The Captain's Frozen Dream

by Georgie Lee

  She laid her hands on either side of his face. ‘No, Conrad, you’re better than that, you’re better than him.’

  ‘You don’t understand. I failed, myself, my men, you.’ Conrad slid his hand over hers, her faith in him bittersweet because he couldn’t hold on to it. In less than a month he’d sail off and she wouldn’t wait for him this time. Instead, she’d curse him again for going. Until then, he wouldn’t disappoint her, or leave her to suffer as he had before. He pressed his forehead against hers, screwing his eyes shut tight. ‘I won’t let you down again, Katie.’

  It was a promise to her, his men, himself, and one he was desperate to believe in and to keep.

  ‘I know,’ Katie whispered, her breath easing the tension pooling inside him.

  ‘Do you?’ He needed her faith as much as his own.

  ‘Yes.’

  He opened his eyes to meet hers and the cold distance which had hardened them against him in West Sussex was gone. In their blue he experienced something of the salvation he’d known when he and his men had crested the last hill of ice to see the whaling ship anchored in the glittering bay. As then, he could hardly trust his troubled senses to believe what was before him.

  He slid one arm around her waist and she melded against him, as tender and accepting as she’d been before he’d left. Despite the cold which had built a wall of doubt and distrust between them, some vestige of their love lingered. He was cautious of scaring it away just when it was growing bold enough to appear, but he wouldn’t be denied the tranquillity of her embrace.

  Conrad pressed his mouth to hers, near groaning at the sweetness of her lips beneath his. Her pulse fluttered against his fingertips as he cupped her face with his hands to draw her deeper into him. His body stiffened against her stomach, desire rising up in him to blot out his better sense. He’d dreamed of her warmth in the coldest days of winter, longed for their breaths to mingle as they did now. Here was the Katie he remembered, the brave, passionate woman from the Downs who’d captivated him with both her beauty and her intelligence. He never should have allowed her to get away from him so easily or to cave in to her doubts before he’d left, but he should have fought for her as hard as he’d fought to live.

  Her fingers tightened against the skin of his neck as he took her earlobe between his teeth, her hair sweeping his cheek as he sucked the soft flesh. Brushing the skin of her neck with his lips, he traced the long arch of it to the hollow. Flicking his tongue against the warmth, her sigh gave him courage and he bent down to press a kiss against the top of her rounded breasts through the thick net of the fichu.

  Then Mrs Anderson let out a snort loud enough to shake her awake. She sat up, groggy, rubbing her face before appearing to notice Katie and Conrad standing on opposite sides of the table, both attempting not to look ashamed.

  ‘I think I fell asleep.’ Mrs Anderson blinked, then rubbed her heavy eyes.

  ‘You did.’ Katie took up her pencil, trying to appear as if she’d been working all along. Her act was no more convincing than Conrad’s intense study of the atlas on the stand near his desk.

  Mrs Anderson pushed herself up, pressing one fist to the small of her back as she stretched. ‘Then I think it’s time we were going.’

  Regret flickered across Katie’s face, matched by the subtle ache in Conrad’s heart and lower down in his body. There’d been something in this moment and he wanted to hold on to it, strengthen it the way he’d strengthened his men when they’d reached Greenland and the food and spirits waiting there.

  ‘Thank you again, Captain Essington, for your generous hospitality,’ Mrs Anderson offered as she gathered up her and Katie’s cloaks and gloves.

  ‘Of course, you’re most welcome any time. My carriage will see you both home.’

  Conrad held out his hand to Katie, inviting her to touch him again, to rekindle for the most fleeting of moments what had just passed between them.

  She slipped her hand in his, not with the startled wonder she’d greeted his parting kiss with at Mrs Anderson’s, but something more giving and willing. The slight inhale which met the press of his lips to her skin was worth more to him than all the glories which had been heaped on him since returning to London. He hated having to part from her, letting yet another night pass without her beside him.

  ‘Come now, Katie, we’ve taken up enough of Captain Essington’s time and we must get home before it gets too dark,’ Mrs Anderson urged, pulling on her gloves as she made for the entrance hall.

  A biting breeze swept into the room as Mr Moore opened the door, but neither Katie nor Conrad shivered.

  ‘Until tomorrow night, Katie.’

  ‘Until then.’ She withdrew her hand, hiding the tender skin beneath her worn gloves as she followed her aunt outside to his waiting chaise.

  He watched the vehicle until it disappeared down the street, the outline of it lost in the fading sunlight and the crush of traffic. Conrad didn’t know what the unexpected kiss meant to either of their futures, but until his duty separated them, he’d do everything he could to redeem himself and her, to rouse her as he had his men, encourage her to persevere, to hold up under challenges and keep going until she found whatever she considered her salvation.

  If only he could find his.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Mr Rukin, a word, if you please, in my office.’ Conrad stood over the man in the Naturalist Society sitting room, wanting to knock him from his chair, but refraining for the moment. Brawls in the Naturalist Society were frowned upon.

  Worry drew down the corners of Mr Rukin’s mouth before he recovered something of the bravery which had prodded him to approach Conrad the other day. ‘Of course.’

  He rose and the gentlemen he’d been speaking with exchanged looks, as curious as Mr Rukin was reluctant.

  Conrad didn’t wait, but turned abruptly and made for the hall, leaving Mr Rukin to hurry after him.

  ‘Might I ask what it is you wish to speak with me about?’ Mr Rukin fingered the knot of his cravat as he accompanied Conrad to the president’s office.

  Conrad pushed open the door and waved the man inside. ‘It’s best we discuss it in private.’

  Mr Rukin slid into the room and Conrad closed the door behind him.

  When the geologist turned to face him, Conrad grabbed him by the coat, lifted him off his feet and slammed his back into the wall.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Mr Rukin yelped.

  Conrad wanted to connect his fist with the man’s face, but he didn’t want to leave any marks. It would be his word against Conrad’s after this interview, and Conrad wasn’t about to give the man evidence against him. ‘Miss Vickers was kind enough to inform me about how you tried to force yourself on her the night her father was disgraced.’

  Mr Rukin’s skinny fingers clawed at Conrad’s hands. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You know exactly what I’m referring to.’ Conrad banged him against the wall again, making the man whimper in well-deserved fear. ‘She came to you for help and you tried to take advantage of her. You did it because you knew I was gone and you thought I wasn’t coming back. You were wrong.’

  Conrad let go and Mr Rukin slid down to the carpet, dislodging an old spyglass from the table of curiosities beside him.

  ‘How dare you attack me like this,’ the man whined from the floor, cowering as Conrad stood over him. ‘I did nothing. It’s a lie.’

  Conrad pulled the man to his feet by the collar of his coat and dragged him over to one of the chairs in front of the desk, forcing him into it. ‘I’m to believe that someone who’s plagiarised the early writings of John Walker, a man too long in his grave to defend his work, in order to further his own career wouldn’t try to take advantage of a young lady?’

  ‘You have no proof of either charge,’ Mr Rukin tried to asse
rt, drawing up his courage. ‘You think I can’t see you’re only doing this because she’s your intended and you believe her lies.’

  ‘Here’s your proof.’ Conrad lifted a paper off the blotter and slammed it against Mr Rukin’s chest, driving the breath from him. ‘The society librarian was kind enough to unearth one of Mr Walker’s old treatises and I compared it to yours. They’re nearly identical.’

  ‘It was Lord Helton who told me not to support Miss Vickers,’ Mr Rukin wheezed. ‘He was the one who suggested she might be amenable to my advances.’

  ‘Then you were a fool to believe him.’ Conrad shoved a piece of paper and pen in front of Mr Rukin. ‘Now compose your confession for the society and tell them how you lied and stole to get published and recognised.’

  Seeing his life’s work slipping away, Mr Rukin straightened his back. ‘I will do no such thing.’

  Conrad slammed his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned in close to Mr Rukin’s face. The frightened man drew back, his eyes wide. ‘You’ll do exactly as I say or I’ll call you out for insulting both my and Miss Vickers’s good name. So, unless you want a lead ball in your gut, you’ll write.’

  Conrad grabbed the pen and shoved it in Mr Rukin’s hand.

  With no more protests, Mr Rukin wrote out his confession in shaky, uneven words.

  ‘What will you do with that?’ Mr Rukin timidly asked.

  ‘Present it to the board, then see to it you’re drummed out of this society and every other one in England.’

  ‘It’ll be the ruin of me,’ he wailed.

  ‘Yes, it will.’

  Mr Rukin jerked to his feet. ‘You Heltons are all the same. You think because of your name you can tread on anyone and get away with it.’

  ‘Don’t blame me for your weaknesses. You brought this on yourself.’ Conrad advanced on Mr Rukin, barely able to hold back from striking the coward. ‘Get out of my sight before I break your neck.’

  Mr Rukin scurried towards the door, rattling the knob as he worked to twist it. At last it swung free and Mr Rukin darted into the hallway, stumbling against the wall before he righted himself and fled for the entrance.

  Conrad stepped out of the office to watch him, refusing to chase him like some terrier after a rat, despite wanting to shake the life from him.

  ‘Mr Rukin, what happened?’ one of his friends enquired as Mr Rukin hustled by. ‘Where are you going?’

  Mr Rukin didn’t stop to answer, but rushed out of the front of the building and into the noise and bustle of St James’s Street as fast as his spindly legs would carry him.

  The friend looked to Conrad, but, meeting his warning glare, thought better of pressing him and stepped back into the sitting room.

  Conrad retreated into the sanctuary of the president’s office. He stared at the confession on the blotter and the splatters of ink marring the hastily scratched words. He wanted to march into the middle of the Naturalist Society library, hold it up and reveal Mr Rukin’s dirty practices to the entire membership. Instead, he left the paper where it lay. This was the one time when the direct route wouldn’t serve him best. He’d give the evidence to Mr Stockton and have him bring Mr Rukin up for a reprimand, then allow the board to devise Mr Rukin’s final disgrace. It would hide Conrad’s involvement in the matter.

  Conrad picked up the fallen spyglass and turned it over in his hands, noting the many scratches marring the brass surface. In this matter, he did act too much like his uncle. He set the spyglass on the table, pressing one finger to the top to steady it. This subtle manipulation of people was exactly the way Lord Helton worked, rarely coming out from behind the protection of those eager to win his favour by doing his bidding. It disgusted Conrad to take the same tack but he had no choice. Conrad was doing this for Katie and, if he was too obvious about his reason for pursuing the matter, it’d be difficult to press the case against Mr Rukin without tainting it.

  The flower-shaped water clock in the corner began to chime five times, calling Conrad to his next duty. He’d silenced one critic. Katie’s appearance before the society next week would work to silence many more. In the meantime, she needed friends to support her in his absence and he’d see to it she had them.

  * * *

  Katie smoothed her hand over the black dress as she and Conrad followed Miss Benett’s butler up the stairs to the first floor of the lady geologist’s town house. It was a much more modest dwelling than Lord Mardling’s, but the wealth of Miss Benett’s family was evident in the highly polished furniture, well-executed paintings, servants and the smell of turtle soup filling the house. While Katie had thought nothing of entering Lord Mardling’s in her simple green walking dress, appearing tonight before a woman she esteemed, with the possibility of being in the presence of so many others, nearly stopped her on the stairs. She’d read all Miss Benett’s works and envied her career and ability to move among all levels of the scientific community. She never thought to find herself a guest at one of her dinner parties.

  She fingered again the lace Aunt Florence had added to the bodice of her black mourning dress. It was one of only two gowns Katie owned which wasn’t pocked with stains or near threadbare. There hadn’t been much time to mourn her father, not with the mounting bills and the need to don her more rugged dresses to search for fossils to sell to pay her way.

  ‘You look wonderful,’ Conrad complimented her as they climbed the stairs, though it failed to ease her nerves.

  Since Conrad had arrived to collect her and her aunt, who walked behind them mumbling in awe at the portraits of classical ruins hanging over the staircase, there’d been no opportunity to discuss what had passed between them last night. Even if they’d been left alone to talk, she wasn’t sure what she would say. The kiss had rattled her belief that she could be with Conrad and remain aloof. His honesty about his fears had touched something deep inside her. She didn’t want him to suffer, but she wasn’t ready to seek a second engagement, nor was she as eager to be away from him as she’d been their first day together at the Naturalist Society.

  What last night’s kiss meant to their future faded beneath the concerns of the present as they entered Miss Benett’s sitting room. On every surface stood colourful geodes and blinding white quartz, the insides catching the candlelight and creating small rainbows in the rock’s depths. A large, curving nautilus took pride of place on top of the piano which stood silent, unlike the guests. Many of the men, who Katie recognised from the Naturalist Society stood in clutches around the room, hands waving as they debated the latest scientific article in the Gazette, or the last paper presented at the Royal Society.

  Miss Benett didn’t stand with the men, but held court on a wide blue sofa in the centre of the room. Beside her sat her sister, Mrs Anne Marie Lambert, and beside her was her husband, the esteemed botanist, Aylmer Lambert. Mr Lambert had fostered both his wife’s interest in botany and his sister-in-law’s study of geology, helping Miss Benett to gather friends from the simple Dr Mantell to the esteemed Oxford don, Mr Buckland. To Katie’s disappointment, Mr Buckland was not in attendance tonight. Dr Mantell sat on Miss Benett’s other side, enjoying a small plate of tarts. So engrossed was everyone in their discussions, they failed to notice Katie and Conrad until the butler announced them.

  The discussions faded as all turned to view their arrival. A few of the men narrowed their eyes disapprovingly at Katie, including Mr Stockton, who stood near the window with three other gentlemen. The rest were welcoming, smiling brightly and hailing them with congenial nods. Whether it was Conrad’s influence or their own welcoming natures which provoked such greetings, Katie wasn’t sure, but she intended to take advantage of their acceptance to become better acquainted with them and some day perhaps their equal.

  Miss Benett rose from her seat and swept forward to greet them, her deep-crimson dress setting off her dark hair. A spinster of some forty year
s, she was stout around the middle, with a face free of lines yet full of experience. ‘Captain Essington, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you. I was so sorry to hear about your travails in the Arctic. You have my deepest condolences for the loss of your friend Mr Dubhach.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Katie felt more than saw Conrad flex his hand as he accepted Miss Benett’s condolences. ‘The loss of my ship was a tragedy, too, for there were quite a number of specimens on board which I’d collected specifically for you.’

  ‘Liar. I know they were all meant for Miss Vickers.’ She took Katie by the arm, drawing her away from Conrad and to the sofa. Conrad and her aunt followed. ‘Thank you so much for coming. It’s rare for me to have so many ladies in attendance. It’s usually only myself and my sister, which isn’t always as pleasant as one might think.’

  ‘Nonsense, Miss Benett, you know we’re always open to your ideas,’ Dr Mantell offered, as Miss Benett settled back down between him and her sister after seeing Katie and Aunt Florence seated on the matching shield chairs across from them. ‘I’m especially intrigued with what Captain Essington told me of your research into the creature he brought back.’

  ‘I find it difficult to believe a large animal could live so far north since the plant life there can’t possibly support much in the way of prey for a beast,’ Mrs Lambert offered.

  ‘You’re quite right, my dear.’ Mr Lambert patted his wife’s hand, pride, not condescension, in his compliment. She rewarded his support with a tender smile and Katie’s heart caught. She glanced at Conrad’s hand on the chair back near her shoulder, so close to her yet unlikely to reach out and join with hers as Mr and Mrs Lambert’s did. They’d kissed last night, but the intimacy had been fleeting, easily disturbed by her aunt just as their love and future had been disrupted by Conrad’s expedition.