The Indebted Earl

by Erica Vetsch

  And now she wanted him to bid her good night?

  Girls were definitely unpredictable.

  Of course, Thea had done her share of staring as well, but from her it seemed frank curiosity rather than wariness. He could deal with that, since he had a bit of curiosity about the girls himself.

  For instance, he wondered what had prompted his crusty, uncaring, unforgiving uncle to take on the responsibility for three girls of whom he was no relation, when he had turned his back on his own sister and refused to budge?

  And what was he, the new earl, supposed to do about it?

  Charles followed Lady Sophia to the room she had selected for the girls, his enthusiasm for the endeavor hovering somewhere around nil.

  “This was the nursery once upon a time, so it seemed fitting, though it doesn’t appear to have been used since your mother’s generation. Mrs. Chapman has offered to sleep in the nurse’s room until you can sort out a governess for the girls.”

  Sort out a governess? Charles stopped in the darkened hallway, his mind framing a refusal. He wasn’t the girls’ guardian. Beyond a bit of Christian charity, giving them a bed for a night or two, they weren’t his responsibility. They certainly couldn’t live here alone once he received his new command.

  Lady Sophia disappeared into the nursery and then stuck her head out the door to see where he’d gone. “Coming?”

  He entered the room as he would an ambush. The two youngest girls leaned against pillows in one bed, while their older sister stood near the other bed, clutching a wrapper about herself. With her hair uncoiled and falling in a braid over her shoulder, she looked even younger than she had at dinner.

  At his appearance, she scuttled under the covers and pulled them to her chin. “This is most improper, a gentleman coming into a lady’s boudoir.” Her eyes were round as portholes.

  “Stop putting on airs,” Thea scoffed. “The place is full of people. Nothing ‘improper,’”—she rolled her eyes—“is going to happen.”

  Mrs. Chapman carried a tray with three water glasses and set it on the table between the beds, and Lady Richardson drew the curtains against the night.

  Lady Sophia set the lamp on a shelf and beckoned him closer.

  Betsy stared at him with those brown eyes, the lamplight making shadows and highlights on her curly hair. Thea wriggled, thumping her pillow and tugging the blankets until she was comfortable.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Charles whispered to Lady Sophia.

  Surely she was smothering laughter at his expense. Did she expect him to be experienced at such maneuvers? One didn’t “tuck in” cabin boys and powder monkeys. One tossed them into their bunks or hammocks and blew out the lamp.

  She took his hand, drawing him toward the bed, and for a moment he couldn’t think beyond the contact. Soft as down, her small hand fit into his like a pocket watch. Her fingers were cool but insistent. His heart skipped like spinner dolphins over the water, and he swallowed against the tightness of his cravat.

  When was the last time a woman had voluntarily taken his hand? Some officers’ dance once upon a time? All he knew was that it was long ago, and even then it didn’t affect him the way Sophie’s touch did. He took hold of his thoughts and forced himself to pay attention.

  “Sit here.” She guided him to the edge of the bed.

  Out of habit, he went to adjust his sword at his waist, but his hand hit empty air. She let go of his hand, and he quelled his disappointment.

  Betsy, instead of cringing away as he’d anticipated, sat up and held out her arms. “Good night, Cap’n. I hope you have happy dreams.” They were the first words he’d heard her utter, and before he could catalog them, her little arms went around him, and she buried her head in his waistcoat.

  Startled, Charles held his hands away from his sides, looking to Sophie for help. What on earth was the girl doing? Sophie made a small hugging motion, smiling, and he gradually lowered his arms to embrace the child.

  She had small bones and a warm, sweet fragrance. Completely foreign, and yet not unpleasant. So fragile and vulnerable.

  When she turned him loose, she lay back on the pillows, a satisfied smile on her little bow lips.

  “Why’d you do that?” Thea asked her sister, her red brows arrowing down.

  Betsy shrugged. “He looked like he needed a hug. I don’t think captains get hugged enough.”

  She spoke so matter of factly, Charles wanted to laugh. It was probably true. Ah, the wisdom of babes. He patted her shoulder awkwardly and rose.

  “I bid you good night, ladies.” He bowed. “Rest well.”

  “Don’t know how you expect us to rest well when you won’t even say if you’re keeping us or not,” Thea muttered loudly enough to be heard, flipping onto her side and turning her back on the captain.

  Such insubordination should probably be dealt with, but he didn’t know how or if it was his duty. Making his way to the door, he motioned for Lady Sophia. “When they are settled, perhaps you will join me in the room I was in previously? Bring Lady Richardson if you like. There are things to discuss.”

  A quarter hour later, she came into the alcove. He’d left the curtains open, and the only light in the room was near the door so as not to pollute his view of the stars and the water. She had been correct in her earlier surmise that the vista was even better on the upper floors of the house. He gave in to the preposterous notion that on a clear day he could almost see to the Channel Islands.

  If only his feet were firmly on the deck of a ship, he would be at rest in his spirit.

  “They’re finally settling down. Mamie wanted to stay with them until they’re asleep.” Lady Sophia came to stand beside him, breathing in the fresh air through the open window. “She’s quite taken with the girls, for all they’ve only been here a few hours.”

  “Is that all it’s been?” A wry tone seeped out.

  She laughed softly. “They certainly add a bit of noise and commotion, don’t they? They’re sweet. And worried.”

  “I suppose they’ve a right to be anxious.” He was anxious himself.

  “Their lives have been turned upside down multiple times in just two years. Losing their parents, being sent away to school, and now shuttled back here. They’re not sure what’s coming next.” The question stared at him from her blue eyes.

  What was he going to do? Every way he turned, he was hemmed in by new responsibilities. If this continued, he’d never untangle his ratlines enough to get away.

  “If it would help …” She paused.

  “Yes?” He was willing to grasp any lifeline.

  “I’ve spoken with Mamie, and she agrees. If it would help you, we could stay on a bit, until you decide what you’re going to do with the girls.”

  His heart leapt, and the muscles of his chest and arms tensed. For days he’d dreaded parting ways with the ladies, and here she was offering to prolong their contact.

  “I don’t even know my options as far as the girls are concerned,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

  She turned and sat on the broad windowsill, silhouetted by the moonlight. “You have three options that I can see.”

  He clasped his hands behind his back and paced the small space, head down. “Yes?” The alcove was hardly big enough for a proper stride, but it would do for the time being.

  “One, you could send them to an orphanage or poorhouse, where they will await adoption, indenture, or growing old enough to be turned out to fend for themselves. In each of those cases, they will most likely know depravations and be separated from one another.”

  Though the words she chose were objective, the passion in her voice told him what she thought of this option.

  He remembered Betsy hugging him with minuscule strength, and the softness of her curly head against his chest, and couldn’t imagine tendering the child into the keeping of an orphanage.

  “Two,” Lady Sophia continued, holding up two fingers. “You could follow in your uncle’s footsteps and
continue as their guardian. You could find a suitable ladies’ boarding school and send them there. Out of sight, out of mind. Duty fulfilled, at least to the letter of the law. They would be housed, clothed, fed, and educated, all far away from the place of their birth. There are any number of schools in England, Scotland, Wales. You would only need to pay tuition and provide transportation to the school.” Again her voice held no censure, but no enthusiasm. “Assuming that you wish to continue as their guardian?” She spread her hands.

  This option appealed to him. It would salve his conscience that the girls were together and cared for, and also free him from any direct responsibility. Far better that they be under the supervision of a competent headmistress than left to his untutored abilities.

  “And the third?” He had an inkling based upon what she’d said earlier, but he would give her the opportunity to spell it out.

  “Keep them here at Gateshead with a proper nurse or governess. Give them a home here, a sense of belonging and family. A private education, security, and affection.” She stood, putting her hand on his arm and halting his pacing. “Take them on as part of your crew, as it were.”

  He looked down on her white hand against the dark blue of his naval coat. Make the girls part of his crew. The terminology resonated with him, but how could he let them stay here when he had no plans to remain at Gateshead himself? The moment a command of any kind came through, he would be away to sea. It would disrupt the girls’ lives once again if he told them they could stay here and then he received word that a ship was available. They would be shunted off to a school after all. Better to send them away now and avoid the upheaval. Part of being a good captain to your crew was making hard decisions that might be unpopular at the time but in the long term would prove best for all involved.

  “I do appreciate your willingness to stay on until I decide what to do. I should refuse your kind offer and fulfill my promise to see you installed in a cottage with all speed, but I cannot deny that having you here will make everything easier.” And so very pleasant. He cleared his throat, daring to cover her hand on his sleeve with his own. “Will it discomfit Lady Richardson not to find her cottage by the sea immediately?”

  Her hand didn’t move under his, but she looked down as well. “I think Mamie will be delighted to stay on and be with the girls. She was already planning a walk to the beach with them tomorrow.” She withdrew her hand, stepping back, though her expression was untroubled. He didn’t think she censored him for his boldness in clasping her hand.

  A walk on the beach. He imagined strolling along the firm sand with Sophie by his side, the breeze blowing her hair and skirts, the birds calling, and the waves scraping in and out like the heartbeat of the ocean. A pleasant memory to have tucked away when he was once more on the ocean.

  “You will give the options some thought? About the girls, I mean?” She turned away, heading toward the door.

  “Of course.” Though it seemed plain to him what the correct course should be. He was not some sentimentalist, and he had a career to consider. “I’ll do what is best for the girls and myself. Do you have personal knowledge of any good schools for girls? Perhaps even one here in Devonshire that would keep them closer to home?”

  She stopped, and her shoulders lowered. Without glancing back, she nodded. “I’ll make some inquiries in my next letter home. Mother and Charlotte will surely know of some.”

  When he was alone once more, he resumed pacing. Discontent sloshed like bilge water in his middle, and he scowled.

  He was used to making unpopular decisions, so why did Lady Sophia’s disappointment rankle so much?

  Things were simpler at sea. The rules of engagement were clear, and the chain of command set in stone. Feelings and opinions didn’t enter into the equation, and total obedience was expected.

  Yes, things were definitely simpler at sea … but lonelier, too, if he was to be completely truthful.

  CHAPTER 7

  SUNSHINE, WAVING GRASS, and the brilliant blue of the sea greeted Sophie as she threw the window sash open and leaned out, inhaling the fresh coastal air.

  Gateshead was an impressive home. With a bit of polish, the luster could be brought back to the house, and the views were unparalleled. A trickle of adventure went down her spine, an altogether refreshing feeling. One that she used to get often, a desire to embrace what the day might hold.

  Well, she could certainly do that. Three young girls who had been starved of happiness for far too long now resided under the same roof as Sophie, and she was going to see that they had all the joy they could handle while she had the chance.

  She could hear them down the hall, laughter, movement, the squeak of the bed. It sounded as if someone—Thea, probably—was jumping on the mattress. Was that child ever still?

  Dressing quickly, Sophie pondered the captain’s options regarding the girls and the heavy indication he’d given last night as to where his thoughts lay.

  Boarding school.

  She winced. It wasn’t as bad as an orphanage, but it was a far cry from a home where they would be wanted and loved. Sophie had lived in a house where all the attention was lavished upon the eldest son, the next two children in line afterthoughts. She’d lived away at boarding school, an average student who only wanted to go home. And she’d lived at Primrose, secure in the knowledge that both Rich and Mamie wanted her there and that they loved her. Though her dreams of the future had changed, she had known that sense of calm surety of her place in the world and that someone cared about her.

  She wanted that for these girls.

  How could she change the captain’s mind? Should she even try? It wasn’t her affair to meddle in, yet how could she not help when she saw a need?

  The moment she opened her bedroom door to step into the hallway, she was greeted by two eager faces. Betsy and Thea had clearly hurried with their own dress. Thea’s buttons were askew, and Betsy’s collar was half tucked into her neckline.

  “Good morning, girls. Don’t you look bright and ready to conquer the day?” She smoothed Betsy’s curls. “Come inside. I have something for you.”

  Returning to her dressing table, she drew a pair of ribbons from her traveling case. “Hop up here.” She lifted Betsy to sit on the stool and reached for her hairbrush. In a moment she had the ribbon tied in a band over Betsy’s hair, letting her sweet brown curls frame her chubby cheeks. She straightened the child’s collar and pronounced her perfect.

  “What’s this?” Thea squatted beside Rich’s sea chest at the foot of the bed, her arms wrapped about her knees. “Who is Major Richardson?” She wrinkled her freckled nose as her finger traced the stenciled name.

  A quick stab went through Sophie, and she forced a smile. “He was Lady Richardson’s son and the man I was going to marry. That’s his sea chest, and it holds his belongings.” The words were hard to say but not as achingly painful as they had been a month ago. Perhaps she was beginning to heal.

  Guilt flickered like a candle flame in a draft. Did she want to heal? Was healing forgetting?

  Before she could sort it out, Thea asked, “Where is he then?”

  “He’s in heaven with Jesus. He was a soldier, and he passed away.”

  “Oh, he’s dead like our folks.” She straightened, matter of fact in her speech and movements. “We don’t have anything that belonged to them. The old earl had the vicar clean out our cottage and sell everything off. You must be glad to have that stuff, to remember him by.” She frowned. “Sometimes I can’t remember what mum and da looked like, even though I try really hard.”

  Sophie nodded. “I know.” She was grateful to have a miniature of Rich to keep his likeness alive for her. It was twin to one painted of her that she had gifted him before he’d left for the war. Perhaps she should find that painting and put the two together. They could rest on her bedside table. But that would mean opening the sea chest, and she wasn’t ready to do that just yet. “Talking about what you remember can help keep those memories alive fo
r you. Perhaps you can speak to Penny about it. She might be able to help you.”

  Thea shook her head, drumming her fingers on her crossed arms. “Penny doesn’t like to talk about our folks. She tries to shush me up when I ask. She says it was a shameful thing that mama drank all that laudanum and left us on purpose.”

  Suicide? No wonder Penny didn’t want to talk about it. Poor girl.

  “Let me fix your hair, Thea.” She didn’t know what to say to someone young about such a heavy topic. Thea seemed quite accepting of it, but there would come a time in her life when the ramifications of taking one’s own life would become apparent.

  “You can try, but Penny says my hair always acts like it’s been pulled through a thicket backward. It isn’t curly, and it isn’t straight. It just does what it wants. And Miss Fricklin was forever complaining about the color. She said it was an ‘indication of my temper.’ Do you think that’s true? That all people with red hair have terrible tempers? Maybe it’s people talking about their hair all the time that gets them riled?” She spoke the entire time Sophie brushed and braided her hair, tying the ends together with the second ribbon.

  “I’ve no idea, but if someone talked about my hair as a bad thing all the time, I’d get angry too. Rest assured that you have beautiful, thick hair that is destined to draw attention for the rest of your life. I can only imagine your first village assembly. The young men will be tripping over themselves to dance with you.”

  Thea’s face twisted in a horrified grimace. “You sound like Penny. She’s all atwitter about boys and wearing her hair up and dancing.” She batted her eyelids and pretended to swoon. “But boys are foul, and I don’t know why she goes on and on about them.”

  “Well, perhaps someday you’ll feel differently. Let’s go find Penny and see what Mrs. Chapman has arranged for breakfast. Have you seen Miss Mamie this morning?”

  They headed down the staircase, Betsy holding Sophie’s hand and the banister, taking one step at a time, while Thea bounced down like a foxhound puppy let off the leash.