by Raven, Sandy
But, marrying her also meant he'd have to reveal his identity as the Conte di Loretto , and he wasn't sure how she'd react to the fact he'd kept it from her.
Noises from out in the hallway prompted him along. According to Mrs. Steen, the home was preparing for the arrival of the family for the season, and by the sounds coming from below the stairs and throughout the house, the baggage coaches had arrived. Lucky smiled. That meant Ren's valet would be here and he could get a decent shave.
Mary was funny. She laughed when he told her he couldn't hold a blade steady. Which was true, but also true was the fact he'd never had to because he frequented a barber when Ren's valet Grannon wasn't in Town. He figured it was probably time he learned. That way he could be more presentable when next he saw her. Lucky made a mental note to have a valet on staff when he purchased a home—a process he hoped to start very soon.
He dressed and went in search of Grannon to beg a moment of his time when he had a chance. Once that was done, he made his way to the kitchens to get a bite to eat as he'd missed tea and dinner was hours away yet.
Thirty minutes later, Ren's valet entered, saying he had the shaving implements readied in his room, so Lucky followed him up the stairs. After several minutes under the man's expert skill with a blade, Lucky felt civilized again. "Thank you, Grannon. I thought perhaps it might be time to find a valet of my own now, though he may not want to live aboard a ship."
The valet dabbed an ointment on a tiny cut near Lucky's ear. "Perhaps you have someone already in your employ that might perform that task for you, sir, eliminating the need to hire a man specifically for that position."
Lucky thought about it a moment. "You might be right, Grannon. I'll have to ask among the crew."
Later at the dinner table with his sister Lia and her husband the Duke of Caversham, all the chatter was about his niece Isabel's coming-out in June.
"Uncle Lucky," the young debutante said, "you must be back here by the twenty-fourth of June. I have promised several of my friends that you will be in attendance and that you know how to waltz."
"Have the Lady Patronesses granted you permission yet?" he asked.
"I shall get that in a few weeks." She turned hopeful eyes to her mother. "Right mama?" Glancing back to Lucky, she added through a broad smile, "Monsieur Robillard said I move with the grace of a swan."
"That must have been before he started teaching you," Isabel's older brother Marcus muttered.
Lucky hoped to avoid his brother-in-law having to reprimand his niece and nephew. "I haven't danced in a while, but shall make every effort to return."
Marcus, who was about to finish his second term at Oxford, was home for the week before returning to his studies. "I wish I didn't have classes, or I'd go with you."
His sister chimed in. "Assuming you'd be invited along."
"Uncle wouldn't have a problem with me going, because unlike a girl, I could be useful."
"About as useful as a corset on a sow," Isabel mumbled under her breath, causing Lucky to choke on his pea soup and Marcus's face to turn beet red. Thankfully Ren didn't hear what she'd said and was thus spared reprimand.
Lucky cleared his throat. Normally the children's bickering would not bother him, but he didn't want them getting reprimanded while he was there as he didn't want to get pulled into the middle of Marcus and Isabel's argument.
"As it is," Lucky said, "your Uncle Ian and I will go and check the progress on the new ships. They should be ready for delivery later in the summer. If your parents approve, you can come with us then to pick them up."
Ren supervised his youngest, Christopher, instructing him with proper use of a knife. The lad still wanted to stab the small piece of meat and eat from the knife as he'd seen some of the sons of the staff at Haldenwood do. Lucky wanted to laugh because he'd done the same thing at that age, wanting to be like one of the popular stable lads when he was twelve. The boy could spit with incredible accuracy, and Lucky was all set to file a gap between his two front teeth in order to do the same. Thankfully his sister caught him before he managed to find something with which to do irreparable damage to his smile.
Lia looked as though she wanted to strangle someone. Lucky was grateful it wasn't him these days. She turned to her oldest son. "We'll have to discuss that with your father. Later in the summer you will be preparing for your next term. Going to America to get the new ships would mean missing out on the start of the academic year."
"But think of the opportunity it would be to see America, Mama."
"You would only see the Chesapeake Bay and the little village of Indian Point," Lucky said. "There's nothing there except heat, humidity and bugs."
Ren looked down the table to Lucky, sitting next to Lia. "So, what are your plans for this evening Lucky?"
"I was going to go to Ian and Sarah's and find out what Cully's final count was. I left before they were done as I wasn't needed."
"Understandable."
"Also, I plan on leaving for Baltimore as soon as possible to check on the progress of our new clippers. In the morning, I'm going to look for outbound cargo. It would be nice to make money going and coming."
"Good idea." Ren then suggested a new shipping agent to see for a cargo haul.
"I will pay him a visit in the morning," Lucky said. "Tonight, Ian and I were going to go over the list he's drawn up of qualified sailors to man both ships, including new captains for Avenger and Revenge ."
"I'll fill in as one of your captains if needed," Ren offered.
Lia gave Lucky a vexed look, then shook her head. "We can talk about that later if you'd like, husband."
"Temporarily, of course." The duke gave a sheepish grin back to his wife.
"Of course," Lucky said. The last thing he wanted to do was cause an argument between them, but he could see where Ren might want some time away from home—especially now that the children were older.
After dinner, he took care of the business issues with Ian, and bypassed his club for an early night in bed for his first night home. And as every night since he'd left Baltimore last summer, he thought of Mary and wondered how she was.
One afternoon in late April, as Mary-Michael inspected the iron ring connections on the side trees and spars of the foremast of the Lady S , she saw something flutter on the horizon. When a clipper with similar coloring to Lucky's entered Curtis Bay, she suspected. When she saw the second ship, twin to the first, she knew. "Thank you, God," she whispered. "Thank you."
She wondered if he missed her at all. If he did even just a little, she would be over the moon happy. Besotted fool that she was, she spent the past ten months missing Lucky every day. She struggled daily to make sense of and contain her feelings—both the pleasure and guilt.
When she was alone, she would recall each moment of their weekend together. She relived every whispered word, every breath of their lovemaking with such realistic detail that she felt she was experiencing his touch while she thought it. Her body always reacted to the memory, too. Her heart raced and she would get that wet and tingly sensation between her legs—just as if he were there with her.
And almost immediately a wave of guilt over what she'd done would come over her. Guilt for enjoying her time in the captain's company, and guilt for committing adultery for a reason so selfish as to have a child of her own.
She would succeed in tempering her behavior while the two captains were here inspecting the progress on their two new clippers. Even if it meant she had to lie to Lucky.
She forced the memories of that weekend away for the time being, at least until she completed this task because she couldn't chance falling. Once she finished with this mast, she would head for home. With her pencil and little note pad in her pocket, and her screwdriver between her teeth, she cued her spotter to lift her higher by shaking the line, so she could inspect the next shrunken-on, hot-forged iron connection for cracks. She then tried to shove the tip of the screwdriver under the metal at three points on the tree. If she could p
ush the tip under the ring even the tiniest bit, the entire mast tree would have to come down. She'd never had to do it, but wouldn't hesitate if she needed to.
With just a few more rings to check, she asked the lad to pull her bosun's chair up to the next group of rings. From this height, over one hundred feet above the deck, she watched as the ships drew nearer. "Mr. Watkins will be happy to see his friend's son." She spoke the words loud. Who would care? No one was up here with her. Most of the men were starting to head home as it was nearly the dinner hour. What craftsmen remained below her now saw the boats as well and they were beginning to question whether the two boats were coming in for dry dock and repairs.
When the grumbling of her spotter and the others reached her ears, she had to remind them that they were paying customers. "Those two captains are the owners of this fine vessel you stand upon and her sister," Mary-Michael shouted to her crew as she was lowered down the foremast. "We will welcome them to our yard no matter the hour, if you don't mind." Squinting toward the setting sun, she watched the matching white and green hulls close the distance and furl their sails, to slow their speed.
Her heart raced, and she couldn't wait to see him. She hoped he remembered her as fondly as she did him. Even though nothing could ever come of her attraction to Lucky, she would also feel used—defiled even—if she thought he didn't care.
She caught the lad who spotted her when she was climbing the mast as he was about to leave for home. "Cricket, would you like to earn a half-dollar?"
"Sure!" The tow-headed lad threw his jacket on a pile of dunnage.
"When those two boats drop anchor, row out to each one and tell the captains that Mr. and Mrs. Watkins invite them to dinner. Tell them I'll be sending Victor over with the carriage to pick them up at seven-thirty." She fished around in the pocket of her breeches and pulled out two half-dollars. "Two boats, two coins," she said with a smile. "One you get now, and the other when your task is done. Fair?" The lad nodded. "Good. Then come see me tomorrow for the other coin."
She walked quickly toward the office, thinking to hurry home to tell Mr. Watkins. Knowing her husband as she did, he would be glad she invited the captains to dine with them. This left Mary-Michael in a horrible conundrum of emotion. She was already beyond virtuous having committed the sins she had, and she knew if she died right now she'd spend eternity in hell for not confessing them. But it was a price worth paying if Lucky cared about her even a little, because it might mean she could try for a babe again.
Mary-Michael tried to keep her mood normal, even though her heart was overjoyed with anticipation at seeing Lucky again. Now she understood what Becky felt when she tried to describe the things she felt when she realized she was in love with her husband, because it was what she was feeling now. She strode into the building and informed the staff of the captains' arrival, and that she was going home. And during the entire walk home she debated which dress to wear and how to style her hair. Lucky told her once he hated her braids and snoods, and loved when she left it down. That's what she'd do. Leave it unbound.
Like a sinful temptress , her conscience reminded her.
Mr. Watkins would be so very happy to see Lucky and Hamish's son, Ian. Though her husband had been feeling better in general lately, the cough and malaise he caught last winter still lingered. It proved to the once-indomitable bear of a man that he wasn't as invincible as he wanted to think. Even though he hadn't been feeling up to snuff this morning, she was certain that hearing this news would lift his spirits and he'd make it down to dinner.
Her normal twenty-minute walk was done in under ten, as Mary-Michael almost ran the entire way, and skipped up the steps to enter the house. She called out for Sally, who replied from the dining room where she was setting the table for dinner.
"Sally, set two extra settings please." Mary-Michael practically sang, her mood was so happy. "And use the good china and silver, for we'll be having company for dinner."
"Who is it?"
"Captain Gualtiero is back," Mary-Michael poured a glass of water and drank heartily before refilling it to carry up with her. "He's brought his partner with him. Their two ships sailed into our bay not an hour ago. I have one of the lads in the yard rowing out to invite them."
"Then you won't want me and Victor sharing the table." The servant began to gather the place settings to dress up the table. "I think I have a half of that pecan pie left in the cabinet. If'n I remember right, that man loved my pecan pie last summer."
"You're right, Sally, I believe he did." Mary-Michael turned to go upstairs to tell Mr. Watkins, but asked first, "How is he this afternoon, Sally?"
"He's feelin' better, but still very weak," said the housekeeper, "which is frustratin' the poor man. Victor is up with him now. I asked Mr. Watkins if he would let me get a doctor for him and he told me I could call the doctor after he was dead to verify he was well and truly gone, but not to do it a minute before then or he'd fire me. I swear, that man..." The older woman trailed off, shaking her mob cap covered head.
"Do you think he's feeling well enough to join us for dinner?"
"I don't know, Miz Mary. Not gonna hurt to ask him though, would it?"
"Can you get hot water started for my bath? I'll be down in a few minutes to carry it up."
Sally nodded and Mary-Michael ran up the steps, where she knocked on Mr. Watkins' door. Victor opened the door and she entered the room to find Mr. Watkins sitting in a chair before the fire, his heavy winter robe tied tight around him.
"Are you cold, sir?" she asked, now accustomed to seeing him in his flannel sleep gown and robe all day. It had been weeks since he'd worn something other than his bedclothes. This was how she knew he was truly not feeling well. It seemed his illness had taken the very warmth from him, even as the weather on Curtis Bay grew hotter by the day.
"A little. My bathwater got cold before I could get clean."
"Well, the fire will warm you quickly." She knelt in front of him, and wondered if she should have invited the captains to their home so soon, knowing her husband's health was poor. "I have good news, Mr. Watkins."
"Don't keep me in suspense, child. Tell me."
"Captain Gualtiero has returned and he's brought someone with him. I'm willing to bet it's his partner. And I have invited them for dinner, though if you're feeling poorly, we could cancel and..."
"Ha!" Watkins yelped, startling her. "Victor, help me get dressed. Then run yourself down to the dock to pick up the captains. They're coming to dinner."
Victor met her gaze and they both smiled. For Mr. Watkins perked up quickly upon learning of the return of their clients, and one of them his friend's son.
Mary-Michael had one wish for this night. That Mr. Watkins enjoyed his visit with his friend's son, because it was likely the last time he would ever see him.
Oh, and she had one more wish. That she was able to keep her eyes off Lucky. Because it wouldn't do for anyone to know she still had feelings of desire for him.
Lucky climbed up the ladder to the wharf after first tying off the gig to the cleat. He reached out to assist Ian and the two surveyed the yard with what little light was left. A man approached and even in the near-dark Lucky recognized him. He reached out and shook the man's hand.
"Good to see you again, Victor." Lucky greeted Watkins' servant. "I'd like to introduce you to Hamish's son. This is Ian Alexander Ross-Mackeever, the new Earl Mackeever."
"Lord, Mr. Ian, look at you all grown up." Victor said. His smile wide as he looked over the man who left their village as a boy. Lucky thought he almost saw a tear in the man's eye.
Ian, never one to miss a beat, said, "Well, I hear it happens to the best of us, Victor."
"That it does, sir," Victor said, before motioning to the carriage. "I've come to bring you Captains for dinner. The wife will have it all ready and waiting for us when we arrive."
Lucky wanted so badly to ask after Mary, to find out how she'd been, but he held his tongue, knowing he would find out soon
enough. She was obviously still married or the boy who invited them to dinner wouldn't have said Mr. and Mrs. Watkins. He had done nothing but think about her the entire time he was gone. It was wrong, he knew this. But during the long trip to and from China, then back to Baltimore, he couldn't help but remember every moment they spent together when he was here ten months earlier. As the carriage turned into the narrow drive, he wondered if Mary heard the noise and if she felt as nervous inside as he did.
When the three men entered the small house near the edge of the tiny village, they found Watkins sitting in the salon, waiting for his guests. As the man stood and came toward them, Lucky thought Watkins looked more thin and frail than when he'd left the previous year. Lucky shook his hand and introduced Ian.
"Lad," Watkins, with a mist glistening in his old eyes, clasped Ian's hand in both of his. "I remember the day you were born. What a proud day for your father. He strutted around like a cock on a fencepost, crowing all day long."
Lucky snorted. "Guess Ian takes right after his father then. He's got a son and daughter and that's all he talks about. 'Maura this and Hamish that.'"
"You named your son after your father?" When Ian nodded, the old man dabbed at his eyes with a kerchief. "Your da was one of my good friends, ye know. He and I, along with Gideon Douglas made for a rag-tag little group of hard drinkers and hard workers. We all wanted to do something good for the world. Seems Gideon is the only one in a position to do that."
"Gideon Douglas is a priest at the church here in the village," Lucky explained.
Ian began to ask questions and Watkins seemed happy enough to want to talk. Victor entered carrying a tray with the wine decanter and glasses. Watkins and Ian sat across from each other in the corner, near the open window, as the servant poured for Mr. Watkins and his guests. When Victor was done, Lucky followed him to the doorway of the parlor.
He lowered his voice, so the other two men couldn't hear him. "How is Mrs. Watkins doing, Victor?"