by Jo Ann Brown
“Lady Susanna?” came a familiar voice from the doorway.
“What is it, Venton?”
The footman, wearing the family’s simple gray livery, dipped his head in her direction. She and Venton had grown up together at Cothaire because his mother had been the nursery maid when Susanna was the last one living within the two-story nursery. Knowing Susanna was lonesome because she was more than a decade younger than her brother Raymond, Mrs. Venton had brought her son to the nursery with her until Susanna was almost six.
Since then, their lives had gone on separate but parallel paths. Venton had worked hard to rise to the rank of footman, and Susanna had learned to handle a household and be a proper wife to the man chosen for her by her father, the Earl of Launceston. Then her future had changed when her mother died five years ago and Susanna took over the management of her father’s house while her older brother Arthur, who was the heir, assisted in running the estate.
“Lady Susanna, his lordship requests your presence,” Venton answered, and she again pushed aside uncomfortable thoughts about the past. Lingering on them was silly.
“Of course. Where is he?”
“The smoking room.”
Her brows shot skyward before she could compose herself. As she stood, she affixed a calm expression on her face, though curiosity roiled inside her. The smoking room was the domain of her father, her brothers and their male guests. She could not remember the last time she—or any other female—had been invited into it.
What a surprise! And she had hated surprises ever since she got such a public one when Franklin failed to appear for the first reading of their wedding banns.
As if she had given voice to her astonishment, Venton said quietly, “His lordship has been reading there all afternoon, and he had planned to take his tea there.”
“Thank you, Venton,” she replied as she walked past him. She understood what he had not said. Papa’s gout must be plaguing him again. The painful condition was the primary reason that he had turned over so many of the duties of Cothaire to her and her brother Arthur as well as her sister, Caroline, the oldest sibling, who acted as Papa’s hostess.
The smoking room lay beyond the main dining room. Like the drawing room, where the ladies could withdraw from the table, the smoking room allowed the men to converse more easily and blow a cloud of tobacco smoke if they pleased.
That strong odor greeted Susanna when she knocked on the door and her father called for her to enter. Chairs were arranged for the ease of conversation in front of a huge hearth. On every wall hung either swords and pistols or pictures of foxhounds and horses. Some of the portraits of horses were life-size and dominated the room.
“Ah, my dear,” said her father with a wide smile. “Do come in.”
Harold Trelawney, the Earl of Launceston, still had the tautly sculptured face that he had passed on to his sons. His hair, once as ebony as his children’s, was laced with silver that matched the color of his eyes. Only Susanna had inherited his silver-gray eyes; her siblings’ eyes were crystal blue like their late mother’s.
Papa did not rise. She did not expect him to when he suffered from another acute episode of gout.
However, another man stood from a chair that had its back to the door. Her eyes followed, astonished by the height of the dark-haired stranger. Strong muscles moved lithely beneath his navy blue coat, and her heartbeat faltered, then raced like a runaway horse. As he turned to face her, she found herself captured by the brownest eyes she had ever seen, and breathing suddenly seemed a chore. A deep tan told her that he was a man accustomed to working outside.
As his gaze swept over her, she forced herself to breathe normally so he would not guess the unsettling effect he had on her. She could not chide him because she had been staring at him boldly. She lowered her eyes demurely and continued to appraise him from beneath her lashes.
The lines at the corners of his eyes suggested that he smiled often and easily. Perhaps so, but he was not smiling now. His mouth was drawn into a straight line, and his ebony brows lowered in a scowl. By his sides, his hands opened and closed with what looked like impatience. Was he in a hurry to be done with whatever business had brought him to Cothaire? Or was some emotion stronger than restlessness gripping him?
Into the silence that had settled on the room, Papa said, “This is my youngest, Lady Susanna. My dear, may I introduce you to Drake Nesbitt?”
“How do you do, Mr. Nesbitt?” She noticed the line of dried salt on the knees of his pale brown breeches and sodden black boots. Had he been wading in the harbor without taking off his boots?
“Captain Nesbitt,” he corrected so coolly that the temperature in the room seemed to drop a dozen degrees.
Captain Drake Nesbitt? That explained, at least, why his clothing was stained with salt. But why was he here? Ships often sailed into Porthlowen Harbor without their captains coming to Cothaire.
Fighting to keep her voice even, she asked, “Papa, what do you wish of me?”
“I want you to...” He shifted, and a groan slipped past his tight lips. He motioned her to remain where she was when she started to step forward.
Susanna complied because his left leg was already wrapped in wool cloths. She knew they had been soaked in boiled goutweed in the hope of easing his pain. There was nothing more she could do.
“My lord,” Captain Nesbitt said, “time is of the essence.”
She frowned at his lack of compassion.
Before she could say anything, her father replied, “That is true. Please listen closely, Susanna, while I explain what has brought Captain Nesbitt here.” He quickly outlined an astounding tale of a small boat drifting into Porthlowen Harbor carrying a cargo of six small children.
More than once, she swallowed a question as she glanced from Captain Nesbitt to her father and back. Captain Nesbitt nodded each time to confirm what Papa said. Not that she did not believe her father, but the tale was unbelievable.
“Where are the children now?” she asked when her father paused.
“Still on the shore,” Captain Nesbitt answered. “I thought to obtain some guidance before I did anything further.”
“But those poor children must be hungry!” She frowned at Captain Nesbitt. “And frightened and filthy.”
“That is why I ordered my crew to find something for them to eat. My greatest concern is for the youngest child. It cannot be more than a few months old, and it needs a mother’s milk.”
Before she could answer, Papa said, “Susanna, I am certain that putting this problem in your competent hands is the best solution. I trust you and Captain Nesbitt are capable of handling it.”
She opened her mouth to protest. To say she was the wrong one to see to the children. Her reaction had nothing to do with the many tasks she managed in the house. It had everything to do with Captain Nesbitt. She did not like how her heart seemed to beat a bit faster when he looked in her direction. Until she knew she could control that rebellious organ, which had led her to betrayal once, she preferred not to spend a single moment in his company.
But her wishes were unimportant when her father could hardly move. She would do as Papa requested and see to the needs of those abandoned children. She reached for the bell on a table by her father’s chair and rang it. Hard.
Baricoat appeared instantly. The butler had a knack for knowing the family would be ringing for him even before they picked up the bell.
She gave quick orders. A footman was dispatched to have a carriage brought. Another ran to the kitchen with a request for a hearty tea to be ready for the children upon their arrival. A third headed for the village to see if one of the young mothers who had recently given birth would share her milk with a foundling. In the meantime, she had no doubts Mrs. Ford could devise something to feed the baby.
When a maid arrived with a straw bonnet,
a pair of kid gloves and a light shawl, Susanna donned them. She walked out of the room, still giving orders to check the nursery that had been closed up since she left it herself years ago. Baricoat offered to prepare a list of what needed to be done to make the nursery suitable for the children.
“Thank you, Baricoat,” she said. Looking over her shoulder, she added, “Captain Nesbitt, aren’t you coming?”
His mouth straightened again, but he spoke a gracious farewell to her father before following her to the entry hall. When the door was opened, a small carriage waited by the front steps.
The coachman handed her into the carriage, then stepped aside to allow Captain Nesbitt to enter. For a moment, the captain hesitated, glancing at the seat where the coachman was settling himself and picking up the reins. Then he climbed in and sat beside her, leaving as much space between them as possible.
She was tempted to tell him that she was no more in favor of the arrangement than he was. Instead, she called to the coachee to get them under way. The sooner she reached the village and collected the children, the sooner she could be rid of Captain Nesbitt. And the sooner she could regain her composure that was jeopardized each time Captain Nesbitt’s dark eyes caught her gaze.
It could not be fast enough.
Chapter Two
The earl’s carriage rattled over rough cobbles as it entered the village, which was a collection of stone buildings. A few hardy plants grew in the lee of them. Drake did not see any trees rising more than ten feet and guessed that storms off the sea were dangerous to anything higher. The village had a smithy, where the smith watched them drive past while his assistant worked over the forge and never looked up. There were a few small shops, including one belonging to a cobbler. Drake resisted looking down at his ruined boots.
During the short ride from Cothaire, Lady Susanna had acted like a constable interrogating Drake for a hideous crime. She fired question after question at him.
“How old are the children?” she asked.
“I am not sure.”
“Girls and boys?”
“Yes.”
Her scowl warned him that she was not in the mood for jests. He was tempted to remind her that he had not asked her to tend to the children from the jolly boat. Her father had.
“Three boys and two girls,” he said. “I don’t know what the baby is, but I am sure it is either a boy or girl.”
“What are their names?” she asked and glanced away as if she found the sight of him intolerable.
“I did not wait to be introduced,” he retorted, vexed at her cool dismissal. Didn’t she realize he was going out of his way to help? He hardly needed the problem of six small children when he should be supervising the work to make The Kestrel seaworthy once more.
“Captain Nesbitt, I am trying to determine how to help the children.” Her voice was far calmer than his had been. “Why are you acting as if this is a game?”
Drake relented. Dealing with the children had upset his plans. No doubt, Lady Susanna had other things to do, as well, though he had no idea what important tasks a fine lady might have.
“Help me understand one thing,” he said.
Lady Susanna had been staring at the square tower on the parish church, and he was unsure if she would give him the courtesy of looking in his direction. When she turned toward him, he was as staggered as he had been in the earl’s smoking room by the unusual color of her eyes. With the strong emotions she was struggling quite unsuccessfully to keep hidden, they gleamed like burnished steel. Everything about her shone from her ebony hair to her pink lips. He could not keep from wondering what she would look like when she smiled. She was a dainty miss, the top of her head not quite reaching his shoulder, but he already had seen she was no fragile flower. Her spine seemed to have been fashioned of stronger stuff than the tin pulled out of the local mines.
“Of course, Captain Nesbitt,” she replied in a tone that suggested saying his name left a bad taste in her mouth.
He shoved his foolish thoughts aside. She did not like him. Well, that was fine. He had no interest in her other than making sure the children were taken care of and the person who put them in the boat paid for that cruelty. It was better, in the long run, for her to dislike him and for him to dislike her. That made it easier not to make the same mistake he had before when he had been beguiled by a pair of pretty eyes.
Never again.
“What do you need to understand?” she asked when he remained silent.
“After we brought the children’s boat up on the sand, I went first to the parson of the Porthlowen church.” His brows lowered. “His surname, if I recall rightly, is Trelawney, just like your family’s. Is that a coincidence?”
“No, it is no coincidence. Raymond Trelawney is my brother.” A hint of a smile added a new light to her eyes, and he guessed her full grin would be scintillating. “The living at the Porthlowen church has always been given to a younger son in the family, and Raymond is well suited for the position. His faith is strong, and he has a compassionate heart.”
“Maybe so, but he was quick to pass the matter of the children from his hands to the earl’s.”
Her smile vanished. “As he should have. My father, Lord Launceston, needs to know when something as astounding as a boatload of babies washing ashore occurs. Everyone knows that, so whoever you had chosen to speak to in Porthlowen would have done the same.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” She folded her hands primly, her gloves white against the green-sprigged fabric of her gown. “If you are still in Porthlowen on Sunday, Captain, you and your crew are welcome to attend services at our church.”
“Some of my men already have.” He wished he could take back those words when her eyes narrowed.
“But you have not?”
“Not yet. Someone needs to oversee the work my ship needs, and that is the captain.” He did not intend to add more. He believed in God, but his relationship with Him was lackadaisical. He figured if God needed to get his attention, He would. So far, that had not happened.
“I suppose.”
Drake changed the subject that was making them both even more uncomfortable. “I asked Parson Trelawney if anyone had reported any missing children, and he said no.”
Lady Susanna waved in response to a greeting called out to her by a young auburn-haired woman who stood in the doorway of the village’s main shop. The earl’s daughter called for the carriage to stop.
The redhead hurried over. “You have heard about the children?”
“Yes. Captain Nesbitt came to the house to explain how he found them floating in a jolly boat.” She paused, then introduced Drake to the other woman.
Elisabeth Rowse was almost as tall as he was. Her face was plain, but her bright green eyes glowed with intelligence and kindness. When she smiled as she greeted him, her whole face transformed. The mouth that had looked too wide now was an amazing grin.
“I hardly believed what I heard when a lad came to the shop looking to buy milk,” Miss Rowse said. “Six children abandoned in a boat. Have you ever heard of its like, Susanna?”
Drake was astonished how casually Miss Rowse addressed an earl’s daughter, but said nothing until Lady Susanna bade the redhead a good day and ordered the driver to continue toward the strand. His amazement must have been visible, however.
“Elisabeth is betrothed to my brother Raymond,” Lady Susanna said. “They plan to be married soon.” Without a pause for a breath, she continued, “Do you think the children were stolen?”
“It is a possibility.” He would have to be on his toes, because Lady Susanna had a quick, tireless mind. “Overlooking any possibility would be unwise.”
“A horrifying possibility, I must say.”
He nodded as the carriage came around the last building on the stre
et. In front of them, The Kestrel tilted at a steeper angle than earlier. The figurehead on the front, a hawk raising its wings to catch the air, leaned so low that its feathers almost touched the water. Instead of his men plugging the leak, they must have come out to watch him and Benton tug the jolly boat out of the water. He scanned the beach, but there were so many people gathered there that he could not see his men.
“That ship by the quay looks ready to be torn apart and sold for scrap,” she said with a shake of her head. “Why would anyone leave a ship in that condition in our harbor?”
“Because it is being repaired. Before you ask how I know, I will tell you that is my ship.”
“Oh.”
He had startled her, because she did not have a retort.
“It was damaged in battle with a French privateer,” he added when a flattering blush climbed her cheeks. Not being on the defensive with her was a change. “It is nearly repaired, but we discovered another leak today. By the morrow, if all goes well, she will be proudly afloat once more.”
“Was anybody killed?” she asked in a strained voice.
“Not among my men, but a couple of the French pirates did not survive.”
“Papa laments that if the war continues much longer, Napoleon will have the chance to build many more vessels to harry our ships.” She looked back at him, her face troubled.
He wondered if that was the first honest emotion she had shown other than her distaste for him. “Britain and our allies are winning more often than not in the Peninsular campaign.”
“But Boney is a wily adversary with dreams of ruling the world. If he cannot have Spain, he will look elsewhere for lands to make his own. Mark my words.”
Drake smiled in spite of his determination to keep distance between them. Her logic was undeniable, especially as he had argued much the same himself when he and members of his crew sat around the table in the wardroom.
