by Merry Farmer
A TEMPTING VOYAGE
MERRY FARMER
A TEMPTING VOYAGE
Copyright ©2017 by Merry Farmer
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill (the miracle-worker)
ASIN:
Paperback:
ISBN-13: 9781979612708
ISBN-10: 1979612706
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Created with Vellum
For Cissie Patterson
Who told me I had to write Captain Tennant’s story
She was right!
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
NEW YORK CITY HARBOR – 1879
C aptain Albert Tennant stood on the deck of his beloved ship, the R.M.S. Kestrel, hands behind his back, shoulders squared, staring out at the ocean as it stretched away from the bustling harbor. The sooner his passengers finished boarding and his crew could get the voyage underway, the better. He’d spent too long in the fussy, unfamiliar port and was aching to feel the cold, salt air surrounding him, to be free of the constrictions of land and buildings and people. He longed for the peace of sea and sky, even though it was January, and the sense of purpose that they gave him.
Although, if he were being honest, that sense of purpose was flimsy and elusive at best these days. He fought the urge to pace off the restless energy that had him in its iron grip and turned his attention away from the sea and toward the passengers making their way up the gangplank. At just over fifty years old, he’d known his share of impatience and agitation in his time. He’d fought in a war, built a shipping empire with his partners, and even spent a wearying season or two taking up the position in the House of Lords he was entitled to. But the tightly-coiled sense that something was coming, that something had to change or he would go mad, that itched through him now was entirely new, and unwelcome.
“Captain.” Renshaw, his First Officer, approached him with a steady and efficient gait. He saluted, and when Albert acknowledged him, went on with, “All steerage passengers have been boarded and are settling in nicely. The steerage gangplank is being stored as we speak. First-class should be all aboard momentarily.”
“Thank you, Renshaw. Good job.” Albert nodded, and Renshaw marched on to finish with his duties, rubbing his hands together to ward off the cold.
Albert turned to watch the activity on the first-class gangplank. Perhaps that was his problem. It had been years since he’d had more than a supervisory hand in the running of his ship. True, everything, down to the smallest details of the voyages he made, were organized and directed by him, but he hadn’t hauled a line or even steered the ship for years. He’d prided himself on hiring experienced, hard-working crews, never considering that that would make him obsolete.
Obsolete. He grumbled at the thought. His friends would scoff at the word. Peter deVere, Armand Pearson, and Malcolm Campbell were busy fighting away in the House of Lords, intent on seeing their cause of broader rights for women made into law. Alexander Croydon was reportedly shaking himself out of a long period of melancholy and looking for a wife at last. Poor Basil Allenby had gone missing after that incident in Hyde Park, but Basil had always been the odd egg in their bunch and was probably up to his ears in books somewhere. And while none of them were as spry as they once had been, while there was gray in their hair and lines on their faces, they weren’t out of the race yet. Albert’s years at sea had kept him as fit and strong as a man half his age. So why did he feel—
The complaint sailed right out of his head at the sight of the woman storming up the first-class gangplank. Storming was the only word for it. She held her head high, her tan, oval face turned to the sky. Her dark hair hung loose down her back, and the russet, wool coat she wore over a red dress only added to the impression that she was full of fire. She carried a large suitcase as though it weighed nothing at all, and ignored the stares of other passengers, stepping aboard as though the voyage could finally start now that she was there.
Unable to help himself, Albert left his position on the deck and went to meet her. His heart beat double-time, in spite of his best efforts to ignore it. The woman was even more beautiful up close, tall to the point of being regal, and with just enough meat on her bones to give a man ideas.
“Madam,” he said, bowing as he reached her. “Welcome aboard. Captain Albert Tennant, at your service.”
He straightened, and for the barest fraction of a second, so short a time that he wasn’t certain he’d seen it, apprehension flashed in the woman’s eyes. It was gone in an instant, replaced by a tempting smile and a twitch of her eyebrow that set Albert’s mind flying to a thousand places it shouldn’t have upon meeting any woman.
“Capitán,” the woman said with the tiniest hint of a Spanish accent. She extended her gloved hand, which he took readily. “Thank you so much for giving me passage to England.”
Passage? Albert’s mind raced through the short list of passengers he was transporting for free. Surely this regal, powerful woman couldn’t be—
“On behalf of Bonnie, Mr. Gunn, and Mrs. Strong, I can’t thank you enough,” the woman continued.
Albert worked to hide his surprise. “You are quite welcome my dear…Miss Ortega?”
The woman smiled warmly. “Yes. Domenica Ortega. It truly is a pleasure to meet you.”
Albert was ready to laugh at his reaction to Domenica. He couldn’t believe that she was a former whore, like the other women he’d escorted across the ocean as a favor to Theophilus Gunn, another friend from his long-gone past. Domenica didn’t have the wide-eyed, hopeful, just slightly doubtful air that most of the other women had had. She stood on his deck as though she deserved to be there as much as the titled passengers or wealthy Americans on holiday. And unlike the others, she wasn’t trying to subdue an obviously sensual nature. Everything about Domenica dared him to take her on.
And yet, there had been that split-second of fear in her eyes.
With a start, Albert realized he was still holding her hand. He let go and cleared his throat. “The pleasure is all mine,” he said, recovering his manners. “I am more than happy to see you on to your new life. Theophilus Gunn saved my life and the lives of my friends once, so it is the least I could do to transport you to your new home.”
“I’ve been looking forward to it for months.” A burst of excitement seeped through the proud image Domenica portrayed, giving Albert a glimpse into what she must have been like as a younger woman. “But your ship.” She turned and glanced up at the tall, steel masts and their lines, and the thick smokestacks. “I cannot decide if it’s a thing of the past or of the future.”
Albert chuckled. “She’s a tough old bird, this Kestrel. She’s modern in that she runs on steam with a screw propeller rather than an old-fashioned water wheel, but she still has the capability for sails in a pinch.”
“Ah.” Domenica nodded and turned her smile from the ship’s rigging to Albert. “So it brings the best of what is tried and true to everything new and modern, much like it’s capitán?”
Of all things, Albert blushed. He hadn’t blushed in a decade. “I suppose one could look at it that way.” It was alarming how fast this woman of fire had turned him back into a stammering schoolboy. And not entirely unwelcome.
“I look forward to the journey,” she said, dark brow flickering, flirting openly.
Albert scrambled to flirt back, even though it had been years since he’d flirted at all, but was thwarted by a commotion on the gangplank.
“You there. Help us.”
Albert frowned the moment he recognized the voice ordering his crew around. Halfway up the gangplank stood none other than Lord William deVere, nephew of his old friend. And lord help them all, it took only an instant to see that William hadn’t changed one bit from the petty, arrogant young man he’d been last time Albert had seen him.
“I won’t stand for this kind of treatment,” William went on. “You should all be jumping to assist myself. And Lady Patterson,” he added as an afterthought.
“Oh, lord,” Albert sighed. He sent an apologetic look Domenica’s way. “Do excuse me for a moment.”
“Of course.” Domenica nodded, her expression a combination of graciousness and curiosity.
Albert was reluctant to leave her, but if William got it into his head that he could cause trouble during the crossing, they would all suffer. The young bastard was traveling for free, as a favor to Peter, and Albert wasn’t about to let him get above himself. He headed to the end of the gangplank, ready to do battle.
Domenica let out a breath, telling herself that she could stop fretting. She’d made it aboard the ship, and even though the voyage meant that, yet again, she was losing everything she’d built in favor of a completely uncertain future, for some reason, Captain Albert Tennant set her at ease. She should have gone on to find her cabin and settle in, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the distinguished, older man. Or the scene that was unfolding on the gangplank.
The oddest couple Domenica had ever seen was making their way onto the ship. Marching in front was a young, handsome, obviously noble man in a fur-rimmed coat. A few feet behind him, an elderly woman with snow-white hair was being helped up the gangplank by a shivering maid. At least, that’s what it looked like at first sight. On close look, it appeared that the elderly woman was frowning and shaking her head, and attempting to push her shivering, cowering maid along as the younger woman hid her face. The maid stared over the edge of the narrow gangplank at the icy water of the harbor with pale face and lips that were almost blue with cold and fear, but the young nobleman ignored both of them, and the porter who brought up the rear, whose arms were filled with luggage.
“There’d better damn well be hot tea—or even better, scotch—in my cabin when I get there,” he growled as he approached Captain Tennant.
“Lord William,” Captain Tennant grumbled in return.
“And I shall require something warm and nourishing as well, seeing as we were forced to abandon our luncheon.” Lord William sent a peevish look at the crewmen who waited on the dock, looking anxious to start the journey.
Captain Tennant ignored Lord William, and instead started down the gangplank to meet the elderly woman and her maid. “Lady Patterson, allow me to help you.”
“I don’t need any help.” The woman snapped. She blinked, raking Captain Tennant up and down with a gaze. “Although you do have such strong and manly arms. Perhaps I do feel a little…weak.” She let out a dramatic—and utterly fake—sigh of fear, then sagged into Captain Tennant’s arms with a satisfied grin.
Her maid continued to flinch, and lifted the collar of her coat to hide her face, as if not being able to see or be seen would keep her safe.
“I can assure you, this gangplank is as secure as they come.” Captain Tennant spoke to the maid. “If you’re too overcome, feel free to grab hold of my coat as we make our way.”
Domenica tilted her head to the side, finding the comment odd. Until she watched Captain Tennant loop his arm around the elderly lady’s back and all but carry her up the gangplank, much to the woman’s delight. A twinge of something warm squeezed Domenica’s heart, and a smile that had nothing to do with the bold and forward persona she wore touched her lips. She could count on one hand the times in her life when she’d witnessed a man selflessly help a woman with no expectation of reward. The only men she’d dealt with who were as selfless and kind were men like Howard Haskell and Theophilus Gunn. Which made her all the more curious about Captain Tennant. Her friends, who had made the ocean crossing earlier in the year, had said only good things about him.
“If I’m not mistaken, I think I’ve found my something warm already.”
Domenica barely heard the comment and had no idea it was addressed to her until the young nobleman was almost pressed against her side. She flinched when she realized he was close enough to grab her and staring at her as if ready to sink his teeth into her flesh. Half a second later, she slammed the mask she wore back into place.
“Are you talking to me, cariño?” She rested one hand on her hip and stared directly at Lord William in a way designed to both tempt and intimidate. It was a look she had perfected in her years working in the bordellos of California before finding her way to Bonnie’s Place.
Unlike the men her boldness had frightened off in the past, Lord William seemed eager to take up the implied challenge. “I most certainly am.” He took her free hand, bowing over it and kissing her glove, then glancing up to her with wolfish eyes. “Lord William deVere, at your service.”
“Lord William.” Domenica pretended to be surprised and impressed, even though she’d just heard Captain Tennant greet him as such. It was always safer to make a man feel looked up to, even if he was the scum of the earth. “My, my.”
“There you are, Lady Patterson.” Beyond Lord William, Captain Tennant had just seen the elderly lady and her maid safely aboard. “You’ve a solid deck under your feet and a cozy cabin awaits you.”
Domenica’s heart went from prickly and guarded to soft as a lamb as she ignored Lord William in favor of Captain Tennant. She kept her eye on him as he walked with the ladies toward the entrance to the corridor containing the first-class cabins, even though Lord William continued to talk to her.
“Might I have the pleasure of your name, my dear? Since we are to be thrust together in such close quarters for the next fortnight.”
Captain Tennant glanced to Domenica. Their eyes met. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling. The captain smiled back, and for a moment it felt more like July than January.
At least until he noticed Lord William hovering by her side. He said something quiet to Lady Patterson, then left her to the care of her maid and marched toward Domenica.
“Miss Ortega, is this man bothering you?” he asked, firm but not threatening Lord William…yet.
Old instinct kicked in, and Domenica laughed. “Oh no, sir. Lord William was just introducing himself.”
“And waiting for an introduction in return,” Lord William said.
A twist of what looked like protectiveness hardened the lines of Captain Tennant’s already firm jaw. “William, might I introduce you to Miss Domenica Ortega, whom I have been tasked with escorting safely to London.”
Safely. Coming from a man like Captain Tennant, Domenica believed it. She found herself shifting closer to his side.
“Domenica,” Lord William said, a strange look coming to his eyes. “What a beautiful and unusual name. I’m certain I’ve heard it before.”
Domenica swallowed the burst of panic that closed her throat. There was no way a lord from England could
know who she was, but she was suddenly cursing herself for declining Bonnie’s offer to set her up with a new name for her new life. Her worry wasn’t eased by the fact that she’d heard the name deVere somewhere as well.
“Now that we have been introduced,” she said, taking control of the situation, “you must introduce me to your lovely mother.” She glanced past Lord William to the elderly woman, who had paused to give one of the porters instructions about her luggage.
Lord William barked a laugh. “She’s not my mother.”
Domenica blinked in surprise. Captain Tennant dropped into a scowl. “Lady Patterson is not his mother,” he repeated.
“Ah, she is your amada, then?” she teased.
“We have become quite…close,” Lord William answered.
Domenica’s eyes went wide, and she had an impossible time not bursting into laughter. Surely, the young man couldn’t mean it. Lady Patterson was old enough to be his grandmother. And yet, sensing they were talking about her, the lady in question glanced in their direction and gave Lord William an overly fond smile and wriggled her gloved fingers at him in a wave.
Domenica stole a sideways peek at Captain Tennant. He glanced at her at the same time, then rolled his eyes just enough to give her a glimpse into the story behind the odd moment they were sharing. There were details to be filled in, but Lady Patterson was obviously wealthy, which meant that, in all likelihood, Lord William was one of those noblemen who had lost everything but his title.
“Chiquito,” she laughed. “There are other ways to skin the golden cat.”
Captain Tennant’s lips twitched with mirth as they exchanged another look.
Lord William lost some of his bravado. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”
She was beyond certain that he could. She swatted his arm, still giggling, and said, “Where I come from, men in desperate straits try their luck at the card table rather than the dinner table.”