremely wealthy, kind, considerate, strong, and very protective. What more could a woman want in a man?”
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