A British Heiress in America (Revolutionary Women Book 1)

by Becky Lower

  “You’re not longing for home, for England, foolish girl. You’re off on a new adventure, and away from the clutches of your father. Aunt Bernice will introduce you to Boston’s version of British high society and you’ll spend a joyful couple of months flirting with all the lonely English soldiers.” She shook her head to clear away any vestiges of longing for her home country. She tugged a soft cloth from the supply cupboard, poured some lemon wax on it, wishing she had some gloves to protect her hands. Those lonely English soldiers would not take kindly to a woman with callused fingers.

  The grain of the fine teak wood emerged in high relief as she polished. She ran her fingers over the smooth surface, pleased with the way the wood shined as she wound her way around the room. She opened cupboards and cabinets, removing the contents on each shelf before she applied a bit of wax to each. There was one cupboard she could not open, however. It was a locked compartment, and she let her mind wander, pondering what was so important that it needed to be locked away. Was there a sack of money inside? Had someone given the captain a bundle of letters to the soldiers from their loved ones? Missives to the commanding officers from their superiors? Her mind invented different scenarios, all of which were enticing. Perhaps she could find the key while she finished the cleaning.

  When she got back to her starting point, she stood for a moment with the cloth and the bottle in her hands, breathing in the aroma. Sunlight from the porthole bounced off the highly polished wood, and despite herself, Pippa’s lungs expanded with deep, satisfying breaths.

  “Now, to get the rest of this place in order. Solve the mystery.” She tucked the cloth and bottle back into the cupboard and pivoted toward the desk where the captain had his charts and instruments. By now, she could figure out how the compass worked, and its purpose, but the others, the funny looking back staff, the sextant and the other devices, she had no clue about. She considered it a major accomplishment to have memorized their various names. She ran a feather duster over the top of the desk, careful not to disturb any of the captain’s belongings.

  “If I were a key to open the door to the riches, where would I be?” Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the locked compartment that held who knew what. She quickly rifled her way through each drawer of the desk. Nothing. She tamped down her burning curiosity and finished her work. When she’d been at home, living with her father, she occasionally overheard the maids talking about how nice a room appeared after they’d finished cleaning, mopping and tidying up. She never quite grasped how one could get an ounce of satisfaction from a neat room. Until now. Standing in front of the door, she glanced at the result of her labor, breathed in the scent of the lemon wax and allowed herself a pat on the back for a job well done.

  Now, if only she could find the key.

  • ♥ •

  Damn! The woman had no clue how close she’d come to being dragged to the narrow bed and defiled. It took every ounce of his strength to leave the cabin. He reminded himself she was a naïve young lady who was accustomed to innocently toying with a man’s affections, and needed to be treated accordingly, despite her outrageous behavior. She had no idea how she stirred his senses. Senses that had been too long tamped down. And it was for the best that she never find out since he had no time for a woman to toy with his affections.

  He gritted his teeth as he got to the deck and tasted the salty air. The waves were higher than normal, matching his chaotic mind. Since Gladys died, he had a singular focus. One that included a female, to be sure. His daughter, Emma. Not another adult female. Even though there were a number of available and interested females in Boston, the country was in such a state of unrest, he did not wish to remarry and accept responsibility for another. His only focus was to assure Emma a life filled with happiness.

  He took over the helm from Ben. “Choppy water this afternoon.”

  Ben brushed a hand through his hair. “Been hard put to keep her on course for a couple of hours now.” He rolled his shoulders. “Storm’s a-brewin’.”

  “We’ve been lucky so far this trip, so we’re due.” Daniel held onto the spokes of the wheel. He’d take a storm at sea any day over the one brewing in his cabin below.

  The fresh air cleared his mind, his jaw unclenched and his shaft finally lost its rigidity. At least he’d have peace until he reentered the cabin. Having Pippa sleeping in his cabin had suddenly become a huge distraction. A huge temptation. Maybe he should send her to another part of the ship until they docked. But if any of his men figured out her true identity, there would be hell to pay, one way or the other. No, he had to keep her secret, and keep her close until this journey was at an end. She had not complained once about having to sleep on the hard floor, but when she drifted off to sleep, she whimpered. Now, he understood why. Daniel smiled as he thought of her night sounds. Pippa was not a woman to whimper, at least while she was awake. But sleep allowed him a glimpse of her true feelings. Perhaps she wasn’t so sure of herself after all. America differed vastly from England, and even with her aunt and uncle able to guide her, she had taken a huge step into the unknown. Dressed as a boy. Stowing away. And now revealing her true identity to him. He had to admire her spirit. And her breasts. His mouth watered.

  Lonely or not, four years or not, he had to tamp down any tender feelings for Pippa. Once he delivered her to her relatives, she’d be out of his grasp socially, even though the British thought of him as one of them. But not really one of them. He was a merchant sailor, one of the unwashed working class. Any dealings with the British in Boston were strictly business. He’d leave her to charm the entire English population of Boston. She’d probably be on a return voyage to England as soon as possible, aware of her folly, and rush into the arms of some lovesick swain.

  Perhaps by then, the war would be over and the British would take their sorry asses back to England. Yet, somehow, he doubted his own ideas. They were nothing more than wishful thinking. The war had only started. The Americans had a few small victories, but the British forces were mighty. Chances were very good he wouldn’t last the conflict without his duplicity being uncovered. Then, he’d be hanged and Emma would truly be an orphan. He couldn’t let that happen. For his daughter’s sake, he’d best forget he ever had met Philippa Worthington the minute his feet landed on American soil.

  But first, he had to get them there. And there was a storm a’brewin’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Pippa’s face had a greenish cast as she made her way to Daniel on the main deck. The rain was coming down horizontally, and the wind tossed the ship around as if it were a child’s toy.

  “What the hell are you doing on deck? Get below.” He bellowed, his voice carrying over the wind and the flapping sails, which his men were struggling to take down. Rain slapped at his face and he struggled to keep his eyes open against the torrent.

  “I have to tell you something and now is the best time to do so.” Pippa held onto the wheel with him and stared into his face. “I can’t swim.”

  Despite himself and despite their precarious situation, he laughed, a deep belly-laugh. “The finest swimmer would be hard pressed to survive if he got tossed overboard in these conditions. Get below.”

  She nodded and removed her hand from the wheel just as a rogue wave hit them broadside, knocking everyone down as if they were bowling pins. Daniel got to his feet quickly and helped Pippa get upright. He quickly counted the crewmembers as one of them yelled “Man overboard!” His worst fear had happened, and the pit in his stomach widened.

  “Who is it?”

  The crew ran to the side of the ship where the man had gone over. “It’s Ben! There he is!” The crew pointed to the vast, churning ocean.

  “Throw him the float. I’ll keep the ship steady.” Daniel barked orders and grabbed the wheel. Pippa stood by the railing, keeping her eye on the man bobbing up and down in the water. Each time a wave crested, he disappeared.

  “Pip, throw him the float near you, and then lash the end to the railing.” Daniel yelled
instructions, spurring her to action. She tossed the heavy equipment overboard, the rope trailing out behind it. “Catch the rope!” If she didn’t catch the rope, the float would only delay the inevitable for Ben. They’d have no way to tug him back onto the ship.

  Daniel let out a breath when she caught the end of the rope at the last second. She pivoted toward him, rope in hand. He nodded at her. “Tie it to the railing.”

  Pippa continued to stare at him. “Now, Pip! Use the sailor’s knot and tie it tight to the railing.”

  After an eternity, but Daniel was certain it had only been seconds, she blinked and wound the end of the rope around the railing.

  “I can’t. I forget how it’s done, Cap’n.”

  “Yes, you can do it. Just take a breath and recall your instructions. Ben’s life is at stake.”

  She nodded and bent to her task. Once she got the rope tied, she focused on the waves, one hand on her stomach. “He’s grabbed the float!”

  “Men, haul him up!” Daniel shouted to his crew. “Pip, head below now.”

  “Not until Ben is out of the water.”

  The obstinate woman.

  The crew finally yanked Ben from the raging seas and landed him on deck, where he flopped around like a big fish. He lay there, belching water and struggling to breathe.

  “I’ll get Ben below and get some hot soup into him.” Pip placed an arm around Ben as the big man stood on wobbly legs.

  “Good idea. And stay below deck until this storm passes.”

  Daniel’s heart rate returned to normal, or as normal as it could be in the midst of a crisis, once Pippa and Ben were out of sight. Now, he could again focus on fighting his way through the storm. Ben would be all right. He was a tough, hardened, sailor. What would have happened if Pippa had gone over instead? He shuddered as the thought rolled over him, much like that rogue wave. If they managed to make it through the storm and to America, he would teach her to swim.

  So much for his idea to leave her alone once they got to Boston.

  • ♥ •

  Pippa led Ben to his hammock and took out dry clothing from the duffel where he kept his things. She ran the towel roughly over his arms and legs to stimulate the blood to flow to his mottled skin.

  “I’m all right, lad. Yer going to rub my flesh right off my body.” Ben grabbed the towel from her and ran it over his hair.

  “If you’re well enough to complain, you’re well enough to get out of those wet clothes. Finish drying off and put on new duds. I’ll put a pot on the stove and warm some soup for you.”

  “Good idea. Git outta here and let me get dressed.”

  She scurried to the galley and stoked the fire in the small chamber. Her heart still galloped. The sight of Ben flailing about as waves kept crashing over him was a sight she’d never forget. It amazed her how he could stay afloat. Once she got to America, if they ever did, she would learn to swim. She could be a debutante and still take care of herself. Her bearing straightened as her resolve to be an independent woman heightened.

  Once she made certain Ben would survive to live another day and she had a pot of soup warming, she needed to find some dry clothing of her own. Unfortunately, she’d only boarded with the shirt on her back. Maybe she could use one of the captain’s...

  The thought of wearing something of the captain’s made her insides go all squishy. Not panic squishy, like what she’d felt as she watched Ben being tossed about, but warm squishy. She knew nothing about the captain, not even his name, but she felt closer to him than she ever had any man. She hadn’t gone on deck to tell him she couldn’t swim, not really. When the ship began being tossed about by the wind and waves, she’d become seasick for the very first time. Aside from the obvious outward display of her discomfort, her legs grew weak and her heart raced. She crossed her arms over her undulating stomach and wished to be where she felt safe. And by his side was the first place, the only place, on this ship where she felt truly at peace. Her wet shirt was clinging to her body, and if Ben weren’t so weak, he would notice her binding and then the questions would begin. She couldn’t take that chance. Pippa sucked on the inside of her cheek as she hurriedly grabbed one of the captain’s shirts. She dashed back to the galley to check on the soup and contemplated her reasons for wanting to be on deck.

  Ben clambered into the galley, wiping all thoughts of the captain from her mind. He sank into a seat and stared off into space for a minute. Then, he pierced her with his gaze.

  “Thank ye, Pip, fer savin’ my sorry arse.”

  “So I’m no longer ‘lad?’ I’m Pip now?” She grinned at him. “I didn’t save you, Ben. You saved yourself. My heart was in my throat the whole time you were in the water. I’m still shaking. How did you learn to swim so well?” She placed a trembling hand on top of the table. Now that they had averted the crisis, and she could take time to contemplate what had just happened, her whole body shook from terror.

  Ben shifted his gaze as she placed a cup of soup in front of him, sloshing a bit of it over the side of the cup. He wrapped his beefy hands around it, absorbing the warmth. Pippa stared at his hands, gratified to see color coming back to them instead of the gray, pasty look they’d had when she hustled him below deck. She took a sip from her own cup, appreciating the tangy taste of the barley soup.

  “T’was not much different a scene than what we just had. I was with my father, on his lobster boat, and fell overboard. It was either sink or swim, so I learned fast.” Ben brushed a hand over his hair. “Long time ago.”

  “Are there places in Boston where I could learn, once we get there?”

  He ran his gaze over her. “Well, there’s the ocean. And there are some ponds close by, and a bay or two that are gentler than the ocean. You’ll need to find someone to give you some instruction. It’s coming on summer, so the water will be warm, at least.” He shuddered. “Not like the water I just sampled.”

  She faced the stove again, tamping down the flames. “It would be a good skill to have, especially since I will have to cross the ocean again, when I return home.”

  “Yer planning to go back to England? Why did you stow away then?”

  Pippa shifted on the seat. She'd said too much. “It’s a long story, Ben. And you’re tired. Can I help you get to your hammock?”

  She hadn’t yet set foot in Boston, in the far-off land called America, and she was already making plans to leave. But that had been her plan all along. Hadn’t it?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Daniel checked on Ben, and the rest of his crew, before heading to the cabin for a couple of hours’ rest. He needed to figure out how far off course they had gotten during the storm. Pippa had already put some food into the cabin and it called to him like a beacon. She called to him like a beacon. His heart had been in his throat the whole time she was on deck during the storm. He soaked the bread in his hot barley soup and bit into it, his tongue curling over the first food he'd had in hours. His gaze bounced around. All was quiet. Usually, Pippa opened her mouth the moment he entered the room. He finally spied her, curled into a ball on the floor, staring at the floorboards.

  He knelt in front of her. “What’s wrong, Pip?”

  Her gaze lifted from the floor and she stared into his eyes. Funny, he’d never noticed how deeply blue her eyes were before. Maybe it was more noticeable because she had become so pale. Her porcelain skin was so translucent he could almost see the veins beneath it. She lifted a hand toward him and he noticed the tremble. He cradled her hand in his.

  “Everything’s all right now, Pip. We’re a bit off course, but everyone survived. Thanks in no small part to you.”

  She nodded, but he could still see the tremble in her limbs. She squeezed her fingers around his, and he gulped for air. Her touch had been gentle, but it rocked him to the bottom of his boots. To the bottom of his soul. She glanced up at him again and something shifted inside him. It was as if all the emotion he’d bottled up for four years had suddenly sprung a leak. He squeezed her hand in
return before he released her.

  She sat up straighter. “I did a good job up there, didn’t I? Threw that bloody float right at him. Ben told me I almost clobbered him, I got it so close.”

  Daniel stood. “I just checked on Ben and he’s sleeping like a baby. Thank you for taking care of him once we fished him from the water.” He extended a hand to her again, helping her up from the floor, noticing what she had on for the first time. “My shirt never looked so good when I wore it.” He waved a hand over her torso. “Shall we have a cigar and discuss the day, as we normally do?”

  She allowed him to help her to her feet, but then she released his hand and glared at him. “I’ll be happy to share a cheroot, and I thank you for the use of your shirt until mine dries out, but I won’t talk anymore about the day.” She pivoted away from him. “Because I’ll sound like a silly little debutante if I tell you how frightened I was.” She faced the wall. “I used to make fun of those girls who screamed when they came across a spider or some such, and now, I’ve become one.”

  “Pippa.”

  He waited for her to face him again. Time stood still until she did so.

  “You are not now, nor have you ever been, a silly little debutante. What you experienced today would make most men shudder in their boots. You threw the float with an accuracy most men can’t achieve, you tied your sailor’s knot tight enough so we could keep hold of the rope while we hauled Ben in, and you then took care of my mate.” He took a step toward her and brushed a tendril of hair from her face. His hand cupped her jaw as he stared at her. And leaned in. Her body canted toward him as he stared into those blue eyes. The corneas had a rim of gold around them. Funny, he’d never seen that before. But then, he’d never been this close to her before, either.

  When his mouth was only a few inches from hers, she licked her lips. The motion rocked him out of his stupor and he blinked, regaining his senses. He backed off, patted her cheek, and withdrew. “Good job today. Now, let’s have that cigar.”