The Unmarriageable Collection (Books 1–3)

by Lancaster, Mary

  “I know.”

  In silence now, they watched the brilliant sunset fade into the grey of dusk. And quite close now, was the silhouette of land.

  “France,” he said. “And now I need my wits about me.”

  She suspected he had for the entire voyage, keeping pretty constant watch and making sudden course changes to avoid ships. But she left him to it, returning to the boys in the cabin.

  Horatio had fallen asleep on the floor. Henrietta covered him with a blanket and told the others they were approaching France. Of course, Richard and George immediately wanted to rush on deck, but she warned them to be calm and to obey the captain.

  Henrietta sat on the bench under the sloping window, watching her little brother sleep and thinking of her other siblings and other very different voyages. But her thoughts kept coming back to Captain Cromarty. Inevitably, she crept back on deck to see what was happening.

  The rumble of the anchor sounded as she emerged on deck, and she saw they were in a wide, sheltered cove, surrounded by jagged rocks.

  “Your pardon, Miss,” someone murmured behind her, and she immediately stood aside.

  A complete stranger touched his hat to her and walked across the deck to the captain. He was not dressed like a seaman, more like a lower order of merchant, with a large bag hanging from either shoulder and another strapped to his back.

  The small boat—or did they call it a long boat?—was being lowered into the sea. The same two oarsmen who had helped to rescue Henrietta and the boys stood by to climb down.

  Catching sight of her, Captain Cromarty stopped talking to his men in a low voice and came toward her, collecting one of the better dressed seamen on his way.

  “This is Kettle, my lieutenant,” he said. “While I’m gone, he is in charge, and whatever decision he makes, you must abide by it without fuss.”

  “What sort of decision?” she asked suspiciously, and a breath of laughter escaped him.

  “Concerning the ship and where and when it goes,” he said. “Such matters are already agreed between us.”

  “You’re going ashore,” she accused. “You said you would not.”

  “I don’t plan to. I’m just landing my cargo.”

  “What cargo?” she asked, looking around the empty deck.

  “Be good, my sweet,” he said carelessly and strolled back to the oarsmen who were starting to climb down to the boat. The stranger followed, with the captain behind, and then the gate was closed.

  “He is the cargo?” Henrietta murmured. “Who is he?”

  Kettle smiled faintly but did not answer. If he knew, clearly, he felt it was not his secret to tell.

  Richard materialized beside her. “He wouldn’t let me go with him,” he complained.

  “I expect he wanted experienced men for the task,” she said consolingly. “Do you still have the eyeglass?”

  Richard produced it, having a quick look himself before he passed it to her. She watched the progress of the boat, trying not to linger too much on the captain. Not that she could see his face, let alone his expression in the dark. The moon was new and didn’t supply a great deal of light. She thought they must have eyes like cats to navigate the rocks and reach the beach.

  As they drew closer to the shore, she raised the glass to the cliffs. There was definite movement there, several figures moving along the ridge.

  “There are men up there,” she said anxiously to Kettle, who was watching through his own glass.

  “I see them.”

  “Does he?” she asked.

  “I imagine so.”

  “Are they friends?”

  “I would doubt it,” Kettle replied with a hint of grimness. “They look like soldiers.”

  “Then why does he keep going?” she demanded, distressed. “Why doesn’t he just come back? As he did to avoid the excisemen in England…”

  “This is more important.”

  Her heart in her mouth, she watched them pull the boat ashore. The stranger leapt out, pausing only to shake hands with Cromarty and salute the seamen and then he was loping across the beach, away from the direction of the soldiers now spilling down the cliff toward the boat.

  “Hurry, hurry,” Henrietta urged uselessly. But instead of simply pushing the boat off again, the seamen strode to meet the soldiers. Worse, Cromarty leapt out to join them and she saw they all had pistols.

  Chapter Eleven

  She saw the flash as one of the French soldiers fired first. In terror, she could not at first answer the boys’ impatient questions. And then, a barrage of gun shots followed the first. One of the French soldiers fell. Helplessly, she watched as the rest dived into a melee of hand-to-hand fighting. Shouts drifted back to her on the wind.

  She knew what they were doing. They were giving their precious cargo time to get away. Even though they could die. He could die…

  “Can’t we do something?” she whispered.

  “Just be ready,” Kettle replied.

  Which is when she also understood Cromarty’s final words to her. The ship would leave, if necessary, without the men on shore.

  One of the crew in the rigging called down softly. “Frigate to starboard.”

  And Cromarty’s lieutenant hastily doused the only lantern on deck. “Come on,” he muttered.

  But a little higher on the cliff, a soldier was taking aim at the figure she took to be the captain. Something like a whimper left her lips. Another shout went up ashore. The captain suddenly ducked and something—perhaps a thrown knife—struck the aiming soldier in silence, so that he fell like a boulder down the side of the cliff.

  Someone shouted an order. She was sure it was Cromarty’s voice, and the men began to separate. The oarsmen, presumably backed toward the boat, while the captain kept the remaining French soldiers covered with his pistol. When the boat was pushing off, he leapt backward into it. As the men began to row, he still kept his pistol aimed at the soldiers.

  When one of the Frenchmen moved toward the path, he fired and the soldier leapt back. Cromarty dropped the pistol and another appeared in his hand.

  “Oh bravo!” exclaimed Richard, who had seized Mr. Kettle’s glass while that gentleman began issuing urgent orders concerning the anchor and the sails. “And he says he’s not a pirate!”

  Henrietta gave a shaky laugh.

  Presumably reckoning that Cromarty’s pistol was out of range, the French began scrambling to reload their own weapons, and Henrietta, who had begun to relax into hope, found herself biting her lip in fear once more.

  “They’re clear,” Kettle said heavily. “They’re clear.” And in fact, when the first soldier fired, he seemed to hit nothing. Mr. Kettle seemed more concerned about the lurking frigate, which Henrietta couldn’t even see. She supposed it was on the other side of the headland.

  Cromarty and his men swarmed on deck.

  “Soon as you’re ready, Kettle,” the captain said cheerfully, and went to help hoist the boat.

  The anchor was already raised. A sail unfurled, the wheel was spun around, and the ship began to roll, turning, creaking, and plunging in the waves.

  Henrietta didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as Cromarty strode toward her, grinning. He flung a casual arm around her waist and another around Richard’s, herding George in front of them to the ladder.

  “Frigate’s not moving, sir!” one of the seamen shouted. “Don’t think it knows we’re here.”

  “Then let’s make sure it stays that way. Full sail for home!” Cromarty released her, so that she could follow the boys down to the cabin. But to her disappointment, he did not come, too.

  “By Jove,” George declared. “I think that was as good as Alvan at the Hart! How the devil do you know him, Henrie?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? He’s the man who helped me rescue Minnie when I found her at the theater.”

  Richard frowned. “Yes, but that doesn’t really explain how you knew it was him the excisemen were after.”

  “Not that we’re
complaining,” George put in, “because we’re not.”

  Henrietta hesitated. “Well, Eliza will tell Horry anyway. So, I might as well tell you, too, but you’re not to say a word to Mama or Papa. Or Thomasina! I had a wager with Matthew Lacey.” And so, she told them an edited version of her first adventure at the Hart and how the captain had helped her rescue Matthew from the strange lady. “All while I was dressed in your best suit,” she added apologetically to Richard.

  “It doesn’t fit me any more anyway,” he said carelessly. “But honestly, Matthew must be a bit of numbskull, for you don’t look anything like a man!”

  “Yes, I do,” Henrietta protested, throwing off the cloak so that she could swagger about in Cromarty’s ill-fitting garb, a process that entertained her brothers so much that Horatio woke up, and she was called upon for a repeat performance.

  She was still in full swing when she realized Captain Cromarty stood just inside the door, arms folded as he watched her display.

  She froze, flushing to the roots of her hair. “It isn’t meant to be you,” she said.

  “Thus, assuring me that it is! I shall endeavor to walk with rather less flamboyance.”

  “But you don’t at all,” she assured him.

  “She just exaggerates everyone’s tiniest mannerisms until they’re unrecognizable,” Richard said. “She does a very funny version of Papa.”

  “No, I don’t,” she said hastily, making a grab for the cloak again. As she did so, she saw that his jaw was bruised and his lip cut. “Are you badly hurt?”

  “Devil a bit,” he said, striding to the washing bowl where he poured some fresh water and washed his hands and face without embarrassment. His knuckles were grazed and there was a dark shadow of stubble on his face. “We seem to be safe for now. So you can relax. We should be back on English shores by morning.”

  “What if the excisemen are still there?” Richard asked.

  Cromarty’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “They’re more likely to be looking for my cousin and recompense for the false information that had them sitting on a cliff most of the day and night.”

  “But they probably saw us warning you and going back to The Siren with you,” Henrietta argued.

  “Exactly. At no point did you look anything like a smuggler’s d—” He broke off and corrected himself. “…like a smuggler’s lady friend. They’ll assume you some silly chit who was rescued by a passing ship. And if I’m wrong, and they are still waiting, I’ll just land you somewhere else.”

  “Thank you,” Henrietta said, trying to be grateful about the end of the adventure. She watched him pat dry his face and hands without wincing. “Would you like your cabin back? The boys and I can easily—”

  “No, I’ll be on deck,” he interrupted. “The cabin is yours, and I suggest you sleep if you want to pretend to your parents that you spent the night at the Hart.”

  “Anything else would worry them,” Richard insisted.

  “I’m sure they have plenty of worry with all of you as it is.”

  “Actually, they don’t,” George said. “Because most of our adventures happen without them, and if we tell them, they don’t believe us.”

  “I certainly doubt they’ll believe this one,” Henrietta said forcefully. “And I sincerely hope no one else does, either.”

  Cromarty laughed and threw the towel on the washstand. “My lips are sealed. Forgive the intrusion.” He bowed. “Good night.”

  When he had gone, she ordered the boys into the large bed. Then she lay down across the bottom with a blanket over her. Despite the boys’ protestations, it wasn’t long before she heard the peaceful sounds of their slumber. Her own heart was beating too loudly to let her sleep.

  Eventually, she gave up and rose. Swapping the blanket for the cloak, she felt her way out of the cabin and up the ladder toward the muted lights on deck. Cromarty was sprawled on a bench with one hand on the wheel and one knee under his chin while he exchanged friendly insults with the two men who appeared to be on watch.

  He straightened when he saw her approach. “Miss Maybury,” he said politely. “Is anything wrong?”

  “Only that you are calling me Miss Maybury again. I couldn’t sleep. May I join you or would you rather be alone?”

  “Never,” he said gallantly, inviting her to sit with one easy gesture. “It’s really a matter of keeping watch and making sure these imbeciles stay awake, too. Are your brothers asleep?”

  She nodded, sitting on the space beside him. It brought them very close together, but he didn’t appear to mind.

  After a few moments of silence, he said with resignation, “Out with it. What do you want to ask me now?”

  She couldn’t resist casting him a mischievous smile, but she was perfectly serious as she asked, “Who is he? Your cargo whom you landed tonight?”

  “I’m not allowed to say.”

  “He’s a spy, isn’t he?”

  His lips quirked, but he didn’t answer.

  “I thought so,” she said with satisfaction.

  He stirred. “You don’t ask me if he’s a British spy I smuggled into France, or a French spy I’m returning because his work is done.”

  “I don’t need to ask that,” she said scornfully.

  He looked down at her enigmatically. “Yes, you do. You’re far too trusting and you don’t know me, Henrietta.”

  “I know that much. Why do you want me to think badly of you?”

  He sighed. “Because it would be more natural. And easier for both of us.”

  Her heart beat faster at the implications of this. Greatly daring, she raised her hand and touched his unbruised cheek. Immediately, he reached up as though he would pluck it away, yet when he touched her, it was a caress.

  She raised her face to his in open invitation. When he only gazed down into her eyes, she caught her breath and pressed her lips to his.

  “Oh, Henrietta,” he said hoarsely. “You should not kiss a man like me.”

  “Why not?” she whispered.

  “Because I’ll never resist kissing you back.”

  He touched her trembling lips with his fingertips, parting them, and then he bent his head and kissed her with a slow, sensual passion that melted her bones. His arm was around her, beneath the cloak, warm and strong and irresistible. She gave herself up to him in wonder until she gasped for breath. He raised his head, but only for an instant, while his glittering eyes devoured her. And then he smiled and kissed her again.

  Although she was disappointed when he ended the kiss, she had the impression it was even harder for him. His arm trembled for a moment before he drew her head onto his shoulder and took a deep, ragged breath.

  “It’s the sea and the stars and the excitement,” he told her. “You’ll forgive me eventually.”

  “There is nothing to forgive. It was I who kissed you first.” She gazed up at the clear sky. “Do you navigate by the stars?”

  “Of course, when I have to.”

  “What is that one?” She pointed. “It’s brighter than all the others.”

  “The North Star.”

  The time drifted by in a mixture of conversation and silence and the sweet warmth of his arm holding her still against his side. Despite her awareness and the tingle of desire deep in her belly, he did not kiss her again. Instead, they watched dawn break together and shared a mug of tea one of his men brought. Cromarty made no effort to free her, seemed not a whit embarrassed by their pose. Neither was the seaman, which led her to the rather troubling conclusion that it was not such an unusual situation for him.

  It didn’t matter. The night and the new dawn breaking over the southern English coast were magical. She knew he cared for her, that she was special to him. And she knew now beyond a doubt that she loved him.

  At last, he stood, stretching prodigiously. “Come. It’s time you woke your brothers and changed back into your own clothes. I can’t have you distracting me while I find a safe place to land you.”

  “And you
r brandy.”

  “And my brandy,” he agreed, holding out his hand. “Come.”

  She went with him, following him down the dark ladder. At the bottom, she missed her footing and he caught her, almost like on the theater staircase on their first encounter. But this time, he did not let her go. He pressed her back against the ladder and covered her mouth with his. As she flung her arms around his neck, his hand slid inside her too-big, borrowed coat, and closed over her breast.

  Her world caught fire. In that moment, there was nothing she would not have done. She was won.

  With a groan, he tore his mouth free and pulled her upright, all but shoving her through the cabin door. Dizzy and disoriented, she stared in surprise at her sleeping brothers. They looked positively angelic in the rising sunlight that spilled through the big window over the bed.

  *

  With no sign of any danger threatening from any of the little coves and beaches near the Hart, Captain Cromarty decided he would take Henrietta and her brothers ashore in one boat and check out the lie of the land before risking his cargo.

  Henrietta found him brisk and businesslike, which contrasted unfavorably with the sweetness of the night and the hot, passionate interlude outside the cabin. But, this was daylight, the return to reality, to her family and respectability. And so, although her heart sang whenever she glanced at his face or took his hand to disembark, she only smiled with her usual friendliness.

  “May we sail with you again, Captain?” Richard asked.

  “Oh, I’m sure we’ll meet again,” Cromarty said easily, as though his mind was somewhere else entirely. “For discretion’s sake,” he added, swinging Henrietta off the boat, over the edge of the water to the dry beach, “you should escort your sister back up to the inn without my presence.”

  “What will you do?” Henrietta asked, feeling suddenly cold without his touch.

  He grinned. “Land some brandy, but don’t tell.”

  “I mean after that.”

  “I’m not sure yet. I might go and visit my cousin Charles.”

  “Or your grandfather?” she suggested.