The Dreamer (The Fall Series)

by Abbey, May Nicole

  He stared at me, evidently shocked. And then his lovely face softened and he laughed in surprise. Graciously, he took my hand and bent and kissed it. And the gesture, which had always seemed to me to be pretentious and insincere, was somehow flattering coming from him. I felt a flush come to my cheeks. “Well, wasn’t that pleasant! Perhaps we could stand some ceremony back home after all,” I told him with uncustomary breathlessness. “Are you really a duke?”

  “I am.”

  “Delightful! My first introduction, too. The chances are astronomical, considering the statistics. Less than three percent of the population is titled at this time.”

  He laughed again, and the sound was light and deep and pleasant, and it made me smile, too. He didn’t immediately release my hand.

  “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but even for an aristocrat, you are quite superior. If my memory serves me correctly, Dukes are third in line from the King. It goes, King, Prince, Duke, Marquis, Earl, Baron, Viscount ….” A slight movement from the duke made me say, “Oh, no. You’re right. Viscount comes before Baron. My, that is impressive. I shall certainly remember to record you in my notes.”

  “Mademoiselle, I have never met anyone like you before,” he declared appreciatively. The captain made an impatient sound in his throat.

  “And have you really captured a thousand pirates?”

  “It is an exaggeration,” he said modestly.

  “But it is uncommon for aristocracy to be mariners.”

  “I don’t pursue them, Miss Madera,” he said with an amused smile. “I simply work with the ambassadors here and there, giving the proper authorities pertinent information. I have … connections who know of my interest. And I hear much.”

  “How very civic minded of you.”

  He smiled again, his eyes moving over my face. “Such a beautiful creature in the company of our Captain. May I presume to wonder how this is so?” He stooped down conspiratorially. “You are his prisoner, no?”

  At that moment, I knew I liked him more than I’d ever liked anybody upon first acquaintance.

  The object of our discussion exclaimed indistinguishably and turned to the counter and demanded a dress — anything would do as long as it “fit her.” The captain jerked his head towards me.

  The shopkeeper looked shocked, his eyes going from me and back to the captain. “I run a respectful establishment here, sir,” he said with dignity, eyeing my shabby dress and scuffed shoes. For the first time, I realized that my hair was down and free, and women did not wear their hair down and free. I wonder what I looked like to him ... and to the duke.

  “Just what exactly are you implying,” the captain answered quietly … dangerously.

  “Well, I …” the man gulped, and did not finish.

  “I’ll have an answer, sir,” the captain said through his teeth. “If I have to —”

  “Oh, Captain.” I couldn’t hide my disappointment.

  “If I may,” the duke interjected in his musical tones. We all stopped and looked at him, compelled by something beyond our control. He turned to the clerk and smiled. “My good man, surely you recognize the heiress to the Madera fortune?”

  The clerk blinked. “Never heard of no Madera family.”

  “They are from the Americas.”

  “Colonials?” the man looked at me suspiciously.

  “Of course.”

  His eyes scanned me, and then he said, “Funny way for an heiress to dress.”

  “Her trunks were lost at sea.”

  “A storm,” I interjected.

  “Then why is Mr. Tucker in ‘ere payin’ for ye?” the clerk asked in triumph.

  I hesitated and looked at the duke for rescue. He didn’t even glance at me, but said to the clerk, “Don’t be a fool, man. The captain is simply her banker for now, until she’s safely at her destination. You know very well she can’t traipse around town with a load of money in her purse.”

  The shopkeeper hesitated, looking from me to the captain again. Then he laughed reluctantly, apologetically, and said to the captain, who looked anything but pleased, “Sorry, Mr. Tucker. Forgive an old man’s suspicions. We have just a dress for the lass. And if she’d like to come this way ….”

  The rest was easy, thanks to the duke. I was taken to the back room and dressed in a simple blue number that the woman of the shop assured me was the color of my eyes. I was fitted with a corset, which was undoubtedly designed by a man, for it pulled my shoulders back until my shoulder blades almost met, resulting in my bosom being thrust out much further than I would ever naturally hold it. The woman tightened the laces on this contraption until I was certain I felt my bellybutton hit my spine. I was then layered with a number of other undergarments including a hoop that, not only served no purpose, but would make it difficult for me to walk and sit naturally. I’d never felt so stiff and uncomfortable in my life.

  But when I turned to the mirror and saw my reflection, I gasped. Never before had I been so lovely, and suddenly I didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. The woman even did up my hair, too. And when I emerged from the back room, with those miles of fabric and lace, I quite involuntarily twirled before the two men, who’d been lounging on opposite sides of the room. The captain had frozen while the duke kissed his fingertips.

  “Call me masculine now, Captain,” I crowed in triumph, and then went to a mirror that stood on the opposite wall and regarded my reflection, a glint in my eye. “This has been so educational. I have been inexcusably ignorant up until now in the culture of femininity. I don’t know how I neglected it for so long, for I am nearly twenty-seven. But what a pleasing sense of rightness it brings, you know? Like for the first time in my life, I am a whole, complete person, and not just an intellect.” I sighed, running a hand down my skirt. “I didn’t think it was possible, but I believe I have been thinking too much.” I moved the skirt aside and admired my gleaming shoes.

  I heard a footfall, and I looked up to find the captain had awoken from his stupor, and without taking his eyes off me, came my way.

  But the duke was quicker, and he approached me and raised my fingers to his lips as he’d done before and said, “Ma cherie.”

  “Combien de temps avez-vous habite en Angleterre?”

  Duke Dubois gasped, a smile on his beautiful face. “Vous parlez francais?”

  “Un peu,” I answered. “Parlez lentement.”

  We both laughed, and the captain morosely turned to the counter and demanded the bill in a voice that interrupted our conversation.

  The shopkeeper hurried to complete the invoice, his hands nearly trembling with fear. The duke and I both looked on sympathetically, but instinctively did not interfere, knowing it would make the captain more irate.

  I sighed.

  I turned to the duke and asked, “How do you know the captain? Does he regularly mingle with the aristocracy?”

  “We were in school together for a short time.”

  “Oh? And you’ve remained friends these subsequent years?”

  The duke regretfully shook his golden head. “We meet less often than I’d like. I spotted him from afar just before you two entered the shop, and I couldn’t forgo the chance to see him again. I’m glad I did,” he finished, watching me with a look in his eyes that made me blush.

  The captain, arguing over an item on the bill, hit the counter with his fist, and we both turned. “Tucker, he hasn’t changed,” the duke said soberly.

  I looked at him. “He was like this in the university?”

  He nodded, and then grimaced when the captain swore at the shopkeeper. “It’s why he left.”

  “Really? What happened?”

  The duke leaned closer, and I caught a whiff of his masculine cologne. “He hadn’t been at the university long, only a few months, when it was obvious to us all that he preferred the company of a certain young lady, a Bridget Bloomington. Her father was a mere colonel, and she was quite open about her determination to marry an aristocrat.”

  “Br
idget Bloomington?” I repeated, and then frowned unhappily. “I don’t like the sound of it. It is very jarring to the ears.”

  “She invited several of us students to her country estate for the Christmas holidays. There was a ball, and Mallory came down late, dressed in formal breeches that he’d obviously had since his youth.” The duke grimaced. “They were ill fitting and faded, and Miss Bloomington didn’t hesitate to tell him so. He turned and left, upsetting a trolley containing the Christmas punch on his way out.”

  His voice faded, and he suddenly turned away to straighten a rack of hair ribbons that sat askew. When he turned back to me, he was biting his lower lip hard. “He left the university soon thereafter.” His eyes were very sad.

  I looked at the captain, a new compassion in my breast. Those late teen years were vital in the psychological development of a young man, and … well, land had never been very good to him, it seemed.

  “Have dinner with me tonight,” the Duke of Norcross whispered in my ear just as the captain finished his business and approached us.

  “Miss Madera, shall we go?” he asked stonily, eyeing the duke.

  I had begun to nod and move towards him when the duke stopped me with his hand. “Miss Madera has just consented to do me the honor of dining with me at Norcross Hall, Tucker. Be so good as to leave her address with my man, and I’ll accompany her from here. It really has been a pleasure to see you again, dear friend. Let us be strangers no longer.”

  He bowed to the captain, but the captain did not return the gesture. As the duke had been speaking, the captain first looked startled, glancing at me and then to Norcross again, and then he turned angry, and his hand clenched at his side. “Nothing will please me more, believe me,” he exclaimed, “than to finally get her off my hands.” And without another look at me, he turned on his heel and left.

  I stared after him, shocked and injured at his outburst.

  The duke, too, looked at the door in concern, though he did not seem surprised. He turned and offered me his arm. “Shall we go?”

  But I nearly thrust him away from me in my anxiety, and I hurried out of the store.

  The captain was about to enter the coach when I emerged. He turned when he heard me calling him, and I saw that he had already lost all the previous anger, and he looked pale. When he saw me, he did not hesitate to take my hand when I reached out to him.

  “Forgive me, Rachel,” he said immediately. “I didn’t mean it.”

  “You aren’t angry?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “You’re free to dine with anyone you please.”

  “But it angered you so much.” I climbed into the coach.

  The captain followed me in, sitting opposite me once more. I crossed to join him on the other side, feeling the inordinate need to be close, that I might understand this fascinating man more.

  Just as I did, and as the captain was about to swing the door closed, the angelic face appeared at the opening, looked first on the vacant side before turning and finding us.

  He smiled his beautiful smile and said with amusement, “How delightfully cozy. There are two benches of course, but I don’t blame you, Tucker. Me, I am certain I would do the same with such pretty company.”

  The captain’s face went red, and he leaned forward aggressively. “Look here, Dubois …” he began, but he stopped and sat back again. With effort, he continued lightly, “Forgive the outburst, Your Grace. It’s been a long day. Miss Madera’s certainly free to dine with you as long as there’s an appropriate chaperone. Your mother, of course, will be joining you?”

  “Of course,” the duke said with a smile, and held his hand out to me. “Miss Madera?”

  I hesitated, looking from him to the captain again. “Go on,” the captain said with a sigh.

  “Miss Madera?” the duke queried, raising his eyebrows, his hand still extended.

  I leaned back against the seat.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said to him. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. It was very good to meet you and … and you will come around and visit us, won’t you?”

  “But of course,” he told me, his accent seeming suddenly very thick.

  “We’ll be at ….” I looked at the captain.

  “You know Lady Alistair, I presume,” he said reluctantly.

  “Yes. But won’t you reconsider, ma cherie? Captain Tucker, you see, has said it meets with his approval. You have nothing to fear from me, I assure you.”

  I blinked at his choice of words. “Fear you? I don’t fear you.”

  “Then come and see my home. It is very beautiful and historic. It was built almost two hundred years ago by Catholic Monks.” He winked at me as he reached in again, this time capturing my hand to draw me out.

  “Really?” I asked. “Does it have a chapel?”

  “Why of course,” he answered with a smile. “And secret passageways.”

  “Secret passageways? How intriguing!” I moved towards him.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a small gesture from the captain, a movement with his hand, like he was going to reach out and touch me, but he stopped and dropped it at his side.

  I pulled away. Or rather, I tried to, but the grip on my wrist was sure, and the duke continued to draw me out. I laughed. “Captain, help me! He won’t let go!”

  Immediately, the captain’s hand shot out and captured my forearm. He pulled me back into the coach, and when he did, the duke released me. “It is tug of war, isn’t it, Tucker?” he said with a knowing smile.

  “It is,” the captain answered as though he wasn’t angry at all anymore. He, too, smiled. He even thanked the duke for his help in the shop and invited him to come and call when he had the chance.

  But his smile disappeared as soon as the door closed. The coach jerked into motion.

  He brooded in silence, his eyes intense. Dark energy emanated from him, filling the coach with an almost palpable aura of danger.

  “I think you frighten me a little bit after all,” I said in a hollow voice.

  He examined me carefully, his mood shifting swiftly, and in a move I never would have anticipated, he put his arm around me and gently drew me close. “Why didn’t you go with him, Rachel?” he asked. It seemed a very important question to him.

  “Why didn’t I go with him?” I had a difficult time thinking.

  “You could have,” he told me carefully. “I would have understood. There is so much he could have shown you, my dear. You could have increased your knowledge, gathered new information … written your little notes.” The jibe did not sting, for he smiled rather sadly as he said it. “There is nothing left that I can teach you, I’m afraid.”

  He called me his dear. He’d never called me his dear before. I shook my head in confusion. “Captain … I … that’s not true.”

  “It is true. You are all alone in a strange place with no one to support you. It is imperative that you build a life and make … friends.” His tone had gotten quite bleak, but it suddenly became lighter when he added, “It was rather imprudent of you to choose to come with me when such an invaluable resource had presented itself to you, wasn’t it?”

  “I know. But I ….”

  “Your education will be neglected.” There was an edge of bitterness in his tone.

  “Captain.” I laughed, pulling away from him. “You are talking nonsense. My decision was perfectly sound. I have yet to meet this Lady Alistair, and there is still the proposition of the hidden treas —” I stopped myself at his darkening look and continued disjointedly, “And anyway, I … I hadn’t yet thanked you for my new dress.” I looked down and smoothed it with my hand.

  He looked at the dress. “Ah, yes. Your decision was logical and steady after all. I should have known. You would never make the mistake of making choices based on anything else, would you?”

  “I … you …” I stumbled, not knowing the right answer now.

  But he stopped me, touching my hand and stilling it from absently smoothing down the
skirt. His voice suddenly gentler he said, “You’ve already thanked me for the dress. A thousand times.”

  Chapter Eight

  Notes: These pompous, conceited, bloated old goats! I have no patience with them. If this is the best society has to offer, I’ll happily take my chances on the perils of the open seas.

  Greatly disappointed in Captain. Proved undeserving of confidence placed in him. That is all. Nothing left to be said.

  The man who opened the enormous, gleaming mahogany door was small and balding and fit exactly every stereotype of the pretentious eighteenth century English butler.

  His eyes traveled over us cursorily, deducing in the matter of seconds that we were people of no consequence and therefore hardly worth the evidently considerable effort common courtesy required.

  “I’m sorry, sir. Is Lady Alistair expecting you?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Well, I’m afraid she is occupied at the moment and is not taking visitors. If you would be so good as to leave your card …,” he told us in snooty, nasal tones, hardly moving his lips, his eyes scanning us from head to foot as he held out a silver tray, careful not to let our unworthy fingers touch the revered cloth of his immaculate white gloves.

  The captain placed a card on the ridiculous tray, and the butler began to close the door on us.

  “We’ll wait here until she’s seen the card,” the captain told him just before the door slammed shut.

  It appeared that the captain had been right. New attire was certainly required for this assignment. Yet, still I was unworthy. Evidently, since my lovely new dress weighed less than a thousand pounds and was narrow enough to fit through doorways, I must be a beggar from the streets and kept as far away as possible from the lady of the house.

  And here I’d been thinking I looked pretty darn spectacular!

  “Why do we bother with them, Captain?” I muttered, my unhappy eyes still on the closed door.