The Captain's Lady

by Louise M. Gouge

  More than exhausted, he trudged up the staircase to his own chamber, where in spite of his best efforts to keep quiet, he woke Quince.

  “Did you learn anything?” Quince jumped up from the trundle bed and inspected Jamie’s head wound, tsking his concern.

  “No.” Jamie waved him off and walked to the window to close the heavy velvet drapes. “The Lord seems to have altered my mission for the time being.” He watched his friend, whose clownish smile hinted at some secret. “All right, then, out with it.”

  Quince cleared his throat, obviously pleased with himself. “If you want to learn what’s going on with the aristocracy, it pays to fraternize with their servants.”

  Jamie threw himself on the four-poster bed, neglecting even to remove his shoes. “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.” He rolled over and burrowed beneath the counterpane. “That’s why you took leave of your considerable properties in Massachusetts and are acting as my valet.” Sleep beckoned, but he could feel Quince tugging off the heavy footwear. This business of having a body servant had its advantages.

  “Ah,” Quince said, “but when one discovers where the master keeps his important papers…and the best time to access them—”

  Jamie bolted up in the bed, fully awake and fully aware of the lump on the back of his head. He grunted, but shook off the pain and punched Quince’s arm. “Good work, man. Tell me everything. How do we get to them?”

  Chapter Nine

  “Do listen to me, Robert.” Marianne mustered the crossest look she could manage while feeling so happy. “It is far too soon for you to be riding again.” Seated at the smaller of two oak tables in the sunny breakfast room, she turned to Jamie, who stood serving himself at the buffet. His dashing appearance in his newest gray riding clothes pleased her very much. “Captain Templeton, you must speak reason into my brother’s barely healed head.”

  “Nonsense.” Across the table from her, Robert waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I have lain about for nearly two weeks while the weather gets warmer, the grass becomes greener and everyone who’s anyone is out and about.” He popped a bite of toast and jam into his mouth.

  The twinkle in her brother’s eyes heartened Marianne. He truly did seem to have recovered, as evidenced by his voracious appetite. He would soon regain those few pounds lost during his convalescence.

  “Then at least ride in the carriage with Miss Kendall and me.” Marianne tilted her head toward Grace, taking in the scent of her lavender perfume.

  “Lady Marianne,” Jamie said, “the surgeon has given Mr. Moberly permission to resume his activities as he wishes. Doubtless he’ll be happy to be out in the fresh air.”

  As he took his place beside her, amusement lifted one corner of his lips, and again Marianne was encouraged. And even more in love with him than before. Since Robert’s injury, Jamie had spent hours with her brother every day, discussing Scriptures and other pleasant topics. The result was that, in these recent days, Robert had made every effort to be at the supper table on time, had borne up under Papa’s comments well and had completely stopped drinking spirits—all due to Jamie’s influence. If the good captain thought to dissuade her from her affections for him, he was certainly going about it in the wrong way.

  “Very well, then.” She sniffed, still pretending to be cross. “Just remember that I have advised a better course.”

  But she felt anything but cross. Today’s early morning sunshine promised a grand April day at Richmond Park, where the four of them would meet with friends and enjoy a picnic. A longing struck her to make the most of the day, for she did not know when Jamie would be returning to East Florida. Although she could never wish him ill, she could not help but be happy that his ship required serious repairs before sailing back across the vast Atlantic. And fortunately, Papa seemed content to continue hosting him here in London.

  “But since you insist upon riding,” she said, “I shall ride, too.”

  Eyebrows shot upward, and if she was not mistaken, Grace’s soft gasp held a modicum of delight. Marianne guessed she had not ridden in some time, for Mama no longer rode.

  “Splendid,” Robert said. “I’ll warrant Templeton here hasn’t ridden since our last foray to the park.”

  Jamie’s smile flattened, and Marianne hoped she had not put him in an awkward situation.

  “Of course you understand, Templeton,” Robert said with a smirk, “that Miss Kendall will have Bess. We shall have to find another horse for you.”

  True alarm filled Marianne. Why had she failed to think this through? Bess was their gentlest horse. In fact, the only one they could depend upon always to be gentle. She noticed Jamie was concentrating on his plate and chewing his boiled eggs with fierce determination.

  Without lifting his head, he shot a look of irritation her way. “I shall endeavor not to embarrass you, my lady.”

  Heat rushed to her face. These men would ever strive to prove themselves to one another, no matter what the cost.

  She glanced across the table at Robert. He looked at Jamie, then back at her, and his eyes widened. One eyebrow lifted with an unspoken question. She could not stop her continuing blush, nor think of a single thing to say or do to divert the all-too-correct deduction written across his face. What would he do with the information? Would he protect her interests, as she had always tried to protect his? Or would he rush to Mama, or even Papa, and betray her, possibly causing Jamie to be banished from the house and Papa’s good graces? Glaring at her brother across the table with her chin lifted and lips a determined line, she dared him to do his worst.

  He grinned broadly and shook his head, and the tender look in his eyes washed away all her fears. But if Robert, with all his self-centeredness, could see that she and Jamie loved each other, surely others in the household could, too.

  Jamie gripped the prancing gelding with his knees and secured his black riding boots into the stirrups. If he thought of the horse as a ship on an undulating sea, perhaps it would become easier to stay in the saddle. A lifetime of keeping his balance on rolling vessels had strengthened his leg muscles, a fact that now aided him as he sat on this chestnut horse aptly named Puck. The rascal was as full of mischief as Shakespeare’s impish elf, not unlike Moberly.

  Jamie could not fault the man for this choice of horses, for Bennington’s town stable housed only so many mounts. But he felt certain Moberly chose this particular one to test Jamie’s mettle. If that night outside the gaming hall wasn’t sufficient, Jamie would show this coxcomb what he was made of…and enjoy every minute of it as he did. The lump he’d received at the hands of the footpads still ached from time to time, but his thick hair hid it from view. Moberly was thriving under all the attention his injuries attracted, and Jamie wouldn’t diminish that by calling attention to himself.

  Leading the group, Moberly rode his bay stallion next to Miss Kendall on Bess. Jamie followed beside Lady Marianne, forcing his attention away from her to the houses and businesses they passed. He’d learned that this part of London had burned to the ground over a hundred years ago, but the past century had erased all signs of the fire. The two-and three-story wooden or stone buildings were packed close together. In the streets, vendors hawked their wares, and dusty little shops hummed with customers. The smells of fish and bread, horses and garbage assaulted the senses.

  “Captain Templeton.” Lady Marianne nudged her spirited mare close to him. “Robert said we’ll take a ride through Hyde Park before we go to Richmond Park, where the servants await with our picnic.” Her wine-red woolen riding dress brought a rosy color to her smooth cheeks, and the fresh breeze carried her jasmine perfume his way. “Hyde Park has riding paths, and at this early hour, there will be no crush of riders.”

  “Very good, my lady.” He risked a second glance in her direction, and a familiar pang struck inside his chest. His service to the Revolution notwithstanding, he was enjoying this prolonged stay in London because of the beautiful lady beside him. Perhaps it was not too wrong to permit hi
mself the luxury of relaxing a bit in her presence.

  They’d fallen into a pleasant companionship, at least when Moberly or Miss Kendall or one of Jamie’s tutors was present. Under Mr. Pellam’s supervision, he’d even managed to practice his dancing with her as his partner without succumbing to an excess of feeling. Of course, at that moment, his attention had been focused on his own two feet. At this moment, however, with the warmth of the April sun shining on their little group, all things seemed possible. And he confessed to himself that he loved her.

  “Captain,” Lady Marianne said, “may I speak to you about a matter of some delicacy?”

  Had she read his heart? Lord, please don’t let her speak of it. Jamie forced a bland expression to his face. “My lady?”

  Her eyes sparkled with…playfulness? “Have you noticed that my brother and Miss Kendall seem quite compatible?”

  Relief swept through him, and he shrugged. “I try not to concern myself with matters of the heart.” Wrong thing to say. “Of other people’s hearts. I mean—” He clamped his mouth shut, and heat shot up his neck. He rarely suffered a loss for words, except with this lady.

  Her delightful laughter seemed to echo around him. “But can you say you have no concerns about your Quince and my Emma?”

  He cleared his throat. “It is my understanding Miss Emma has your permission to…speak with Quince.” How odd, the way these aristocrats ruled their servants’ every move. Even if Quince were truly Jamie’s servant, he could love whom he pleased. Nor would Jamie ever concern himself with his crew members’ affections.

  “Indeed she does.” She exhaled a long sigh. “They, of all of us, have the least possibility of their hearts being broken.”

  “I don’t understand. Why should Moberly and Miss Kendall not form an attachment?”

  Marianne glanced sideways at him. “Why, now that you mention it, I cannot think even Papa would mind. But one never knows with him, and without his permission…” Her gaiety vanished into a frown. “I envy their freedom to love whom they will. Emma and Quince, I mean.”

  “My lady, please.” Jamie envied that freedom, too, but it would be unwise to confess it to her.

  “I would become a lady’s maid if it meant I could marry as I wished.” Her voice took on an edge, maybe even tears.

  “Lady Marianne.” He doubted he could withstand her crying. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” A quick look about the street revealed that none of the inhabitants were close enough to hear them. On the other hand, some scruffy fellows stared at Lady Marianne as they rode by, and Jamie’s riding crop burned in his hand at their boldness. If they dared to come near her—

  “Here we are,” Moberly called over his shoulder.

  At last. Drawing in a deep breath as the party emerged from the crowded street into the fresh air, Jamie gazed around the park’s wide green expanse edged with blooming trees and blossoming bushes.

  With a wave of his riding crop, Moberly directed them to circle their horses. “Shall we walk a bit and smell the flowers?” The fond look he cast at Miss Kendall showed his preference for that activity.

  “Hi ho, Moberly.” Young Highbury galloped up on a fine looking brown gelding. “Imagine meeting up with you here. Lady Marianne. Miss Kendall.” He bowed to each in turn. “Hi ho, Templeton. How’s our favorite American today? You look right well astride old Puck. What do you think of the news of our General Gage being driven out of Boston by your General Washington? I hear Washington generously permitted our troops safe passage to sail to Nova Scotia.”

  Jamie’s belly clenched. If Bennington had not spilled this news the night before, Jamie might have given himself away just now with a great huzzah. “Such are the fortunes of war, I suppose. No doubt Gage will not sit idly in Canada for long.”

  Highbury laughed in his high-pitched way. “My father says the colonials will send all of our troops packing. What do you think?”

  “I say, Highbury.” Moberly reined his horse between Jamie and the pesky youth. “I care nothing for the troubles in America, but do have some respect for His Majesty’s position. At least in front of the ladies.”

  “Very well.” Highbury laughed again. “Tell you what. You and Templeton join me in a race around the park. These horses have not had a good run all winter, and my Socrates is eager to show what he’s made of.”

  “A grand idea.” Moberly’s face brightened. “A race is precisely what I need.”

  “Most certainly not.” Lady Marianne moved her horse beside Jamie. “I will not permit it.”

  Jamie ground his teeth. “If you please, my lady, I believe a race is exactly the thing.”

  Despite her continued protests, Moberly and Highbury marked out a course by pointing their riding crops.

  Jamie’s mouth felt as dry as last year’s dead leaves littering the ground, but he forced down a swallow, forced down his fear. A familiar excitement and sense of competition began to fill him, and he set his feet more firmly in the stirrups. Puck nibbled grass, oblivious to what would soon be expected of him.

  “Now,” Moberly said, “since my beloved sister protests, I shall leave it to Miss Kendall to drop the handkerchief.” He drew a silk one from his pocket and handed it to the lady. “When it hits the ground, we’re off.”

  Miss Kendall’s face was a mirror of Lady Marianne’s, and both wore their fear like a mourning veil. The few denizens of the sparsely populated park somehow got wind of the event and gathered beside the pathways.

  Her hand raised, Miss Kendall cast an apologetic glance toward Lady Marianne and dropped the handkerchief.

  With merry cries, Moberly and Highbury dug in their heels, and their horses sprang away. Jamie swatted Puck’s flank, but the gelding merely danced around in a circle. Lady Marianne reined back her own horse, which seemed eager to join the party. She eyed Jamie and shrugged, then swatted Puck across the flank with a cry of “Off you go, you silly nag.”

  Puck lurched into a run, knocking Jamie off center. He felt his upper body careening toward the ground, but tightened the grip of his knees and grabbed the opposite edge of the saddle to right himself. Again in the saddle, he crouched low on Puck’s neck. The pain rattling his lower back soon numbed, and he gasped for breath, pulling in the odors of horseflesh with an occasional whiff of the nearby flowers.

  Puck now seemed to realize what it was all about, so Jamie trusted the race to him as he would trust his ship to a seasoned helmsman. They galloped after the other two horses and soon gained on them. Cries and cheers met Jamie’s ears as he thundered past a blur of people.

  After what felt like an endless chase around the park, Jamie saw Lady Marianne ahead. Throwing up a prayer that Puck would know when to stop, Jamie felt a mad desire to win. He slapped the crop against Puck…to no avail. Highbury’s horse pulled away and soon crossed the line scratched across the dry pathway by some enthusiastic bystanders.

  Jamie tugged on the reins and brought Puck to a stop some twenty yards beyond the finish. Energy pulsed through him, almost lifting him from the saddle with the same elation, the same sense of victory he’d felt after a successful whale hunt. He’d done it. He’d conquered his fear and run the entire course. If he’d known riding a horse could be so invigorating, he would have taken up the practice long ago. Excitement, a sense of personal accomplishment and pure joy crowded his mind and heart as Puck trotted back to their waiting group.

  Once there, he slid his feet halfway out of the stirrups and began his dismount. On the way down, he discovered his left boot would not come free. Puck shifted his massive weight, and Jamie felt a jolt of panic as he rolled toward the ground. The back of his head hit the hard-packed dirt in the exact spot where he’d been struck by the footpads, and pinpoints of light stabbed his eyes. The last thing he heard was Marianne’s voice.

  “Jamie!”

  Chapter Ten

  “So there Templeton lay, dazed as a duck, with my sister and Miss Kendall nearly undone thinking we’d murdered Father’s protégé.�
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  Even Marianne found herself joining the laughter as Robert regaled their friends at Mama’s ball. For Jamie had recovered and was none the worse for his accident, as evidenced by his flawless dancing in the first two sets.

  “Permit me to say—” Jamie lifted his hands to quiet them “—landing on one’s back in the ocean, even surrounded by thrashing whales, is much less dangerous than landing on hard English soil.”

  Laughter erupted again, and Marianne felt a measure of pride in how well he blended into this exalted company. Wearing his new periwinkle silk coat and white satin breeches, and his long blond hair held back in a queue with a black satin ribbon, he looked every bit as noble as any titled man in attendance. Perhaps even more so, for his sun-browned skin bore a healthy glow and set him apart from the powdered, foppish men around him. His dark brown eyes gleamed as he spoke, his American accent was giving way to English pronunciations, and his every gesture was filled with grace. Papa had outdone himself with Jamie Templeton. He had made him into a true gentleman and proudly introduced him to several exalted politicians and lords this very evening, each of whom had commended his loyalty to the Crown.

  “Do tell us more about whaling, Captain Templeton.” Miss Martin, the pretty daughter of a baron, who would one day inherit her own fortune, stood near Jamie sipping ratafia. Her green-eyed gaze never left his face, even when Robert was speaking. Marianne felt a twinge of annoyance. Last season Miss Martin had played with Robert’s affections, then cut him. Everyone knew she was looking for a titled husband, but she would ever torment those whom she considered unsuitable. The game was played by several of the young ladies in this crowd. Jamie’s good looks and graceful dancing brought them buzzing around him like bees, but not one would think twice about stinging him merely for her own amusement.

  Jamie appeared to consider Miss Martin’s question about whaling, but before he could answer, Mr. Highbury wedged himself into the group.