“There is some gold here,” she cried, pulling out a gold coin and handing it to her father. “Not much, but enough.”
Chuckling, her father picked up the mallet and broke the other two locks, finding more gold and some silver in the other two trunks. He crowed with delight as he grasped great handfuls of coins, letting them trickle back down into the trunk. Despite her impending punishment, Eleanor could not help but smile too, delighted that they would have more than enough to pay the crew for the next quarter.
"Everyone shall have a bonus!" her father declared, getting to his feet and throwing open the door to his cabin. "Morgan!"
The first mate came stumbling in, as though he’d been waiting for the captain to call his name. “Aye, Captain Adams?”
Eleanor grinned as her father slapped Morgan on the back, before gesturing towards the treasure.
“Here,” he said. “Sort this out. Crew’s pay and a bonus for everyone. Leave the remaining treasure in the first trunk.”
Morgan returned Eleanor’s smile, and got to the task at once, jubilant over some of the wonders he was finding. It would take him an age to sort out the treasure into piles of equal worth, but Eleanor knew it was a job the first mate thoroughly enjoyed.
Wiping down her breeches, Eleanor got to her feet and smiled at her father, wondering if he might forget her punishment.
Unfortunately, he had not.
“Right, Eleanor, to your cabin. Your meals will be sent down.”
A sigh left her lips as she trudged past him, sniffing inelegantly. Behind her, she heard her father chuckle.
“Two days will be over before you know it, my dear,” he said, following her out. “And if we find anything at the caves, you may join in the salvaging.”
That was a slight relief, making her shoulders rise from their slumped position. “Thank you, Papa,” she mumbled, as the fresh air hit her lungs. Taking in another few breaths, Eleanor took in the smell of the sea, the wind whipping at her hair….before she realized that the entire crew was watching her.
Taking a breath, she lifted her chin. “I should not have dived off the boat without alerting someone to what I had found,” she said, loudly. “I did you all wrong by acting so impulsively and showed disrespect to our captain. I will not do such a thing again.” She caught the look of sympathy in some of the crew’s eyes, although they appeared to be relieved that she was receiving some kind of punishment. Without another word, Eleanor turned on her heel and walked down the short staircase to her cabin below.
Being the only woman meant she had one of only two tiny cabins below deck – Morgan, the first mate, held the other. Pulling open the door, she looked glumly into her gloomy room, hating that she would be stuck inside for two days.
“Thank you for your apology, Eleanor,” her father said, holding the door as she walked inside. “The crew respects you, as they do me. They will hold you in greater esteem because you have confessed your wrongs.”
Eleanor tried to smile, sitting down heavily on the wooden bed. “Thank you, Papa. I believe the treasure I found for them may also have increased their sense of ‘esteem’ in me.”
He grinned at her. “You’re a pirate’s daughter, Eleanor. Some might think that means we have no standards, no way of keeping control, but you know how precarious the sea – and the crew – can be. They are loyal to me, and I want them to be loyal to you too. One day, this boat might be yours.” With a quick smile, he closed the door and left her to her thoughts.
Eleanor stared at the door, her father’s words echoing around her mind. One day, she might have control of the ship? Be the captain? Could such a thing truly happen?
Eleanor knew that in the Navy, there would be no thought of having a female captain, but they were far removed from the Navy! Pirates did things differently and, if her father thought the crew would respect her as captain, then she would gladly step into the role, though she hoped it would be some time before her father gave it up and retired from the seas.
To be a pirate captain! The thought made her smile, despite her current situation. To roam the seas with her crew, searching for bounty and, in their case, helping those less fortunate. She could not think of a better life.
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The Duke She Wished For
Happily Ever After Book 1
A PREVIEW
1
Tabitha heard the opening creak of the front door of the shop float through past the heavy curtains that separated her workshop from the sales floor. She tensed over the silk ribbon she was attempting to fashion into a flower shape and waited for the sound of her stepmother, Lady Ellora, to greet whomever had just walked into the Blackmore Milliner shop.
She paused, waiting a little bit longer before pushing out a frustrated breath and standing. These velvet ribbon flowers she had learned to fashion were part of the reason Blackmore hats sat atop some of the finest female heads in polite society—she had a knack for creating new ways to adorn the same old bonnet or beaver hat styles so that a woman of a certain class stood out among her peers.
This ability was both a blessing and a curse, it turned out. Her creativity meant Tabitha brought customers through the front door, to the shop she and her father had built after her mother died when she was seven years old. It had brought Tabitha and her father, the baronet Elias Blackmore, closer together in their time of immeasurable grief and the shop had flourished.
The relationship between father and daughter was so strong, that when he approached her when she was 12 to tell her he wanted to marry a baroness from the north country who had a daughter about her own age, Tabitha had been happy for her father and excited to have a sister. She had welcomed her new family with an open heart and open arms.
What a silly little fool she’d been, Tabitha thought to herself with derisive snort as she pushed herself to her feet and through the brocade curtains to greet the newcomer. Lord only knew where Ellora had gone off to with her daughter Frances. Shopping, most likely.
Upon the untimely death of Sir Elias three years after the marriage, Tabitha had been utterly devastated. Lady Blackmore, however, hadn’t wasted much time in putting Tabitha in her place. No longer the family’s most cherished daughter, Tabitha had been shoved into the workroom and largely ignored. The more she stood up to Ellora, the more her stepmother threatened to throw her out on the street. Knowing it was within Ellora’s nature to follow through on her threat, Tabitha did her best to ignore and avoid her stepmother, focusing instead on her work and her ambitions.
It was better, Tabitha supposed, than staying in their townhome all day long worrying about social calls that never came or invitations that would never arrive. The family name had suffered greatly under Lady Blackmore and Miss Frances Denner, her daughter from a previous marriage.
In truth, Tabitha was little more than a servant with no money to speak of, no family to lean on, and no real prospects other than her creations on which to pin her hopes of ever escaping the lot she’d been given after her father died.
In the showroom, Tabitha scanned the floor in search of the new arrival. It took a moment, but her eyes finally landed on a small, older man in a fine suit. He had a slip of paper in his hand and he approached Tabitha with the air of someone who didn’t waste time.
“Good afternoon, Miss,” the man began with perfect, practiced speech. “My name is Mr. McEwan. I serve as the steward in the house of Her Grace the Duchess of Stowe. I have a receipt for a series of hats I believe she had ordered and requested that they be delivered tomorrow afternoon.”
Tabitha felt her stomach sink. If this was the order of which she was thinking, the one currently on her worktable, there was no way under the stars that the three hats would be ready by tomorrow. She was only one flower (out of seven) into the first bonnet and it was a slow process to convince the requested velvet ribbon to behave.
“I am sorry, sir,” she began, trying to get
his eyes off the wilder ostrich-plumed hats next to her and back on her. “That is almost four days before we agreed upon. I’m certain there is no feasible way the work can be done, and done well, by tomorrow.”
That got the older man’s attention. He huffed, turned a bit pink around the cheeks, and sputtered.
“There is simply no choice, my dear,” he said abruptly but not unkindly. “His Grace is arriving home from his trip to France early and therefore the parties his mother has planned for him will be adjusted accordingly. And so, her wardrobe must be ready—she said so herself. She is willing to pay handsomely for your ability to expedite the process.”
Tabitha drew in a breath at that and considered. She was having such a difficult time scrimping a small savings together to buy herself a seat at the Paris School of Millinery that this “bonus” money might perhaps get her there that much quicker. Assuming, of course, that Ellora didn’t catch wind of the extra earnings. She was quick to snatch up all but the barest pennies.
Tabitha closed her eyes for a moment and drew a steadying breath. If she worked through the night and her needle and thread held true, there was a slight chance that she could finish in time. She said so to Mr. McEwan, who beamed brightly at her.
“I knew it,” he said with a laugh. “I have faith you Miss—er, I apologize, I did not hear your name?”
Tabitha sighed.
“Tabitha Blackmore,” she said, noticing how quickly he’d changed the subject on her. “I did not exactly say that I would be able to—”
She was cut off again by Mr. McEwan, who gave her a slight bow and provided directions to Duchess of Stowe’s home on the other side of the city.
“I shall see you tomorrow, then, my dear,” he said with a quick grin. “Be sure to pack a bag to stay at least one evening, maybe two. I am certain Her Grace’s attendants will need proper coaching on how the hats should be worn. You will be paid, of course!”
With that the short man with wisps of white hair on his head that stood up like smoke was gone, disappearing into the streets of Cheapside.
Tabitha leaned back against the counter behind her and blew out a breath, a little overwhelmed at the entire encounter.
On the one hand, she had found a way to increase her savings and take a step closer to the education her father had wanted for her. On the other, getting through the night in one piece was not guaranteed. She would have to return to the shop after dinner and do so without rousing Lady Blackmore’s suspicions, which would not be easy.
Tabitha kicked at a crushed crepe paper flower that hadn’t been tossed out properly. Another evening down the back drainpipe it was then.
“Time away from the witch, I suppose,” she muttered as she returned to her worktable, a new fire of inspiration lit beneath her.
Dinner was more complicated than usual, thanks to the fact that Ellora, Tabitha’s stepmother, was having one of her moods. They could be brought on by anything—the weather (too foul or too pleasant), the noisy street they lived on, memories of her life when she was the daughter of an earl and had endless opportunities for money and titles, or even an egg that had too much salt.
Today’s mood, however, had more to do with the fact that her daughter Frances had been recently snubbed. Officially, Ellora was considered a member of the ton and her daughter’s first season the previous year had nearly cost them the roof over their heads. However, Frances was an ill-tempered, sharp-tongued girl who did little to ensure repeat invitations to dances and parties.
“A true-and-true witch,” their housekeeper, Alice, called her. Alice was the only servant left on staff besides Katie, the lady’s maid Ellora and Frances shared, so it was up to both Alice and Tabitha to make sure that meals were made and rooms were kept clean. Being an indentured servant in her own home was trying enough, but much worse was having to tidy the room that once held every memento of her father’s. It was now completely devoid of every memory of him.
It was as though Baronet Elias Blackmore had never existed. No portraits. No personal belongings. Nothing but the small locket he’d given Tabitha when she was nine years old and still wore around her neck.
This evening’s dinner was a morose affair and Tabitha sat silently while Ellora ranted and raved about the social snub of her angel Frances.
Tabitha looked across the table at her stepsister. Frances was very pretty, she’d give her that much. But her mouth was drawn thin and her blue eyes were more steely than pleasant. Frances had brown hair that one could call more dishwater than brunette. However, Ellora spent high sums of money on beauty products and bits and bobs for Katie to fashion Frances’ hair into something resembling high fashion each day.
Frances was pouting into her soup while her mother railed beside her. When she glanced up and caught Tabitha looking at her, she scowled.
Tabitha quickly looked away, but Frances jumped on the opportunity to take the attention off her.
“I saw a servant go into the shop this afternoon when I was returning from tea with Adela,” Frances said to her mother, her flinty eyes on Tabitha, who inwardly groaned.
So much for secrecy.
Ellora paused in her ranting and raised an eyebrow at her.
“Who was it?”
The words were clipped and her nose was high in the air while she peered down her nose at Tabitha.
“A servant for the Duchess of Stowe,” Tabitha replied. “He came to inquire about an order the Duchess sent over a week ago.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie and it helped her corroborate her story because Ellora had already received the money sent over for the original order.
“And was the order ready?”
Tabitha swallowed hard. She wasn’t in the clear yet.
“Almost,” she said and lowered her eyes to take a sip of the soup as she inwardly seethed.
“Unacceptable,” her stepmother ground out between her teeth. “You lazy, no-good hanger-on. It is no wonder your father’s ridiculous hat shop is dying off. He had the laziest cow this side of the river working behind the curtains.”
She banged a fist on the table, making Frances jump.
“You get up from this table and you finish that order right this instant,” Ellora pointed a long bony finger in the direction of the door, ending Tabitha’s dinner before she had progressed past the soup. Tabitha’s stomach rumbled in protest, and her fists clenched beneath the table as she longed to tell Ellora what she really thought, but Tabitha knew this was a gift. She would nab a roll from Alice later.
“I am going to stop by in the morning to check your ledger and work progress to make certain you are being completely honest with me,” Ellora announced. “And woe be to you if I find that you have been neglecting your work and you have a backlog of orders.”
In reality, Tabitha was of legal age and the threats should be harmless. But she was also lacking any real money, any job prospects, and no titles her father could have passed down to her. Running her father’s milliner shop was the closest thing she would have to freedom for the near future and it would be much better for her if she allowed Ellora the illusion of control for the time being, since the dreadful woman had inherited the shop upon her father’s death.
Ellora’s threat put Tabitha in a bind. She was due at the Duchess’ estate first thing in the morning. As it stood, she’d have to have those pieces done, as well as the other orders on her workbench. She closed her eyes and blew out a heavy breath.
It was going to be a very long night.
2
“You cannot go looking like that.”
Tabitha rolled her eyes at her best friend’s words. Matilda “Tillie” Andrews was the third child of one of England’s most successful export and import families and the two young women had known each other since Sir Elias began importing millinery supplies with Captain Maximus Andrews. She was currently perched on the edge of Tabitha’s work table.
Tillie, in her own right, was quite the seamstress and worked anonymously for a few of Cheapsid
e’s finer fashion houses designing party dresses that had been the talk of the season the past two years. She did not need to work, not like Tabitha, but she loved it. Tabitha thought she might love her work more as well if she wasn’t scrimping and saving for each and every single penny she could get her fingers on.
“I have to go like this,” Tabitha said through a yawn. She had stayed up until sunrise finishing all of the Duchess’s ornamentation. On top of that, she had four other pieces to assemble to beat Ellora’s mid-morning arrival. She was exhausted and had unbecoming dark circles under her eyes, but she had finished with not a moment to spare.
“I have something I was going to show you,” Tillie said, pulling her bag out and unfurling a gorgeous walking dress in the deepest shade of emerald.
Tabitha’s mouth dropped open at the craftsmanship.
“Tillie,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”
Her friend beamed.
“It’s for Rochester’s,” she said with a shrug. “It’s a sample, of course, but it does not need to be there for three days. So, you can wear it today and we will make sure you do not arrive on their doorstep looking like some sort of creature that crawled from the gutter.”
Tabitha frowned and looked down on her drab muslin gown. It wasn’t that bad, was it?
“What are you doing this morning?” Tabitha asked as Tillie pushed her behind the work curtain of the shop and practically forced her to change her dress.
“Nothing,” Tillie called. “Waiting for you to invite me along.”
Tabitha stuck her head out between the curtains and smiled.
“I assumed you would be too busy,” she said. “Would you like to go? It’s a bit of a walk.”
It was true. The townhouse owned by the Fairchild family was on the far side of town and not an easy walk.
Hearts of Trust Page 17
