“Our fishing hole.”
Isabella’s lips twitched. “Show me your fishing hole and I’ll share my tale.”
Cassie sprang to her feet. Isabella’s smile barely shielded her shock at seeing Cassie in breeches. She tugged at her father’s hand.
“I think this is a trip for you and Isabella.” Nicholas tapped her nose with a finger.
Her small face turned to meet Isabella’s. “Can’t Papa come?”
“Of course, your papa can come.” Isabella’s lips pursed.
Standing, he decided to stay a step or two behind the lassies.
A short time later, Nicholas sat on the cool blades of grass, reclining against his elbows as the ladies skirted the pond hand in hand. He listened to their rapid chatter. Occasionally Cassie pointed to waves in the water where fish swam just below the surface. He was mindful not to interrupt, giving Cassie the time she needed to bond with Isabella before he was again at sea. The late morning sun pierced the treetops, bathing them in ribbons of warmth. He closed his eyes.
Their laughter reached his ears, the sound unguarded and pure. He waited for their voices to soothe him again, and when that small delight was denied, he opened his eyes to find Isabella’s gaze on him.
Cassie tugged Isabella’s hand. “You don’t mind my stories?” She tossed a small pebble into the water, delighted when it skipped the surface.
“Lady Cassie, I don’t mind your stories in the least.”
“I’m not a lady, I’m a second mate.”
“Of course you’re a lady. You want to be captain one day, don’t you?”
Cassie nodded.
“Then your father needs your help.” Isabella silenced his protest with a glare. “You see, it takes an intelligent and courageous lady to command both land and sea.”
“I’m smart!”
Isabella’s brows drew together in thought. “I’ll make you a bargain. You teach me all you know of the sea, and I’ll teach you all I know of being a lady and proper schooling. That way we’re both prepared for anything your father decides to throw at us.”
Cassie looked to her father. He nodded, not believing his ears. Isabella had reached his daughter where threats and harsh words had not. She’d used the child’s love for the sea to reach an agreement. Though he knew Cassie would never truly give up the notion of sailing, she would now gain respectability and a choice at a future that had eluded him and Harold.
For the first time, he saw what Harold had seen, and was now more convinced he’d made the right choice in a mother for his daughter. Though, he was not so sure Isabella had softened in regards to becoming his wife.
“It’s a deal,” Cassie said, voice serious.
Nicholas sat up, realizing what his daughter was about to do. He cringed as Cassie spat in her little hand before slapping small fingers to the palm of Isabella’s outstretched one.
Though Isabella folded larger fingers over Cassie’s without reproach, Nicholas knew she was appalled by the stiffening of her shoulders, but had the good sense to know this was one of Cassie’s first lessons in life at sea.
Seventeen
The horse’s hooves clopped on the brick road to Isabella’s father, Lord Carolus Pennington’s home, Nicholas’s carriage slowing as it turned the corner.
It was a nice enough neighborhood. The houses were grand and gave the appearance of money. The trees were tall, trunks sturdy with age. The lawns were so manicured even dogs avoided them. Nicholas, too, might have been impressed if he hadn’t looked into Lord Carolus’s financial holdings. The man had gambled away everything, including his daughter’s dowry. He might have done the same with the house and small estate if it hadn’t been in his late wife’s name and passed down from mother to daughters. The property would now go to Isabella’s younger sister, Catherine, since Lord Carolus no longer considered Isabella family.
He imagined Isabella and her sister running in the front lawn, being chased by their parents. Would her father have allowed such liberties? The nobility were sticklers for their rules. He had tolerated far worse than chasing Cassie for a chance to hear her laugh. He wondered again what sort of man Lord Carolus was.
Nicholas steeled himself against the sense of sorrow twisting in his gut as he thought of Isabella and her father being at odds. His father had shown little interest in his upbringing, and his mother, the bravest person he’d ever known, had almost turned to brothels to put food on the table. Those were the longest days of his life. The nights had been even longer. Stepping onto the docks of his first ship at the age of thirteen, he became a man when he should have been a boy. He still felt his mother’s arms tight around his shoulders, telling him to be safe, to write, that she loved him. Even then, he’d been strong willed. He’d sent home every spare penny for five years, until his mother passed. Nicholas closed his eyes against the haunting memory. The next time he had boarded a ship after laying her to rest, it was his own, with Harold old enough to be at his side.
As he arrived in the circular drive, his stomach clenched. Was this the life Isabella wanted? Was he denying her a life of luxury, with people she loved and cared for? His life was a tangled mess. He only knew the importance of a mother, his mother, and wanted one for Cassie. His father had been long absent from his life, but he was a good father to Cassie. He loved his daughter as if she was of his blood.
Above his head, leaves the color of butterscotch flickered on the branches. The bark peeled in thick flakes from the trees’ trunks. Along the drive, neglected flowers struggled to bloom, stifled by vines of weeds that suffocated the garden’s simple beauty.
The carriage stopped. Pushing open the door, he planted both feet on the ground before Chambers left his perch.
There was no warm welcoming feeling of home here, not the kind that Isabella had brought to his house since she’d arrived. Then again, this was not his home, and the only person that ever truly loved him was his mother, and she was dead.
Nicholas shrugged aside his current dark mood, steeling his features before the butler opened the door. Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped into the hall, startling the butler with the intrusion. He didn’t care, he was inside and not even the devil himself could toss him out before his business was concluded.
“Captain Ferguson to see Lord Carolus,” he announced before the servant fully recovered.
“Look here, you can’t barge in at such an ungodly hour.”
Nicholas was mildly irritated that the man had not gone to do his bidding. But he did notice the butler had created a sizeable distance between them. Ungodly hour? What was it with the wealthy? For as long as he could remember, he’d risen with the sun. “I can and did. I’ll wake the entire household if I must.”
The butler paled. “Are you expected?”
Nicholas smiled coldly. They both knew he wasn’t from the ungodly hour he’d arrived at. He followed the nervous man to a modest parlor dressed with two uncomfortable looking chairs and a coffee table. Lowering his bulk into one of the seats, he was dismayed to find himself correct about the seat. Stretching his long legs, he groaned when his knee bumped the side of the doll-sized table. He was a caged beast in the small room, and he had a sinking feeling this was exactly how the house’s master made all unwanted guests feel.
Giving up on comfort, Nicholas walked to the window overlooking the southern lawn. The land stretched far, wrapping around a duck pond. Lush gardens wove around a stone trail, and he found himself wondering if Isabella’s bedroom faced such a stunning view. Did she wake to the sight of lilies and sunshine? How many times had she stared out this very window and dreamed of her future? Had she imagined how it would be, married to an earl or perhaps a duke? As a daughter of the Earl of Pennington the opportunities were endless. Instead, she’d found herself stuck with him, an illegitimate captain.
He’d worked hard for his fortune, holding onto it with sweat and blood. More often the latter. He was proud of himself, his finances were secure. He owned two properties, lived in
one and collected income on the other, and his shipping business and investments were thriving.
Nicholas only regretted not being able to give Isabella the title she deserved. He’d always prided himself in knowing he’d treated his paramours with kindness, making their time together special. He had never been less than honest about his intentions. Each woman had welcomed him with fire and eagerness, fully aware they shared no more than affection. It had always been that way, and he’d moved on to the next woman knowing he’d left the last with a new taste for passion.
For as long as he could remember, women had always wanted the same from him. None had shown any real ardor beyond desire. And he’d done the same. From a young age, he’d steeled himself against love, locking such feelings away as to not be used against him.
This was different.
Isabella was to be his wife. He saw in her more fire than any lover he’d known. He’d admired her courage when she’d faced Emsley and the ton with her head held high. The farce had cost her dearly. When he comforted her during her time of vulnerability, Nicholas had never felt more needed. She was strong willed, and bonnie. And she needed him as much as he needed her. Isabella was everything he’d spent his entire life avoiding.
The thought of treating Isabella with the same amount of affection he showed his lovers felt cold, detached. Yet, he wanted no illusions between them. It was better this way, he reminded himself. Of noble blood, she desired one of her own rank, perhaps Lord Daniel. And he would forever be the husband she cared naught for.
Cassie was not the only reason to marry Isabella. She’d intrigued him from their first meeting in the lake. Then again on the night of the party when he had encountered her on the balcony. She had also aroused him beyond measure, and his only thought was to bury himself to the hilt between the sleekness of her thighs.
Usually the attention of another gentleman was his way of escape, allowing him another adventure. One that was equally grand and filled with promise. But for the first time, knowing the woman that captivated him desired another man made his blood cold.
Until their last voyage, Nicholas had had no intention of marrying. He’d sworn to a life of bachelorhood until he realized what his crew had always known. Cassie was no lad to be raised at sea, but a lady, whether born of noble blood or not. And so by God, he would see her raised as such.
He only hoped Isabella would grow to love Cassie as much as he did, even if that affection did not include him. Strange, such burdensome emotions had never affected him before. Nicholas had always taken what he wanted, and what couldn’t be taken he achieved by purchase or persuasion. Having forced Isabella into marriage did not prove rewarding. Instead, guilt nipped at his heels at having to use her slight by society to his benefit. It was why he’d come here today, to return some of what was taken, and in turn, Nicholas hoped it gave her the freedom to pursue what made her happy. Feeling the bite of regret, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants.
“My lord will see you now, Captain.”
He had promised Isabella security, and one of the ways to ensure her comfort was to provide the means in which she could again walk among the ton.
The door opened to the library. The butler announced Nicholas’s arrival as they entered.
“If you came to collect a dowry, there’s none.” The older gentleman had yet to lift his head from the ledger his quill scribbled across or offer Nicholas a proper greeting.
Nicholas studied the man. Hair peppered with gray, there was still an air of youth about him, though his broad shoulders sagged as if they held the world’s burdens atop them. The lines creasing his features could be blamed on age rather than wisdom.
“I did not come for money. Not that you have any to give.” Pennington’s head snapped to attention then. This pleased Nicholas.
“If not for her dowry, then what? To ask her hand?”
Nicholas snorted at the accusing tone. He’d given no thought to Isabella’s father when he’d announced their engagement to the dailies. In fact, his only thought had been honoring his word. “I had hoped to be enlightened as to why Lord Emsley did not honor his vows to your daughter.”
It was Pennington’s time to snort. The sound, one of derision, grated Nicholas’s ear, as if the topic was of little consequence.
“I’ve yet to see how this involves me.”
“Jesu, you are her father.”
“She gave up that privilege when she defied me.”
Was the man dull witted? Had he even looked in on Isabella’s health since she’d left his home? What kind of man was he that he could so easily set aside his own daughter? For that matter, what type of man was Lord Emsley? Sure, he himself had no intent towards marriage—Nicholas had never imagined that course for his life. But he’d also never gone back on a promise. What was a man without the honor of his word?
He did not want to believe the ton, that Isabella had developed a taste for lovers, cuckolding Lord Emsley before they were married. Somehow knowing she’d once been faithful made a difference. Damn it, he knew why her past nagged at him. Hadn’t she escaped to the balcony that night, fleeing from Lord Emsley? Hadn’t Lord Daniel Steel been close? Only it had been he who’d rescued her.
Walking to the large windows, Nicholas took in the view of another part of the property. “I don’t believe for a moment you tossed your daughter to her own fate simply because of defiance.” The man could not be that cold.
“That’s none of your affair.”
“You are wrong.” With his back still turned, he stuck his hands into his pockets. “I’m to be her husband. Whatever causes her pain concerns me.” Nicholas had never believed anything more. He faced the older man then, really looking at him. He seemed to have aged a great deal from the time Nicholas had entered the room. The lines etching his forehead were deepened by worry far beyond Nicholas’s expectation. Eyes sunken with fear, Lord Carolus Pennington resembled young sailors as they fended off pirates for the first time. This was different, though, not the type of fear that followed the knowledge of quick death, but one expected to be slow and merciless.
They studied each other with prolonged silence. No doubt Lord Carolus weighed what he thought of Nicholas’s character. The moments stretched on until he wondered if he’d wasted his time in thinking a renewed relationship with her father would serve Isabella well among her peers. He would soon be her protector after all. But with his constant voyages to secure new cargo for the merchants, Nicholas needed to know Isabella had support beyond his household. Finally, Pennington nodded as if satisfied with what he’d found.
“I gather you know of my gambling?” Pennington asked warily.
With a nod, Nicholas allowed the older man to continue. His voice was no longer curt, lightened by the chance to unburden his troubles.
“I’d developed a taste for card, you see.” His brows knitted, remembering the precise moment it started. “My father dealt me my first hand.” Pennington nodded towards a small round table in the far corner of the library. “He taught me a gentleman’s game… Gin. Until last year I’d never lost more than what I carried in my purse.
“It was only natural that, when Lord Emsley showed interest in the game, I shared my skills.”
Nicholas’s fingers curled into fists at the thought of Isabella being used as stakes in a game between gentlemen.
“Nothing like that, sir,” Pennington said after looking into Nicholas’s eyes. “This was well after he’d showed interest in Isabella and asked for her hand.” Pennington lowered his head. “I’ve done many things, but gambling away one of my daughters is by any means…low.”
The muscles on Nicholas’s shoulder relaxed. The man had not been so foolish as to gamble Isabella’s hand in marriage. Though it would explain Emsley’s reluctance to a marriage he’d won, or worse, lost in a bet.
“We frequented the game rooms at the back of Baker’s. It was there in a game of Ace that I lost.” With a hopeless thunder of a sound, Pennington threw back
his head and laughed. Though it echoed around them, filling each dark corner of the room, it did not lighten the space.
“I was such a dunce not to have seen it earlier. He was an expert cards man, and of course by then he’d also learned my habits. My pockets were dry and I was ready to call it quits when he convinced me to play another hand. You see, we were all having a jolly good time and we were deep in our cups. I stayed, and played, and lost most of Isabella’s dowry before I knew it had happened.
“You could imagine my shock when Emsley arrived the next day with my signature on a Baker’s note to collect. I was furious at first. I hadn’t that kind of money on hand, and the small estate that supports both households could not be touched.”
It all made sense now that Nicholas had the gist of the tale. He would think of a way to make Emsley pay. His fists tightened. What would have befallen Isabella had she married the man?
“I thought myself clever,” Pennington groaned. “That after they married and he found he’d been paid with Isabella’s dowry, the jest would fall on him.”
“But that’s not what happened, is it Pennington? He called off the engagement soon after.” As if he had knowledge of Pennington’s finances.
Nodding, Pennington said, “Isabella was beside herself. Emotions were high. The gossip. Emsley’s new marriage. She blamed me.” The man was rambling now. “You see, I’d sided with Emsley in the delay of their nuptials for another Season, thinking the man needed time to adjust to the idea of marriage and its responsibility. We both said things we regretted. With scandal about, no one would marry her. I had her sister to consider.” Lord Pennington’s fist slammed against the desk. “Isabella rented an apartment, resigning to spinsterhood.”
“Does Catherine know?”
“For a few days now. I’ve sent her sister to the country.” He pointed to the sheets of paper, letters, Nicholas had not noticed on the desk.
“Who else knew the means by which you obtained the money?”
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