by Cardon, Sara
Mr. Garvey arrived with Lucy’s plate. It was piled with sliced apples and strawberries, fish, and a buttery roll with caraway seeds. “What is this about shops? I recommend you visit The Lanes. It’s charming and boasts of more than you will have time to explore, including modistes and milliners. How soon do you mean to go? I can arrange a carriage.”
“Oh, that is most generous. Thank you, Mr. Garvey. I shall let you know once I speak with my sister, as we plan to go together.”
“Of course, of course. I’m so pleased to help you while you stay with us. Nothing gives me or my wife more pleasure than entertaining company.”
Mrs. Garvey’s expression was devoid of pleasure.
Mr. Garvey launched into an animated summary of Brighton’s highlights, gesturing with his hands. Lucy took a bite of strawberry, grateful he required little encouragement to keep talking.
Lucy knew the moment the captain entered the room. The air charged with a crisp awareness like before a storm. Had Mr. Garvey’s voice gone quieter? All her attention centered on the captain. With jerky movements, she set her strawberry down, her insides quivering like custard.
She took in his appearance, head to toe. He must not be on active duty, since he wasn’t in uniform, but even in a black tailcoat, he turned heads. His hair was lighter than she remembered, the light brown had weathered highlights of gold. The white of his simple cravat contrasted against his tanned skin.
He glanced about the room, and his steely gaze captured hers for a moment before moving on. A flurry of butterflies careened in her stomach.
Mr. Garvey laughed merrily, looking between Lucy and Captain Sharpe. He patted her arm. “I’ll introduce you, my dear.”
Lucy didn’t think it wise to engage the captain on an empty stomach, but she didn’t say so.
Mr. Garvey stepped toward the captain and greeted him. The captain acknowledged the invitation with a slight nod then advanced slowly, his focus on their host. He didn’t look in her direction.
“May I introduce you to Mr. Reuben Hardy and his sister-in-law, Miss Lucy Brook, visiting from London. And this fellow is Captain Jack Sharpe of the Royal Navy.”
Captain Sharpe made the appropriate bows and pointedly avoided eye contact with her. His attention was riveted on Mr. Garvey as if he was the king.
Lucy blinked rapidly, her thoughts scrambling. Why would he ignore her? Perhaps he was embarrassed. But he didn’t blame her for the mix up, did he? She cringed and glanced around, feeling exposed. Did anyone else know of the impropriety? Surely not.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain Sharpe,” Reuben said, shaking his hand.
Lucy sat straight in her chair, her body locked in place. The captain intended to avoid her because of a nonthreatening, chance meeting. She raised her eyebrows. She would not allow it.
Reuben continued, “During the war, the Naval Chronicle reported your victories and the minimal casualties on your ship. Some gentlemen of my acquaintance believed your record was due, in large part, to your kinship with the men on the lower deck.”
Captain Sharpe leaned in as if the conversation was vital. “Your words are kind. I do share a profound kinship with my men. I pray it is a strength, but it’s exposed me to criticism for favoritism, even nepotism.” He paused. “I have been truly privileged to serve with many fine men. They are friends and neighbors, not just followers.”
His plain and simple way of speaking drew her in. And it was obvious he felt a great deal of love for those he led.
“Take a seat and join us, Captain,” Mr. Garvey encouraged.
The captain sat across the table from her, patiently answering Mr. Garvey’s and Reuben’s questions. It seemed she had become invisible.
Charlotte arrived, her strawberry-blonde hair in a tidy chignon. Reuben gave up his seat so that she could sit beside Lucy.
“My dear, you look tired,” she said to Lucy.
When Lucy opened her mouth to reply, Captain Sharpe went quiet and his shoulders stiffened.
“Did you not sleep well?” Charlotte coaxed.
Lucy couldn’t help prodding him. “In truth, I slept fitfully. I was interrupted by . . .”
His gaze cut to hers.
Lucy held back a smile “. . . bad dreams . . . of a lost soul.”
“Like a ghost? How terrifying,” Charlotte said.
Lucy still held Captain Sharpe’s attention and did not want to let it go. “No. The soul was lost, certainly, but I don’t believe it meant me any harm.” She lifted her eyebrows in innocence and watched as a glint of humor lit his somber eyes.
Captain Sharpe cleared his throat. “As a mariner, I’m familiar with many superstitions, but I’m confident you are safe at Havencrest, Miss Brook.”
“I believe you.” She looked back to Charlotte. “I shall sleep more comfortably tonight, I am sure.”
Captain Sharpe smiled, and the effect lightened his features. He really ought to smile more often. His eyes were like a turbulent sea, and she couldn’t decide if they were more gray or blue.
Mr. Garvey stood. “Well, good day to you, Captain. Enjoy your walks along the beach with this lovely company.”
“I am headed into Brighton today,” Captain Sharpe said.
“Ah.” Mr. Garvey rocked on his heels. “Miss Brook and her sister are headed that way as well. You wouldn’t mind escorting the ladies into town, would you?”
Lucy dipped her chin and fidgeted with her silverware. She might have wanted to push the captain a little so he’d acknowledge her presence, but she did not mean to trap him into spending his time with her.
She cleared her throat lightly. “Do not feel obligated,” Lucy said at the same moment Captain Sharpe said, “I would be honored.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. His gaze was level, sincere.
“It is settled then.” Mr. Garvey clapped his hands. “Shall I order the carriage for, say, eleven o’clock?”
Lucy’s heartbeat skittered and she couldn’t no longer meet Captain Sharpe’s gaze. She looked to Charlotte for confirmation of the time, then worked to keep her voice from quivering. “Yes, that will do very well for us. Thank you both.”
Chapter 6
Jack took his beaver hat from the butler and smiled to himself. “Thank you, Morton.” He had been observing the man—Morton was a fortress and did his duty in fine form. “Any advice so I might survive the day?”
Morton kept his face expressionless. “Mr. Garvey will be dining away from home tonight, sir.”
Jack tilted his head down, wondering at the significance.
“Might I suggest you eat a hearty meal before you return this evening?” Morton said as if it was a routine matter.
Jack could read between the lines. Mr. Garvey was all hospitality, and Mrs. Garvey all hostility. “I will be sure to do so.” He wanted to salute Morton, but instead he situated his hat upon his head and nodded a farewell.
At four bells of the forenoon watch, Jack seated himself across from the lovely Miss Brook and her sister, Mrs. Hardy, in an open landau bound for West Street.
“You did not plan on escorting two women to Brighton this morning, did you?” Miss Brook asked.
“Indeed I had not, but the change is not unwelcome, I assure you.” He shook his head and smiled to himself. The way she had led him to believe she would rat him out made him want to laugh. She was like a spectrum of color on an otherwise hazy horizon. Suddenly his dull, becalmed day promised vibrance.
Especially with a fine view of her vivid blue eyes. His plans would wait. Admiral Cartwright was unavailable at the Garveys’ as of yet. And Jack did not have standing appointments with the other men, so he could pay a visit as soon as it suited. He didn’t relish the task, but duty urged him to act.
“Are you on leave or between assignments?” Mrs. Hardy asked.
“I’m ‘on the beach’ as they say, waiting for my next commission. The navy has always employed more captains than ships.” He shrugged.
The ratio of sh
ips to commanders had always motivated captains to perform well. It also served as a way to discipline captains by keeping them without a commission if they misbehaved. Like McCrea, he thought darkly.
“I imagine many officers find themselves without a ship,” Mrs. Hardy said hesitantly, as if uncertain.
“Indeed. Since peace with France, there are fewer ships used, and even more captains and officers on the beach.”
“Is it difficult to be without employment?” Miss Brook asked.
Without an active commission and a crew, he was adrift in windless waters. He had no moorings, no anchor, and no safe harbor.
“My career has always brought me a sense of belonging, which I miss. Many officers have resigned or retired.”
The trees thinned and the ocean came into view.
“And will you retire or stay in service?” Miss Brook asked, tendrils of dark brown hair escaping her bonnet.
He may as well ensure Miss Brook knew where he stood. “Hard service is all I know. The navy is my profession and my family.” As long as he didn’t die or disgrace himself, he would continue to serve king and country.
Miss Brook’s brow furrowed. “You have family though, do you not?”
Jack smiled at her concern. “My younger sister is married and resides in Falmouth. The grandmother and grandfather who raised me also live there.”
“After our parents both passed away of typhoid fever, my grandfather raised me,” Miss Brook said softly. “Charlotte was already married and settled. Grandfather and I shared a special bond—he was a dear man. He passed away a year ago last June.”
Jack’s heart squeezed. He knew what it was like to be all alone in this world with only one sibling to rely upon.
Wistfulness passed over her face like a shadow from the passing trees. “Strange that we should have the loss of both parents in common,” she stated simply.
He cleared his throat, not wishing to ruin the moment, but needing to be forthright. “My father died when I was eleven years of age, but my mother still lives.”
“But I thought you said your grandparents raised you and your sister?”
The carriage bumped and dipped as the road curved slowly downward. Inwardly he sighed. He may as well finish the tale. They held onto their seats as Warren Road changed to Elm Grove and the wheels had a smoother ride. Ahead, the roofs of businesses were visible.
“My grandparents welcomed my mother, sister, and me into their home. My mother remarried within a year and left us.”
The sisters’ faces mirrored each other—eyes wide, brows falling sharply, lips puckering into frowns. Their coloring was vastly different, with Mrs. Hardy’s ginger hair and Miss Brook’s dark brown, but they still favored each other.
“She didn’t take you with her?” Miss Brook looked devastated, as if she wasn’t sure how Jack had survived his childhood.
“Her new husband didn’t want us.” He shrugged. There was no answer that satisfied.
“She resides in Dover with her husband and three children. I have never met her new family. Now that I am established, she contacts me on occasion for favors.” Mostly she asked him for money.
Miss Brook’s eyes filled with tears. “I cannot imagine such a betrayal. And your grief, first from losing your father, then your mother’s abandonment.”
Jack’s heart swelled from her compassion, which was dangerous. It was a subject about which he wished to feel as little as possible. “I escaped to sea two years later, much to my grandfather’s consternation. As you can see, all has turned out well.”
“I am glad for it. Well, not for your grandfather’s dismay.” Miss Brook smiled, and it chased the sheen from her eyes.
“Your grandfather did a fine job of raising you, as I can plainly tell,” he ventured. She had a kind heart, something he had seen driven from good people by the harshness of life. He narrowed his eyes, wanting to know if she was attached, but unsure how to ask. He spoke to Mrs. Hardy. “How is it you live in London, where every bachelor and debutante converges, and your sister remains unmarried?”
Mrs. Hardy’s mouth opened. Miss Brook blinked rapidly then glanced down, a blush tinting her cheeks.
He rubbed his neck. Perhaps he had been too blunt.
Mrs. Hardy smiled fondly at her sister. “When Grandfather’s health began to fail, Lucy cared for him and saw to his business.” She glanced at Miss Brook as if she had spoken out of turn.
Goosebumps slid down his neck as Jack stared at Miss Brook anew, impressed by her steady support of her grandfather. “That is very noble. And what kind of trade was he in?” he asked.
Miss Brook cleared her throat and coughed.
Blast. He probably shouldn’t speak about business to a lady.
“Banking,” she answered.
His eyebrows rose at the unexpected answer. How had she assisted in banking? The question came to his lips, but he held it back, not wishing to embarrass her further.
Silence hummed between them. The carriage wheels clacked and seagulls called in the distance.
“Do you disapprove?” One of her fine eyebrows rose as if in challenge.
He gripped his knees. His stomach pitched at the offense his silence had caused. “By the heavens, no. I meant no disrespect. On the contrary, I find myself vastly curious as I haven’t the first idea what bankers do.”
He lived on his half-pay and left his prize money in the bank. He had captured many enemy vessels, but even if he had captured only one, the prize money—from the ship’s value, its cargo, and the head money paid per sailor—would have been enough to set him up for life. He never need worry about money again, but he was also just beginning to learn about the complexities in managing wealth.
“What did you do to assist in the bank?” he asked.
Miss Brook sat up straighter and swiped a strand of hair from her mouth. “Oh. Well, banks require many occupations to function. At first, I assisted with balancing ledgers and finding discrepancies. Then I began monitoring liquidity, managing reserves, and seeing to our investments.” Her soft lips curved upward.
“I am impressed.” He tried not to show how astonished he was that a woman had performed such a role. Jack had recognized she was intelligent, but she was unusual in her application of it. Her grandfather had been peculiar in his raising of her.
She searched his face. “Are you in jest?”
“I am in earnest. Why would you doubt my sincerity?”
She bit her cheek. “Few men find the profession ladylike.” A gleam lit her eyes. “One man was so cowed by the idea he tripped during the quadrille and twisted his ankle.”
Jack couldn’t help but laugh, and she joined in.
“What man wouldn’t desire a sensible and intelligent wife?” he asked. His interest in her increased tenfold.
Miss Brook’s eyes widened even as she smiled prettily. “You might be surprised to know we have lost patrons because of me.” She searched his face and a mischievous glint lit her eyes. “I am on the brink of losing my biggest patron as we speak.”
“What a shame.” It was unfair her grandfather’s business had suffered because of her willingness to step in.
It occurred to him that she was speaking about the present. He drew his head back. “Hold on. Am I to understand you are still involved in his business after his passing?”
She nodded her head. “Are you surprised?”
“I suppose I am.” A slow smile built and he gave it full rein. “But it seems to suit you.” She was an extraordinary woman.
Her answering smile was brilliant and caused his chest to warm.
The landau stopped alongside a street with shops on both sides that sloped down to a view of the ocean. Jack remembered his manners enough to step down first and offer the ladies a hand.
“Do not feel obligated to accompany us, Captain Sharpe,” Mrs. Hardy said.
“Yes, we wouldn’t want to trouble you. We know it was Mr. Garvey’s idea, not yours,” Miss Brook added as she placed her sle
nder hand in his and stepped into the street.
He didn’t want to release her but knew he must. Would he trouble her if he stayed with her during her shopping?
“But we would welcome your company,” Miss Brook added. “My curiosity is too great, and I have so many questions to put to you about life at sea. If you are agreeable.”
“I am agreeable.” If he could stay by her side, enjoy her lilac talcum powder, and admire her blue eyes, then he would gladly follow her about.
Miss Brook flitted through shops at a fast clip, pausing briefly in the first one to examine a straw bonnet. She purchased a wrap for her hair should the weather turn squally. In the second shop, Mrs. Hardy asked her sister about the combined cost of some embroidery materials. Miss Brook rattled off the number with ease. Jack suggested his own feminine purchases to add, much to Miss Brook’s amusement. She had an uncanny ability to add sums in her head and seemed to enjoy the game doubly for it. He started suggesting the most absurd items he could find for her to add the value.
Her blue eyes flashed with merriment at his suggestions in the curiosity shop.
“I should never buy a gilded dragon or monkey,” she laughed, turning the hideous monkey over in her gloved hands. “I marvel at your choices. What does your home look like, I wonder?” She pivoted and faced him fully, the floor-to-ceiling oak shelves on either side of them brimmed with wares and offered a moment of unexpected privacy.
“I don’t have one,” he said lightly. But he couldn’t help a foolish longing. Miss Brook, he was discovering, was sweet tempered, quick witted, and alluringly feminine.
Her head tilted. Had she read his thoughts?
“No home?” she asked softly.
Why did her utterance of the word home make his stomach pitch and yaw? Looking through trinkets with her, it was easy to imagine coming home to this woman with stunning blue eyes and a soft heart.
Slowly, he stepped closer. She tilted her chin, her gaze roving his face. She had tiny freckles on her nose. He lifted the figurine from her grasp. “It is not so surprising,” he said. She did not look directly at him but stared at his jaw. “There is no need until I have a family of my own.” He reached around her to place the item on the shelf, his sleeve brushing hers. She made no effort to move away.
