The Shipmaster's Daughter

by Jessica Wolf

  Mrs. Peters never cooked pasta.

  He took the small flight of stairs that lead down into the kitchen two at a time. The scene that greeted him when he reached the bottom stole the air from his chest and caused his heart to skip one too many beats.

  Luciana stood at the stove, a white apron wrapped around her waist, speaking to the entire house staff. She brandished a wooden spoon coated in red sauce and smiled. Mrs. Peters and the kitchen maids stared at their teacher in rapt attention, enthralled by whatever Luciana was teaching. Esther sat on the counter, her grin wide, and Jack leaned against the wall, biting into a piece of buttered bread.

  “Oh, there you are, Reed.”

  Reed startled. He had difficulty tearing his eyes away from the woman at the stove, but managed to do so in a way he hoped appeared natural. “I should be saying that to you, Jack. We were supposed to leave for Montgomery’s office an hour ago.”

  Jack shrugged. “Yes, but then Miss Renaldi said she wanted to cook an Italian dinner. So I decided to watch.”

  Reed’s eyes flitted back to the crowd. “As did everyone else.”

  “She’s a very good teacher. I’ve learned a lot.”

  Reed crossed his arms over his chest and stepped into the kitchen. He cleared his throat and Luciana’s voice stopped. It was as if the air was sucked out of the room. The staff lowered their heads and Luciana blushed. She set her spoon in the pan on the stove and swallowed hard.

  “Signore Hargrave, I didn’t see you there.”

  Realizing his body language must convey the wrong sort of emotion, Reed dropped his arms and loosened his shoulders. He rolled his lips together in a tight line then rested his hand on Esther’s shoulder.

  “I was wondering where everyone had gotten to. Did no one think to tell me about this cooking lesson?” He glanced around the room, eyes narrowing as he saw the shaking heads. “You know I once had ambitions to become a chef.”

  Esther frowned. “You told me you wanted to be a horse jockey when you were younger.”

  Behind him, Jack snorted.

  “Also true, but, my height unfortunately stole that dream from me.”

  A dazzling smile spread across Luciana’s face. “Un capocuoco? You, Signore Hargrave? I do not believe it.”

  Reed smirked and rolled up his sleeves. “Step aside, woman, and I’ll prove it.”

  As she moved to the side and he stepped toward the stove, a brief thought of doubt alighted in his brain. What was he doing? He’d wanted to be a chef when he was eight years old and only for a matter of two weeks. All he knew how to cook was split pea soup.

  Luciana, on the other hand, knew what she was doing in the kitchen. The sight and smell of the pasta sauce below his eyes was enough to tell him that. He was about to make an utter fool of himself. And why? Just because he’d dreamed of her the night before didn’t mean he needed to prove himself to her.

  Even so, he was already standing at the stove and he could feel a dozen pairs of eyes on his back. He risked at glance at Luciana. She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyebrows quirked in amusement. He cleared his throat and picked up the wooden spoon. An uncomfortable silence lapsed as he stared into the sauce.

  “What is it, signore?” Luciana whispered, leaning closer. He could smell her lavender soap. It tickled his nose in an alarmingly pleasant way. “Do you not know what you’re doing?”

  He huffed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Not know what he was doing! What foolishness. Of course he knew what he was doing.

  “I am cooking, Miss Renaldi,” he said, careful to keep his tone level.

  “You’re staring into the saucepan.”

  “I’m preparing myself.”

  “Come off it, Hargrave!” Jack barked. “You don’t know how to cook!” He lobbed the butt of his bread roll across the room and hit Reed square in the back of the head.

  Reed spun around, wooden spoon in hand, cheeks flushed. “Of course I know how to cook. Any good Englishman knows how to cook.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Then I suppose I’m not a good Englishman.” He pointed between Reed and Luciana. “You just want to impress her, don’t you?”

  The atmosphere of the room shifted from comfort to tension in mere seconds.

  Reed curled his hand around the spoon. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, his cheeks. Good Lord, he was mortified.

  Because Jack was right.

  He was trying to impress Luciana, wasn’t he? And he was doing a terrible job at it, too.

  The spoon in his hand suddenly felt awkward and uncomfortable. Clearing his tight throat, he dropped it into the pan. Sauce splattered over the edge and landed on his waistcoat. Reed bit back a groan.

  Luciana was staring at him again. Except this time, instead of sorrowful, she looked intrigued. Her pupils were round and her cheeks stained with blush, but she held his gaze. Reed opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

  He felt the biggest fool. There was no reason he should be attempting to impress Luciana. No reason at all. Just because he’d dreamt of her, just because he’d heard the way Esther spoke to her the day before, none of that meant he should impress her.

  What would Katherine think?

  A headache broke out behind his eyes at the thought of his wife. He shouldn’t think of her. Especially when he was failing to impress another woman.

  Still, there was something magnetic about Luciana. Every time he got around her, he felt somehow drawn to her. It was ridiculous. She was a guest in his home, a teacher for his daughter. That was all. She needn’t be anything else.

  With a grunt, Reed shook himself from his thoughts. He lifted Esther from the counter and set her feet on the floor, keeping a firm grip on her hand. She protested, but he ignored her and faced his staff.

  “Please, return to your work immediately.”

  Jack stepped forward, his face a model of regret. “Reed, I’m sorry,” he started, his tone plaintive. “I didn’t–”

  Reed shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.” Heart hammering in his chest, he forced his eyes to return to Luciana. He nodded stiffly. She lowered her eyes to her hands.

  “Jack, if we leave now we might be able to attend that meeting.”

  “You said it was scheduled for–”

  “I know what I said!” Reed cursed his angry voice, but what could he do when he was humiliated and confused? He lowered his voice. “Maybe he’ll still meet with us.”

  Jack glanced at Luciana, then nodded. He ambled from the room, hands deep in his pockets.

  “Signore Hargrave, please don’t be angry with Signore Jack.”

  Reed tightened his grip on Esther’s hand unconsciously. She cried out and wiggled her hand free, holding it against her chest. Reed’s cursed under his breath and crouched before her.

  “I’m sorry, Esther,” he said. “That was an accident. Give me your hand.”

  Her watery blue eyes stared back at him, unsure, before she extended her hand. He pressed a kiss to her palm and a grin lit her face.

  “Better?”

  She nodded.

  Reed kept his eyes trained on Esther when he said, “I’m not cross with Jack, Miss Renaldi. I’m angry with myself.” His eyes flicked to her just in time to see her nod. “What possessed you to cook anyway?”

  “Signora Peters was feeling ill. I offered to cook for her so she could rest.”

  Reed didn’t know what to say, but he felt his heart skip a beat and all thought drain from his head. Without saying another word, he stood, took Esther’s hand again, and nodded to Luciana once more. Then he brushed out of the kitchen.

  Esther wiggled her hand free of his grasp when they were far away from the kitchen and in the foyer. “Why did you stare at her like that?” she asked, hands on her hips.

  Reed frowned. “I didn’t stare at her.”

  “You did. Like this.” Esther’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in what looked like shock.

  Heat crept up Reed’s neck. “Go
play somewhere please. I have work to do.”

  Esther shrugged and skipped away, humming to herself.

  Had he stared at her? If he was being honest with himself, he would admit that he did. But he wasn’t being honest. There was no way he would accept just how much the idea of Luciana cooking for the house instead of Mrs. Peters affected him.

  She was so…giving. So helping.

  Reed shook himself free of the thoughts when Jack entered the foyer. He had better things, more important things to consider, than Luciana’s cooking.

  Chapter 15

  It had been one full week.

  One full week since Luciana had been smothered by Reed’s commanding presence both in the hallway and the kitchen. She thought about those few moments more than she cared to admit, the man and his unwavering kindness. He always tried to play it off with a disinterested look or grunt, but she knew he cared. Why else would he have been eavesdropping? Why else would he have cooked beside her in the kitchen?

  She hated that he cared. He shouldn’t care. They were two completely different people; nothing would ever happen between them. But when they were in the dimly lit hallway, alone, he had looked at her with such pity and such hope. It was an odd mixture, but every time Luciana remembered it, her heart fluttered.

  Damn him! Damn him for making her care when she’d tried so hard not to. Damn him for making her care when she would only have to leave him.

  In the week since the episode in the hallway, things between Luciana and Esther had only grown worse. At first, Luciana hoped that everything would mend itself. The first few days were stressful, yes, but that was because Esther wasn’t used to being in the schoolroom and Luciana wasn’t used to teaching. She thought things would be fine by the end of the week.

  She had been wrong.

  Esther was incorrigible. She disrespected Luciana whatever chance she could, parading about her knowledge and understanding of the most simple things. She left for lunch before she was supposed to. She ended her lessons before time was up. Luciana tried, she really did. But her voice could only grow so stern and her eyes could only become so demanding.

  It was a new week, though. Throughout the weekend, Luciana had kept to herself. She recuperated and prepared and now she was ready for whatever Esther may try next. Determination filled her. She would not let herself be beat by an eight year old girl barely tall enough to reach her waist.

  After a quiet breakfast, the pair returned to the schoolroom. Reed and Jack left earlier that morning, as they’d been doing for the past week or so. According to Jack, they were meeting with a man to discuss business. Good. Less time for Luciana to grow attached to the home and its owner.

  “We’re going to do reading this morning,” Luciana said. She placed a chalkboard and piece of chalk before her pupil. “We’ll save arithmetic for after lunch.”

  Esther looked at Luciana, her eyebrows raised. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”

  “Why wouldn’t we?”

  Esther’s cheeks colored and she lowered her voice. “Are you sure you can?”

  A lump lodged in Luciana’s throat. She rose slowly from her seat, turning to the window. What she wouldn’t give to be able to throw it open and drink in the fresh air. She counted to ten before answering.

  “Si, I’m sure. Open up your book.” Esther sighed, but listened, opening to the marked page in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. “Begin reading.”

  When Ester read aloud, her words jumbled together into a mesh Luciana was barely able to understand. She would lean closer and strain her ears, but sometimes, the meaning of the words went in one ear and out the other. It was difficult. Luciana could speak English well enough, and most of the time she understood it, but when Esther read, it was like she forgot everything she’d ever learned.

  Today, Esther read faster than she ever had. She would attempt a surreptitious look Luciana’s way every once and a while, as if checking to see if she was able to keep up. When she saw Luciana struggling, she would pick up the pace, leaning closer to the book so her voice grew muffled.

  Luciana wanted to ask her to slow down, to speak clearly. She wanted to reprimand the child for being so cruel-hearted. But she could not. Her mind was whirling so fast, working so hard to keep up, she was barely able to form a thought. She lowered her head and focused on the rapid fire words. She understood a phrase here and there and then Esther said something she didn’t understand and she was back at the beginning. She curled her hands around the arms of her chair and felt her chest begin to heave with her labored breaths. Her cheeks burned.

  Finally, she could take it no more. She stood with such force her chair toppled over. “Cessare!” she shouted. Esther didn’t need to know Italian to understand that meant stop.

  Esther’s eyes, wide with fear, darted upwards. She lowered the book. “Miss Renaldi?” she whispered.

  Luciana couldn’t even look at her. She turned away and looked at her hands. They were shaking. Disgust ripped through her. “Go, Esther,” she said, her voice returning to its even tone.

  “But, Miss–”

  “Go, Esther!”

  The girl tore out of the room, sobbing.

  Gasping, Luciana sank into her chair. She pressed a hand against her chest and closed her eyes. This would come back to haunt her. Esther would tell Reed and Reed would turn her out. She would lose him, lose what strange, unexpected friendship was blossoming between them.

  A thought struck her. Maybe he could speak to Esther, get her to see her errs, if Luciana spoke to him first. Then maybe—just maybe—she could stay. Rising from her seat, Luciana bolted from the room. She had work to do before he returned. Important work.

  It was nearly three o’clock that afternoon when Jack and Reed returned. Luciana spent most of the day making lists and she had come to the conclusion that telling Reed the truth, but not the whole truth, was her best option.

  When she was composed, Luciana headed toward Reed’s office. Her footsteps fell hard against the floor. Once more, determination consumed her. Without any warning, she burst through the door, closed it, and spoke before Reed could even ask what she was doing.

  “I can’t do it, Signore Hargrave,” she said, her words abrupt. “I can’t teach Esther.”

  The surprise and anger on his face melted away at once, replaced with understanding. He said nothing at first. He rubbed his hand across his jaw. A stray lock of hair fell before his eyes and he flicked it away. In the long silence, Luciana noted that he wasn’t wearing his suit jacket. It was the first time she’d seen him without it. He wore only a gray, well fitted shirt, dark suspenders, and dark trousers. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing his strong chest. She looked away.

  “What seems to be the problem?” he asked.

  Luciana stepped away from the door. “She’s—She–” She hesitated. Reed looked at Esther like she was the queen of the world. He loved her more than anything. How would he react to what Luciana had to say?

  He urged her on. “It’s all right. Say what you must.”

  Her hands fidgeted. “Perdere Hargrave and I don’t get along. She gets frustrated with me and she has reason to.”

  The words she had prepared all day suddenly seemed futile. She was no good as a governess. Reed wanted Esther taught and taught well. He had made that clear when offering her the position. Luciana wasn’t capable of giving Esther the education she deserved. The girl may be spoiled and sometimes rotten, but she deserved a good teacher. It was clear to Luciana now that staying in Yellow Brook, discovering just what the home and its owner meant to her, was a hopeless dream.

  Reed rounded his desk and motioned for her to continue. “Please, go on.”

  Glancing around the room, Luciana couldn’t help but recall the last time she’d been in his office. It was the first time she’d seen him. Like she had startled him, he had startled her. He and his dominating presence. She wondered, briefly, if this might be one of the last times they spoke. The thought s
truck a painful cord in her heart.

  No! She should be glad she was leaving. Isn’t that what she wanted? She wanted freedom, somewhere grand and glorious. She wanted to meet new people, see new things. For heaven’s sake, she wanted a job. She didn’t care what: a millworker, a maid, a midwife even. She wanted to do something good, something she was good at.

  “Miss Renaldi?” His voice broke through her thoughts again, gentle and imploring.

  “Well,” she started again, “I know plants and Italy, Signore Hargrave. Nothing else. I can’t give Esther the teaching you want for her.”

  He leaned against the front of his desk and crossed his arms. “Are you quitting, then?” He spat the word quitting like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

  Luciana bit her lip, unsure of how to answer. Was she quitting? Yes. Yes, she was. And it was for the good of everyone. Especially herself. “Yes, signore.”

  From his pocket, Reed withdrew a silver container. He pulled a cigarette out of the inside and tapped the ends of it against the desk. He did not light it. He only held it between his fingers.

  At long last, when the silence between them had stretched so thick one could cut it with a knife, he said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  An inexplicable sense of guilt seized Luciana by the throat. She could barely speak. Her eyes grew misty. “Yes, signore,” she whispered.

  “We’ll pay you a month’s wages–”

  The water in her eyes receded as she shook her head. “You shouldn’t. I’ve barely done anything to–”

  “It’s final,” he said. “A month’s wages.”

  “Thank you, signore.”

  Reed held her gaze and she transported back to the hallway again. His eyes said so much and yet so little. A question—one she couldn’t place—waited there today. No pity, no hope. Only a question.

  The moment shattered like dropped glass when he stood upright. “I have work to finish.”

  “Of course. Thank you.” She headed toward the door, her feet slow. When her hand touched the cold knob, she looked over her shoulder. He was still standing in front of his desk, cigarette in hand, eyes fixed on her. “I’m sorry,” she added. “It was wrong of me—of us—to ever assume I could teach her.”