“Well, it is my understanding that Papa made prior provisions to send for our relation, in the event he met his demise in battle.” It took a few minutes to organize her thoughts. “Papa was always prepared for any situation, so I was surprised that he left no money for our return passage to England. In the event something happened to the original dispatch, I mailed a second letter to Uncle Samuel before we departed Ghent.”
“Assuming the first missive went awry, it could be December before your uncle receives the note.” Blake gazed at the ceiling and narrowed his stare. “Given the weather, crossing the Atlantic could take almost twice as long, which means it could be late January or early February by the time he arrives in London to settle the estate.”
“Too true.” Lenore savored another sip of rum and, through a haze of euphoria, marveled at how her glass never emptied. “I suppose Lucy and I will open our townhouse to await Uncle Samuel.”
“That is unacceptable, as you are my charge, a responsibility I take seriously.” Blake drew circles on her palm, and she forgot her objection. “Until Samuel lands on our shores, you will be my guests, in my home, and my mother shall act as chaperone.”
“You live with your mother?” Lenore hiccuped and then gurgled. Was her glass not half empty only a minute ago? “And we can stay in our own residence, Blake. At two and twenty, I am rather more than seven.”
“But not so long in the tooth that I will permit you to live alone.” He closed his fingers about her hand. “Given our courtship, the arrangement is perfectly acceptable. And where do you suppose my mother dwells?”
“I am not sure.” The murmur of conversation in the crowded dining room muddled her concentration, and she focused on her glass, with its seemingly endless supply of coconut rum. “But never would I have guessed you accommodate your mother. She must have nerves of steel.”
“Now why do you say that?” Blake cast her a mischievous expression. “Admit it, you cannot resist me.”
“Because you could drive a saint to drink.” With that, she took an impressive swig of rum and relished the sweetness of infused coconut. “And why should I resist you, handsome but impossible man?”
“What did I tell you?” Blake glanced at Lucilla. “She reveals an altogether different side, which I find quite appealing, when she is foxed.”
“Who is foxed?” Lenore hiccuped. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing, my dear.” He picked up her glass. “Have some more rum.”
“Mm.” Were those not her new favorite words? “The more you consume, the better it tastes.”
“So do you or do you not wish to marry the captain, Lenny?” Resting elbows to the table, Lucy perched on the edge of her seat. “Are we to be family?”
“Of course, I want to marry the captain.” Lenore grasped the armrests, as the floor seemed to pitch and roll. “Who would not want to be the wife of such an estimable specimen?”
“What do you like best?” Was it Lenore’s imagination, or was Lucy more animated than usual?
“Apart from his blue eyes, his mysterious side.” The room seemed to spin out of control, as Lenore teetered. “I should like, very much, to know about the Brethren of the Coast.” And then she swooned.
#
Two days later, Lenore sniffled, mumbled, and opened her eyes. Looming beside her bunk, a place he had scarcely abandoned since they set sail from Ritzebüttel, Blake poured a glass of water and helped her sit upright.
“How do you feel?” He frowned, as she slumped forward and cradled her head in her hands.
“As though I have been struck by a runaway carriage.” Rubbing the back of her neck, she groaned. “What happened?”
“I got you foxed, in order to alleviate your symptoms when we cast off for London.” And while he had succeeded in his conspiratorial endeavor, she managed to best his plot with her revelation. “As I hoped, you have suffered no such return of the malady. But I eased your consumption of the grog last night, to spare you any serious lingering effects.”
“While I appreciate your efforts, as your intentions were honorable, I wish you had apprised me of your plan, as I am not unreasonable.” She shifted, and the blankets dropped to her waist.
For the umpteenth time, he averted his stare and bit back a curse, as she tempted him beyond reason, but he refused to be diverted. “And if you are up to it, you should try to eat something.”
“Although I would dearly love a bowl of your cook’s signature porridge, I think I should attempt some dry toast, first.” Then she gazed at the foot of the bunk. “Where is my robe?”
“Pray, a moment.” Blake walked to the door, opened it, and whistled. Then he stomped to the small wardrobe and fetched the garment in question, which he draped over her shoulders. “There. Warm enough?”
“Yes, thank you.” After he fluffed the pillows, she reclined and smiled. “I am sorry to be such a bother. You have gone above and beyond the call of duty, and I shall be forever grateful.”
That was an understatement, as she had disrupted everything about his life.
“I do not want your gratitude, Lenore.” No, he wanted something far more precious, and tending her had only increased the unfamiliar longing in his chest. “But I will have an explanation.”
“For what?” She blinked, as she smoothed the covers. “Have I somehow offended you?”
“Good morning, Cap’n.” As usual, Lucy’s timing could not be more perfect. “I have my sister’s meal, as you requested.” To Lenore, Lucilla said, “Cap’n purchased some dragon pearl jasmine just for you.”
“How thoughtful, Blake.” His lady cast a cherubic expression. “Perhaps I shall make another lobscouse, just for you.”
After depositing the tray to the table, Lucy tiptoed to the exit, just as he had anticipated. “Come back here, Miss Lucilla.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” The scamp flinched, as she had been avoiding him at every turn. “You have need of me, sir?”
“You know, very well, I do.” He kicked out a chair. “Have a seat.”
“I beg your pardon, but is something amiss?” Lenore peered at him, then her sister, and then again met his gaze. “What has Lucilla done to merit the harsh tone in your voice, to which I take exception?”
“You are permitted no such exception, given you have compromised my position.” It took all his control to tamp his temper. “Now, either or both of you need to tell me where you heard of the Brethren of the Coast.”
Total silence fell on the tiny cabin.
“I am waiting.” He tapped an impatient rhythm. “I will not ask again.”
Lucy stared at the floor and shuffled her feet. “It was my fault—”
“I am entirely to blame.” Lenore cleared her throat. “If you will allow Lucy to visit the galley, you and I can discuss any possible complication.”
“No.” He folded his arms. “As you were, Miss Lucilla.”
“But she is innocent.” Then Lenore gave her attention to the hem of her sleeve. “One day, while you were on the quarterdeck, and I had nothing better to do, I ventured into your cabin and found an object of interest.”
“And what did this object of interest look like?” Not for a second did he believe her. “Describe it to me, in detail.”
“What did it look like?” She blinked and glanced at Lucy. When he snapped his fingers, Lucilla, caught nipping at the cherry compote, jumped and rested her hands in her lap. “Um. Well, it was round.”
“And what else?” Given her countenance of confusion, and the fact that she covered for her younger sibling, he could not resist tormenting her, just a little. “Any particular color?”
“Color?” Lenore bit her lip.
“My dear, is there something wrong with your sweet ears?” How he ached to peal with laughter at her predicament.
“Is there something wrong with my ears?” And now her cheeks blushed. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you keep repeating everything I say.” He arched a brow. “Not quite con
fident of your story are you? So what color is the mysterious item you claim to have located, and where did you find it?”
“My story?” She swallowed hard. “I resent that, Blake.”
“Answer me.” He clamped shut his jaw to stave off mirth, as prevarication was not her strong suit, which boded well for their future.
“There are so many colors, it is difficult to single out just one.” She gaped at Lucy, who pretended to study the ceiling timbers when he came alert. “It was in your desk.”
“Are you certain, as you do not sound too sure of yourself.” Oh, the impromptu interrogation harkened fonder days, when he uncovered Caroline’s numerous infractions, for which he always forgave her. But questioning the luscious Lenore worked on him in ways he could not have foreseen, and he struggled with a painful erection. “Perhaps it would be easier to describe the object. And Miss Lucy, if you so much as flinch, I will spank your bottom, and you will not sit comfortably for a fortnight.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” Lucy pouted and slouched.
“Please, do not threaten my sister with violence.” And there sparked the fire he did so enjoy. “I found the curious badge, and it has ‘Brethren of the Coast’ etched on the front, if you must know. So if you wish to discipline anyone, you may punish me.”
“My dear, you are a terrible liar.” Yet she drove him to the brink of insanity with the mere suggestion of setting his palm to her round derriere. “I know, very well, your sister invaded my privacy.”
“She did no such thing.” Lenore waved a clenched fist. “You gave her permission to stay in your cabin, while you treated me for seasickness, and I told you she is inquisitive by nature.”
“I granted her the privilege of perusing my ledgers, not to rifle through my belongings.” He stood and paced, a rarity for him, as it viewed the habit as too indicative of a complete loss of command. “Well, what have you to say for yourself?”
“I am sorry, Cap’n.” Then Lucy bounded from her chair. “So are you a member of the Brethren? Are you a Templar descendent? Are there others in covert service to His Majesty?”
“What do you know of such things?” Aghast, he bared his teeth. “And if you ever breathe a word of it to anyone—”
“Oh, I would never do that, sir.” Lucy rocked on her heels. “But is it true that Lord Nelson was a member of the secretive order? Papa took me to the military library on many occasions, and I read all sorts of interesting things, including Nelson’s letters. Did you know the Naval Academy library boasts an entire section on Brethren lore?”
“How do you know about that?” He just stopped himself from revealing more details. “Those volumes are not on public display.”
“Yes, I know.” Lucy nodded with enthusiasm. “But you would be amazed by what you can gain with a kind word and a passion for knowledge, when dealing with a young cadet eager to make a general’s daughter happy.”
“What?” He stood stock-still, as the unabashed scamp shrugged. “Little Lucy is a machinating maiden?”
“It sounds dreadful when you put it that way.” The woman did not even appear contrite. “Can you not call it something else?”
In the face of such logic, he could only laugh. Then he glanced at Lenore, and she smiled. After a few minutes, he huffed a breath and returned to his seat. “My dears, what I am about to share with you could put my family and I in grave danger, should you betray my confidence.”
“Tell us everything, Cap’n.” Lucy scooted her chair closer. “We will be as silent as the grave.”
“You are not the one that worries me.” He lowered his chin. “My concern lies with the grog drinker’s loose lips.”
“That is not fair.” How he adored Lenore’s fit of high dudgeon. “You admitted you got me drunk on purpose, and I knew not what I said, thus you must bear some responsibility for my haphazard foible.”
“Haphazard foible?” He checked himself. “Lenore, there are lives at stake, not just my own and that of my fellow knights, but several of my brothers in arms are married, with children.” In a flash, he transported to the past, to another place and time, and he shuddered. “Some three years ago, one of our women was kidnapped and tortured almost to death, in a villain’s quest for intelligence, so this is no game.”
“Never would I do anything to jeopardize your safety.” Lenore clutched her throat. “And what manner of evil visits such cruelty upon a lady?”
“One that knows no limits, as war is odious work from which no one is shielded.” And the direct strike to his family still stung. In that moment, he understood Dirk’s protective tendencies, where Rebecca was concerned, as Blake could not abide the mere thought of someone hurting Lenore. “So I will have your promise not to reveal my confidential military affiliation.”
“Know that you have it.” Lenore flicked her fingers, and Lucy moved to a spot beside her elder sister. “So the reports are accurate, and Lucilla speaks the truth?”
“Yes.” Leaning forward, he rested elbows to knees. “History tells us that on Friday, October thirteenth, in the year thirteen-o-seven, King Philip of France, in connivance with Pope Clement, executed an arrest warrant, which ironically began with the words, ‘God is not pleased. We have enemies of the faith in the kingdom,’ for the Templars. Deep in debt to the Templars for an enormous sum, Philip plotted to seize the vast wealth the knights had amassed and erase his obligations. The once noble order was all but eradicated.” Blake splayed his palms and scrutinized the lines and curves that traced his flesh. “But some escaped. Five Templar mariners set sail for England, where torture had been outlawed. In exchange for asylum, they swore an oath of loyalty to the Crown, and generations of Templar descendants have served, in silence, ever since.”
“Including you.” With a tear-filled gaze, Lenore stared at him. “Lucy, go to the galley, and tell the cook I will make a lobscouse for the captain’s dinner.”
Lucilla appeared stumped, as she stuttered and started. “But—”
“Go, now.” Lenore stood, taking Lucy with her. “I wish to be alone with Blake.”
At that revelation, and curious about her next move, he sat back in his chair. Absent the younger Teversham, the cabin grew quiet and still, save the gentle list from the stormy sea and the accompanying whistle of the gale. All remained calm, until his lady stepped between his legs and framed his face with her delicate hands.
“I should have known it was an act. The sarcasm, the bawdy comments, and the irascible temper—it is a ruse to disguise your genuine demeanor.” He should have disavowed her of the gallant but misguided notion, but he remained mute. Then she pressed her lips to his and said, “Blake Elliott, excepting my father, you are the most honorable man I have ever known.”
CHAPTER SIX
A cold and blustery day welcomed Lenore and Lucilla, as they huddled on the quarterdeck, while the Tristan glided to its berth in Deptford. Three years had passed since they last gazed on the heart of the British Empire, and it was a bittersweet homecoming, in light of their father’s death. Interspersed with fond memories of her sire, more recent recollections of another singular male charged the fore, resulting in further inner turmoil.
As Blake barked a rapid succession of orders, and the crew scrambled to execute the commands, she admired the angular profile of the man who occupied her dreams for the past sennight, and yet she could not reconcile the temperamental sea captain with the noble knight. Despite thoughts to the contrary, fanciful reflections of an armor-clad hero riding to her rescue, musings to which she clung in an act of sheer desperation, he did everything in his power to convince her otherwise in regard to his character. But she wanted to believe in him—needed to believe in him.
“All right, ladies.” Blake sketched a bow. “Shall we disembark and journey to London?”
“Indeed.” Holding tight to Lucilla’s hand, and with a steely grip on Blake’s arm, Lenore descended the gangplank. With her feet on terra firma, she breathed a sigh of relief. “If possible, I would prefer to stop b
y our residence on Coleman Street, as some staff may yet remain in service, and I would not impinge on your hospitality any longer than necessary.”
“When your uncle arrives, I shall deliver you into his custody. Until then, you and Lucy shall stay with me, as my guests, as you impinge on nothing.” He steered them down the docks to a bustling yard, wherein a massive coach, bearing an impressive coat of arms and liveried footman, parked. With nary a word, Blake opened the door and steadied her as she ascended the steps into the elegant equipage. “In you go. Make yourselves comfortable, while I arrange for delivery of our trunks.”
As she settled into the plush, damask-covered squabs, Lenore could not ignore the nagging suspicion that all was not as it appeared, when it came to her cantankerous sailor. And the small tin foot stove only fueled her uncertainty. Just then, the source of her consternation joined her.
“My dears, why do you not make use of the blanket?” Frowning, he unfolded and draped a plush ermine throw over Lenore and Lucy. “Better?”
“Indeed.” Tucked beneath the opulent covering, she peered at the thick carpet, which matched the sapphire décor, and met his stare, just as the coach jolted forward. “Blake, tell me the truth. Is this your rig?”
“What a curious question.” He leaned to one side. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I have never seen, much less enjoyed, such extravagant transportation.” Lenore pulled Lucy close. “Even with your additional hazardous duty, how can you afford such luxury on a captain’s pay?”
“The answer is simple.” Blake smiled and tugged on his coat sleeve. “I inherited it from my father.”
“He must have been a man of some estimation, to own such a fine coach.” She trailed her fingers along the padded interior. “And he served in the same capacity?”
“It would not be inaccurate to say I fill roles identical to those of my father.” There was nothing nefarious in his response. So why did his smug smile irk her? “But you are too polite to hold that against me.”
“You are correct.” Oh, on what sort of rogue had she pinned her hopes? “And do you live in London, proper? Or do you reside in one of the naval port cities, like Plymouth or Portsmouth?”
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