Georgana's Secret

by Arlem Hawks

  Beneath that, obscured by the hull, was the messdeck and wardroom. She sighed. The wardroom. She’d spent so many horrid, but mostly wonderful, moments there.

  “Will you miss her?” he asked.

  She paused. “I think, after all, I shall miss her.”

  Dominic squeezed her hand, then helped her into the carriage. She closed her eyes and closed the book on George Taylor and his meager existence on HMS Deborah.

  Dominic settled in beside Georgana. The cool November day leaked into the carriage, but he didn’t dare close the door. That would be highly improper, and she didn’t need any more rumors spreading.

  “When will you leave for London?” he asked to break the silence.

  “As soon as my father can settle his affairs with the ship.” Captain Woodall had requested leave to recover from his injury. Dominic, whose side was now almost fully healed, would oversee the Deborah’s business until his return.

  He shifted, then pulled off his gloves. Restrictive things. Gloves were of little use on board—one of the many benefits of being at sea.

  Typically he didn’t want her father to hurry, but this afternoon he hoped to see the man soon, before Dominic did something he’d regret. Sitting this close to her, after so many days of near separation, sent his emotions both soaring and plummeting in turn.

  “Are you excited to see London?” he asked.

  Her hands folded in her lap. “Not very. There are so many things I must relearn.”

  Her timid voice pulled at his heartstrings. He laid a hand on her knee without thinking, as he’d done often before knowing who she was. “You will succeed, and I daresay you will find yourself a fine . . .” His thumb brushed against a button hidden under the soft layers of her cream-colored dress. He traced his fingers along a cuff sitting just under her knee.

  “You’re wearing breeches.” A laugh billowed up, so freeing and delicious he didn’t try to stop it. All this time she wanted to return to being a normal lady, and here she was, wearing breeches.

  Georgana yelped and batted his hand away. “It felt . . . That is to say, I didn’t think . . .” She caught the corner of her lip between her teeth and cast her eyes down to her lap.

  Dominic couldn’t keep it in any longer. He touched her pink cheek, loving the warmth of her blush against his skin. “Darling Georgana,” he whispered.

  “Dominic, I’m so sorry.” She held his hand against her face and leaned into it. “For everything—for shutting you out, for not speaking to you.”

  He dipped his head forward, until their foreheads touched. Her soft breath beat against his. How he wanted this wonderful woman in his life.

  “For not being strong enough.”

  He kissed the corner of her mouth she incessantly mistreated, and when she didn’t pull away, he skimmed his lips over the surface of hers. A sound escaped her lips—a laugh or a whimper, he couldn’t tell. But when he pressed lightly against their smoothness, she returned the kiss with longing ardor.

  One of her hands found the line of buttons on his coat. The other rested tenderly over the jagged repair she’d made in the wool, stitch after careful stitch to make it whole again. Could he ever be whole again, once she tore herself away?

  The scent of the sea clung to her, reminding him this kiss would have to end. Too soon he would have to return to his first love. As his lips covered hers with the caresses he’d longed to give before and would always yearn for after this moment, he shoved the ocean’s inviting waves from his thoughts. Surely if there were any chance for him to kiss her like this for the rest of his life, he would take it.

  A clearing throat pushed them apart. Georgana let go of his coat and threw herself against the wall of the carriage. The pretty pink of her cheeks was replaced by crimson humiliation.

  Captain Woodall pulled himself into the carriage and sat across from them, one thick eyebrow raised and his mouth pulled into a flat line. Dominic looked out the window, but he wanted to cover his face. The door had been open. Dullard.

  Dominic knocked on the roof of the coach, and it pulled into the streets. His eyes passed over shops and houses, but he did not register what he saw. He kept waiting for the captain to rebuke their behavior, though he couldn’t regret it. Kissing Georgana had been sweeter than he had first imagined that dark night behind the mast, when her carefree laugh had washed over his soul. He may never have the opportunity again.

  “They’ve scheduled the court-martial for Lieutenant Jarvis,” the captain finally said. “He’s in luck, since there are enough captains in port this month. We shall remain for another week at least.”

  A week. Dominic chanced a look at Georgana but couldn’t read her flat expression. “And if there is to be another court-­martial, it could keep us here a month.”

  “Another court-martial?” she asked.

  Dominic nodded. He had expected the possibility.

  “Whenever there is a mutiny, the navy must get to the bottom of what went wrong.” The captain tapped his leg with his hand.

  Georgana clutched the bow at the neck of her cloak.

  “It is nothing to worry yourself over, Miss Woodall,” Dominic said. “Your father will not be blamed.” He certainly hoped there would be another court-martial—if it kept her near him a little longer.

  The coachman helped them down at the steps of his mother’s townhouse. It looked much smaller today. He could only imagine how it compared to Lushill House.

  They’d barely arrived at the door when it burst open. A white cap and lavender shawl jumped into his arms. “Oh, Dominic! My Dominic. You’re here,” his mother cried. She stepped back to examine him. “And in one piece, praise heaven.” Tears pooled in her merry eyes.

  Dominic smiled. He’d relay the story of his wound in private later. If Georgana heard him try to misrepresent it as a minor injury, he could only imagine the glare he would get.

  His mother looked past him, and her mouth formed a little O. “Mercy, you’ve brought me a daughter.”

  A daughter! He wanted to clap a hand over his eyes. What would Georgana think? “Oh, no, Mother,” Dominic said hastily. “May I present Miss Woodall. And Captain Woodall.”

  The joy in the woman’s eyes did not dim. She held out her arms to Georgana. “Miss Woodall! Oh, my dear child, I’ve been looking for you.”

  A tremor shook Georgana’s chin as she embraced his mother. Dominic blinked rapidly, overcome by the sight of his whole world together on a small porch in the middle of Portsmouth. The sea breeze sighed down the lane, and all was almost right.

  If only for a moment.

  Chapter 38

  I cannot believe your stamina, Miss Woodall,” Dominic’s mother said as she sat near the fire. “One woman in the midst of all those men for three years? I love my boys, but I could not tolerate them without some female company once in a while.”

  Dominic winced. They hadn’t told her the complete details of Georgana’s stay on the Deborah yet. He didn’t want to embarrass Georgana in front of someone she’d only just met.

  When his mother rose to see about the status of dinner, he excused himself as well and stopped her in the hall. “Mother, there is something you should know about Miss Woodall,” he said in a low voice. “She has lived these three years under the disguise of a ship’s boy.”

  “She was a member of the navy?” His mother glanced past him toward the drawing room. He flinched at her stare. “Why have you not married her yet?”

  He should have known the knowledge wouldn’t shock her. Dominic ran a hand through his long hair. “She does not wish to be attached to the navy any longer. She told me in no uncertain terms. They will return to Town and find her a husband with a London house and a country estate, not a sailor on a ship.”

  Mother’s eyes squeezed nearly shut. “I’m sorry, my son.” She took both his hands. “Do not give up hope.”

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nbsp; He didn’t want to. He so fiercely did not want to. But Georgana’s mind was made up. What could he do against a determined lady? “You did not give up hope on Father and his treatment of you, and nothing came of it.” He hated bringing up his father and the sorrow that appeared on his mother’s face.

  She gripped his hands. “No, nothing did. But that hope sustained me for many years. It gave me strength to face the dark times. All is not lost, Dominic.”

  He smiled to reassure her, but inside he did not believe it. His love of the sea aside, the navy was his livelihood. Without it, he couldn’t care for Georgana. With it, he couldn’t have her.

  “Perhaps you could start in the other direction,” Mother said, dropping his hands. “I’ve secured a fine port for you and the captain tonight.”

  The captain? The man’s stern face from the coach ride burst into Dominic’s thoughts. He did not want to spend time alone with the captain just now. “Oh, I’m certain he wouldn’t mind forgoing port, since our company is so small.”

  “Nonsense.” Mother waved a hand. “I insist you take the opportunity.” She raised her shoulders to her ears and beamed. “I’ll see to dinner.”

  And so, after a comfortably quiet dinner in which his mother had no qualms doing most of the talking, Dominic remained in the dining room for a post-dinner drink with the man he had at one time hoped would be his father-in-law. The captain wore the same look he had upon entering the carriage and finding his daughter in his first lieutenant’s arms.

  Dominic sat at the head of the table, twirling his glass in small circles around the tablecloth. He didn’t have the appetite for the drink tonight, and the captain seemed to feel the same since his also sat untouched. The silence made Dominic squirm. How long did he have to wait before suggesting they join the ladies?

  “I am recommending you for advancement to post-captain,” Captain Woodall said after several tense minutes. “You have proved yourself an able officer, and you will make a fine commander.”

  Dominic’s shoulders sank. Twice in the same year, he would have to refuse promotion. “I am very grateful for your confidence in me, sir, but I cannot accept it.”

  The captain’s brow rose. “Why not?”

  Dominic rubbed the back of his neck. “I refused my last chance at promotion for the sake of my mother. If a command cannot be soon secured, I worry she will suffer for the cut in funds. She lives much lower than her station as it is.”

  “You’ll have the dowry—that should make up the difference until a suitable command comes forth.”

  The dowry? Dominic paled. The captain thought everything was settled between his daughter and Dominic. It certainly would have appeared that way to anyone who happened upon them that afternoon. “Sir, I have already discussed an arrangement with Georgana. Miss Woodall.” He swallowed. “She is not in agreement.”

  Captain Woodall traced the foot of his glass with his thumb. “That surprises me. She adores you.”

  Did she? The words both excited and saddened Dominic. “She will not be left behind as her husband goes to sea.” He couldn’t fault her for that.

  The captain nodded thoughtfully. “Then don’t leave her behind.”

  “The Admiralty . . .” Dominic stared at the man beside him, who had faithfully followed the Admiralty’s orders to keep women off the ship—with one exception.

  “If you are the captain, you enforce the rules.” Captain Woodall shrugged. “Or don’t.”

  “I would not put a lady in that situation, to live in such crude and humble . . .” His voice trailed off at the captain’s wry look.

  “I think we both know Georgana is cut from tougher cloth than that.”

  A little spark in Dominic’s chest glimmered. Of course he’d known officers whose wives journeyed with them. But many did not enjoy the close quarters and harsh life, and Georgana had said she wanted to leave the navy. She didn’t want any part of it.

  “Did you discuss such an arrangement when you asked for her hand?”

  Dominic sighed. “No. She wouldn’t hear any more after I suggested I would enjoy coming home to her smiles.”

  He and the captain both cringed at the stupidity of his suggestion.

  “Might I suggest a different approach?” her father asked. “Perhaps by giving her the choice, she will see things in a different light. Heaven knows she deserves to choose her own path.”

  “Then, you give your blessing?”

  The captain rested his hand on the table and opened his fingers as though to thread them through the fingers on his other hand. Realizing his mistake, he closed his hand slowly and patted his fist against the table. “All that I want for Georgana is what I couldn’t give her during her childhood. Love. And peace.”

  “She never doubted you loved her, sir.”

  Captain Woodall smiled sadly. “Yes. She wouldn’t. But I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t give her the love she needed, and her mother couldn’t make up for the pain inflicted by her grandmother. We failed her in so many ways.” He sniffed and adjusted his seat, turning his face from Dominic for a moment. “You are a passionate man, Peyton. You don’t attach yourself to something without giving your whole heart to doing the job right. You are also very compassionate, and I think after all she’s been through, my daughter needs some compassion in her life.”

  Dominic stood, sending the chair skidding across the floor behind him. The rushing in his ears made it hard for his mind to engage. He wanted this. Her father wanted this. And the warmth of Georgana’s kiss made him hope she wanted it as well. The captain watched him with glistening eyes, then reached for his glass and took a sip.

  “Will you send her to the study, please?” Dominic’s voice wavered in excitement, like a ship’s boy promoted to midshipman. Her father’s chuckle rumbled behind him as he made for the door.

  What would he say? He’d never been a man of words. Only a man of the sea. He prayed that could be enough.

  Georgana found her way down the dim hall, lit only by a few candles. Their flames swayed, the light pulsing across the walls like waves across an open sea. She had to walk slowly to keep her balance. Her body missed the sway of the ocean. It wouldn’t do to stagger like a drunken sailor now that she was a lady again.

  She paused at the door to the study. Inside Dominic paced before the hearth and brushed his fingers through his hair. She stayed to watch for a moment, capturing the image in her mind. The fire reflected off the gold trim on his uniform jacket.

  She pushed the door open wider. Dominic looked up and graced her with that grin that melted her insides. She’d missed it.

  “You called for me, sir?” She lifted her hand to the lace bandeau in a salute.

  Dominic stared at her a moment before shaking his head. He crossed the room and pulled her hand down. “None of that.” He didn’t let go of her hand.

  She laughed and let him pull her into the shadowy study. Little things—shells, driftwood, stones—lay scattered across the shelves. Slips of paper stuck out from beneath them.

  “I thought you said you collected these for someone.” She walked down the line of shelves, reading the looping handwriting.

  Jamaica, April 1804 to January 1805. Aboukir, January to November 1801. Malta, October 1807 to August 1808.

  “I did. For my mother.” From the desk, Dominic withdrew a quill, trimmed it, and uncapped an ink bottle. A scrap of paper rested before him on the desk. He extended the quill to her. “Will you write for this voyage?”

  How silly. She’d been jealous of a fictitious young lady when, really, the tokens were a gesture of thoughtfulness from a son to a patient mother. “Your mother doesn’t want to write it?”

  “She won’t mind.”

  Georgana took the pen and dipped it into the inkwell. Antigua, July to November 1810.

  She lifted it and blew to dry the ink.

 
Dominic reached into his coat and pulled out the piece of green sea glass they’d found on the clear beach in Antigua. Had she ever experienced a more perfect day? Would she ever again? Despite the pristine sand and sparkling water, it was Dominic who had made it perfect.

  “Where will you put it?” he asked.

  She slid the glass, warm from being tucked so close to his heart, out of his hand and retraced her steps. She found the slick black stone from Malta labeled 1807 and placed the sea glass beside it. Dominic followed behind her to observe.

  “Why there?” His voice tickled her ear.

  She loved the feel of him so close. The taste of his kiss still lingered on her lips. Would it last when she was gone? He’d nearly been taken from her once. How could she allow it to happen again?

  “Because I began my life at sea in 1807,” she said. “And I ended it in 1810. The beginning and the end, right together.” That beginning had been so black, like the stone from Malta. Firelight caught the piece of sea glass, making it glow. But she had finally found some light.

  Dominic laid his hands on her arms. “Does this have to be the end?” She couldn’t see his face, but the pleading in his voice stung her already raw emotions.

  She slid her finger across the polished glass, made lovely by the endless beating of the waves. Did it have to end?

  His arms encircled her waist from behind, and he pulled her in. So many times on their voyage, she had longed to feel those arms around her.

  “Georgana, I cannot promise there will never come a time when we have to be apart,” he whispered, resting his head against hers, “but any ship I captained would not feel whole without you on it.”