The Captain's Lady (Regency House Party: Havencrest Book 4)

by Sara Cardon

  Jack straightened. He had forgotten all about Mr. Nicolson. What was he doing in Portsmouth? His mind flashed with images of what could have happened to bring the man here—and all included Lucy in some form of trouble.

  “Is Lucy well?” He stepped forward.

  “Miss Brook is in good health. She believes me to be in London, but when I set off this morning, I decided I had to come find you instead.”

  The gust of worry began to subside. “Go on.”

  Mr. Nicolson glanced briefly at Ludlow then continued. “I admit my surprise that Miss Brook would choose you over her bank—over her entire fortune.”

  Jack stared at the man, trying to process what he was saying. “But she didn’t choose me.” Thinking of Lucy was a sweet torture.

  Mr. Nicolson gave him a droll look, as if Jack had said something dull, like the Royal Navy was only fairly strong.

  “I’ve never seen her so in love. Or so disappointed in love—heartbroken really,” Mr. Nicolson said. “She did choose you. She chose you even though she runs the risk of not having enough liquidity shored up in the bank without your hefty account. She chose you even though it meant she could lose the bank. And if she loses the bank, then her entire inheritance—her savings, investments, and property—will be seized. So yes, even with the risk, my friend who values stability and safety and comfort chose you.”

  Jack may as well have been split apart like a firecracker. Flashes of what could be lit up his mind. Lucy’s smile, banter, and wit. Her uncanny ability to help him see potential and strive to be better. He could picture making a life with her as easy as breathing. Building up her bank and shoring up her dreams. And the potential to have beautiful little girls who followed after their mother. He wanted it more than he wanted his own life. Jack pressed his hands to his eyes.

  “I don’t know why I came,” Mr. Nicolson said softly. “But I suppose I’ve always been as protective of her as I am of my own sisters.”

  Jack nodded, his throat too full of emotion to speak. Lucy had chosen him.

  Mr. Nicolson shifted. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed to tell you Miss Brook is a fine woman. Her approach may have been unconventional, but, had she not developed an affection for you, it would have been above board. Her original goal to safeguard her bank, her clients, shareholders, and employees, by approaching a captain who is no more than a glorified sailor”—he caught his breath—“that took courage, Captain Sharpe. Especially when few women are seen as fit for the job.”

  Jack grinned. He liked the man’s gumption.

  Ludlow clasped Jack on the shoulder. “You have two choices, you clodhead. Pound this fellow for calling you a glorified sailor or run after your woman.”

  Jack shook his head and laughed. “Mr. Nicolson, you are an ally I would trust with my life. I believe I’m looking at an unsung hero.”

  He stuck out his hand and Mr. Nicolson clasped it, his own hand shaking.

  “I’m loathe to admit it, but I believe you are a decent man, Captain Sharpe.”

  Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “It seems I have some business left undone in Brighton.”

  “It is about time you looked after your own interests,” Ludlow said. “I wish you luck, my friend.”

  Jack would need it. He hoped to make it back in time before Lucy left Brighton. He wouldn’t let her out of his life without a fight.

  Chapter 22

  Lucy waited off the entryway, watching as the guests left to attend a ball at the Royal Pavilion. Lucy could imagine the Chinese touches inside the Pavilion. She had heard of the gilded dragons and wished she could share the experience with Jack.

  Women wearing fine silk gowns, glittering jewels, and long white gloves stepped out to the awaiting carriages. Dusk was settling a peachy rose hue across the room.

  Lucy adjusted her tulip-sleeved pelisse and straw bonnet. Reuben had arranged for a carriage, and the servants were seeing to placing the trunks. She worried she was forgetting something, and the niggling feeling would not let her rest.

  Charlotte snuggled a sleepy Thomas on her lap. He sucked on his chubby fingers, his wide baby eyes watching his mother. “Sit down a moment and rest,” Charlotte said.

  “I can’t help but feel I am forgetting something.” Had she said goodbye to everyone? She was sure she had, so that was not it. She thought through the packing of her trunk. Had Mary remembered to check the shelf in the armoire? She did not want to return without the shelled ornament she’d bought for her niece. The different colored shells had been artfully arranged and glued into the design of a nosegay. It was a treasure Sophia would delight in. “Perhaps I will search my room once more. I shall be but a moment.”

  At Charlotte’s nod, Lucy left her spot near the window. Slowly, she walked through the house, taking in the beauty of the rooms. When she saw the portraits she had examined with Jack, she lingered, touching the ornate frame. She remembered his warm, shy smile and their almost-kiss.

  In her room, she removed her bonnet and gloves and set them on the four-poster bed. She walked to the window and opened it, letting in the salty breeze. In the twilight, the tranquil ocean shimmered with the last of the sun, framed by white cliffs and the rocky shore.

  The curtains billowed around her as she embraced the memories she had made at Havencrest. How she would miss the walks along the beach, Merryboy and the puppies, and the garden’s pond and paths. Visiting Mrs. Caddy. Shopping in The Lanes in Brighton.

  And Jack. She would miss Jack.

  The door opened softly. The carriage must be ready. Charlotte would not wish to rush her, but Reuben would be eager to return to the bank.

  Lucy wiped a tear from her cheek but did not turn. “I am almost finished, Charlotte. It is harder to say goodbye than I ever imagined it would be.”

  The softness of the silence in the room and the ocean’s rhythmic waves settled like a blanket around her shoulders. “It is strange. I feel as if I have shared more and felt more in a week here than a year in London.”

  “A few short days can change a person,” a deep voice said behind her.

  Lucy’s breath caught. She knew that voice like she knew the estate and capital gains taxes. She turned to see Jack leaning against the closed door.

  “Jack.” Saying his name brought a longing that echoed and vibrated through her entire being and made her long to run to him.

  “I’ve missed you, Lucy.”

  She closed her eyes, letting the whisper of a promise wash over her like the breeze from the ocean.

  “Forgive me for leaving out of fear,” he whispered.

  She opened her eyes. His were soft, like the color of the deepening sky outside. “Fear isn’t always reasonable.” The curtains fluttered beside her. “I ask your forgiveness for not disclosing my troubles with the bank.”

  With their apologies spoken, the distance between them dissipated. Jack took a step towards her, then another, until finally they stood a step apart. The lengthening shadows made the stubble along his chin appear darker. He was rugged and handsome and larger than life.

  “I know you’re a strong woman and can handle things on your own, but I want to be the one you tell your troubles to, Lucy. I want to be there for you. You don’t need to face things alone.” His piercing gaze searched her face and she couldn’t look away. She sensed the truth of his words.

  “I have never been happier than since I met you,” he said. “You walked straight into my life like you were meant to be there. I didn’t know there was something missing, a gap, until you filled it. And now I don’t want to live without you.”

  She leaned towards him, wanting to anchor herself to him, to lend him strength just as he wanted to do for her. Lucy gave in to gravity and wrapped him in a hug, reveling in his solid presence. He encompassed her with his strong arms.

  “This is where I want to be,” she whispered into his chest. “This feels like home.” Her heart swelled with love like the rising of the tide.

  He reached
up and cupped her cheek. She leaned into his rough and calloused palm. “Will you marry me, Lucy? I want nothing, truly nothing, more than to see you happy and to be able to make you happy every day.”

  “Jack, I will choose you whether richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, on land or at sea.”

  He seemed to drink up her words as if he were starving for them.

  Slowly, she touched his face, marveling at the rough texture under her fingers. She traced the scar alongside his eye and the line of his jaw. “You are worth far more than I can fathom. I will always choose you,” she whispered.

  She pressed her thumb to the cleft in his chin, and he bent down, pressing his lips to hers with a sensation that made her knees buckle. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and her heart exploded with happiness. His kiss was full of promises of a shared future. There was nothing she wanted more than to face life’s challenges with this good man by her side. To brush away all of his past hurts and safeguard his heart as securely as the Bank of England, and hopefully Tilney’s, protected his wealth. He deepened the kiss and her insides warmed with all the heat of India.

  A soft knock rapped on the door.

  Lucy pulled back, and Jack kissed her once more.

  “Lucy? It’s me, Charlotte,” came the muffled voice.

  “This seems strangely familiar,” Lucy said with a smile. Jack grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  “I am coming in,” Charlotte warned, “just as if this was your Rumpus Room.”

  A strange look crossed Jack’s face, and Lucy laughed.

  “I will explain later,” she promised as Charlotte rushed in.

  A wide smile bloomed across Charlotte’s face. She bounced a wide-awake Thomas on one hip as she took in the scene. “Finally, the papers will have something lovely to print,” she exclaimed, pulling Lucy into a hug. Lucy pulled Jack in too.

  Epilogue

  One year later

  Lucy sat forward to examine the papers spread across her desk. “This is your area of expertise, Mr. Ferrel, but all appears to be in order. I recommend we proceed. Granted, of course, that the captain agrees.”

  Mr. Ferrel laughed heartily. “I am sure he will, Mrs. Sharpe.”

  Lucy beamed. She adored her new name and she adored Jack’s new secretary. The man was pleasant to work with and had an exceptional instinct for investments.

  She bid him good day and settled into her comfortable velvet chair—her grandfather’s chair—secure in her place. Her next task was to examine the clerks’ salaries. Now that new accounts had come in, she meant to see to overdue raises.

  The door sailed open and Lucy jumped, her hand flying to her chest as Jack shouldered in.

  “Jack, I thought I might die of heart palpitations. You gave me a shock.”

  “I love having that effect on you.” He grinned, his white teeth contrasting with his tan skin. “I wondered if you might have a moment to get ices at Gunter’s and take a walk around Hyde Park.” He came around to her chair and took her hands. She allowed him to help her stand.

  “Is there a special occasion?” she asked, sensing his excitement.

  “Besides spending time with my beautiful wife?”

  She lifted her eyebrows.

  His eyes lit with joy. “To celebrate officially being finished helping Lord Anslowe with the draft.”

  Her heart flooded with pride, and happy tears stung her eyes. She had been feeling more emotional of late. “You finished the navy’s Steps and Regulations of Discipline.” She threw her arms around him and pressed her face into his neck, her rounded abdomen squeezed between them. “Oh Jack, I’m so proud of you.”

  She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

  “It’s been a long campaign, but I’m glad to have helped. And I’m looking forward to enjoying our trip to Brighton with no urgent business. I plan to enjoy a holiday with my wife.”

  Sneak Peak at The Marriage Bargain by Heidi Kimball

  CHAPTER ONE

  * * *

  The carriage door shut with a thud, and instinctively, Emmeline braced herself for the verbal assault she knew was coming. Anna had burned a hole in Mama’s favorite gown and Mama had been in a foul mood ever since. Fouler than usual. And now Emmeline was trapped inside a carriage with her. Alone. The ride to the Ramsbury’s residence would be brief, yet still far too long.

  “I hope you are satisfied, Emmeline. If your aim was to displease me, you have accomplished it perfectly. You have proven yourself utterly and completely worthless.” Mama’s sharp tone filled the carriage.

  Emmeline sucked in a breath, trying not to show how the words pierced her.

  “Three seasons I’ve given you. Was it too much to ask that you form a profitable match? Help our family step into the circles of high society? The size of your dowry should have ensured that, even if you aren’t much to look at.” The limited light only showed the harsh angles of Mama’s face, though Emmeline could imagine the hard set of her mouth.

  When Emmeline failed to respond, Mama continued her tirade. “Months of effort, the fortune that went into your wardrobe. And yet somehow you are continually passed over even by men three times your age.” That wasn’t precisely true, though there was no need for Mama to know that. “And it’s no wonder, with how cold you are. You are a spiteful creature and have brought me nothing but disappointment and misery.”

  “I’m sorry, Mama.” The apology rose to her tongue out of habit.

  “If you were truly sorry we wouldn’t find ourselves attending the final ball of the season shamed by your failure to secure an attachment.”

  Tears threatened at the thought of the long night—no, the long months—ahead. Weeks without end where Emmeline’s failures were touted on a daily basis.

  “I warned you on our journey to London. You are finished. I’ll not waste another moment on an ungrateful daughter who uses me so ill. There will not be another season.”

  At that, Emmeline’s stomach clenched. She’d half hoped it was another of Mama’s empty threats. She still held out hope for a love match. It was how she’d endured the endless parade of men that were, in fact, three times her age. Surely Papa wouldn’t. . . Her mouth opened to protest.

  She shook her head, almost as if she could read Emmeline’s thoughts. “Your father agrees with me.”

  Of course he did. Though he wasn’t unkind to Emmeline, he was almost always occupied with business and he never went against Mama’s wishes. The poison of despair spread through Emmeline’s veins. Now it wouldn’t be months, but years. With no one but Mama and her caustic friends for companionship. For a moment Emmeline couldn’t breathe. It felt as though a band had been wrapped around her chest, tightening with every breath she took.

  “Do not give way to tears.” Mama leaned forward but not a single curl of her regal black coiffure moved from its place. “You may be a disappointment, but don’t make yourself pitiable as well.”

  The carriage wheels rolled to a stop and Emmeline blinked twice, quickly. She’d learned long ago that tears only made things worse for her. She attempted to conceal her emotions under a mask of indifference, but she was no actress. Her bottom lip trembled.

  Emmeline swallowed, though her throat was so tight the effort proved unsatisfying.

  A moment later the carriage door swung open and a footman assisted both ladies down. They were ushered up the stairs and into the enormous and congested ballroom, which already promised to be the greatest crush of the Season.

  Mama caught sight of the voluptuous Mrs. Higgins. With a firm grip on Emmeline’s elbow that left no doubt as to her displeasure, Mama propelled them both through the crowd. Emmeline’s already-frayed nerves grew taut with the press of warm bodies around her, the smell of sweat and too much perfume. She shook her head, trying to keep her composure. She wouldn’t last much longer.

  “Mrs. Drake! Miss Drake! Can you believe the end of the Season is upon us?” Mrs. Higgins called before they’d even reached her. Mama released
her grip on Emmeline’s elbow and hurried forward. The crowd pressed between them and Emmeline lost sight of her captor.

  She couldn’t help but feel relieved, for she needed a moment’s reprieve. A few minutes to collect herself, to reassemble the armor that would shield her from the worst of Mama’s barbs. Somehow tonight she’d let down her guard, allowed Mama’s words to sink their claws into her and draw blood. She peered through the wall of intermingling guests, searching for a path to the verandah. She worked her way across the room and pushed open the balcony door.

  For the first time that night, Emmeline could breathe. She sank against one of the large pillars. She was tired, she realized. Tired of holding that armor in place.

  A rainstorm earlier in the day had swept away the heat, and cool evening air rushed through her lungs, calming her. The slight tremble of her hands abated as relief flowed into her limbs. A moment of peace.

  Until she realized she wasn’t alone. A man paced along the terrace with a purposeful stride, headed in her direction. Emmeline stepped back, hoping the evening shadows of purple and gray would hide her. Yet before he drew any closer, the man turned, his face catching the light. Viscount Anslowe. He paused for a moment and stared out at the gardens, though Emmeline had the distinct impression his attention was on something entirely different than the view in front of him. A moment later he resumed his path in the opposite direction.

  She watched him from the darkness. Though they’d never been introduced, they had attended the same events enough times for Emmeline to have taken note of the man’s attractive features. The way he could charm a group of ladies with his singular smile and easy banter.

  If only Mama’s scheming had included someone like Lord Anslowe instead of so many unattractive men who were old enough to be her grandfather, and usually quite handsy. Maybe then she wouldn’t have so fervently avoided their offers of marriage.

  Without warning, he turned on his heel and returned to the ballroom.