by Lorri Dudley
Marcus passed the drying rag to Adana and strode in their direction.
Lottie bobbed a curtsy.
“Mr. Tallant, this is Lady Charlotte Winthrop…”
With one hand Marcus tipped his straw hat midstride.
“…my wife.”
Marcus missed a step, but recovered quickly. His dark eyes met Nathan’s with questions. Had Lottie noticed his surprise? The last thing he needed was for Lottie to think he was hiding their marriage. Blast. He should have mentioned he’d married earlier. He’d had plenty of time, but he was still adjusting to the idea. And with the unrest among the slaves and the problems with the cane, he’d been distracted. Now, he’d have a lot of questions to answer after Lottie returned to the inn.
“Delighted to meet you.” Marcus passed a quick sideways glance at Nathan. “I knew Winthrop would someday spy a lovely Englishwoman in his travels and carry her to the altar.”
Lottie giggled. “That’s not exactly how it came about, but thank you for your kind words.”
Marcus raised his brows. “Ah, I smell a tale.” He gestured toward the outdoor seating area under the fans on the porch. “But sit and eat first. Winthrop can divulge how you made each other’s acquaintance while we fill our stomachs.” He flashed Nathan a sideways glance. “You know how I love a good story.”
Lottie relished the feel of Nathan’s strong hand pressed against the small of her back as he guided her up the few steps to the porch. They strolled to a small teak table, and Nathan pulled out a chair for her. Her heart pounded as she tried to absorb everything around her.
This would be her future. It wasn’t the same as what she imagined with Anthony, but it felt intimate and just as thrilling. They would break their fast on the veranda. He’d watch his ships sail into port through the clearing as she read him letters from home. She’d have a warm bath prepared for when he returned from a long day in the field, and his favorite meal cooking over the outdoor hearth.
There was still so much she didn’t know about him. Maybe she would find the answers she sought here. Maybe if she came to know and adore the things he knew and respected, maybe he could learn to love her. Maybe if she proved to him she could be a proper and dutiful wife, he’d bring her here to be with him.
Lottie unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap, enjoying the cozy atmosphere of eating outside in the open breeze, much more than the stuffy formality of dining with her parents, each seated at the far ends of the table.
The midday meal consisted simply of rice and fish and was served by a slave woman named Adana. Her cocoa skin held a natural glow, and there was an exotic beauty about her wide dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, and plump lips. Her course hair was tied back with a rag, but she exuded an air as if this were her domain. The woman’s dark eyes met Lottie’s and held for a long moment until Lottie looked away.
The laborers poured in and sat under the Saman tree and anywhere else they could find shade to eat. Nathan motioned for Mr. Tallant to join them. The man assumed a seat across from Lottie with a gracious nod. He spoke to Nathan of the progress of harvesting the cane, and it was easy to see the two men held a mutual respect for one another.
Mr. Tallant sipped his drink and focused on her. “How have you liked island life so far? I’m assuming Mrs. Fielding is hosting your stay at the inn?”
Lottie dabbed at her lips with her napkin and set it in her lap to stall. “Captain and Mrs. Fielding are a lovely couple and most generous hosts, but I’m looking forward to residing here.”
“Much work is needed in the main house to make it acceptable.” Nathan shifted in his seat. “It may be quite a while.”
“Knowing your anticipation to become the mistress of Calico manor, I shall endeavor to hurry things along.” Mr. Tallant raised his glass to her in salute.
Nathan cleared his throat. “We must first focus on the harvest. I have buyers waiting.”
As the two men went back to talking about shipments, Lottie took the chance to admire the similarities between them. Both were dark haired with tanned skin from the sun, and they carried themselves in a confident, but relaxed, manner. However, Nathan held an air of intensity, whereas Mr. Tallant seemed a bit more easygoing. He had a quick smile and a friendly manner.
As Adana approached to clear the table, Mr. Tallant complimented her meal and drew a smile from her lips. She’d seen a few stolen glances between them. Perhaps something was brewing between the pair, or would be soon. Adana cleared Mr. Tallant’s and Nathan’s plates, then turned to take Lottie’s. The woman stilled as her eyes fell on her. She grasped a small sack dangling from a string around her neck and whispered something in Creole.
Nathan stiffened.
Mr. Tallant half rose out of his chair. “There’s more work to be done in the kitchens. See to it.”
Nathan turned a lethal stare on Mr. Tallant.
He raised his hands in front of his chest and rose from the table. “I’ll speak with her.” He bowed to Lottie, but there was a sympathy in his eyes she hadn’t noticed earlier. “Lovely to meet you.”
Nathan stared at the man’s back until Mr. Tallant caught Adana’s elbow and drew her aside.
“Come.” Nathan rose and ushered Lottie from her chair. “Let me show you inside.”
The pressure of his hand on her lower back didn’t give her time to overhear Mr. Tallant’s discussion. She turned to study her husband’s face as they walked. “What was that about?”
“It’s nothing.” His face masked any emotion.
Lottie frowned, but let the matter drop so she didn’t spoil her first glimpse of the house. As they stepped inside, she immediately fell in love with the cozy atmosphere of its whitewashed walls and unpolished wooden floors. The paint had worn from the top of the newel post where hands gripped it to turn the corner. Furniture was sparse, and it needed a woman’s touch, for there were no rugs or curtains, but it held a quaint feel. The salon that would normally be used for receiving callers held only tables, which were strewn with various maps and navigating tools. The dining room off the back housed the same. Upon the large dining room table fit to suit over fifteen guests, rested more maps and ledger books spread wide open. Amazingly, Nathan’s study was neat and tidy, except for the water stains on the wallpaper. They ascended the stairs to the second floor.
Nathan kept a marked distance between them. His hand didn’t stray to her lower back to guide her through the house as it had earlier. It seemed as if a wall had been erected between them. She would have to find out what the words meant Adana had spoken.
“When I was a child, there were four chambers and several dressing rooms, but two of the rooms were destroyed in the storm.” He pushed a door open wider to reveal a dresser and single bed, neatly made. “This is my chamber.”
Lottie peeked inside, and his scent of salt, ocean air, and clean linen filled her nose. The bed rested against one wall, and across from it sat a writing desk with a neat stack of ledgers. A nearby antique umbrella stand, instead of holding umbrellas, was filled with rolled maps.
He nodded to another door but didn’t open it. “The other room was the master chamber. It was badly damaged during the storm and is currently being used for storage.”
Her lips parted to ask why he’d chosen to sleep in the smaller room and not the master, but she closed her mouth tight. Of course, it would be too painful to sleep in the room his parents had once occupied.
“As you can see, I never intended for a woman to live here.”
She shrugged. “It could use a woman’s touch.”
“A touch?” He feigned serious. “I’ll have to cancel the ship full of British designers I’d requested.”
His teasing relaxed her stiff spine, and the glitter in his eyes summoned an inner shout of Huzzah.
She gestured to a door on the right. “And where does that door lead?”
He sobered and pulled it open to reveal a soft pink chamber. “This was Katherine’s room.”
She stole a quick
peek and expected a twelve-year-old girl to come bounding from the dressing room at any moment. Nothing had been disturbed since her passing.
He gestured towards the stairs, and they both descended.
Outside, the laborers were finishing their midday meal. The women collected the dishes to be scrubbed down by the stream. They paused as Lottie passed, and each grabbed the pouch hanging around their necks.
Mr. Tallant raised a hand to stay them and sauntered over to speak to Nathan. While they discussed an irrigation matter, Adana peered up from her accumulated stack of plates. Keeping her gaze on Lottie, she leaned closer to another servant and whispered the same Creole words she’d said earlier.
A shiver trickled down her back. Nathan might not like it, but if this was going to be her home and these women under her direction, she needed to know what was being said about her. At a break in the discussion, she addressed Mr. Tallant. “What did Adana say to me?”
The man’s tan face paled around his hairline, and he flicked a glance at Nathan.
Nathan’s hand grasped her elbow in a firm grip. “It’s time for us to go. I have much work to do.”
He pulled Lottie back a step before she planted her feet and refused to budge.
Mr. Tallant’s gaze slid to Nathan. “Slaves are a superstitious lot.”
“Truly.” Lottie pulled her arm away from Nathan. “I’d like to know if our cook has a grievance with me so that we might get it cleared up.” She attempted to add some humor. “I wouldn’t want to find out later she’s been spitting in my soup.”
Mr. Tallant swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.
Nathan reclaimed her elbow. “It’s a cultural thing. Nothing to worry your head about.”
Lottie ignored him. “I don’t mean to insinuate Adana would do such a thing,” she kept her gaze locked on Mr. Tallant, “but it is better for all when the lady of the house keeps in good standing with the cook.” She hit him with bold confidence.
The disappointment she’d seen earlier in Mr. Tallant’s eyes changed into a glint of respect. She touched his arm. “Please tell me. I’d like to know what I’ve done.”
“It is nothing you’ve done.”
“Then what is it?”
Mr. Tallant peered at Nathan.
Nathan sighed and his head sagged. “Tell her.”
His eyes darkened with deep sorrow. “Adana sees the spirit of death upon you.”
Chapter 19
Lord and Lady Carlton request the honor of your presence to dine at Montview Estate…
~ Invitation to Mister and Lady Nathaniel Winthrop
Lottie’s blood turned to ice, and she fought to mask her surprise. Raising her chin, she pretended the words hadn’t stunned her to the core. “Adana could probably say that about half the people on the island.” With a careless shrug, she added, “We’re all going to die someday, Mr. Tallant.”
“It’s time to go,” Nathan’s head bowed, and he rubbed the back of his neck. His other arm hooked through Lottie’s.
She barely got out a farewell to Mr. Tallant before Nathan tossed her up into the carriage. He jumped in beside her and snapped the reins. The horses jolted and sped off down the lane.
Silence screamed between them. Did he believe Adana’s words? “You don’t believe in silly superstitions, do you?”
Nathan’s knuckles turned white on the reins, but he continued to stare straight ahead as if he hadn’t heard her.
Lottie dropped her gaze to her folded hands in her lap. “I don’t believe Adana can foretell the future. Only God knows when my time is up, and even if it is to be soon, I’m not scared of death. I know I’ll be in heaven with my Savior and Creator.” She glanced at Nathan’s rigid profile. “I refuse to be a slave to fear. I will live my life and entrust my future to the Lord.”
Nathan remained quiet until he stood in the front foyer of the Cockleshell. He bid her goodbye with his usual peck on her forehead, and she withheld a weary sigh. Hadn’t today changed their relationship? She turned and mounted the stairs before he saw the disappointment she could no longer mask.
“Lottie.”
Her breath hitched. She’d only ascended a few steps when her name rolled off his lips. She paused, one hand gripping the carved railing, and faced him.
“I almost forgot.” He stood in the doorway. “Be ready tomorrow at six. I will pick you up in the evening. We’ve been invited to the Carltons’ dinner party in Sandy Point. Wear your best gown.”
She pinched her lips together, but she couldn’t hold back her smile.
His eyes held her as if memorizing the look upon her face. He paused a long moment before he tapped the doorframe and exited the building.
Lottie slid a white satin glove up to her elbow while Franny pinned the last few curls of her hair. Nervous energy fluttered through her midsection and tingled in her extremities.
“There, miss.” Franny stood back to admire her work. “You look splendid.”
Lottie rose from her chair, her skirts swishing in a graceful cascade of silk. Franny held the looking glass up for her to see. The pale blue fabric of her gown matched her eyes and appeared to heighten the rich color of her hair. Franny had piled it high on top of her head in a mass of curls and ringlets as bright as a lighthouse beacon warding off ships from danger.
“Maybe I should wear a cap.” She didn’t need to draw unwanted attention, especially after yesterday. Did others believe as Adana does? Were they all waiting for her to succumb to death? Was Nathan? She could understand his concern after his family’s deaths, but would he put any stock in a superstition?
Franny gasped. “No, my lady. A cap would spoil the effect.”
“But it’s so red.” She lifted her hand to chew on a nail, but caught herself and dropped it back to her side. “It must be the teal color. I should change gowns.”
“The teal makes your eyes sparkle.” Franny lowered the looking glass. “Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but I believe it’s simply nerves. You look stunning.”
Lottie bit her bottom lip and squeezed Franny’s hand. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” She pressed her hands against her churning stomach. “I’m being silly. It’s merely that I want tonight to go well, and I’m afraid I’ll do something to ruin it.”
“I have faith in you, my lady.” Franny held the mirror up in front of Lottie. “Look at the woman before you. With her striking hair and incomparable beauty, Mr. Winthrop won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”
Lottie stared at her image in the mirror. Her skin was pale, but her color high, and her red hair stood out like a flame. Her mother hated her hair, but it was proof of the courage of her ancestors. She was of their lineage, which meant boldness ran in her blood.
“Indeed. Tonight, I will woo my husband’s guarded heart. And, if that doesn’t work,” she flashed a teasing smile, “then perhaps I can incite his jealousy.”
She’d given Nathan plenty of time to adjust. Yes, he hadn’t wanted to marry her, but it was time he made the best of it. She couldn’t be imagining the spark between them. Yesterday had solidified it in her mind. The day had been magical. They’d spoken to each other and teased one another like longtime friends—until Adana had ruined it. But Nathan was beginning to care for her. She knew it. She willed it to be so.
“It’s time he made me his wife in the Biblical sense.”
Franny giggled.
Drat! Had she spoken that out loud?
Biblical. “That’s it, Franny.” Lottie paced the short length of the room, organizing her thoughts. “I don’t know why I haven’t done this already. I’ve prayed for Nathan, for his crew, for safe travels, and for myself, but I haven’t prayed for our marriage.”
She grabbed both of Franny’s hands and pulled her down to sit upon the bed. “Will you pray with me?”
“Of course.”
They closed their eyes, and Lottie prayed, “Heavenly Father. Your Word says a man shall leave his father and his mother, and cleave un
to his wife, and they shall be one flesh. Let it be so with our marriage. Bless it and let it be fruitful. Let tonight be the start of a new beginning. In Your name. Amen.”
As Franny echoed her amen, a knock sounded upon the door.
“Lady Winthrop.” A servant called, and Franny jumped up to answer. “Mr. Winthop awaits her ladyship in the foyer.”
Franny informed the footman Lady Winthrop would be right down.
Inhale, exhale. Lottie sucked in a deep breath and released it. She felt as nervous as when she’d been presented at court. Please God, let this go well. She nodded to Franny and strode to the door she held open. “God has been with me thus far. I have nothing to fear.”
She swept out into the hall with her chin high. Laughter rose from the tavern below. She paused partway down the stairs to inhale a steady breath, but instead spied Nathan’s well-defined profile below. He studied a painting on the wall of a naval battle between British warships and the Spanish.
He appeared so much as he had the first night she met him at the Middleton ball, that her heart doubled its pace. His snowy-white cravat contrasted against his tanned skin and dark waves of hair. He stood tall with one hand pushing back the side of his jacket to rest comfortably on his hip. Nathan easily commanded a ship and a ballroom.
Her chest swelled. He’d kept food in the bellies of his laborers after the loss of his family. He’d purchased a small fleet when the sugar crop showed signs of slowing. He established trade relations with Britain, Central America, and South America, and displayed the business intuition that drew the respect of his peers and the peerage.
This man was her husband.
Her blood surged. Would she please him as much as he made her proud?
He leaned in closer to the painting.
Her satin slippers made no sound as she descended. She repeated the mantra, God is with me. He is with me.
The last stair squeaked under her weight, and Nathan’s eyes snapped in her direction.
She froze.
