by Robyn Carr
“Partnership,” Charles nearly choked. “See here, Boris, I have made plenty of offers...”
“Now, Charles, the captain and I have only begun to talk,” Boris said with a laugh. “And I hope he will stay on for a while so that we might continue our discussion. Partnerships take a long time to settle.”
Tyson touched his lips with his napkin and leaned away from the table. “Unfortunately, my lord, I cannot remain. I must return to London in just two days. I have been informed of cargo that I would like to inspect myself.”
“I was not aware of any trade agreement. How is it you have cargo to take out of a British port, Captain?” Charles asked in a demanding tone.
Tyson frowned. “Lord Ridgley told me you were a merchant. Your business must be confined to this country or you would understand that shipping has more to do with fines, embargoes, and bribes than the simple buying, loading, unloading, and selling of goods. If the profit is good, the crew is better off paying fines than to forgo the venture. When there is an open treaty, England will simply exchange the fines for port tax. You may believe me, there is a good deal of trading going on.”
Tyson turned to Lord Ridgley. “Although I have enjoyed myself much more than I expected, I still have a few duties.” He chuckled. “When I informed my family of my plans to spend some time on the continent, I was warned that the reception to Americans was still very strained in England, but I have found Lord Ridgley’s hospitality unsurpassed.”
“Two days?”
To her own surprise, the question came from Vieve. She had spoken without even thinking, and instantly Andrew’s hand was again on her knee. She could not lower even one of her own hands from view without bringing attention to herself.
“Aye, madam. But perhaps I will be invited to return.”
“Of course you will return,” Boris insisted. “And in the meantime, while you are at work in London, I will go to the city, where the base for our proposed partnership sits in a heap of ashes.” He laughed loudly at what was not entirely funny.
“Of course you understand that I cannot make any agreement without sending word home to my brothers,” Tyson said.
“We have plenty of time for agreements and letters,” Boris told him. “The important thing is that you have a good visit, and if we can do a little business as well, all the better.”
Vieve couldn’t remember seeing her father quite so pleased, or her uncle so disgruntled. She smiled wryly. Charles derived far too much pleasure from her father’s crises and suffered greatly when Lord Ridgley did well for himself. He ought to be ashamed, she thought.
Tyson looked around the table, and as he glanced at each face his brows rose with the corners of his lips, as if to thank each one personally for the hospitality, when only Boris had issued the invitation. “I’m flattered. I don’t think I can ignore my duties or my ship completely, but I’m certain that something can be arranged. Perhaps I can return in a few months.”
“You must have very light responsibilities in America,” Charles observed with a touch of malice.
“I have a very capable family,” Tyson corrected. He turned to Boris. “A little time abroad is good for me. I have worked too hard.” Vieve watched as Tyson seemed to spy her uncle Charles out of the corner of his eye. She lowered her hand and removed Andrew’s clinging grasp on her knee.
When the women rose to retire from the dining room, Vieve stayed in her chair. She wished to remain and listen to more of the men’s conversation, but before she could do anything so improper, Aunt Elizabeth pointedly called each one of them by name to accompany her to the sitting room.
Although that was the last place Vieve desired to be, the only alternative offered was likewise unappealing. Andrew, having quickly extricated himself from the men’s discourse over brandy, lightly tapped on the sitting room door, pushed it open, and smiled at Vieve. He already had her shawl draped over his arm, and his message was clear: he wished for a stroll in the garden. She found his presumption appalling.
Vieve entered the foyer, softly shutting the sitting room door behind her. It suddenly amazed her that she had endured this kind of behavior from Andrew for a year. She failed to remember that only a few days before she might have pranced out of the house with him, as eagerly as he.
“What do you want?” she whispered impatiently. “Why aren’t you in the dining room, listening to their discussion?”
“I’d rather be with you,” he said.
“Don’t you think we’ve created enough of a stir? Paul is already very distressed about us, and I don’t want to cause any more trouble for my father.”
“What kind of behavior should your brother expect from two people who wish to marry?”
“He probably expects you to give as much diligence to the family business as you do to seducing me. I believe the conversation that should interest you most is taking place in the dining room.”
“But I haven’t seen you in days.”
“I think the separation is a good deal safer than what we have been doing. And it’s still cold outside. I wouldn’t want to catch my death in the night air.”
“I’ll keep you warm, darling,” he said, smiling down at her, gently running a finger over her bare shoulder.
“Go have a brandy with the men, Andrew. I don’t want Harriet to have to replace another row of perfectly good buttons after you’ve tried to rip off my gown.” She whirled about, opened the sitting room door, smiled sweetly at her aunt and cousins, and sat on the settee beside Evelyn.
“Are you not going for a walk with Andrew?” Evelyn asked in surprise.
“I’ve only just recovered from a mild bout of ague,” she lied, smiling as convincingly as she could for the benefit of Aunt Elizabeth and her cousins. Faye glanced up from her book and actually glared at Vieve. “I don’t think I should chance the night air.”
Evelyn looked at her closely, first knitting her brow in a bit of confusion and then slowly breaking into a devilish smile meant only for Vieve. “I see,” she said knowingly. “It is a little cool. But I was just thinking that it should soon be getting warmer.”
“Indeed,” Vieve replied. Evelyn might fool the rest of the room, but Vieve knew her dry humor and her ability to seize upon small clues and make correct assumptions. Evelyn had undoubtedly noticed Vieve’s strong interest in the Yankee captain.
As she picked up the sampler and bent her eyes over her work, Evelyn murmured softly, “I wonder what the summers are like in America. I’ve heard they are deliciously hot.”
Vieve reached for her own sampler, a pastime she made no secret of hating, and in the process managed to give Evelyn a nudge in the ribs as a warning.
“Wouldn’t you love to visit?” Evelyn asked, keeping her eyes downcast and controlling the laughter in her voice.
“I’ve heard it’s a barbarous place,” Vieve responded.
“Oh, I doubt that, Vieve,” Evelyn said gently. “Although I imagine it takes great strength and a strong character to build something out of an untamed land.” She laughed lightly. “Surely some things from America can be tamed.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Vieve said slowly, glaring at Evelyn out of the corner of her eye.
“Well, we’ll have to ask the captain.”
This time Charles did not overstay his visit. He was a bit more tense than usual, which Vieve assumed had to do with the captain’s presence. If Charles could not humiliate her father, he seemed not to enjoy himself. He called for the Latimer women after just a short time, and when the front door closed behind the Latimers, Vieve stood and let out a long, bored sigh, fluffing the wrinkles out of her skirt with a little shake.
This time it was Paul who appeared at the sitting room door with Evelyn’s wrap already in hand. She greeted him warmly, rising on her toes to place a wifely kiss on his cheek.
“Has Andrew gone?” Vieve asked hesitantly.
“I believe so,” Paul said as if only suddenly aware that Andrew was missing. “He was act
ing a little oddly when he returned to the dining room. Did you have a disagreement?”
“He is probably angry with me,” she said absently. “Papa?”
“Retired,” he said, placing Evelyn’s wrap around her shoulders. “You’re on your own, Vieve. We’ll be in the garden.”
Vieve wandered into the dining room to be certain Andrew was not there and then stepped out onto the veranda. She would not embarrass Paul and Evelyn by wandering into the garden, but she was too restless to go to bed. She almost laughed aloud as she thought about Evelyn’s taunting and planned to give her a piece of her mind later. Because Evelyn was rather quiet, not many people recognized her wit and apt remarks.
Her movements onto and around the veranda had not been intentionally quiet, but apparently she had issued no sound, for she recognized Captain Gervais’s back as he leaned over the rail at the far end of the veranda. “Good evening,” she said.
He straightened and turned, as if startled, and then upon seeing who it was, casually walked toward her. He held a smoking pipe in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other. A slight shiver made her aware that she had not even taken her wrap. “I didn’t hear you come out,” he said. “I saw Paul and Evelyn pass, and I assumed you were already far from prying eyes with your young Andrew. After all, we wouldn’t want your ‘master’ to beat you.”
“You don’t have to make fun of me,” she informed him. “I was more concerned with protecting myself from you than whether or not I was telling a lie.”
“Oh,” he said. “I see.”
She thrust out her lower lip in a pout. “I didn’t really expect you to understand.”
He chuckled lightly. “I am not such a stranger to young love, my dear. I understand perfectly.”
She looked up at him, conscious for perhaps the first time of how handsome he was. He was over six feet tall, and his broad shoulders made him appear almost a giant compared to other men. She hadn’t realized until now that he’d been the tallest man in the room that night. Her uncle was quite proud of his own height, but Tyson’s trim and muscular physique had made Charles appear slouched and paunchy by comparison. Tyson’s face was a healthy bronze, his hair as black as coal, and his eyes, which she had earlier noted were gray, seemed to burn a bright silver in the veranda’s torchlight.
“I do appreciate the fact that you didn’t tell my father. I should never have allowed Andrew to talk me into such a thing. It was very foolish.”
“Love will find a way,” he shrugged.
“It’s not that... it’s...oh, I don’t know what it is.”
Tyson laughed lightly and lifted her chin with his finger so he could look into her eyes. “Andrew seems to be a good fellow. I’m certain he’ll marry you.”
She stiffened slightly. “Of course he will. The question is whether I will marry him.”
“Oh, I see,” he laughed. “Well, then you have every right to insist that he mind his manners. Should you reject him, the next man might be offended by the liberties Andrew has already taken.”
The veranda thankfully was not light enough to betray her bright cheeks. She was beginning to regret that Andrew had been allowed any return of affection at all. She cooled her embarrassment as quickly as she could by turning her face away, reminding herself that she was still a virgin, and changed the subject.
“You seem to be very comfortable here,” Vieve murmured.
“Your father is a very good host.”
“I mean in England,” she said, turning back to him.
“My roots are here as well, madam. My mother was English and was born in this country.”
“But you must have fought against England....”
“My family considered themselves Americans. But some of my mother’s family still lives in England. I have a rather distant cousin in London, and I hope to find him receptive to a new family acquaintance.”
“Was your mother a bondswoman?” she asked boldly. Vieve had heard of only two ways of settling in the colonies: either by a large and lucrative land grant or as a slave. Impulsively, she had asked if his family’s background was modest rather than prosperous, without realizing how insulting it sounded.
“No, she was the daughter of an earl, as a matter of fact. But I’m afraid she was not only the fourth daughter, which left her quite far from the lineage of title, but also a traitor. She cast her lot with her American husband and refused to support England in the war.” He took a sip from his drink. “Have I disappointed you, petite? Did you hope to learn that all Americans were raised by wolves in the wilderness?”
“Of course not. I’m...very...pleased for you. How do you have the time to visit this distant relation?”
He looked away from her immediately, an unmistakable frown of annoyance darkening his face. “I have worked hard for a good many years; my father died when I was fairly young. My brothers are all married and have children, and so when the time came for someone from our family to travel abroad to look at trade prospects, I was the best choice. They strongly encouraged me to add a little pleasure to my work.”
She was caught in an almost instant giggle. He had sounded so glum, and more than that, so well rehearsed. Was he ashamed to be taking a little time away from hard work? “That’s very nice,” she said. “But you don’t seem in the least happy about it.”
“I don’t like being so far from my work,” he said grimly.
“And your family,” she added.
“And my family,” he confirmed in an impatient voice.
“Well, I hope that even under such dreadful circumstances, we can ease your loneliness and make your stay pleasant.”
“And I hope my impatience with holidays does not upset my host.”
“I highly doubt that,” she laughed. “In fact, you’re exactly the kind of man my father likes best: a man with a grave dislike for leisure and a true passion for hard work. If you are also stubborn and temperamental, you are exactly like him.”
He turned toward her, and she cocked her head slightly to study his frowning countenance. If she were a bit bolder, she would smooth away the stern set of his jaw with her fingertips. No wonder he got on so well with Lord Ridgley. She couldn’t suppress another giggle, and the grim lines on his face seemed to smooth.
He smiled in spite of himself. “It certainly isn’t your fault that I dislike long spells in port.” He took a sip from his glass. “And my brothers are right; since I’ve come so far, I must learn to take more time to view the rich beauty of this country... and all of its treasures.”
Vieve felt a warm flush creep over her. His deep, resonant voice held a seductive quality that titillated her, and as she looked up into his mysterious silver eyes, she observed the color changing, darkening into an almost black, smoldering fire. He reached aside and placed his pipe on the rail, and then did the same with his glass, never breaking their mutual gaze. She began to tremble with anticipation. “Yes,” she said softly, “do take some time.”
His hand touched her waist and tentatively moved around to the small of her back. Vieve lowered her eyelids and tilted her chin upward, readying herself to be kissed. She was very adept at this, preparing for a kiss. Although there had been only Andrew, he had schooled her very well in the art of kissing, and she admitted she liked it a great deal. She might like it even more with this bold sea captain. The mere touch of his hand brought the most deliciously thrilling thoughts to mind, and she allowed him to pull her closer.
His other hand touched her shoulder, his strong fingers gently caressing her bare flesh and sliding her gown off her shoulder. She knew she was still demurely covered and so she allowed this, too. She could feel the hard press of his thighs against hers as he pulled her against him, his breath warm above her closed eyes. She sighed with pleasure. If he did not claim her lips soon, she thought she might faint from desire. Throughout the evening the captain’s masculinity, his manners, and his uncanny support of her family had heightened his appeal for her. She wanted his lips to cover hers.
The sweet scent of brandy on his lips nearly hypnotized her.
His lips lightly touched hers, a brush so delicate that she feared she imagined it, and his hand barely urged her closer. “I cannot do this, Vieve,” he whispered. His fingers gently squeezed her shoulder, and then he released her. She stood stunned and shaken. He turned away from her, leaning on the banister, and let go with a laugh, shaking his head.
“But...”
He turned back to her, an almost embarrassed expression on his face. “I’m terribly sorry, mademoiselle. But I do not want Lord Ridgley to find me on his veranda, molesting his daughter.”
“But...” She was almost too flustered to speak. “Surely you would not be flogged for a kiss.”
“No, I don’t think so,” he said, laughing again. His finger was under her chin, his thumb testing the silky softness of her cheek. “And you are a tempting woman, I admit.”
She let her eyes close again, giving him another opportunity.
“I know you wish to be kissed,” he said matter-of-factly. Her eyes flew open. “Indeed, more. But that is not what I wish, petite. It is clear that you have spent enough time on moonlit garden paths to have learned some of love’s pleasures, but perhaps not enough. No, cherie, I do not wish to hold you, taste you, touch your sweet body, and then go alone to my bed.”
“What?” she asked in shock.
He smiled lazily and reached for his glass. “I am not a young stallion, untried, prancing at the heels of my mare in wait for her father’s blessing like your young Andrew. He may feel compelled to hold himself in painful restraint for the priest, in deference to your dowry and your father’s permission, but I am not so inclined.” He winked at her. “If I touch you like that again, I will make love to you.” He leaned closer as if sharing a secret, and Vieve’s eyes were so round and awestruck that she did not blink even once. “And there is no turning back, once a man has made up his mind. Take heed.”
