Catching Captain Nash

by Campbell, Anna

  “To see Kerenza?”

  “Yes.”

  Silas smiled. “She’s just like you. Without her, I don’t know how we’d have survived losing you.”

  “So you don’t mind?”

  “If you go to Woodley? Hell, no. It’s your home as much as mine.”

  Not true. But nice of his brother to say so, nonetheless. “Thank you.”

  “Getting away from London will do you good.”

  “I feel I’m deserting you.”

  Silas sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Being with a loving family asks too much of you right now. I understand—at least as much as someone who hasn’t suffered as you have can understand. I saw your face when you came in last night. That crowd nearly undid you.”

  Robert’s lips twisted in self-derision. “I’m better than I was, thanks to Morwenna. Give me a year or so, and I might even get back to normal.”

  “There’s no rush,” Silas said calmly. “You’re home, and heaven has granted us the chance to see you again. We can sort everything else out as we need to. The main thing is to return you to health and happiness. And if my sparkling company isn’t the answer, I can bear it.”

  “Thanks, old man,” Robert said. He realized with a surprise quite how careful his family had been with him since he’d returned, and he was devilish grateful.

  “I’m damned proud of you, Rob.” Deep feeling thickened Silas’s voice. “I’m proud of your brilliant naval career, and that you had the good sense to marry that fine woman, and that you have such a cracker of a daughter. I’m proud that you managed to get through your imprisonment, mostly in one piece. And I’m bloody beside myself with pride that you didn’t punch that officious Admiralty pen-pusher on the nose this afternoon.”

  Robert gave a grunt of grim amusement that hid how his brother’s heartfelt declaration had moved him. There was no man he admired more than Silas. It was a shock to hear that Silas admired him in return.

  “I came damned close.”

  “Believe me, I know. When that pompous idiot said you hadn’t been working for the navy when you were in jail, and therefore shouldn’t receive your back pay, you looked ready to box his ears.”

  “He nearly didn’t make it out of his office.” The brothers shared a glance of perfect understanding. “Vile worm he was.”

  Silas looked thoughtful. “You know, it’s too early for you to make any decisions, but have you given consideration to your future? You and Morwenna are more than welcome to make your home at Woodley. The house is so big, we could set you up in private quarters in the east wing. And Kerenza would enjoy growing up with her cousins.”

  “Thank you, Silas,” Robert said. “But I’d rather go out on my own. And I hope Kerenza will soon have plenty of brothers and sisters to keep her company.”

  “Hmm,” his brother said, as if he understood exactly how mad Morwenna and Robert were for each other. Damn Silas, he probably did. There had never been anything slow about him. “That means you have plans?”

  If only Silas knew how many lonely hours Robert had devoted to counting the mistakes he’d made and how he’d remedy them, if heaven ever offered him the chance. The miracle was that he’d lived to see a time when he might achieve what he wanted. “Of course.”

  “So if you’re not coming to live at Woodley Park—and I think you should take my offer seriously—do you want to go back to the Portsmouth house? I know you and Morwenna are fond of it, but if you want a big family, it will rapidly become too small. Now you’re leaving the navy, there’s no need to live so close to port.”

  “I think...” Robert paused. Odd that even with his brother, he felt shy articulating his amorphous hopes for the rest of his life. “I think I’d like to buy a small estate somewhere and farm. I’ve got prize money and my legacy from Papa. I’d like to give Kerenza and any other children we have a life like the one you and I had growing up. Loving parents. Freedom to discover who they are. All on a smaller scale than Woodley Park, obviously.”

  “So you really do want to drop anchor?”

  “And never leave home again. Yes. Although I imagine Morwenna might fancy coming up to London occasionally, having had a taste of excitement this season.”

  Silas was shaking his head. “You know, I wouldn’t bet on it. We had to drag her here kicking and screaming, and while she’s borne it all with a good grace, she’d jump at the chance to become a farmer’s wife.”

  “I hope so. Although if she wants to come to London, I’ll damn well see she comes to London.”

  “You seem to have sorted out your priorities.”

  His lips twisted. “It’s an ill wind that blows no good, brother. Five years of imprisonment gives a man plenty of thinking time.”

  “I’m glad. I know you love Morwenna, but I couldn’t help feeling you loved the navy more.”

  Robert bristled and glared at his brother through the shadows. “That’s a damn rotten thing to say.”

  “No need to fly up into the boughs, old man.” Silas paused. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t feel that’s true since you came back.”

  Robert sucked in a sharp breath. Silas’s accusation wasn’t true, had never been true. But if he must, he might admit that he could see why his brother had reached that conclusion. “I’d die for my wife.”

  Silas’s smile was wry with understanding. “I think she’d much rather you lived for her.” He made a conciliatory gesture. “And I might have an idea about that.”

  “Oh?”

  “The Devon estate I inherited from Uncle Frederick needs a manager...”

  Robert’s hand sliced the air. “Silas, I appreciate what you’re doing, but I don’t need your charity.”

  Silas’s short laugh was dismissive. “Don’t be so bloody stiff-necked, and hear me out. I haven’t been to Belleville in years, but I remember it as a very pleasant situation with a sea view. Just perfect for all those children you’ve set your heart on.”

  “Silas...”

  His brother ignored him and plowed on. “The estate has rather slipped off my list of concerns in recent years, and when the tenants left a month ago, the report I got back from my agent is that it’s fallen into sad disrepair. The bones of the place are good, but the fabric needs some work. A nice little manor house, big enough for a growing family. Good land, if gone to the dogs. Half a dozen tenant farmers who are badgering me to address the problems the last people left behind.”

  “So why don’t you?”

  “I am. I’m asking you to devote some of that famous naval efficiency to turning the place around. You’d be doing me a favor.”

  “I’m not sure...” Although despite the way Silas’s offer made his pride prickle, he was powerfully tempted. The prospect of getting his hands on a neglected estate and turning it into a home made his mind whirl with possibilities.

  “It would work for you, too, give you a chance to see if you like the rural life. I know you’ve got a lot of romantic notions of life on the land, the way landlubbers have romantic notions about the sea. But you’ve been in the navy since you were eleven. Try it, see if you can straighten out the estate for me. Then if you like the place and the family is happy there, I’ll sell it to you. The land’s not entailed, so it’s mine to dispose of as I wish.”

  “That’s very generous of you.”

  “Not at all. By all reports, you’ve got your work cut out. But I think a challenge will keep you interested while you’re finding your feet back on land.”

  Robert frowned thoughtfully into the gloomy interior. Could this offer at least a temporary solution to what he did with himself, now he left the navy?

  It was odd how few regrets he’d felt when he resigned his captaincy. Since he was a boy, the navy had been his mistress, the perfect place for him to exercise his odd assortment of skills. He’d never wanted any other career.

  Like all the Nash offspring, he was clever. He’d shown a precocious gift for mathematics, so he’d taken to navigation with an ease that h
ad astonished his tutors.

  He’d also been a lad who hungered for action and adventure. And yes, perhaps less admirable, he could admit now that he’d had a yen to cover his name in glory.

  Today, on the other side of his ordeal in South America, he acknowledged how trivial that desire for fame had been. Now he just wanted to retire into obscurity and build a life with the people he loved.

  The irony was that, as the admiral who had interviewed him pointed out, once the details of his escape got out—as they invariably would—he’d be famous all over again.

  Chapter Ten

  * * *

  Morwenna went downstairs to find Caro and tell her that she and Robert planned to leave for Leicestershire. She found her sister-in-law in the library, writing a letter. To her four children back at Woodley Park, Morwenna guessed.

  Caro was a marvellous mother and Morwenna tried to follow her example when it came to Kerenza. So far, it seemed to be working, although at times she despaired of her ability to provide what her high-spirited, fatherless daughter needed.

  Fatherless no more, thank God.

  At Morwenna’s appearance, Caro surged to her feet and rushed over to give her a hug. “Morwenna, how are you managing?”

  To her chagrin, that sympathetic question was all it took to demolish her hard-won control, and she burst into tears. “Oh, Caro...” she said thickly and hugged her dear friend back.

  “Shh, shh, sweetheart,” Caro murmured, rubbing her back.

  “I shouldn’t be blubbing,” Morwenna choked out into Caro’s welcoming shoulder. “I should be happy.”

  “Of course you’re happy,” Caro said unsteadily, and Morwenna realized her friend was crying, too. “We all are.”

  She let Caro draw her across to a leather sofa in front of the fire. Outside the rain tumbled down, and the light inside was soft and gray. The library felt like a cozy sanctuary from the real world.

  “I am happy,” Morwenna said huskily. “But...”

  Caro pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and passed it to Morwenna, even as she wiped her damp eyes with her fingers. “But it’s all been too much to take in. And you’ve been so desperate to keep up a brave front for Robert.”

  Morwenna sent Caro a thankful glance out of eyes glazed with tears. “He’s so afraid of losing his control...” Except for those moments when he’d moved inside her body. Then he hadn’t been controlled at all. And she’d loved it. “It’s hard not to turn into a complete watering pot. He’s been through so much and...and...”

  “And it shows, although he works like the dickens to hide it. It nearly killed him, telling us what little he did. And it’s clear there was so much more, and so much worse. His courage breaks the heart.”

  Morwenna sniffed and gave her friend a shaky smile. “When he was talking to all of us, I just wanted to put my arms around him and tell him that he’s safe now.”

  Perhaps in the future, Robert would lay down his defenses long enough to accept comfort separate from desire. But not yet.

  As if Caro read her thoughts, she said, “And you’re so afraid that he might break, because all that’s holding him together is pride and that great, brave heart.”

  “The heart that kept him alive through his suffering. I really thought I wouldn’t be able to control myself when he told us that horrible, horrible story.”

  Caro’s smile was misty. “I was close to bawling like a lost calf. Believe me. And Lord, I thought Silas was going to blow it all by losing his grip.”

  “But he held on. He’s been brave, too.”

  “The Nash men are remarkable. We’re lucky to have them.”

  When Caro stopped talking to direct a searching regard at her, Morwenna realized her expression must have betrayed her.

  “Morwenna, you do have him. Surely you know that. The only time he looks halfway close to his old self is when he’s with you.”

  Nervous hands tore at the flimsy handkerchief. “Oh, I know he loved me.”

  She realized she’d used the betraying past tense when Caro frowned. “For heaven’s sake, the man worships the ground you walk on.”

  “I don’t...I don’t think he knows what he feels anymore,” she said in a hollow voice.

  Caro made a disgusted sound. “Nonsense. He can’t keep his hands off you.”

  She blushed, wondering if the family guessed what had happened in the breakfast room not so long ago. “But that doesn’t mean he still loves me. He’s been locked up for a long time. He has a lot to make up for.”

  Caro surveyed her with disapproval. “Morwenna, do you remember his reaction to seeing you with Garson? We’re lucky blood wasn’t spilled.”

  “But that was just...”

  “Male possessiveness? It looked like more than that to me.”

  “There’s no guarantee love will survive such a separation. Especially as he’s come back so changed. You remember what he used to be like. The man who made every party sparkle.”

  Caro regarded her thoughtfully. “Does that mean you’re disappointed in the man he’s become?”

  Morwenna surged to her feet in denial. “No, never. My love isn’t the easy type of love that ever changes, however changed the man I love.”

  Caro looked pleased and leaned back against the deep brown leather. “Then why don’t you credit Robert with the same steadfastness? He’s changed, but so have you. It doesn’t mean you love each other less. Time and experience change love for everyone. If you’re lucky, they make it stronger.”

  “That’s how it worked for you and Silas.” Morwenna went back to torturing her damp handkerchief. “But who says it will work that way for Robert and me?”

  “Who says it won’t?” Impatience sparked in Caro’s blue eyes. “Is he the man you want?”

  “More than ever.” She voiced thoughts she’d hardly admitted to herself. “He seems deeper and more true to himself now.”

  Caro’s expression softened, and she blinked away another tear. “And so do you. You’ve both paid such a heavy price over the last years. Don’t let all that suffering go to waste. If any two people deserve happiness, it’s you and Robert.”

  * * *

  Caro’s words rang in Morwenna’s ears as Silas’s luxurious traveling coach bowled north toward Leicestershire. For several hours, her husband had watched her with a heavy-lidded gaze that hinted at carnal intentions. They hadn’t spoken since he’d told her about his meetings at the Admiralty. Long conversations still tested his stamina.

  “We could have waited until the morning and gone then.” She gripped the strap for balance against the lurching vehicle. Robert had told the coachman not to spare the horses.

  “Leaving today gets us to Kerenza all the sooner.”

  She smiled. “I’m glad you want to see her.”

  His marked black brows contracted. “Of course I want to see her.”

  “I don’t even know if you like children. There’s so much we never had a chance to discover about each other.”

  He still watched her like a fox watched a rabbit hole. She shifted uncomfortably. That steady gaze disturbed her, made her blood thick with awareness.

  “It will make life interesting.”

  She felt a mixture of relief and chagrin when he looked away toward the window. It was wet outside, but the rain gradually eased.

  “So do you?” she asked, breaking the silence that fell.

  He turned back to her. “What?”

  “Like children.”

  He shrugged. “Before I was captured, I was a young man pursuing a naval career. I was interested in my ship and my wife. Not much else. The next generation didn’t occupy my thoughts to any great extent. I saw a bit of my nieces and nephews when I had shore leave, and I liked them well enough, in the way a fellow with his way to make likes other people’s children. Since then I’ve spent my time struggling to preserve my sanity. I’m still a novice with children, but I’ll wager last year’s pay that when I get the chance, I’ll like my own.”

>   “I hope so,” she said doubtfully, even as she noted how much more smoothly he spoke now than when he’d first arrived home.

  With every mile they traveled out of London, he’d looked less on edge. And younger, with the deep lines between nose and mouth no longer so in evidence. Dear heaven, he was only twenty-nine. He should look like a man with his whole life ahead of him.

  He reached across and touched her cheek. The contact, meant as comfort, sizzled through her like a blast of summer lightning. How she wished she had the courage to ask him to ease this endless wanting. They’d changed horses twenty minutes ago, so they had guaranteed privacy for miles ahead.

  “When did my wife become a worrier?”

  She didn’t smile at the gentle gibe. “You know when.”

  He looked stricken and lowered his hand. “That was an insensitive question, wasn’t it?”

  “No,” she said. “You’re still feeling your way back to the world. And...and to me. I’m feeling my way back to you, too. We need to be kind to each other while we find out where we stand.”

  His mouth twisted. With poignant curiosity, she wondered if he’d ever smile at her properly. From their first meeting, she’d loved his smile. Robert had smiled with his whole face. Even on the stormiest day, his smile always made her feel like the sun shone.

  “Being kind to each other is a good rule in any case.” He paused. “I can’t keep from thinking about you left alone to raise our child. A widow too young.”

  “Not a widow, thank goodness,” she said, glad they were talking about this, despite her disturbingly wanton inclinations. They had so much to make up for, and however intoxicating his touch, words alone could bridge the gulf between them.

  She hoped one day—pray God, it came soon—he’d feel ready to share the details of his ordeal. Not because she wanted to hear. Her response to his terse retelling had been so devastating, she’d need all her strength to bear the full agonizing truth. But because she could only help him to heal when she knew the extent of his wounds.

  His expression softened. “No, not a widow.”