A Gentleman ’Til Midnight

by Alison Delaine

  “Do not say it.”

  “Very well.” Phil was quiet for a moment that was pregnant with her mischievous thoughts. “I suppose the third son of a baronet learns any number of diverting skills.”

  Apparently so did the second son of an earl. “The draughts board was a gift from the crew,” Katherine said tersely.

  “Mmm.”

  ’Twere all Tom’s idea, Cap’n. He was the one who had thought to adapt the game so Anne’s blindness would not prevent her from playing. It was so difficult to find things to make Anne’s life interesting, things she could do independently. Now she had one more thing to give her confidence.

  It was impossible to hate Captain Warre for that.

  A drop of rain fell from Katherine’s eyebrow to her cheek and slid down her face. She brushed it away and gripped the dewy railing. The familiar wood, like her sense of control, slipped beneath her grasp. The Merry Sea called to her from its resting place beneath the water, tempting her with memories of those terrifying hours when she’d known, without a doubt, that she would die.

  Below, Captain Warre had exchanged the rag for the mop. They watched him drag the mop forward and back, forward and back, carefully pushing it around the railing spindles. He bent to pick up some small thing she couldn’t identify and flung it over the side.

  “Anne is very fond of him,” Phil reminded her. “And she misses his stories.”

  “I tell her stories.”

  “And now you’ll play draughts with her, as well, I daresay. Although one’s own mother is vastly less entertaining than an intriguing naval lieutenant—no matter how many similarities you and the lieutenant share.”

  “Continue, and you’ll find yourself swabbing alongside him.”

  Phil laughed. “Worth the price, if I could but see you distracted from your worries by a fiery amorous liaison.”

  It was past time to tell Phil the truth. “The longer you persist in this notion that I should have an affair with Lieutenant Barclay, the more severe your disappointment will be when it does not occur.”

  “The only thing you will gain by such a prudish attitude is a pinched mouth and a crease above your lip.”

  “I already have a crease.” Phil was going to be furious that Katherine hadn’t told her. And once she knew, there would be no peace for the rest of the voyage.

  “Then you must bed him quickly to prevent more.”

  “I rather think I shall continue my nightly cream instead.”

  “What could it possibly hurt? A few stolen moments, a passionate embrace...”

  Katherine was not going to embrace Captain Warre.

  “Let me assure you, lovemaking can be very discreet. If you move him from the midnight watch—”

  “Enough!”

  Phil raised a brow.

  “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

  “You are having an affair with him.” Phil gripped her arm. “I knew it.”

  “No.” Katherine dragged her gaze from Captain Warre. “I am not.”

  Phil’s eyes narrowed and her grip tightened. “Tell me.”

  “You must swear you won’t breathe a word to anyone but William.”

  “William knows? Katherine, tell me instantly.”

  Katherine did, and Phil went from deathly curious to outraged in a heartbeat. “I should run you through on the spot!” she hissed. “Isn’t that what you always say? For heaven’s sake, Katherine—how dare you keep something like this from me? It’s— It’s—” She spun on her heel, stalked a few paces away and stalked back. “Why did you not tell me? Did you not trust me?”

  “Perhaps I did not wish to hear about his skill with wood,” Katherine hissed back.

  “Do you honestly believe I would have said such things if I’d known?”

  Katherine answered with a look. Of course Phil would have said such things—and with all the more glee.

  “At least credit me with some sense,” Phil scolded. But already Katherine could see Phil putting the pieces together, realizing that mere moments ago Katherine had been watching Captain Warre—and not because she was merely surveying the crew. Katherine studied a distant ship on the horizon.

  “Oh, Katherine. You mustn’t be angry with yourself.”

  It was too late for that. “His identity changes nothing. My plans are the same.” Captain Warre was not going to steer her off course. Clearly she was a fool, but she was a fool in command—of both her ship and herself.

  “He has no idea that you know? You haven’t spoken to him at all of the past?” Someone called to Captain Warre from overhead, and he tossed the rag over his shoulder and climbed into the rigging to put his weight on a rope.

  “No. Nor do I wish to.”

  “Of course not. But— Oh, you should have told me.” Agitated, Phil pulled her cloak and hood more tightly around her against the annoying drizzle. “Katherine, you’ve got the Earl of Croston swabbing your deck.”

  “It’s less than he deserves.”

  “Most definitely. But you must realize this changes everything. Everything! You cannot keep him with the crew. Oh, if only I’d known, I would have advised you never to have put him there. Don’t you see? We didn’t rescue just anybody—we rescued Captain Warre. You rescued Captain Warre.”

  “Yes. And I intend to make sure his brother is fully aware of that fact.”

  “Which is all good and well, but the possibilities are so much larger. You’ll be a heroine in your own right. This is exactly the kind of thing that will open society’s doors.” Phil looked at him once more. “You’re absolutely certain he is the captain?”

  “Yes.”

  Phil’s lips tightened, and she sniffed. “I always imagined him with a bulbous nose and cruel, twisted lips.” The fact that he had neither hung silently between them as they watched him carefully but efficiently wipe down the spindles. “But that’s neither here nor there. Regardless of all the reasons you have a right to dislike him, you must remove him from the crew immediately and begin cultivating his good favor.”

  “His good favor!” Katherine stared at her. “He should be cultivating mine.”

  “Perhaps so, but unfortunately that is an attitude you cannot afford. Your father’s friends in the Lords cannot be counted upon to approve of you, and Lord Taggart certainly won’t appreciate the news that his brother served as your cabin boy.”

  “He will appreciate that his brother is alive, and that if it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t be.”

  “Will he?” Phil questioned, and for the first time Katherine realized the flaw in her plan. She met Phil’s blue eyes, and Phil arched a damp brow. “The new Earl of Croston might not be pleased to lose his earldom so soon.”

  “And there is Lord Deal.”

  “So you keep telling me, and I agree that your father’s best friend is an excellent champion, but Lord Deal could not do in ten months what Captain Warre could do in ten minutes if he took up your cause.”

  “I do not want him to take up my cause. I want him to grovel at my feet.” Even from here she could see how the drizzle had turned Captain Warre’s hair into dewy black waves. That she noticed his hair at all was galling. “I deserve my revenge, and I will have it.”

  “Is not your rentrée into society more important than revenge?”

  It was, but— “I shall have both.”

  “Think, Katherine. With the right kind of effort, once we get to London all of society will praise you as a heroine.” Phil narrowed her eyes in his direction. “Unless you capitalize on your acquaintance with Captain Warre, what you will very likely have is nothing.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  WITH THE RIGHT kind of effort, Katherine decided, one could exact a very satisfying revenge.

  Over the next few days, she ignored Phil’s re
peated pleas and made sure that her new cabin boy had plenty to do. There was no end of unpleasant tasks aboard a ship. And conveniently, the most repugnant were those most in need of repetition.

  They were also those most likely to be stoking his resentment against her.

  Now she stood at the top of the stairs that led down to the hold where they kept a small hen coop and listened to him sweet-talk the hens as he cleaned their straw and collected eggs.

  Lord Deal could not do in ten months what Captain Warre could do in ten minutes if he took up your cause. The same would be true if he decided to oppose her cause, as well. What if she was taking things too far?

  It wasn’t as if she were abusing the man. If he had a complaint, there was little doubt he would make it known.

  And he was reaping so much less than he deserved.

  But they would reach London in a week, and Phil was right about one thing: she would need all the good favor she could curry.

  She pushed her mouth into a curve and started down the stairs. “I see you’ve finally found a lightskirt to allow you the liberties you’ve craved,” she said, reaching the coop.

  He faced her with a small bucket of eggs in his hand and a piece of straw in his hair. His gaze raked over her. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Captain?”

  “Millicent reports that you’ve made a complete recovery. I wanted to see for myself.”

  His eyes drove into her. “And what, pray, is your assessment?”

  “You don’t seem to have come to any harm,” she said mildly, but the way he looked at her made her pulse jump. She should have left well enough alone.

  “Harm? How thoughtful of you to be concerned for my welfare. Could it be that as we approach England you are regretting your decision to demote me so severely?”

  She laughed. “Heavens, no. I only regret that I won’t be able to keep you after we arrive. I am convinced you would make an excellent stable boy.” He looked like a fallen god, and she clenched a fist to keep from plucking the straw from his hair. The coop suddenly felt twice as small.

  “Mmm. I thought perhaps you might be worried that the punishment you’ve meted out will turn back on you in London.”

  “I’ve meted no punishment.”

  “A matter of opinion.” His eyes dropped to her mouth.

  Every breath suddenly became a conscious effort. “Do you plan to air your complaints to London at large, Lieutenant?”

  “Not at all. But the truth will out, as they say.” A hint of amusement creased the corners of his eyes. He was thinking that truth now—that he was not Lieutenant Barclay at all.

  “In that case, I have nothing to fear,” she said, but Phil’s warning silently screamed at her. “Nobody will frown on a sailor doing honest sailors’ work.”

  He laughed. “You’ll not be able to afford such obtuseness in London if you wish to prevent the bill of pains and penalties you mentioned. London society—not to mention the Lords—will not bend to your authority. I suspect that securing your right to Dunscore will be no easy task. What will you do if your dream of becoming a countess does not come to fruition?”

  “You overstep your bounds, Lieutenant.” Damnation—that came out too sharply. And now he observed her through narrowed eyes that saw too much. “I am a countess,” she said quickly, before he could respond. “I do not have to become one.” She smiled and turned to go. “But I suppose if I’m not successful at acceding to my own title, I shall have to find a desperate earl to marry.”

  The corner of his mouth curved upward. “I’ll be sure to let you know if I hear of any desperate earls in the market for a wife.”

  * * *

  YOUR DREAM OF becoming a countess.

  Four nights later, his words still chilled her. Mere days out of London, she sat with her feet propped on a chair at the table in the great cabin as evening turned to night. At the far end of the table, Millicent trounced India at draughts.

  The hope of seeing Dunscore again—and soon—clogged her throat with unwanted emotion. And now Captain Warre knew how she felt.

  He pitied her. She’d seen it in his eyes.

  More the fool her, for expecting something more from him. What a devil that she’d let him upset her. It would be impossible to maintain the upper hand if his slightest references to Dunscore had her succumbing to fanciful girlhood dreams.

  She didn’t ache for those things anymore. She had new things. She had Anne. If Dunscore had any relevance at all now, it was only because of the future it promised Anne.

  “That’s not fair,” India cried as Millicent captured four of her pieces.

  “Beg your pardon?” Millicent said. “I can’t hear you behind your ‘contribution to fashion.’”

  “Très amusant,” India said, with a movement that might have been a head toss, but it was hard to tell because beneath her usual tricorne India was swathed from head to waist in a length of turquoise cloth. “I think the English have much to learn from their Ottoman counterparts.”

  Which may well have been true, but given that India’s interpretation of Ottoman fashion made her look more like a turquoise mummy than a modest Ottoman female, was somewhat inaccurate. “If Englishwomen were going to take a cue from their Ottoman sisters,” Katherine said, sipping her wine, “they would have done it long ago.”

  “And they certainly won’t do it now from a girl whose father has locked her away in her apartment,” Phil added. And then, turning her attention squarely back to Katherine, she said, “You’re not listening.”

  India noisily captured one of Millicent’s pieces in retribution. “I think it makes a woman look mysterious.” Katherine stared at the game board Captain Warre had largely crafted with his own hands. Too many things aboard this ship were being done by those hands. She could hardly grip a railing without physically sensing that his hands had been the one to clean it. She didn’t have to wait for London for her actions against him to turn back on her—she suffered from them now in the smallest details of her own ship.

  “Englishmen don’t want that type of mystery,” Millicent scoffed. “They would have women go about entirely nude if they could.”

  “Less than a week before our arrival,” Phil went on, “though I daresay the damage is already done.” She leaned close to Katherine, though for what purpose was a mystery. India’s persistent eavesdropping had required the truth to come out days ago. “You must move him back to André’s cabin.” That Phil ignored Millicent’s quip about nudity underscored how serious she thought this was. “He is your goose that will lay the golden eggs, and you would do well to keep him healthy and happy—not emptying slop and keeping midnight watches. You must start plumping the goose now if you wish to reap its rewards later.”

  “One only plumps a goose if one plans to kill it,” Katherine said. “You’d best read the fable again.”

  “In this case, killing the goose would be vastly more satisfying,” India said from behind her mummy mask. If nothing else, she could count on India for all the appropriate outrage at their new cabin boy’s true identity. “I think you should tell him you’ve discovered his identity and call him out in a magnificent duel.”

  “A tempting idea, but according to Phil I need him alive to confirm my heroics. I can hardly go about London praising myself for his rescue.”

  Millicent made a noise. “Especially since you would have left him to die. I can only imagine what London would think of that.”

  “The decisions aboard this ship are mine to make,” Katherine said sharply.

  “I’m well aware of that,” Millicent shot back. “Nobody aboard this ship has any say in matters but you.”

  “Watch your tongue, Millie,” Phil advised. And then, to Katherine, “Trust me, dearest, praising yourself won’t be necessary. It will be the easiest thing in the world to innocently let it be known wh
at happened, and in a single morning’s time all of London will know.”

  “And then I shall be showered with invitations and good will,” Katherine said dryly.

  Philomena laughed. “And then you shall place yourself in proximity to Captain Warre at every opportunity, and let the news work its magic. The two of you together will be a sensation.”

  “Promise me you won’t expose him without me there,” India said. “I want to see the expression on his face.”

  So did Katherine. And she needed to expose him before the voyage was over, when she still had the advantage of being in command. But deciding how and when to do it wasn’t easy—except that one place it would not happen was in front of India.

  She hadn’t the means on board to give Captain Warre what he truly deserved. But she could at least have the pleasure of exposing him. The timing should be perfect. Time, however, was running out. Soon—very soon—she would have to confront him whether the time was right or not.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE MISTY BLUE of midnight surrounded Katherine with an eerie breeze. Beneath her feet, Dunscore rose monolithic above the sea. A man stood on the ramparts with the wind in his hair, looking out as if commanding the mist. She moved toward him. He held out his arm, and she took his hand. Kissed it, as though paying homage.

  And she was his. Only his.

  His arms came around her, capturing her body, drawing her in. Possessing her. Her head fell back and his mouth came down, down, hard on her lips, branding her. She sank her fingers into dark waves of silver-streaked hair, drank in the smell of the sea on sun-browned skin.

  He touched her body and her clothes melted away. Strong hands slid over her skin, closed around her breasts, touched her most secret places. She cried out and pushed herself against him, rocking.

  Rocking.

  Creak...splash.

  Creak...splash.