After a brief, startled blink, Reading snorted. “You have notable protectors, Captain Templeton. How shall I know the signatures are not forgeries?”
Jamie faked a lighthearted shrug. “I don’t know, sir. But if you’ll permit my first mate to fetch my papers…” He beckoned to Saunders, who always kept his head during these boardings.
“Very well.” Reading gave a curt nod.
Saunders scampered below deck and within minutes returned with a brown leather satchel. Striding close to the British captain, he gave him a gap-toothed grin. “Here ye go, sir.”
Leaning away with lips curled, the captain took the satchel. “That will be all.” He set it on a nearby crate and untied the strings, drawing out the life-saving documents. His eyebrows arched as he read through them. “Impressive, indeed. Yes, I recognize Lord Bennington’s seal.” He frowned as he kept reading. “So Bennington’s son has been made a captain. A good man, Thomas Moberly. But I see nothing here exempting your crew from impressments.”
His heart hammering almost out of his chest, Jamie considered his options. The men had practiced what to do in case of pirate attacks, but they would have little defense against a forty-gun ship with sailors who were trained for warfare. Yet every person on this sloop had been entrusted to his care, a fact that gave him no other choice. He leveled a solemn gaze upon the British captain. “Captain Reading, I am not prepared to part with any of my crew.”
Marianne was pleased to see Molly come to the cabin and take charge. After covering the single porthole, the five ladies huddled silently together in the locked, darkened room. Above them and in the companionway beyond the door, heavy footsteps thumped against the decks, while an occasional clunk of wood against wood sounded through the walls. Marianne felt Nancy tremble beside her, and drew the slender young girl into her arms. “Shh. It will be all right.” Despite Jamie’s—Captain Templeton’s—betrayal, she knew him to be a competent captain. And of course the British captain would be reasonable and no doubt send them on their way once he had seen Papa’s letter.
For the briefest moment, Marianne considered whether she should break out of this cabin and confess everything to her countryman. But Quince’s words weighed heavy upon her heart. While Captain Templeton and even Quince might deserve to hang, she could not reconcile seeing these ladies’ husbands likewise punished. An image of their captain strung up on a gibbet flitted into her mind and cut deep into her. Lord, forgive me, but I love him still. Yet he was a traitor to all she held dear, and every word he had spoken to her had been a lie.
Sudden pounding on the door startled her, and beside her Nancy jumped. “Open up, or we’ll break down the door.”
More trembling and several quiet sobs shook the women around Marianne.
“Mind yourselves, ladies,” Molly whispered. “Remember what we’re to do.”
Marianne could hear footsteps shuffle across the dark room. A click of the bolt, another click of the latch, and Molly swung the door open.
A snarling sailor stuck a lantern inside, and his shadowed face took on a grotesque sneer. “Well, well, what have we here?” Behind him, two other sailors stuck their heads around the doorjamb, leering into the dark and making crude comments.
Molly tried to hold her place and block them from entering, but they shoved her aside.
“I’ll take this one.” The first sailor grabbed for Nancy, yanking her up from the cot. The other men laughed.
A bolt of rage and protectiveness flashed through Marianne. “How dare you?” She stood and dug her fingernails into the man’s bare hand. “Let her go.”
He yelped and then drew back his hand to strike Marianne.
“Stop!” An officer holding another lantern entered the low doorway.
The first sailor cursed and stepped back. “Aye, sir.” His wolflike growl sent a shudder down Marianne’s spine.
“What is this?” The officer’s face glowered in the shadowed cabin. “Who are you women?”
“Sir,” Molly said, “we are Christian ladies accompanying our husbands to East Florida.”
Like the first sailor, the officer sneered. “Ladies, indeed.”
“Yes, ladies, indeed.” Marianne pushed in front of Molly. “I am Lady Marianne Moberly, daughter of Lord Bennington, under whose flag this ship sails.” She heard the gasps around her and knew these gentlewomen would never regard her in the same way again. Yet she would still be their friend. Whatever lie she must tell, Lord forgive her, she would save them from these sailors, even if it also meant saving that scoundrel, Jamie Templeton.
The officer raised a questioning eyebrow and his mouth hung open for an instant. Marianne lifted her chin and gave him an imperious glare. He lowered his lantern and bent forward in a deep bow. “My lady, may I have the privilege of escorting you to the upper deck?”
Air. The thought of it almost undid Marianne. But she managed to maintain her hauteur. “You may, my good sir, but only if these ladies are permitted to accompany me. I will not have my friends left to the care of your sailors.”
The man had the grace to look abashed. “Yes, my lady.”
He offered his arm, and she set her hand upon it, praying for wisdom to say the right thing to his superior. Praying for the strength not to look at her erstwhile love, now her nemesis. Was there some way she could alert the British captain that Templeton was a spy and might be carrying secrets to the rebelling colonists in Boston? Nothing came to mind, but she felt certain the Lord would show her exactly what to do.
Coming out into the daylight for the first time in over a week, Marianne winced and blinked, shading her eyes with both hands while the ocean breeze caressed her face and filled her lungs with salty air. She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked back to see Molly, her eyes filled with fear and hope, holding forth a much-mended black parasol.
“Thank you, Molly.” Marianne accepted the gift, offered perhaps to gain her favor in protecting Molly’s husband from being impressed. Marianne chided herself for such a suspicious thought. But the revelations of these past few hours had utterly destroyed her starry-eyed foolishness. She raised the parasol and found relief from the sun’s glare.
Surveying the scene, she noticed the officer who had escorted her on deck had moved toward his captain, a man of medium height who looked familiar. Beyond them, she saw the Fair Winds crew standing in a straight line, while several British sailors perused them as if searching for the right horse to buy. Or the right slave. The anger and fear in the Americans’ faces sent a troubled pang through her heart. So this is the reality of impressments. Marianne shuddered to think what it would be like to be torn from one’s friends and forced into an enemy’s service.
“Lady Marianne.” The captain strode toward her, a wide smile on his freckled face. “What a surprise to find you sailing—”
“Under my father’s flag?” She did not return his smile or offer her hand. “Good day, Captain Reading. It has been some time since my brother introduced us when you both received your commissions as lieutenants.” She lifted her chin and sniffed. “I shall write to him and describe this meeting.”
“Ah, yes, well.” Reading stiffened. “We are simply doing our duty to king and country, my lady.”
“Indeed. And when does that duty include stealing my father’s servants right off of his business partner’s ship?” The words came out unplanned, but now she could not give Templeton away without betraying the entire crew. “Do you not realize that this ship carries official mail to the governor of East Florida? Through an act of Parliament, that duty exempts its crew from impressments.” If she had not overheard Thomas discussing it with Papa, she never would have known of the law.
Reading tilted his head in a patronizing nod. “My lady, although your esteemed father is this captain’s patron, the ship is still an American vessel, not a British mail packet. The law does not apply in this case.”
Marianne answered his look with a glare while she considered his words. She would not lose her battl
e with this intractable man.
The British sailors now dragged away two men, one of whom must be married to Sally, for Marianne heard the girl sobbing behind her. The violence of the sailors toward the hapless men, one of whom was a sweet-faced boy she had seen in the hallway outside the ladies’ cabin, seemed entirely unwarranted in light of the two men’s cooperation. Perhaps they sought to sacrifice themselves for their fellows. As a British sailor lifted his club to strike, Sally wailed.
“Stop, this instant!” Marianne marched across the deck. “How dare you? Release these men immediately, or you will regret it all your days.”
The sailors obeyed, but one had the audacity to leer at her before looking toward his captain. Marianne turned back to Captain Reading. “In the name of King George and Lord Bennington—” she modulated her voice into a lower register and used a cold, hard tone, as Papa did when giving orders “—release them.”
The shock that swept across the men’s faces, both British and American, amused her. While of course she possessed no authority over these men, they had no idea how much or little influence she might actually wield with their superiors. As for Captain Templeton, he puckered a smile and winked away the glint in his eyes. His slight nod, like many that had secretly conveyed his feelings for her these past months, sent a tingle through her traitorous body.
“Captain Reading.” Marianne sauntered back toward him, thrown slightly off balance when a swell lifted the ship, but quickly regaining her footing. Another approving nod came from Captain Templeton, but she did not acknowledge it. “If you hope to advance any further in your naval career, I suggest you do not make me unhappy. It may take months, it may take years, but my father, the Admiralty and His Majesty’s Privy Council will hear of your treatment of the men who have been assigned the duty to protect me.”
Captain Reading clenched his jaw and glared at her for what seemed an eternity. At last, he shrugged and waved his men away from their captives, then swept off his bicorne and bent toward her in an exaggerated bow. “Your servant, my lady.” He spun around and barked orders at his crew to leave.
The British sailors clambered into their small boats, but Marianne would not let herself breathe until the last man had returned to His Majesty’s man-of-war.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Marianne stood at the railing with the five other ladies and Mr. Quince to watch the HMS Pride tack away, leaving the entire crew of the Fair Winds unharmed. When the other vessel was some distance away, even as the crew members hoisted the sails to catch the wind and carry their ship in the opposite direction, everyone cheered. All Marianne felt was desolation.
The other women now eyed her with an odd mix of expressions. Nancy gazed at her as if she were a saint, no doubt because Marianne had stopped the sailor who’d tried to assault her. Sally kissed Marianne’s hand and thanked her for saving her husband from impressment. Eleanor glared, her lips curling in disapproval, but Marianne could not guess why, for the woman had always been pleasant to her before. Molly’s posture devolved into that of a servant. Only Emma treated her no differently.
How could Marianne continue to share that cramped cabin with women who either worshipped or despised her?
“Lady Marianne.” The all too familiar voice spoke behind her. “May I have a word with you?”
She turned to see Captain Templeton standing tall and proud. No, not proud. Intense. His dark brown eyes held her gaze, and her insides began to flutter. She would not do this. She would never again succumb to his charming ways. Pushing past him, she walked toward the steps leading below, even though she dreaded returning to the airless cabin.
He gripped her arm. “May I speak with you?” It was more of a command than a question.
“Let me go.”
“Jamie, let her go.” Quince stood nearby with Emma, who sent Marianne a quivering smile.
“Stow it, Aaron.” Templeton’s handsome, well-tanned face creased with annoyance. “You have yet to answer to me for her being here. Don’t try to interfere now.”
Quince bit his lip and shrugged. “Don’t do something you’ll regret.” He put an arm around Emma and moved away.
The intensity in Templeton’s eyes increased. “I must thank you, my lady, for saving my crew from impressment. That, above all, makes your presence aboard my ship nothing short of a blessing.” He loosened his grip and winced. “Forgive me. I would not hurt you for the world.”
“But you would deceive me…deceive my father, my brothers—” She stopped, recalling the undeniable improvements in Robert’s character, little Georgie being saved from drowning, the lightened moods in family gatherings because of this man’s humor. Gulping down sudden tears, she leaned away from him, aware of the shuttered glances sent their way by the other women and the crew. “You are a liar and a brigand, a traitor and a spy.”
He had the audacity to laugh. “I do believe you’ve put an end to that latter occupation.”
She yanked her arm from his grasp…and felt the loss of his touch. Still, she would not look at him but stared off across the wide, desolate sea at the retreating HMS Pride. “Ha. If I could have told Captain Reading the truth about you without ruining these innocent women’s lives, I gladly would have watched you hang from your own yardarm.” No, that would have destroyed her…and Emma, too. For undoubtedly Quince was also a spy.
“But you did not give me away.” The mirth in his voice drew her sharp look. “To show my gratitude, you may have my cabin, so you’ll be more comfortable for the rest of the voyage. I’ll sleep in the crew’s quarters, and you’ll have access to my library and other amenities.”
She drew in a deep breath, grateful for the fresh sea air, and glanced beyond him, where the other ladies watched this little drama. No doubt they would be pleased to have a bit more space in their cabin, but it grated on her sensibilities to accept anything from this man. Yet her thoughts continued to contradict her sentiment. How could she deny that, traitor or not, he had done far more for her family than they had done for him?
“I thank you, Captain Templeton. I accept your offer. And you can be assured you will be paid for my passage when we reach my brother Frederick’s home.” She could not stop her voice from quavering. “Whenever that might be.”
Jamie watched Marianne—Lady Marianne, for that was the way he must think of her now and forever—walk gracefully across the rolling deck toward the ladder, her proud carriage stirring a rush of emotions within him. When she’d accosted that pompous British captain, all of Jamie’s anger toward her had dissolved, and he’d seen God’s grace clearly enacted. Profound relief flooded him as he considered the miracle that had just unfolded. He wouldn’t try to imagine how many good people aboard this ship might have died without her interference, for he knew not one of his crewmen would have suffered his fellows to be impressed. Jamie himself would have joined the fray without a second thought for the consequences.
And now he must also forgive Quince for his part in Lady Marianne’s flight. Of course the romantic rascal had intended to secure Jamie’s happiness by sneaking her aboard the ship. Instead, now that she realized he’d been spying on her father, she’d never forgive him, and the final obstacle to a future together for them had been set in place. Because of it, Jamie felt an aching loneliness he doubted would ever go away.
Shaking off the tendrils of gloom threatening to entwine around his heart, he thanked the Lord he still could manage to do something of value for the Glorious Cause. If they could catch the right winds to help them sail against the Gulf Stream, they might reach Boston in another six or seven weeks. There he would report his findings to General Washington and receive his orders for taking the Revolution to East Florida. In the meantime, he must treat Lady Marianne with utmost care. Should they encounter another British man-of-war, he would need her continued goodwill toward the other ladies to once again avert tragedy.
Until such time, he would give her the run of the ship, for she had endured many days of confinement below
deck, a fact that stung him when he thought of all she’d given up for love of him, only to face a terrible reality. He would never throw it in her face that he’d warned her, that he’d refused to court her, and only in his weakest moments had surrendered to his longing to hold her in his arms and kiss her. One thing now was certain. Because she’d stowed away, he couldn’t escape her presence, and the rest of this voyage would shred his already tattered soul.
He’d not felt the discomfort of a crewman’s hammock for seven years, and over the next few nights, he discovered how much he’d grown since his eighteenth birthday. Either his feet or his head must hang out one end or the other, and his shoulders had grown much broader, so he felt folded in half by the canvas sling. Further, the snores of his sleeping crewmen kept him awake and cross. Never mind the smells of sweat and bilge water. He considered taking the helm at night, but a captain should be up and about in the daylight, so he must make do with whatever sleep he could get.
Over a week had passed since the incident with the Pride, and Jamie permitted himself some small pleasure in watching Lady Marianne walk about the deck each day. The ragged black parasol wasn’t appropriate for a lady who’d always had the best of everything, yet she seemed to take no notice. Jamie offered to bring out one of the fashionable new parasols from the cargo hold. But she snubbed him outright, refusing to answer him or accept the gift, even when the sun’s reflection on the sea colored her cheeks with a pink blush and scattered faint freckles across the bridge of her pretty porcelain nose. Surely now she must realize how much she would have sacrificed in becoming his wife. Even if he’d not been a spy and, in her eyes, a traitor, no doubt by now the foolishness of her undertaking would still have been impressed upon her.
Molly and the others ladies hovered around her. Except Eleanor, who kept her distance, though Jamie could not guess why. And his freedom-loving crew members seemed all too willing to give her the homage due to a queen. Even Quince fell under Lady Marianne’s spell and permitted Emma to attend to her former mistress’s needs. Jamie would have laughed, except that no one but he seemed to realize how their fawning over this lady aristocrat contradicted their dearly held belief in freedom. While this couldn’t cause too much trouble as long as they were at sea, he began to wonder if she held the power to sway some of them away from the Revolution. But what nonsense that was, after all he and his crew had been through together. Too little sleep—and a broken heart—were distorting his thinking.
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