“You are welcome.” The deep male voice of the person who took the seat beside her held a world of authority.
Dinah gasped and turned to see an entirely different and much more welcome companion. “Captain Moberly.” Thank You, Lord. He is safe. So her prayer had been answered, after all.
Like the clothing of everyone else in the room, his uniform was drenched and smelled of wet wool, but he seemed unaware of it. He held a pewter tankard of coffee and stared over its rim at her. “The wind drove me back.”
To me. “I see.” Her heart began to race.
“I must apologize—”
“Please forgive me—”
They spoke at the same time. Both stopped. Both laughed softly, self-consciously. At least Thomas appeared to feel as sheepish as she did, Dinah thought. She tilted her head and lifted her eyebrows, inviting him to continue.
“I am confident that Macy will be all right. Cats have a way of surviving.”
Hot tears sprang to her eyes. She had never known a man who cared for cats. In fact, few people cared for them at all. Yet she found such comfort in her pet when Artemis made her life miserable. “Yes, they do.” What could she say in return for his concern? “Your Mr. Brandon is a capable officer. I am certain he and your crew can manage.”
“I have no doubt of it.” A dark frown still marred his sun-bronzed forehead, and water streamed from his rumpled hair onto his uniform.
“Captain Moberly.” Mr. Richland appeared in front of them, disappointment lining his face. “You’ve returned.” He cleared his throat and adjusted the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “I will be happy to continue to see to Miss Templeton’s welfare.”
The captain trained his frown on the younger man, and Dinah thought she heard the beginnings of a growl in his throat. “You have done enough, sir. Carry on.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.
“But—” Mr. Richland’s frown matched Thomas’s, but when the captain stiffened, he gave Dinah an apologetic shrug and moved away.
She eyed her companion. “You were rude to him,” she whispered.
“Was I?” He shrugged. “I suppose. But I was not about to surrender my place to a lad whose attempts to court you are unwanted.”
“Oh, dear. It’s that obvious?”
He snorted. “As it should be.” After draining his mug, he set it on the floor, then crossed his arms and stared into the fire. “Once this storm is over, the Dauntless must patrol the coast once more before our trip to St. Johns Towne.”
“Yes, I assumed you would.” You will always be at sea. Always be leaving.
They sat in silence for several moments while people milled around or huddled in groups. Some men puffed on cigars or pipes, clouding the air with smelly smoke. Dinah tried to wave it away, along with the odors of wet clothing and humanity that permeated the room. Outside the wind howled and rain slammed against shuttered windows and pounded the roof.
“But I will return.” His words came so softly, so unexpectedly, that Dinah was not certain she had heard right. Then he directed an intense gaze into her eyes. “I will always return.”
Warmth from somewhere deep within welled up almost like a fever rushing through her and reaching toward her cheeks. Such an odd, disconcerting sensation. A blush? Surely not, for she had never blushed in her life. But she could not deny that his words seemed like a promise, a pledge of some sort…to her. And that warmed her far more than the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
Had she understood him? Had she understood that he could not say more at this time? Seeing an uncharacteristic blush fill her cheeks, he guessed…he hoped she grasped his meaning.
Unable to stare into those deep, dark eyes any longer without declaring himself, he forced his gaze toward the hearth. The dancing flames seemed to taunt him, for they blazed liberally and without restriction, unlike the fiery love burning in his chest that he somehow must contain.
He admitted to himself that the events of the past hour had stirred such feeling within him so as to push him beyond all doubt, and he fully comprehended the reason. When the high winds had first begun to lash the island, some ladies had screamed and dashed about in a frenzy. But Dinah had calmly hastened along, making certain the children were taken care of before she entered the returning boat with him.
Once across the bay, he observed that she had had a moment of understandable fear, which increased his determination to protect her at all cost. Yet she had harnessed her emotions and considered another creature’s peril and would willingly have endangered herself for the beast. Frustration and fear for her had driven him to take charge of the situation, and he hoped she would forgive him for his ungentlemanly behavior. At the memory of her shocked expression as he carried her across the Parade, a smile tickled the edges of his lips. He prayed they would one day be able to laugh at the ridiculous situation, for they both had been doing their best in the midst of an uncontrollable crisis.
But now he must think of his ship, which should have been his first concern. His decision to keep the Dauntless anchored in the bay had turned out to be a wise one. These unexpected storms—and he was certain this was a full-blown hurricane—could surprise even the most seasoned captain. Because he was new to the tropical latitudes of East Florida, he had learned a bit more about the weather today. Instead of ignoring his instincts about the changes in the air so that he might walk a few more moments with Dinah on the beach, he should have acted immediately, seeing her to safety and then taking care of duty.
Until a few short weeks ago, nothing could have kept him from returning immediately to the Dauntless. He had no real fear for the vessel, for she had weathered much worse storms out at sea. But he had to admit a nagging guilt and concern. Should anything happen to his ship, he would have to answer to the Admiralty for not being aboard, for not going there straightaway when he realized the weather was turning bad. That thought stirred no little anxiety in him. Had he failed in his duty? Was he growing lax because his father was no longer there to condemn his every blunder, every miscalculation?
“Are you cold?” Dinah’s soft words, filled with caring, caressed his ravaged emotions.
He shook his head, and water rolled down the front of his coat and splashed on his hat, which lay on his lap. “This is nothing compared to the drenching one can experience at sea.” He swept both hands over his hair, pulled it back and secured it with the ribbon tie he had managed not to lose.
As for his lovely companion, his earlier wish to see her hair unbound had been granted. The next time he wished to see it thus, he would specifically wish it would not be wet, for she looked a bit bedraggled. Beautiful, but still bedraggled, he amended. And utterly charming. The thought brought forth a chuckle.
She responded with a laugh, as she always did when he expressed his amusement. “And what do you find so humorous, Captain?” Mischief lit her eyes, and he knew all was forgiven.
At last the tension in his chest loosened, and he laughed in earnest. Throughout the room, heads swung in their direction and raised eyebrows questioned his outburst. He swiped his hands down his face and shook his head again. To answer the still-curious crowd, he shrugged. “Nothing like a little foul weather to equalize humanity.”
Thomas conferred with the governor and other knowledgeable men cloistered in the house and they pronounced the storm a true hurricane, although not the worst one Thomas had ever seen. Fortunately, the coquina building held strong. After some sixteen hours, the calm eye arrived and Thomas thanked his host for his generous accommodations, bid Dinah adieu and made his way to the Dauntless. The frigate bobbed about in the bay, but with sails lashed to the yards, she would not be driven into the docks by the winds.
Thomas inspected the ship and gave his approval to Mr. Brandon’s and Mr. Wayland’s reports of all that had occurred in his absence. He once again reviewed his own choices in the drama and knew he must not let his feelings interfere with duty again. With all in order, he took to his cabin, where Hinton awai
ted him. Another reminder of his failure. If his steward knew to get to the ship immediately at the hint of calamity, Thomas had no excuse.
Despite his seven and twenty years—a relative youth—Hinton tended toward the maternal. After he made certain Thomas donned a clean, dry uniform, nothing would suit the steward but to dispense tonics and hot toddies. Thomas endured all but the plasters Hinton wanted to apply after he cleared his throat and his man declared it a cough presaging pneumonia. Thomas promised Hinton he would submit to the treatment should more serious symptoms appear.
But the only symptoms of something amiss that he could detect within himself were an irregular pulse and the inability to think clearly. His equilibrium returned only after he evaluated his feelings for Dinah and declared the complete surrender of his heart. But he could not run up the white flag until he was certain neither of them would suffer regret.
The back side of the hurricane struck with greater force than the first half, but still the Dauntless was not driven aground. Thomas found himself praying more fervently than he ever had, this time for the safety of those in the governor’s house, especially Dinah. He felt a fair amount of confidence that all would be well. But hurricanes were always unpredictable, and they frequently threw off tornadoes that caused more damage than the high winds and pouring rain.
At last the violent weather moved away over the land, followed by clear skies and hot winds, which despite their humidity dried St. Augustine within two days. The Dauntless had ridden out the storm safely anchored in the protected bay. And Governor Tonyn assured Thomas that the services of his crew were not required to return the city to orderliness. Nothing prevented Thomas from making plans to sail out on patrol.
Sensitive to Dinah’s main objection to his livelihood, he had taken care to include the hint of a promise when visiting to bid her goodbye.
“I expect this voyage will be short.” Seated in her parlor, he had noted the guarded look in her eyes and enlisted every shred of self-control he possessed to keep from going down on one knee and declaring his regard for her. Surely once he was out of her presence, out to sea, he would be able to think clearly. Did she see his feelings in his eyes? “I look forward to our journey inland next week.” How had he managed to say that in an even voice? To distract himself, he petted Macy, who had ridden out the hurricane safely tucked in Dinah’s clothespress. The creature had curled up beside him on the settee and seemed determined to leave copious amounts of gray fur on Thomas’s indigo coat.
“Yes.” The lady spread open her fan, his gift, and waved it before her lovely face, which took on a soft pink shade, as it had during their confinement during the storm. “I am eager to see our dear ones again.” She stared at the fan and suddenly blinked as if surprised, then snapped it shut. After a moment, during which consternation filled her eyes, she gave her head a brief shake. “Will you tell me about growing up with Frederick and Marianne? You must have been very close.”
Her question seemed like a challenge. Or perhaps a diversion. Had something about the fan alarmed her? He marveled that it had survived the rain, even tucked as it was in her oilcloth bag. But if he asked her what was amiss, her response might lead to dangerous waters. She had given no indication that she understood his message worked in silk and ivory, and for now, it seemed wise for him not to explain it.
Forcing his thoughts back to her request, he had told her about Marianne’s birth and the joy it brought all of her brothers to teach her how to ride, trying as always not to interject his anger toward his brother Freddy into his conversation. But the sympathy emanating from her eyes told him he had not deceived her.
This understanding, this wisdom in one so young, was yet another reason to love her. Somehow he must find a way to soothe away her misgivings about…what? Why, nothing less than becoming his wife.
Chapter Eleven
“I love Captain Thomas Moberly.” Kneeling beside her bed, Dinah whispered the words in a prayer. “And I am convinced that he loves me. Yet I dare not ask You to grant us joy.”
Requests such as this seemed too large, too personal, even selfish. And perhaps the captain would be required to ask permission of the Admiralty to marry at all. Would those men of exalted rank scorn him for marrying a colonial miss whose small fortune was not sufficient to advance his naval career? And what of his aristocratic family? His brother Frederick had married Dinah’s cousin, but she sensed Frederick lived outside the approval of the other Moberlys. And even after four years, she still could not grasp the complexities of Jamie’s marriage to the captain’s sister, who had been disowned for her choice. Family and position seemed to be of the utmost importance to Thomas. How could Dinah ask him to give them up for her?
And what of her own objections? Yes, he had promised in his gentle way always to return, but what if he received orders to join the British fleet in the West Indies, where they waited to take part in the war to the north? Surely that would prevent his keeping the promise. She would not even consider the inherent danger of his sailing on the unforgiving ocean. Battles, storms, mutinies, sickness—all could take him away from her forever. Oh, why had she not guarded her heart more fiercely?
Did the captain battle his own objections? Was that why he did not speak of the ardor so evident in his eyes? And what secret message had he intended with the fan? When they sat in the parlor yesterday and she held the fan before the sunlit window, she had seen for the first time a new configuration of the characters painted so expertly on the silk. What a shock it had been. But she dared not trust what she had seen. Difficult as it was, she must wait for his spoken declaration, for if it never came, neither of them would be put to shame.
Dinah rose, took her Bible from the bedside table and sat in the wooden chair by her window. Opening to the place where she had left off the day before, she read the verses from Jeremiah twenty-nine, stopping at verse eleven. “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.”
Peace. An expected end. Was this a coincidence, or could she seize upon it as a promise from the Lord? She dare not think He was promising her a future with Thomas.
She slumped in her chair. Would that she could find some wise soul to advise her, some older woman, friend or mentor. Elizabeth was sweet but empty-headed, and only seventeen, not old enough to provide the support and wisdom Dinah needed.
Anne had always been her friend, but in recent years she had rightfully kept no secrets from her husband. Of course Artemis could not be trusted to know of Dinah’s dilemma, and especially not of her love for the captain.
Next week’s journey to Bennington Plantation offered no hope of finding a confidante there. Cousin Rachel and Jamie’s wife, Marianne, were kind and good, but they always seemed to hold something back from her, always grew quiet when she entered a room while they were talking, then brightly introduced some trivial topic. Moreover, Dinah must consider Marianne’s delicate condition, along with the grief they all would experience once the news of Lord Bennington’s death was announced.
Dinah shook herself. How selfish of her. Just as she withheld pity from the soldiers to whom she ministered, she would not pity herself. Instead, she should be praying for these dear ones. She read the verses in Jeremiah again and committed verse eleven to memory, letting its one clear meaning sink deep into her soul. God knew His thoughts toward her, thoughts of peace and not of evil. She would choose to have hope that the future He planned would be far better than any she could plan for herself.
That settled, at least for now, she knelt in prayer again, pleading for Marianne to safely deliver her child. For Jamie to avoid the pirates who plagued the coast and stole his valuable cargo. And for Thomas to catch Nighthawk…and to return home safely…to her.
“Captain Moberly? Sir?” Mr. Brandon’s voice carried more than a little apprehension.
Jolted from his deep musing, Thomas wrested his gaze from the western horizon and directed it toward his first o
fficer. “Yes, Mr. Brandon.”
“Sir, did you not hear the lookout?” The man’s furrowed brow held a hint of…understanding?
Perturbed by his own lack of focus, Thomas stared up at the man on the crosstrees. “No, I did not. What was his call?” Regret pummeled him. He would never excuse a breach of duty in his crew, and certainly not in himself. He must keep his mind on the task at hand, not on the lady awaiting him on shore. Why had he thought that sailing out on patrol would clear his head? Instead, it had visited upon him an uncharacteristic disquiet that he could not settle.
“Sails ho.” Brandon pointed toward the east, where dawn had broken a scant half hour before and the sun tossed gold and silver bunting over the rippling green sea.
Thomas pulled his spyglass from its pouch and extended it eastward. Just coming into view were the tips of the white sails of two ships that appeared engaged in some sort of parley. Fighting? No, for no cannon smoke filled the air. Still, he had the unsettling feeling that all was not well. Neither ship flew their colors, so he had no way of discerning their loyalties.
“Make all sail.” He eyed Brandon. “Let’s find out what these two are up to.”
Mr. Brandon faced the main deck and cupped his hands about his mouth. “All hands about ship! Topmen aloft. Set the royals!”
Thomas turned to the helmsman behind him. “Bring her up two points to starboard, Mr. Smith. Right on their tails.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” the man returned with a grin.
Thomas felt a smile edge across his own lips. He enjoyed nothing more than the thrill of giving chase. And if this was Nighthawk and he caught him, perhaps that would vindicate his presence in St. Augustine and he would not be ordered away. But then, perhaps if he ended this audacious pirate’s activities, the Admiralty would decide his larger frigate was no longer required in the colony. Hardly a reason not to catch the man, but the thought did give Thomas pause. He could not think of leaving the colony with his feelings for Dinah in such upheaval.
At the Captain's Command Page 9
