A Daring Captain for Her Loyal Heart: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance

by Abby Ayles

  “But you really must agree that it was completely unfair,” Juliana protested. “It is perfectly acceptable, and even expected, that I should sit with my cousin. But that common girl was no one to him at all, and he had no business being with her at a public gathering like that.”

  “So you think he should have met her in private?” Mary asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

  “You know full well that is not what I am saying,” Juliana huffed. “Honestly, Mary, sometimes I really do think that you don’t even listen. Either that, or you are being dense on purpose.”

  “Mother always told me that a man prefers a dense wife,” Mary replied diffidently.

  “That may be so, but a woman desires an intelligent friend,” Juliana told her, smiling.

  “And an intelligent woman might be able to make her friend smile,” Mary said. “Thus distracting her from her current woes.”

  “Very cleverly done,” Juliana conceded. “But you really must agree it is quite unfair.”

  “It was,” Mary said. “I agree with you. You are right in all things.”

  “Now you are being too clever,” Juliana complained. “Go back to being dense again.”

  “As my lady commands,” Mary said, executing a perfect curtsy.

  Their laughter was curtailed by the appearance of the Lady Ascot, with John Woode by her side.

  “Baroness,” Juliana said. “What a pleasant day it is today.”

  The Baroness’s gaze did not waver. She did not look up to the sky, nor did her expression change. “I am sure,” she said. “You two girls seem to be enjoying it well enough, out here in the garden.”

  “Of course,” Juliana said, smiling. “The spring here is the most pleasant time of the year. The sun is just beginning to shine again, though not yet so fiercely that we fear harm to our skin.”

  “All the same, you ought to wear gloves,” the Baroness said, taking in Mary and Juliana’s bare hands. “It’s not right for a young English lady to be out in the sun without coverings. You will burn.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Mary ducked her head.

  Juliana tried her best to look abashed, even if she didn’t really feel it. The old woman was so stern, and out of touch. It must have been a hundred years since she was young.

  “Will you walk with me through the town, Lady Juliana?” John Woode spoke up. “I wish to stroll by the Royal Crescent, and back along through the park.”

  Juliana was taken aback for a moment. She glanced at Mary. Was this an invitation for the both of them?

  “Lady Mary, perhaps you can occupy yourself with some embroidery,” the Baroness suggested with an arched brow.

  That put an end to any confusion - it was a walk designed just for Juliana and John.

  Which brought to mind a rather startling realization indeed.

  “Might I speak with my friend for a moment?” Juliana asked, as politely as she could muster. “There is some instruction I must give her regarding a piece we are working on together. After that, I shall be free to join you.”

  John Woode inclined his head graciously, and though the Baroness looked unimpressed, she gave no comment.

  Juliana took this as agreement and ushered Mary over to the doorway of the house, where they might converse in hushed tones and not be overheard.

  “This is awful!” Juliana hissed immediately as soon as they were out of earshot.

  “What is?” Mary asked with a perplexed expression. “I am quite happy to sew for a while, you know. I do not mind it.”

  “Not you being left behind,” Juliana groaned. “Don’t you see? He means to court me.”

  “Are you sure? He may wish to simply spend some time with his cousin,” Mary suggested.

  “His very distant cousin, as they went to such great pains to point out to us on their arrival,” Juliana said, looking back and cursing herself for missing it then. “This whole visit has been planned. They mean to marry me off to John Woode.”

  “If you don’t wish to marry him, you should come up with some excuse for not walking,” Mary said. “Say that you have hurt your foot.”

  “And then they shall call the doctor to examine it and find me a fool,” Juliana said. “Or simply wait until I am recovered and ask again. No, I cannot see it working.”

  “Then what?” Mary asked.

  “I will have to go,” Juliana sighed. “There is nothing for it. Oh, how I wish you were invited as well. There will be nothing to distract me from how very dull John is.”

  “You will bear it,” Mary said, standing on her tiptoes to plant a light sisterly kiss on Juliana’s forehead. “Soon you will be back home again, and you can tell me all about how awful it was.”

  “I will hold you to that,” Juliana said, before turning back to the Baroness and her son with a forced smile. “I’m ready to depart now.”

  The Baroness looked at her still-bare hands and sniffed, but Juliana decided that she would not, after all, go and put on gloves. It would be her own small act of rebellion, something to hold onto during the walk she was to be subjected to.

  As they left the home, walking out onto the street, John offered Juliana his arm. After a moment’s hesitation during which she realized it would not be polite or prudent to refuse it, she took it, and walked alongside him.

  Behind them, two paces behind but still well within earshot, the Baroness walked.

  So, they were to be chaperoned all the while – and by John’s mother, no less. Juliana had not truly had any hope it would be otherwise, but it was still a blow to see it come to pass.

  “Look at the fine architecture of these houses,” John said, as they passed along one of the newer streets. “They are a masterpiece of design. There is nowhere like Bath in the whole world.”

  “You are quite right, my lord,” Juliana said. Architecture bored her as few other subjects could, but she had to be polite.

  It may have been a mistake, for he seemed to take it as encouragement, and continued to talk about the buildings they passed for an interminably long time.

  “Do you see how the three stories are decorated in increasingly ornate style?” John asked, as they finally walked along the front of the Royal Crescent. “It is done in the Roman style, inspired by their greatest monument, the Coliseum. Have you traveled to Italy?”

  Juliana shook her head. “We have been abroad but once. Father took us to France during one summer for a tour. I am afraid that after he died, my mother had no more inclination to travel.”

  “Travelling is good for the soul,” John affirmed. “It allows one to see cultures other than one’s own. Of course, it allows plenty of experience in the arts, too. One can see beautiful art in Italy, left behind by those masters.”

  “Would you like to return to Italy, my lord?”

  “Return?” John gave her an odd look. “I have never been.”

  “Oh,” Juliana said. So, this was the kind of man that John Woode was. One who spouted borrowed wisdom without real experience to draw upon.

  The sun was beginning to burn hotter, and Juliana felt unbearably stifled by her bonnet. It felt as though all the heat in her body, trapped under the layers of her dress, was rising up and pooling just on the crown of her head. She reached up to adjust the ribbons slightly, using the opportunity to lift just the top of the bonnet a mere touch and allow a little air to flow in for a moment.

  “Lady Juliana,” the Baroness intoned from behind them. “Don’t fiddle.”

  Juliana dropped her hand immediately. “Yes, my lady,” she said.

  John carried on walking and staring up at the buildings, as if he were oblivious to his mother’s presence. “These are quite fine houses, are they not? I should like to own one. A pity that I will have to settle for whatever rectory is available.”

  “Yes, quite,” Juliana said, wishing the sky would send down a sudden downpour. That way she could cool down, and be free of John, both at once.

  A horse skittered in the road nearby, causing Juliana to step
sideways in alarm. As she did so, her hip bumped into John’s, who was not so quick to react.

  “Maintain distance,” the Baroness barked sharply.

  “I was dodging the horse, my lady,” Juliana explained.

  “A hand on the arm is intimate enough,” the Baroness said. “Further than that should be left between husband and wife.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Juliana and John intoned at the same time.

  Juliana gave up on wishing for a downpour. Now, instead, she wished a hole might appear in the ground to swallow her – or perhaps cousin John and the Baroness, and leave her behind. Anything to bring this interminable walk to an end.

  The worst came when they returned home, after a journey that was far too long and much too hot for Juliana’s liking. Their conversation had been stilted, interrupted often by the Baroness’s disapproval, and none of it had been in any part enjoyable.

  “Well, now,” the Baroness said, moving forward to keep pace with them now that they were almost back. “What a pleasant walk it was.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Juliana said mechanically.

  “John, do you think you will take the same route tomorrow? Or will you escort Lady Juliana on a different path?”

  Juliana’s heart sank in her chest. This, it seemed, was not to be the only walk to which she was subjected – and she already wished it would be the last time she ever saw either of them, let alone went through the same experience again.

  There was going to have to be some conniving done, she thought as they entered Aunt Bertha’s home once more. Getting out of these walks would be the only possible way to save her sanity.

  Chapter 12

  Christopher looked at the ribbons he had bought at the market, admiring once again how the sun gleamed off their satin sheen.

  “These are most handsome, don’t you think, Jasper?”

  Jasper gave a glance across as he finished packing his trunk. “If you say it to be so. I confess I am not a ribbon expert.”

  Christopher clucked his tongue. “At last, we have found a failing in you,” he said. “And all this time you have given others to believe that you are the perfect gentleman.”

  “At that, I fail in more important ways than ribbon selection,” Jasper laughed.

  “I’m going to make them a parting gift for Kitty,” Christopher said. “I think they will suit her most nicely.”

  “You’d best hurry, then,” Jasper said. “The coach leaves in a matter of hours.”

  “I’ll be back before then,” Christopher replied. “My trunk is ready. I’ll just call upon her at her current residence and be gone.”

  “Unless she’s mighty impressed with those ribbons,” Jasper said, giving him a sly wink.

  “None of that,” Christopher laughed. “Even you wouldn’t manage to fit in a midnight flit and a tryst in a barn before the coach gets here.”

  Jasper only laughed, waving him off. “On my part, I’m taking the opportunity for a last ale,” he said. “I can’t show my face out on the streets lest I’m beset by an angry mob of fathers, but since I find myself without companionship, I’ll risk a trip to the inn down the lane.”

  “Then I’ll see you before the coach,” Christopher said, taking his leave.

  He strolled out into the street and hired a hackney coach. He gave the driver Kitty’s address, then sat back to watch the town go by.

  They were perhaps ten minutes down the road, and almost halfway to Kitty’s residence, when the cab was halted by some kind of disturbance up ahead. Christopher leaned forward to see an upset cart spilling produce across the road, and sat back with a tut.

  But there was something that was nagging at him, even as he sat back.

  He remembered last year, and an arrangement to meet with several local ladies in the park for a gathering; the soldiers had been sitting there waiting for some time before their friends at last arrived.

  Juliana Reffern had been the toast of them all, swanning over with a retinue of ladies in attendance and launching into a riotous story of how they had been held up by a collision that turned into a street brawl. She had described the way the merchant pelted his enemy with potatoes in a rage, and everyone had been helpless with laughter to hear her tell it.

  There was a leap in his chest, a response from his heart of the kind that always came when he thought of Juliana. Christopher stared down at the pink ribbons clutched in his hand, and a realization came over him.

  These were not at all the right color for Kitty. They would clash with her red hair somewhat terribly.

  No, he had bought these ribbons for someone else, even as he was telling himself it was not so. He had bought them with Juliana in mind.

  It was always Juliana that was on his mind.

  Christopher leaned forward again, putting his head up alongside the driver. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said.

  “Well, you’ll still pay for the journey,” the driver grunted.

  “I will, and more,” Christopher promised. “We have a new destination.”

  Once the address was given, the driver whipped his horse into motion, turning the cab around on the cramped street and, after some laborious moments, getting it going again in the opposite direction.

  Christopher gnawed on his lip as the cab bounced over potholes and swerved around single riders. He knew it was dangerous, attempting such a move. He was not welcome at all at Juliana’s aunt’s home, and he knew that for a fact. He had been given it in no uncertain terms.

  But to give her the ribbons, he had to see her in person. If he turned up at the front door, he had no doubt that he would be turned away and told not to bother them again. If he passed the ribbons to the aunt, well, they might find their way to a craft basket, but never to Juliana’s hands.

  So, what could he do? There was only a limited time available to him, and if he took up some strategy that involved waiting for the aunt to go out, he might miss his window entirely.

  But now that he had conceived it, the idea of going back to his station without providing the ribbons to Juliana was absolutely unfathomable.

  He was still thinking this over when the cab pulled up outside the property, and he hopped down and paid his driver without any real solution in his mind.

  The gates at the front of the house were open, leaving it free for just anyone to walk up and knock on the door. If he did that, he would never have a chance of seeing Juliana. But how else was he to get there?

  Christopher paused outside the gates, and peeked in, eyeing the house cautiously. He could not see anyone moving near the windows, but neither could he truly see far enough to discern whether anyone was watching.

  There was only one thing for it. He squared his shoulders as he walked through the gate, then quickly slipped off to the side as he approached the house. By the time he had met the brick walls, he was hidden from the view of the windows, at the corner of the property.

  It struck him that if anyone else were to come through the gate, they would think his behavior very strange indeed. But that wasn’t something that he could very well worry about unless it happened.

  He waited now, thinking about his next move. If only he knew where Juliana was, everything would be much simpler. He could just get her attention, and then signal her to come out and meet him.

  With new resolve, Christopher crept around the front of the building, keeping himself flat against the wall. He peered forward to sneak a glance through the first window he came to, only to pull back quickly, his heart beating so fast he could barely believe that those in the house would not hear it.

  Mrs. Reffern had been there, sitting just inside the room – with an embroidery hoop on her lap, which she had thankfully been looking down at.

  Christopher waited a few moments, letting his heart rate cool and hesitating in case she had indeed seen him. If that were so, someone would surely come out to chase him away.

  But no one came, and Christopher began to breathe normally again, thinking that he had had a very clos
e escape.

  He ducked down to his hands and knees, and moved underneath the windowsill, taking great care that he would not be seen or heard. Once he was past the window, he straightened up again and walked a circular path around the porch so that the ring of his shoes on the polished stone would not give him away.

  At last, he reached the window on the other side of the house. Taking great pains as before, he slowly and carefully inched himself around until he could see in through the glass.

  And there she was – his radiant Lady Juliana, sitting alone with a book!

  Christopher breathed a sigh of relief, and after giving the room a more thorough inspection to check that there really was no one else around, he tried waving his hand in front of the glass. Juliana did not look up, and her attention was not attracted by the motion. It did not seem as though she had noticed it at all.