The Captain's Lady

by Robecca Austin

  Isabella frowned. The first few days he’d done little else but growl and nip in her direction. “Yes, but is he capable of love?”

  “That depends,” Virginia said. “What’s your idea of love?”

  Isabella’s forehead wrinkled. She never thought love needed words. She opened her mouth, then shut it. Her impressions on the subject were born from fairy tales and a sheltered life. Silly, she’d fancied herself in love once. Doubt swept over her. She hugged herself, unsure. “I do not know.”

  Virginia grinned. “With no expectations of how one must love, anything is possible. Don’t you agree?”

  Before Isabella voiced her objection, a knock on the door silenced her. It opened. A servant peeked around the frame. “Good morning, my lady. I’ll return later.”

  “No need.” Virginia instructed the girl to bring bread, cheese and tea. “And the hip bath, as well.”

  When the girl’s hurried steps could no longer be heard, Isabella asked, “Do you love him?” They were both surprised by the question. Time slowed as they searched the other’s face. A shallow knot twisted in Isabella’s stomach. This was a home of secrets and hurt, banded together by a force she desperately needed to understand.

  It was Virginia who broke the silence. Moving to the window, shoulder propped against the frame, she was lost in another time. Her voice faltered. “Of course I do.”

  Jealousy seized Isabella’s chest. Her breath held. She wanted to scream, but anger eluded her. Virginia had answered with simple honesty. She stared at the other woman, clutching the sheets and trying to understand. Virginia loved him. Why hadn’t they married? Then it dawned on her—Nicholas. “Nicholas does not love you…?”

  “I think he does.”

  Isabella swallowed, confused.

  “I think he loves all of us in his own way.” She paused. “No sister could wish for a better brother. Any thought of marriage on my part was only to save us both heartache.”

  “Oh, Virginia…”

  “You have to understand, he gave me family, a home, and darling Cassie. All the things I had thought lost. The first time I laid eyes on Nicholas…” Virginia smiled over her shoulder. “He stood outside my door with a squirming baby.”

  “Cassie.”

  Virginia nodded. “I don’t think she was more than nine months. Even then she had him wrapped around her finger.” Virginia sniffed. “He said my sister and husband died from fever. They named him guardian of the baby, but he thought it should be me. But I couldn’t. My sister was impulsive and strong headed, kind and loving, but I think it was her wit her husband loved most. If she entrusted Cassie to Nicholas, she must have known the type of man my husband was.” Virginia tapped a small spider crawling along the wall. “Pff, I had no one,” she murmured. “Countless times I wanted to be selfish. Take the child. His affection for Cassie did not let me.”

  “Was? Your husband died?” Isabella whispered, knowing the strength it took to abandon the last shred of love.

  “Not then, though I wish he had.” Virginia trembled. “The debt collectors came often. They wasted no time collecting. The chairs went first. The dining room next. It wasn’t long before we slept where we walked. That was no place for a babe. Nicholas realized it, too, when he finally took stock of the house. I’d sold everything of value or given it as payment for one or more of my husband’s excesses.”

  “I am sorry…” Isabella left the bed and held Virginia’s hand.

  “Pellian, my husband, came home and saw us with the babe. He was foxed and vicious.” Virginia closed her eyes. “‘My sister is dead. The babe has come to live with us,’ I told him.

  “‘We can’t afford another mouth,’ Pellian had said.

  “I had taken his hand. ‘We always wanted children. Maybe now, if you stop drinking, it will be better for us.’”

  Virginia swallowed. “He slapped me. The blow knocked me back a few steps. ‘Keep the bloody thing,’ he said. ‘It might fetch us coin yet.’”

  Virginia touched her cheek at the memory. “No one ever witnessed Pellian’s abuse. He was careful. And never the face. When Nicholas handed me the baby, I fled. I couldn’t stand the disgust or anger in Pellian’s eyes. It was as if I’d betrayed him.” She closed her eyes. “I was so tired. Can you understand, Isabella? So tired of living but not truly doing so.

  “I don’t know how much time passed, or what happened when the door closed behind me. But I remember Nicholas saying I was to live in London with him.”

  “That sounds very much like Nicholas,” Isabella mused.

  “No law would deny Pellian his wife. Most think of a wife as her husband’s property. I lived in fear of him coming for me, but not once did he come looking, and when I received a letter of his death, I was happier for it.” She spun, facing Isabella. “Do you find me distasteful, knowing I wanted my husband dead?”

  “No!”

  Nodding, Virginia again stared out the window. “Those are not the actions of a man incapable of affection. Instead of disposing of a child, Nicholas gained me.”

  “Poor Nicholas,” Isabella said with a faint smile. She squeezed Virginia’s hand in understanding. Virginia was loyal to the man who had shown her compassion and offered his home. He loved, Isabella thought with hope. It was in everything he did for the people he called family. Family went beyond blood.

  Nicholas gained the trust of those in his service, loyalty and love from his family. Void of a title, he had built a world that surpassed those of his peers. Yet he did not take full pleasure in his success. He only gave the impression of being heartless. Isabella’s brows creased. There was a tension between Nicholas and her, she’d felt it, strong and wild in him.

  “There could be happiness in what you have…” Virginia’s grip tightened on her hand.

  Uncertainty replaced her smile. “I have nothing.” Isabella lowered herself to the velvet-upholstered chair and hugged her knees. Resting her hot cheek on her knees, she squeezed her eyes tight. “My family abandoned me. My marriage is a bargain struck to care for an innocent child. I can’t imagine happiness without love. My husband,” she whispered, tears forming on her lashes, “has no need for a wife. How could I possibly be happy?”

  Virginia glanced at her. “By letting go of the past,” she said simply. “You have family here. Though I must warn you, some are more temperamental than others. As for your husband…” Virginia tucked a lock of hair behind Isabella’s ear. “You shall have to win him.”

  Twenty Four

  Isabella only knew one person capable of guiding her in winning her husband: the Duchess of Kenningsly. The carriage stopped. “Thank you, Chambers,” she said as he helped her to the sidewalk. Glancing at the large wooden door, she climbed the stairs.

  In the past weeks, she’d made great progress gaining Cassie’s trust.

  The child had spent the first few days wondering when she’d leave. She’d awaken many mornings to find Cassie in her bed watching her sleep, as if to disturb her meant Isabella might vanish. It wasn’t until they’d shared a bed, the child tucked under the curve of her neck, that Cassie began to believe she wouldn’t leave again. Isabella hated that she’d put such doubt in the child’s mind. It was that determination to love Cassie as Nicholas did, and to demand more than a bargain, that drove her to the duchess’s home.

  She knocked, and when the door opened she stepped inside, startling the butler. It was the same butler from the party.

  “Lady Isabella Pennington?” His shoulders straightened.

  “Where is Lady Jane?”

  “In the garden, my lady. I’ll let her know she has a caller.”

  “That’s quite alright. I know the way.” She paused, staring at his arched brow of disapproval. “It’s Lady Isabella Ferguson now. You ought to know I’ve married since my last visit.” She took pleasure when the man paled, then headed in the direction of the garden.

  When she exited the double doors, Isabella’s steps faltered. The older lady was not alone. Daniel
sat with her, sharing what looked to be the remains of a late luncheon.

  He saw her first. “Lady Isabella, what a delightful surprise.”

  She curtsied when the duchess faced her. “I did not intend to disturb your meal.”

  “Nonsense.” Daniel grinned and eased his chair back, reaching her side in a few long strides. Linking their arms together, he guided them to the table, seating her beside him.

  “I agree; a delightful surprise,” the duchess said from her place across the table. She pulled the bell string. Moments later, fresh tea, cakes, and fruit lined the table. The servants were swift in replacing the soiled dishes.

  Isabella took a sip of tea, not sure where to begin. She’d expected to find the duchess alone. Lifting a lemon cake to her lips, she found the treat even more soft and flavorful than she had expected. Each bite released a new burst of lemon zest.

  Beside her, Daniel sampled his own pastry. They would not speak until she did, Isabella realized, or at least not until she’d gathered her thoughts. “It was most generous of you to entertain me at your party. And you, Daniel, for being a gentleman, honoring me with a dance,” she said, careful not to implicate him in her foiled plan on her wedding day.

  Daniel’s brows rose. His wicked smirk widened.

  The duchess huffed. “You did not come to thank me.”

  “Let me apologize, then, for leaving abruptly and spoiling your evening.”

  This time Daniel chuckled. “Hardly.”

  Leveling her eyes on Isabella, the older lady said, “Neither did you visit to apologize. I may not have seen you often, but you are your mother’s child. She did not apologize. I expect a ramble of regret from your father, or that sister of yours, but not from you.” She paused, brows drawn together. “And if I recall, you were swept away that evening.” Intelligent almond eyes moved to include Daniel. “More than once.”

  Isabella blushed.

  “Very unladylike,” Daniel teased, and then grunted when the side of Isabella’s slipper connected with his shin.

  “Romantic on the captain’s part.” The duchess sipped her tea.

  Daniel choked.

  “Romantic?” Isabella stared at the woman. “He was nothing short of barbaric.”

  “Tsk.” The older woman clicked her tongue. “He’s more gentleman than most.” Setting her cup down, she faced Isabella, her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Yet you’ve come to tame your barbarian.”

  “No!” Her face heated, she’d answered too quickly to be believed. “Only to win him,” she finally admitted.

  “He has not harmed you, then?” Daniel asked.

  “No, Daniel,” Isabella answered. He’d done nothing more than fulfilled their arrangement, giving her freedom, weeks of it. A freedom she no longer enjoyed.

  “Tell me of your captain,” the duchess said.

  “He’s not my…” she started, and then stopped when the older woman’s eyes met hers.

  “Do you mean to go on as you’ve started? Many married women live separate from their husbands. Neither dallies in the other’s affairs. If so, one must learn not to look too closely at his misdeeds, and a strong stomach is necessary for gossip.”

  Closing her eyes, Isabella whispered, “No more gossip.”

  The older woman nodded. “Do you truly want him, then, and your marriage?”

  “Yes.”

  “Claim him as yours or another will. Those are not mere words, child, they require actions.”

  Picking up her napkin from the table, Isabella passed the material from finger to finger. “He’s a stubborn man, but not so much so that he can’t see reason. He’s honest and fair. And though the world sees him as ruthless and common, and he acts in kind, Nicholas has never been anything but generous to me. He’s also had a sordid upbringing and embraces family as a result.” Her eyes kept fixed on the napkin.

  “Ah, Lady Isabella, I do believe your captain will do.” The duchess smiled. “A man strong enough to face storms at sea wants to know he’s captured his lady. At the very least, we can let him think so.”

  Isabella flushed.

  “When I first saw my Henry, I knew. While the other wallflowers waited to get their dance cards filled, I decided to help mine along. In spite of my chaperone’s protest, I wrote Henry’s name twice, filling the spots for the first and last dance.” The duchess chuckled. “I wanted him to remember me. I marched to his side and showed him my card.”

  Isabella easily pictured a younger lady being bold. If her no-fuss approach to aging were anything to go by, her younger self would have been lovely, easily catching the eye of every man in the room. “Did he point out your error?”

  “He was too much of a gentleman. He quickly realized that other men were smitten with me. As we danced to that final song, I allowed his hand to wander down my back.”

  Daniel coughed. “Aunt!”

  “Rest his soul. To the day he died, your uncle thought himself clever.” The duchess winked. “Daniel, be a dear and fetch my wooden box from the cabinet.”

  “You never remarried,” Isabella said when they were alone.

  “No one could replace my Henry. Our son Jack and nephew Daniel fill my days. Not to mention the charities and numerous social gatherings.”

  Daniel returned, setting a box no larger than a cigar case on the table. The older woman opened it, sorting through the contents until she found the item she sought. “Even as a little girl you were loyal to a fault once your heart became involved, Isabella.” The older woman slipped a card between them.

  “Your mother was much the same. Unlike your father, frills alone will not sway Captain Ferguson. He’s married you to get ahead of men who have no intent on opening the doors of society.” The duchess’s lips curved, teasing the laugh lines around her mouth. “I do believe you have the wit to out-fox him.”

  Sipping her tea, Isabella hoped the older woman was correct.

  “Do you know,” the duchess said, her eyes dancing. “The warehouse beside your husband’s has gone on the market?”

  Her fingers stilled around the cup.

  “Don’t you think being captain and landlord would appeal to your husband’s business senses?”

  “Yes, but…how would I go about acquiring it?”

  The duchess smiled coyly. “What a lovely coincidence that I’m friends with the owner’s wife.”

  Isabella returned the duchess’s smile. “Marvelous indeed.”

  Twenty Five

  Nicholas stood on the main deck of his ship and overlooked the crew as they steadily approached London’s docks. His fingers tightened around the rail. Would Isabella be waiting for him?

  The months had not gone quickly. Nor did he forget his wife. Each day the memory of her slender frame writhing beneath him was maddening, and his current state did not lighten his mood as he felt the ache of his traitorous manhood.

  He shifted, resting one boot against the rail, and cursed when his breeches tightened around him. Eyes closed, he felt the wind against his face and allowed it to ruffle his hair. Nicholas hoped it would cool his blood, but only the warmth of a woman could do that.

  Isabella. He needed Isabella, his wife, to quench his needs. He gasped, easily remembering her innocent seductiveness as she had unrobed on their wedding night. Her long hair was a welcomed caress as it cascaded down her back. At that moment, he had envied those strands. Wished they were wrapped around his fingers as she submitted to her most secret desires. For weeks he’d imagined his hands in her hair as he guided her to her knees. What would her mouth feel like around him?

  Uttering another curse, Nicholas jerked away from the rail. He’d been in such a foul mood the last few days that even Harold stayed clear. He regretted his treatment of the crew and vowed to make it up to them.

  Filling his lungs, he shouted, “Lower the sails!”

  The shore line came into view. On his command, the men moved into action. They were almost home. More shouts echoed in his ear as the first sail lowered.
/>   “Captain!”

  Nicholas spun. “Damn it, man, lower the sail.” They were moving too fast, the winds guiding them firmly into the bloody docks.

  “The ropes are stuck, sir. We’re fetching a lad to climb.”

  “The sandbags. Drop the bags.” Even as he uttered the words, Nicholas knew it would not be enough.

  Heart hammering, he scanned the distance to the docks. There was no time. They would crash. God help him, but he had too much pride to crash upon his own dock. “My rifle,” he ordered, catching the gun easily as Harold tossed it from behind the wheel.

  Taking aim, he took a deep breath. One shot. The weapon relaxed in his grip. The wind calculated for, his finger flexed, squeezed.

  They watched as the wheel holding the rope spun and set it free. The sail dropped and a roar of cheers went up as the ship slid like a slain beast into dock.

  Merchants gathered. There was laughter. Men, women, and children stood close. Wives awaited their husbands’ return. The dock was crowded. Shop keepers tallied and noted the goods as the crew unloaded.

  “We’ll sort it at the warehouse, fellows,” he said, slapping Harold on the back.

  Wheat, grain, and silks. It was a good haul.

  Harold lit a cigar and inhaled deeply before blowing a whirl of smoke. He handed the cigar to Nicholas. “See you at home.”

  Nicholas followed Harold’s gaze and found Virginia standing among the crowd. “I’ll keep your share,” Nicholas called after his cousin in amusement.

  “You wouldn’t live long enough to spend it,” Harold warned, not slowing his long strides as he pushed his way through the crowd. He had no doubt being cooped up with Judith had something to do with Harold’s hurried pace.

  Smiling, Nicholas rolled the cigar between his fingers. He took a long drag then released it into the air. They always shared a smoke when they returned home. This was the first time the act lasted minutes. “Here.” Without shifting his gaze, he passed the cigarette to whoever stood to his right.