Captain of Her Heart: Captain of Her HeartA Father's Sins

by Lily George

  Reverend Kirk rose from the pew and looked down at Brookes, his face reflecting the strength and wisdom of a true man of faith. “Shall I stay with you?”

  Brookes thought for a moment. “I wish to be alone, I think.”

  “Very well, I will leave you here in peace. Stay as long as you wish. And if I don’t see you before then, I shall look forward to officiating at your wedding in February. Please convey my best wishes to your fiancée.” Reverend Kirk then exited the sanctuary through the side door, leaving Brookes by himself in the hushed and holy space.

  He drew a deep breath and bowed his head. All he could do was thank God over and over for the many blessings in his life—for his survival at Waterloo; for Stoames, who rescued him; for Aunt Katherine, who loved him; for Sophie, who rejected him; for Charlie Cantrill, who helped him; but most of all, for Harriet, who saved him. Harriet saved him.

  Driving home in the late afternoon, Brookes watched the sun’s rays touch the vista with a golden hue. The chill of autumn was already in the air. He felt the cool air touch his face, but he was still too warm in heart for it to matter. He was a changed man, and the profound gratitude suffusing him would keep him cozy through the bitter winter ahead.

  Upon reaching the Park, he tossed the reins to Daniel, who came running to meet him. He strode up the stairs and into the house as quickly as he could. Harriet was there, he could sense her presence. He must see her at once. Throwing open the library door, he spied Harriet, Sophie and Aunt Katherine huddled together on the settee, staring at fashion plates. In unison, they glanced up at him, their faces registering shock from his hasty arrival. But he only cared about one. He drew Harriet to him, crushing her in an embrace, leaving her breathless.

  “John! Really!” Aunt Katherine swatted at his arm with one of the plates. “Do control yourself.”

  Brooked pulled away from Harriet but kept her pressed tightly to his chest, almost afraid she would disappear. “Indulge me, Aunt. I am bestowing my gratitude on the woman who saved my life.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Brookes sorted through the correspondence which Bunting laid on his desk that morning on a silver salver. He leaned back in his chair and flicked through the envelopes, hoping to find a letter from Cantrill. Since their return from Bath, he and Cantill enjoyed a lively correspondence, and Brookes always looked forward to the other man’s letters with healthy anticipation.

  He paused. The handwriting on this envelope was unfamiliar. He plucked it out of the stack and peered at it closely. He broke the seal, scanning the contents, his heart skipping a beat. It was from Samuel Eagleton, Harriet’s publisher.

  Dear Sir:

  We are most pleased to accept the manuscript you submitted, entitled Call to Arms: A Soldier’s Memory of Waterloo. Please inform Miss Handley that we will publish the manuscript and distribute it if she bears the cost of printing, which should cost twenty pounds.

  If this is agreeable to Miss Handley, please send word by letter and include the price of the printing costs. At that time we will schedule the rewriting and proofing process.

  Yours sincerely,

  Samuel Eagleton and Co.

  Brookes dropped the letter on the desk and ran his hand over his brow. Harriet’s dream had come true. Her book was going to be published. The book that she had written for him, her declaration of love, as she called it. He glanced down at the lower left-hand corner of his desk, which held the books he purchased back from Whitstone’s. He intended to save them as a gift for their wedding day, which was still three months away.

  Brookes absently ran a thumbnail over his lower lip. Harriet promised to visit later in the afternoon for tea with Aunt Katherine and to work on her trousseau. Maybe she would be so elated, he could sneak a little kiss.

  Stoames entered the library, whistling cheerfully. “Captain, I am done with polishing your boots, and thought I would work out in the stables the rest of the day if you don’t require anything else.”

  “Of course, Stoames.” He cleared his throat. “If you can catch Miss Harriet before my aunt claims her this afternoon, I should very much like to speak with her.”

  Stoames nodded. “Anything wrong?”

  “No, quite the contrary. I have excellent news for her. The publisher wrote today, and he has accepted her book. Don’t let on anything, I want to surprise her.”

  Stoames grinned. “I won’t tell a soul. That is wonderful news. And to tell the truth, Captain, I am eager to see it in print. I think she will not only spin a good yarn, but it’s good to know it will be a truthful and honest tale, too.”

  Brookes pressed his lips together and nodded. “I agree, Stoames. That’s one of the reasons I am so proud of Harriet. Her book is honest, but it’s also a gripping story at the same time.”

  “I cannot wait to see how happy she will be.” Stoames paused in the threshold and turned back toward Brookes. “As soon as she arrives, I will make sure she comes straightaway to you.”

  Harriet steeled herself, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders as she walked into the courtyard at Brookes Park. Her afternoon planning sessions with Aunt Katherine were so demanding. If only the old woman possessed a little less energy, perhaps then Harriet could keep the pace she set. Aunt Katherine was placing great importance on Harriet’s trousseau. Harriet had planned to continue wearing her old cotton gowns until sometime after the wedding. But Aunt Katherine assured her that it simply wasn’t done, and pressed the money for an elegant trousseau on Harriet as a wedding gift. Only after much debate with Rose and Sophie did Harriet finally capitulate and accept Aunt Katherine’s present.

  Harriet passed the fountain and grasped her skirts as she began to walk up the steps. She had no wedding gift to give her husband, either. John paid for every part of their wedding himself, and she could offer him nothing in return. Even A Call to Arms remained unpublished.

  Besides the material obligations, there were the little favors she asked of the kindly old woman and John to consider as well. Aunt Katherine was working to secure a position as a seamstress for Sophie among her many gentry friends in Bath. And Rose was joining the staff at Brookes Park upon Harriet’s marriage. Well—John himself offered that last favor, and which she had accepted with alacrity, and a few grateful kisses.

  She paused, looking up at the handsome facade of Brookes Park. The crushing weight of indebtedness threatened to overwhelm her. Would she ever measure up to its quiet dignity? Aunt Katherine made being John’s wife seem so…difficult, so expensive. If only she could have come to Brookes as a Handley should, with a proper dowry. Not that she minded being poor, of course. But John paid for everything, and she had only herself to offer in return.

  The crunch of boots on gravel made her look up, expecting to see her beloved. But the boots in question belonged to Stoames, who strode across the courtyard, waving a hand in her direction.

  “Miss Harriet, the captain wishes to see you right away. I think you’ll find him in the library.”

  “Is anything the matter, Stoames?”

  “No, Miss Harriet. He wants a private word before his aunt claims you.” Stoames grinned.

  Harriet quirked her mouth in a rueful half smile and nodded. “I will see the captain directly. Thank you, Stoames.”

  Why was John asking to see her? Was Aunt Katherine spending too much of his money? Was the household staff at the Park too full, and he couldn’t take on Rose after all? She knocked on the closed library door, bracing herself for the worst.

  “Come in.” John’s voice didn’t sound stern or alarmed. Harriet breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps everything would be all right after all.

  She entered, shutting the door behind her without making a sound. Aunt Katherine had sharp hearing, after all. “Whatever is the matter, John?”

  Brookes cleared his thro
at. “A letter for you.” He stretched a sheet of foolscap toward her.

  She scanned over its contents once, then once more. In blank disbelief, she looked up at John, trying to read his expression. “They accepted it?” she questioned, and heard the uncertainty evident in her voice.

  “Yes, my darling. If you like their terms, I will write to them today.” He grinned, love shining in his eyes. “What do you think?”

  Harriet dropped her gaze to the page again, but the letters swam together in a single line. “I think—yes.” Then her heart plummeted to her boots as one particular line stood out from the rest. “Twenty pounds? I don’t have that much left. I had to pay for Mama’s burial, and our expenses, and I am down to precious little. Do you think they would wait until I found a way to earn the money again?”

  Brookes laughed. “Don’t be silly, darling. I’ll pay for the printing costs. Do not worry about them. I am only too happy to do so, to see your declaration of love for me in print.”

  Waves of heat rose in Harriet’s cheeks. Another crushing weight added to the growing pile of debts on her shoulders. “Oh, John. This is dreadful. My only wedding gift to you—paid out of your own pocket.”

  The ground underneath Brookes shifted. He thought he knew the terrain, but here he was, sinking into the mire, as surely as Caesar had sunk into the muddy field at Waterloo. He grasped for a sure footing. “Harriet, what’s wrong? Why are you upset?”

  Harriet rose unsteadily from her chair, pacing the Oriental rug, wearing a little trail into its heavy nap. “You are paying for everything, John, and I have nothing to give in return. I feel so ashamed.”

  He shook his head, a frown creasing his brow. “Harriet, what are you talking about? What’s amiss?”

  “I am indebted to your family for everything. Trousseau, servants, placement for my sister.” Her voice caught on a sob but she continued her pacing. “And now the publication of my book. Honestly, I shall never repay it all, and it drives me to distraction.”

  Her declaration caused him to draw a sharp breath. He eyed her warily. How best to untangle this mess, without ending up with a broken engagement?

  He began by picking his way out of the mire, point by point.

  “Harriet, it matters not to me if you have a fancy trousseau. Indeed, we will be spending most of our days here at the Park. You aren’t marrying into society by marrying me. I am a soldier, a farmer and the owner of a mill. I seriously doubt there will be many soirees in our lives. If Auntie has impressed upon you otherwise, I will speak to her.”

  Harriet stopped pacing, and turned to face him. At this slight encouragement, he continued.

  “I need Rose here. We are in short supply of excellent servants, and I value her services. And I honor her commitment to you girls. She was like a second mother to you, and I want her to have a secure position. It’s true, I am encouraging my aunt to help Sophie find employment. I think we both feel a dose of independence would be good for your sister, am I right?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, her head remained bowed.

  “I don’t know what you mean when you speak of a wedding gift. I had expected nothing from you. I need no trinket to celebrate our wedding. It is the greatest honor of my life, Harriet, and I don’t require anything more than to hear you say, ‘I will.’” He walked over to the settee and sat down, patting the cushion beside him. “Come, sit.” He expected her to remain standing, and his heart pounded gratefully when she sat down beside him.

  “I want the book to be published because I believe in you. You are a good writer—the only one I trusted with my story. You did all the work, Harriet—writing for hours upon hours when anyone else would have given up. I cannot—I will not—let that dedication go simply for a few pounds. Whether you married me or not, I would still pay for the publication, because you are a true authoress. You deserve to be published.”

  She looked at him, tears welling in her eyes anew. After a moment, she spoke. “Thank you, John.”

  “Don’t cry,” he admonished, tracing a finger across her cheek. “We’ve had too many tears these past few months.”

  She gave a little smile and brushed the back of her hand across her eyes.

  “Now, what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine. There is no division of property between us, do you understand? From now on, everything is ours, together.”

  Harriet gave a shaky sigh. “I feel badly because I am bringing you so little, John. All I have is myself. That is why I became so distressed.” She blushed deeply and hid her face on his shoulder.

  He shook his head and drew her into his arms. “You’ve given me more than you will ever know, Harriet. In fact, I feel poor because all I can offer you is material wealth. You have given me so much. Not only have you loved me, maimed as I am, you have given me a reason to keep on living. Most precious of all, you have restored my faith. You saved me from despair and ruin. I shudder to think what I would be without you.”

  They held each other in the dim afternoon light, Brookes’s heart swelling with love and gratitude. From upstairs, an elderly and imperious voice rang down. “Bunting? Bunting! Has Miss Harriet arrived yet?”

  Harriet drew away from Brookes with a shaky laugh. “Will you make good on your promise to speak to Aunt Katherine?”

  He nodded. “I will speak to her immediately and ask her to scale everything back to a more moderate degree. And you? Do you want me to inform your publisher that he can go forth with the publication of A Call to Arms?”

  She nodded, laughing. “Yes. We have a deal.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Harriet stood in the sacristy of the church, waiting for her cue to march down the aisle and stand beside Brookes. Stealing a nervous glance in the looking glass, she tucked a stray strand of hair back into place under her bonnet. She ran a hand over her gown, smoothing it down. Sophie had outdone herself. The gown was everything Harriet desired. The bodice was cut low enough to frame the sapphire necklace that Brookes had given her the night before, but still modest enough that Harriet felt alluring, never exposed. The sapphires glowed in the multicolored light cast by the stained glass windows.

  Harriet stepped back a pace and tugged at her gloves. Thank goodness for them—they disguised her sweaty palms. Though she was prepared—even anxious—to take her place beside Brookes as his wife, the enormity of the step was a little overwhelming.

  Sophie poked her head around the corner. “We’re ready to begin. Oh, Hattie, you are beautiful.” She scurried toward Harriet and gave her an impulsive kiss on the cheek. “May you be this happy always.”

  Harriet returned the embrace. “Thank you, darling.”

  “Come, they are waiting.” Sophie led Harriet out of the sacristy and into the sanctuary.

  The small chapel was almost empty, but that’s the way she and Brookes wanted it. Harriet notified the Handley clan of her mother’s passing, and informed them they could keep the twenty-five pounds per annum they had been sending to Mama. But she did not invite the family to her wedding. Forgiveness would come later, when she had time to heal from her mother’s death.

  Only Charlie Cantrill, Aunt Katherine, Rose and Stoames were bidden to attend. They clustered together at a pew in the front of the church. Sophie, who preceded Harriet with measured steps, sank into the pew beside Rose and beamed up at her sister. Harriet’s heart glowed. This little handful of people meant more to her than all the riches in England.

  Harriet glanced up at Brookes, who chose to wear his soldier’s dress uniform for the occasion. The sight of him took Harriet’s breath away. Her hand trembled a little in his grasp. He was so handsome and brave and…imposing. Was that the right word? She thought she had worked out Brookes’s character as she wrote the book. But her work had only started. She would be discovering Brookes anew for the rest of her life, and the
prospect warmed her to the tips of her toes.

  She turned her attention to Reverend Kirk, who beamed tenderly at her, as a father might to his own daughter.

  “Dearly beloved,” he intoned, and Harriet smiled up at Brookes. He grinned in return.

  Brookes caught his breath when Harriet turned her lovely face toward his. Joy and hope were reflected in her countenance, and he longed to see that expression on her face the rest of their days. He attempted to focus on the words of the service, but the sparkle of his mother’s sapphires around Harriet’s neck mesmerized him. They were as natural on her as flowers in a field.

  “It was ordained for the mutual society, help and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity…” Reverend Kirk continued. The words snapped Brookes back to attention. He conveyed that same message to Harriet during their disagreement about her book three months ago. He slanted his gaze down at her, and found her staring at him with love shining in her eyes. The certainty that Harriet was marrying him, and would be there beside him for the rest of his days, hit him full force. He no longer feared falling asleep, or waking in a cold sweat, for Harriet was next to him, and would be for the rest of his life.

  He realized with a start that Reverend Kirk had paused. Brookes grasped Harriet’s right hand in his own. “I, John, take thee, Harriet, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward…” The old-fashioned words were difficult to say when nervous, but he had practiced them over and over for months. He hoped he sounded steady and assured.

  He loosened his hold on Harriet, and she grasped his right hand in hers, repeating the vow. Her quiet but clear voice and her steady hand never betrayed a nervous tremble. They loosened hands again, and Brookes withdrew the simple gold band from his vest pocket. He selected the circlet especially for Harriet, no heirloom hand-me-downs this time. He desired to give his wife something entirely her own.