The Shipmaster's Daughter

by Jessica Wolf

  “Why? And why at this hour? It’s still dark out.” She walked forward and reached for Esther’s shoulder. “Why don’t I take you back to your room? We can talk in the morning if you like.”

  Esther jerked her shoulder out of Luciana’s grasp. “No. I wouldn’t like. I want to talk now.”

  Luciana drew her hand away. Her eyebrows rose high on her forehead and she crossed her arms. This would prove interesting. “All right. What is it you have to say right now?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Add that to the list of things Luciana hadn’t expected of this morning. Her arms dropped and she lowered her eyebrows. “Oh.”

  “You didn’t tell Father what I did, did you?”

  “No. And I don’t plan to.”

  “Well, I am sorry. It was mean of me to read so fast. I know you were trying your best.” She turned to go before hesitating. “I hope we can still be friends. I like you.” Her lips pulled up into a small smile. “Just not as my teacher.”

  Luciana laughed. Esther’s eyes were wide, shimmering with tears, and she worried her lower lip. The little girl looked too earnest and distressed to warrant remaining cross. Brushing off her hands, Luciana beckoned Esther forward and crouched before her.

  “What you did wasn’t very nice—” Esther blushed, lowering her head. “—but I forgive you and I still want to be your friend.”

  “Oh, goody!” Esther threw her arms around Luciana’s neck, squeezing tight.

  The feeling of Esther’s tiny arms around her made Luciana’s gut tighten. Since when had she cared so much for the child? Even with her faults, Esther had somehow wormed her way into Luciana’s heart. Exactly like her father was doing.

  After a moment, she pulled away and stood. “Would you like to help me today? I doubt you’ll be studying for a while.”

  “Help with what?”

  “Your father said I could work in the conservatory. Today I need to clean.”

  She clapped her hands. “I would love to help you. As long as I don’t have to do school!”

  Luciana laughed again. “Go and change your clothes. Something you wouldn’t mind getting dirty.”

  Esther pointed to Luciana’s feet. “Do I have to wear shoes?”

  “Your father would probably wish that you did.”

  “But I want to be like you. He doesn’t have to know.”

  “Fine. But hurry back.” Esther scamped out of the room. “And bring another broom!”

  “Did you always love plants, Miss Renaldi?”

  Luciana paused to consider. “Yes, I think so. Mia madre was the one who started the garden at our house. She taught me all I know.”

  “Do you miss her?” Esther looked away from the window pane.

  “Every day.”

  “But you can still see her. She’s in Italy, right? One day when you go home–”

  “No, my mother is dead. She’s been dead for a long time.”

  Luciana began scrubbing the window pane again. Her elbows were sore and her fingers pruny from the water. The pair had been working all morning on the windows and it seemed they hadn’t made much progress. At least the panes were large. Had they been smaller, Luciana didn’t know if they would ever finish.

  “Like my mother?”

  “I suppose,” Luciana said. She motioned for Esther to return to her work. “But you have your father. I don’t. You’re a lucky girl, Esther, to have a father who cares for you so much.”

  Esther giggled and dipped her rag into the bucket. “I know.”

  “Miss Hargrave?” Both Luciana and Esther turned to see Brigette standing in the doorway.

  “Yes, Brigette?” Esther lowered her hand from the window pane.

  “Mr. Hargrave would like to see you.”

  Esther gulped. “He does?” she whispered, barely loud enough to hear.

  “Yes, miss. He’s waiting in his office.”

  Luciana took the rag from Esther’s hand. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Go on up. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

  Smoothing her hands over her dirt-stained dress, Esther walked from the room, her chin held high. Luciana shook her head. Esther proved to be good company while working. She chattered quite a bit, but the noise was comforting. Luciana wasn’t sure she would have been able to work in silence. Her thoughts would have meandered to places she’d rather not visit.

  Her arms continued their work, and she forced her mind to remain focused. When her limbs could take it no more, she rung out her rag and dropped it beside the bucket. Raising her arms above her head, she cracked her neck and stretched her back. Her stomach growled. Breakfast had come and gone, and Luciana had missed her chance. Just as well. She wasn’t sure she could face Reed now, not with her heart so vulnerable. Every time she looked at him, she remembered all that he had done for her, all that he was beginning to mean to her. It was best she kept her distance. For her own sake, as well as his. She didn’t want a husband. And he certainly didn’t want a wife.

  “Have you seen Esther?” The sound of his voice coming from the doorway made her heart skip a beat.

  She cursed under her breath and turned. His face was contorted with worry, a look she had never seen him possess before. She faltered, her brow turning down into a frown.

  “I saw her earlier, not fifteen minutes ago. She was on her way to your office.”

  He stepped into the room. His hands twiddled together in anxiety. “She never showed.”

  “I’m sure she’s here somewhere, Signore Hargrave. She’s probably just…hiding.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Why would she be hiding?”

  Luciana stepped forward. She was close enough now to feel the anxiety radiating off of his body. “She might have thought I told you what she’d—what had made me want to quit. I expect she thinks you’re angry.”

  “I only want to tell her she won’t be continuing her studies until I find a new governess.” He paused. “What happened that would make her believe I was angry?”

  Luciana waved her hand. She dared to touch his arm; it sent a jolt straight to her chest. “How about I help you look for her? She couldn’t have gone far.”

  They searched the house and found nothing. Luciana found it hard to believe that within the span of ten minutes Esther could have hidden herself so well. Someone must have seen her.

  Reed was beside himself. Luciana had never seen a man so worried. Part of her found his concern endearing. Her father would have never been this anxious if she turned up missing. The other part of her wanted to relieve his pain, and as quickly as possible. She hated seeing him so distraught. Deep worry lines creased his forehead and his hands wouldn’t stop twitching. He walked so quick Luciana could barely keep up what with his long strides.

  She couldn’t fault him his anxiety. She, too, was beginning to grow more and more concerned as the moments dragged on. Was Esther hurt somewhere? Had she been taken? Bile rose in her throat at the thought.

  Reed made for the front door, Luciana flying along behind him. The marble of the staircase shocked her bare feet. For a second, she considered returning to her room to gather her shoes. There was no time. Her feet could bear the outdoors, she was sure.

  “Go that way,” Reed told her when she stepped outside. He pointed toward the shore. “I’ll check the back of the house.”

  Toward the shore she went. Luciana tiptoed across the gravel. It hurt the soles of her feet, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. She clutched her skirt and raced across the ground, ignoring the pain that came with each step. The grass and sand that were soon under her feet felt like a piece of heaven and she sighed, pausing for a moment to catch her breath.

  The shore and sea looked on at her. Waves greeted the sand before leaving seashells and rocks behind as they returned to the wide ocean. Salt filled the air and gulls cawed overhead. Luciana breathed deeply. Home. This place smelled of home.

  She remembered what her task was and resumed searched for Esther. As she made her way down to
the shore, she stepped on a stray piece of glass. Crying out in surprise, Luciana stumbled. She fell to her knees and kicked her injured foot out in front of her. Blood poured from her heel. A dull throb spread through her leg. She groaned. She should have gotten her shoes. Tearing her eyes away from the offended area, she looked back at the shore.

  And there Esther was.

  The air in Luciana’s chest stilled. Relief took away the pain in her foot as the feeling flooded through her. Esther stood some fifty yards away, throwing seashells back into the sea. Her feet were shoeless, her hair undone from the tight braid it had been in that morning. Struggling to stand, making sure to put as little pressure on her injured foot as possible, Luciana looked over her shoulder and called for Reed.

  “Signore Hargrave! I’ve found her!”

  His shaggy head crested the hill in no time, loose tendrils of hair framing his face. He took of his jacket and dropped it on the ground. His eyes scanned the shore until they landed on Esther. He rushed down the hill, nearly tripping over his feet in the process. His fingers gently caressed Luciana’s arm—a touch not mistaken—as he passed her. Luciana sat back down, the pain in her foot growing worse, to watch as Esther jumped into her father’s arms. She still held seashells in her hands. Reed cradled her head against his shoulder.

  The pair stood as such for several long minutes. Luciana felt tears prick her eyes. What she wouldn’t give to hug her father like that.

  Reed put Esther back on the ground and took her hand. A smile came over Luciana’s lips. He looked even taller when someone as small as Esther was by his side. The pair soon came to Luciana’s feet. She looked up, smiling.

  “I’m glad you’ve found her, signore.” She turned her eyes to Esther. “You scared us both.”

  Reed squeezed Esther’s hand. “I’m just glad she’s safe.” He licked his lips, considering for a moment. “I’m sorry if I seemed over overanxious, Miss Renaldi. After her mother died, I always want to make sure Esther’s all right. She’s all I have left.”

  Luciana shook her head. “Don’t apologize. It’s what any good father would do.”

  He nodded once and smiled. It was all the thanks she needed.

  “Are you hurt, Miss Renaldi?” Esther asked, dropping to her knees beside Luciana’s foot.

  “Oh,” Luciana said, scoffing. “It’s nothing.”

  Reed squatted and glanced at his daughter. “Both of you refuse to wear shoes and look what happens.” He nodded to her foot. “May I?”

  Luciana bit her lip and nodded. Gently, he grasped her foot. With the other hand, he pushed up the hem of her dress slightly. His fingertips brushed her ankle and she resisted the urge to draw in a sharp breath.

  “There’s a lot of blood,” he said, meeting her eyes. The faintest blush tinged his cheeks. Luciana was sure her face was as red as a beet. “Can you walk?”

  Luciana tried to stand, but the pain was too strong. She fell onto the grass with a defeated sigh. “I guess not.”

  Reed touched Esther’s shoulder. “Run home and tell Mrs. Peters to prepare the medical kit. I’ll carry Miss Renaldi in through the servant’s entrance and–”

  “Oh, no, please, you don’t need to do that,” Luciana protested. She may not be able walk, but Luciana doubted she would survive if Reed carried her. That would be too close, too intimate. Too dangerous.

  He held up his hand. “I insist. After everything you’ve done to help me today, it’s the least I can do. Run along, Esther.”

  Esther shot Luciana an overjoyed smile before rushing over the hill. With ease, Reed lifted Luciana into his arms. Luciana settled her arm around his shoulder and swallowed. He wobbled slightly as he stood.

  “There,” he whispered, his voice nearly breathless, “that’s not so bad.”

  Oh, but it was bad. Very bad indeed.

  Chapter 18

  This was a bad idea. He should have gotten Peters to do this.

  Carrying Luciana in such a way was dangerous. It hadn’t been dangerous when he’d picked her up the morning she washed onto the shore because she hadn’t been a threat. She was nothing but a shipwrecked girl to him then. Now, she was a threat—a big one.

  He reached the top of the hill and crossed the gravel drive, desperately trying not to pay attention to the way her breath fanned his throat. With each step her weight grew more heavy. She was light enough, but the weakness spreading throughout his body, thanks to the scent of her hair, was causing his arms to shake.

  “Nearly there,” he grunted, shouldering open the servant’s entrance.

  “You didn’t need to carry me,” she whispered.

  “You couldn’t walk.”

  “I know, but someone–”

  “I wasn’t going to leave you out there with a bleeding foot.” This much was true. What he wasn’t going to admit to himself was that maybe he wanted to hold her. Despite his shaking arms, she fit snuggly.

  “Mrs. Peters!” He raised his voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luciana wince.

  Mrs. Peters came bustling around the corner, rag in hand. She took one look at Reed, one look at Luciana, and raised a shaggy eyebrow. He stopped walking. The hallway, cramped already, seemed to shrink around him under her scrutiny.

  “Mrs. Peters,” he repeated.

  She huffed. “I’ve got the supplies waiting.” She motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen.

  The island in the center of the kitchen had been cleared. It was tall, just up to Reed’s waist. The kitchen staff—one aide to Mrs. Peters and one scullery maid—stood against the back wall, their eyes wide.

  “Lay her here,” Mrs. Peters said, patting the top of the island.

  Gently, Reed set Luciana down. She held herself on her elbows. Her hair—hanging loose as usual—was wild and wind blown. She wore a frown as she stared at her foot. Blood covered her heel and stray pebbles still clung to each foot. He smirked. No shoes indeed.

  Mrs. Peters said nothing as she dipped the rag into a bowl of warm water. She kept her eyes focused on Luciana’s foot, avoiding anyone’s gaze. When she pressed the rag to the wound, Luciana sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. She glanced at Reed, a pretty blush rising to her cheeks.

  “It stings,” she whispered. After a moment, she added, louder, “Thank you.”

  He nodded his head in acknowledgement. “As I said, I wasn’t going to leave you out there.”

  “It’s not bad,” Mrs. Peters piped up, her voice grating. She threw Reed a harsh look, which he countered with an upturned eyebrow. Luciana caught the exchange and looked away from him, focusing on the wood of island.

  “Will it need stitches?” she asked.

  “No. Just a nice clean bandage.” Mrs. Peters nodded to the scullery maid, who brought forward a bandage and long piece of gauze. “There you are,” she said when she’d finished. “Good as new.”

  Luciana scooted to the edge of the island and gingerly lowered herself to the floor. “Thank you, Signora Peters.”

  “You should wear shoes from now on.”

  Luciana grinned. “Si, signora.” She then looked at Reed. Her eyes were soft, but she stood tensely, her shoulders tight. Judging by the glare Mrs. Peters had pinned on the girl, she wasn’t tense because of her injured foot. “Esther is safe and sound now. I hope you can rest easy,” she said, though her eyes darted back to Mrs. Peters.

  “Yes, thank you for your help.” He paused. “If she begins to hang around the conservatory too much, let me know and I’ll tell her to keep away. It’s your space, not hers.”

  “I’m glad to have her company, signore.”

  “Do you need assistance to make it back to your room?”

  She shook her head and hobbled to the doorway. “No, but grazie. I can manage. I think I’ll just go rest a while before supper.”

  He bowed. “As you wish.”

  With the swish of her skirts, she turned the corner and left. Reed waited a moment, lingering in her wake, before turning to Mrs. Peters.
/>   “Mrs. Peters, if you have some issue with Miss Renaldi, please–”

  “It’s not her I have an issue with,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. The squat woman leveled a dark look at Reed. He frowned. “It’s the pair of you.”

  His heart skipped a beat. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “You are in love with her.”

  Reed scoffed. “No.” His attempted nonchalance only made him appear—and feel—all the more guilty.

  Mrs. Peters shook her head. “You look at her the way you used to look at the mistress.”

  Reed set his jaw hard. If what Mrs. Peters said was true, if people could really see his affection for Miss Renaldi, he had betrayed Katherine. But would allowing himself to love Luciana really prove to be such a betrayal? Hadn’t Katherine wanted him to find happiness again? But what about his conscience? How could he promise to love Luciana when Katherine still haunted his mind and his heart?

  There was no way he could win. If he let himself even dream of happiness with someone else, he was betraying Katherine. Yet if he remained true to his first wife, he was denying himself—and maybe even denying Luciana—a chance at something wonderful.

  He didn’t know what to do or what to feel. He was a mess—a bloody, good-for-nothing, scraggily mess. Mrs. Peters’s leering eyes and condescending smirk further enflamed his frustration. His fists curled at his sides.

  “Mrs. Peters, thank you for your input. I’ll remember to ask for it next time.” He threw her a short smile before stalking from the room.

  “Did you accomplish much in the conservatory today, Miss Renaldi?” Reed asked her later that evening.

  Luciana looked up from where she was playing checkers on the floor with Esther, her eyes meeting his. Dinner had been finished and cleared long before, and for the first time in a long time, the small dinner party had retired to the parlor. Normally everyone parted ways, shutting themselves in for the night.

  Tonight, though, something drew him into the room. Maybe it was the roaring fire, or maybe it was the sight of Luciana and Esther already inside. Either way, Reed had soon found himself sitting in the same chair, the faded yellow wingback, he’d always sat in beside his wife, glass of wine in hand.