Devlin’s expression immediately sobered and Penelope’s smile fell away. They stopped, both of them watching her cautiously. It was clear to Cassandra that neither knew what they’d done to upset her, which made perfect sense since she hardly understood it herself.
“We bought a bonnet,” Devlin told her as if he were speaking to someone who needed her head examined. “Penelope liked it so—”
“So you decided to get it for her without bothering to consult me? Even though I’m right here?” She spread her arms out, aware she was seconds from making a scene and also knowing she ought to thank him for being so generous. But she couldn’t. The knot in her chest and the guilt continuously dogging her made her unreasonable. Which only increased her annoyance. “I’m right here, Devlin. I’m not…I’m not…” Her throat closed on a partial sob, forcing her to turn away in order to hide her mortification.
Silence followed until a soft voice spoke. “It’s just a bonnet, Mama.” Cassandra felt Penelope’s much smaller hand clasp her own. “I can return it if you like.”
Cassandra’s heart twisted as she stared down into her daughter’s face. It broke her to see how ready she was to abandon her own happiness for no other reason than to appease a mother who ought to be able to act with more dignity and understanding.
“No.” She could not allow Penelope to give up on something she wanted – something Devlin was willing to give her – just because she herself was being irrational. It wouldn’t be fair. She squeezed Penelope’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right, Mama. I understand.”
“You do?” It was a wonder since Cassandra herself was thoroughly confused by all the riotous thoughts and emotions she’d just experienced.
Penelope nodded. Her eyes were too wise and far too serious for a girl her age. “You want to hold on to the past, the present, and the future all at the same time. You want Papa to come back and for no other person to take his place.” She glanced sideways to where Devlin stood a short distance away before returning her gaze to Cassandra. “Except he’s not coming back. Not ever. So it’s time for you to let go and move on or you’ll never be truly happy. And I’d really like for you to be happy, Mama. I want it more than anything else in the world.”
It was impossible not to cry when faced with such youthful clarity. “I know. I’m sorry.” She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.
“What for?”
“For putting you in this position, I suppose.” When Penelope gave her an odd look, Cassandra explained, “I should be giving you advice and life lessons, not the other way around.”
Penelope’s face brightened. “Does that mean I said the right thing?”
“It certainly does. I’m very proud of you, you know. Of how grown up you’re becoming.” Although it might not be the thing to do in the middle of a public street, Cassandra pulled Penelope into her arms for a tight embrace. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Mama.” They stepped apart. Penelope nibbled her lip. “So can I keep the bonnet?”
Cassandra immediately laughed. “Yes, Penny. You may keep the bonnet.”
Penelope clapped her hands together and did a few twirls, reminding Cassandra that she was still just a child, no matter the insight she’d just delivered as if she had decades of experience behind her.
A handkerchief materialized in front of Cassandra.
Offering Devlin a grateful smile, she snatched it up and dabbed her eyes. “I must apologize to you for my behavior. It was unjust of me to criticize you as I did without good reason.”
“On the contrary,” he murmured, “I believe you had every reason, Cass.” A startled gasp escaped her, and she instinctively looked up into his dark brown gaze. “Perhaps, when you’re ready, you’ll explain it to me so I might understand?”
“It’s terribly difficult.”
“And very important, I reckon.” He held out his elbow and she placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “Perhaps a small reprieve is what’s called for. Penny! Turn right up ahead.” He lowered his voice to a more conversational tone and told Cassandra, “There’s a restaurant I’d like to show you.”
Set in a rustic courtyard where tables and chairs stood between a series of orange and lemon trees, La Primavera created a leisurely atmosphere where time appeared to stand still. It was exotic and romantic, appealing to all the senses with the intoxicating perfume of citrus and spice, of unevenly plastered walls and smoothly worn cobblestones, and a fountain gurgling at the center.
They dined on sardines, mussels, and a flavorful combination of rice, meat, vegetables and shrimp. Cassandra and Devlin shared a small jug of fruity red wine, the grapes of which were reputedly harvested by the establishment’s owner, while Penelope enjoyed a glass of freshly pressed apple juice.
“Dev,” Penelope spoke beneath her breath while eyeing the neighboring table. “Are those people eating snails?”
Devlin discreetly glanced sideways while sipping his wine. “It appears so.”
“That’s disgusting,” Penelope muttered, scrunching her nose. “They might as well be eating worms.”
“Some people do eat worms,” Devlin said, earning a horrified look of revulsion from Penelope and causing Cassandra to snort as she did her best to swallow her laughter. “They’re actually considered a delicacy by the indigenous people of New Zealand.”
“Really?” As revolted as Penelope looked, she must have been slightly intrigued as well for she quickly followed her question with another. “What other strange things do people eat?”
“Snakes, frogs, insects…though I’m not sure they themselves find it strange. And neither would you if it were your usual fare.” Devlin helped himself to a few more mussels. “In South Africa there are often vendors with baskets full of big, fat, juicy caterpil—”
“Ew!”
“Penelope,” Cassandra chastised, even though she understood her daughter’s outburst perfectly and almost felt compelled to reprimand Devlin as well for inappropriate conversation during a meal, “That’s enough. Remember your manners and concentrate on eating the rest of your food.”
Penelope stared down at her plate where her half-eaten fish lay waiting. “I think I’ve lost my appetite.”
“You ate several mussels though,” Devlin pointed out. “They’re not so different from snails in terms of—”
“Can we please discuss something else?” Cassandra asked, her patience with both of them wearing thin.
Instead of looking sorry, Penelope and Devlin just grinned like a pair of scoundrels who’d secretly conspired to tease her all along. It brought into sharp focus the bond they’d forged not only during the last ten days, but over the course of their six year acquaintance. There was more between them than friendship alone – a fondness that promised to turn into love.
Swallowing against the knot forming in her throat, Cassandra forced a smile. She envied what they had, hated the acuteness with which it reminded her of what she’d lost, regretted not having the courage to try and secure something similar for herself, and loathed the fact that she was so petty she actually wished Penelope wouldn’t enjoy Devlin’s company quite so much.
“All right,” Devlin said. If he noticed her tight expression, he chose not to comment. “How does a visit to some of the town’s historical monuments sound? The Romans built a theatre and several temples as well as a bath. Then there’s the Muslim influence if that has your interest, several churches, some castles and…well, we probably can’t see it all in one day, so if you’re amicable to the idea, I’ll take you to the places I like the best.”
Cassandra found that to be an excellent plan. Emotionally drained from the sentimental attack on her soul, she needed something besides sad memories and heartache to blot out the pain. Penelope wanted to see her happy. It was in fact her greatest wish, so it was time for Cassandra to do what she could in order to make that happen. Exploring Lisbon more closely seemed like a good beginning. It would offer a wonderful distracti
on and maybe, hopefully, help create new memories with Penelope and Devlin for her to look back on later with pleasure.
Chapter 10
“I was wondering if I might be able to tempt you with an evening walk on the deck,” Devlin said to Cassandra two days later. They’d sailed from Lisbon that morning and were just finishing their evening meal. Devlin knew it was probably underhanded of him to make the suggestion with Monty, Bronswick, and Penelope present since it would make it harder for Cassandra to decline. But devil take it, he wanted her company. In private, for a change. Without her lying in bed, tormenting him with lusty thoughts.
“I, um…” She cleared her throat, sipped her port, glanced at Penelope, and took another sip of her port. Was her hand trembling? “I should probably help Penny prepare for bed.”
“I can do so myself, Mama,” Penelope said.
Devlin hid a smile.
“But what about the story we’re reading together?” Cassandra asked.
“You can read for me after your walk, if you like.”
“But—”
“And if I happen to fall asleep before you return, we can read the next chapter tomorrow instead.”
It was difficult not to laugh, but Devlin forced his most inscrutable expression to the surface since he wasn’t convinced Cassandra would appreciate him finding humor in the situation. Discreetly, he mouthed words of thanks to Penelope. He could kiss her for taking his side and knew this was what she had done when she suddenly winked at him from across the table.
If Monty and Bronswick thought it odd for Cassandra to try and avoid Devlin’s company, they gave no indication. Most likely because they were both, much to Devlin’s relief, engrossed in a conversation about men’s boots – a subject Devlin felt had been exhausted at least ten minutes earlier.
“Well then,” Cassandra murmured, her voice conveying the defeat she most likely felt. She looked straight at Devlin and graciously inclined her head. “A bit of fresh air would be welcome.”
“Excellent.” Pleased with himself, he ate the remainder of his dessert, waited for everyone else to finish as well, and stood. “We can see you to your cabin first, Penelope. If you like?”
“Unless the young lady would rather remain here with us for a game of cards,” Monty said.
“Oh. I’d love to.” Penelope looked to her mother for approval. “May I, Mama?”
Cassandra nodded. “Of course.” She gave her attention to Monty and Bronswick next. “Just as long as the two of you don’t teach her how to gamble.”
“Oh, we would never,” Monty began.
“Didn’t even cross our minds,” Bronswick said.
“Until you mentioned it, that is,” Monty said, then hastily waved one hand and added, “but our game will be quite innocent. Truly, Mrs. Crawford, you can trust us implicitly.”
“They’re going to teach her how to gamble, aren’t they?” Cassandra asked once she and Devlin had exited the dining room and were making their way through the passageway toward the ladder.
“Most likely,” Devlin confessed.
To his surprise, Cassandra smiled. “That’s all right. Sharing a secret with Monty and Bronswick will make her feel more at home.”
Agreeing, but choosing to keep his opinion to himself, Devlin followed Cassandra up onto the deck. The air was still, the sky entirely black save for the smattering of stars, gleaming like flecks of silver overhead. A few strategically placed lanterns offered enough light for the crew to see, but for tonight, Devlin decided it served an additional purpose, the golden hue lending a romantic touch to the overall atmosphere.
Turning, he raised one hand in acknowledgement of the sailor who presently maintained the course, then offered Cassandra his arm and escorted her slowly toward the prow. He’d spent little time in her company since their outing in Lisbon. With a schedule to keep, the previous day and the evening prior to that had been spent on logistics, on packing fresh fruit and vegetables, completing his ledgers and updating his log. Because of the longer stretch of open water ahead, he’d also spent several hours in Bronswick’s company, ensuring all was in order, that there were no cracks in the wood, no hint of insects in any of their supplies, and not a frayed rope in sight. So it was nice to feel her arm press against his as they walked, their strides slow and measured – a light scrape and tap in the otherwise silent night.
“Do you remember when we first met?” He glanced down at her, pleased to catch a smile on her lips before she answered.
“Of course. You arrived home during a dinner your brother was hosting at Camberly House.” She gave him a slight nudge. “It was a very brief introduction since you chose not to join the party. Instead, you requested a tray be brought up to your room, as I recall.”
“You’ve an excellent memory. I wasn’t even thinking of that but rather of our next encounter at the Huntingham ball.”
“I suppose it was the first time we had an actual conversation with each other.”
He grinned, liking the easy journey they were taking into the past. “I had no intention of dancing that evening. Not because I’m averse to the exercise, but rather because I was out of practice. Caleb insisted, however, and I ended up partnering with you.”
“So you did.” Her eyes twinkled in the light from a nearby lantern. “And you were actually rather good.”
“Only because you put me at ease by pointing out the guests who were doing things they weren’t supposed to when they thought no one else was looking.”
She laughed. “Like Cakesneaker, Slippertosser, and oh, Bottompincher?”
“I cannot believe you recall the names.” He grinned and shook his head, then dropped his gaze toward hers. The air thickened with the sense of camaraderie they’d always shared, but with something else too – something that seemed to tug at his heart. “Do you regret marrying me?”
He hadn’t meant to ask such a question. On the contrary, he’d meant to compliment her hair, which looked particularly pretty tonight. But then he’d wondered if she would appreciate such a compliment, which had made him wonder why he would even have cause to worry about such a thing. And he’d realized he did have cause because, damn it all, she didn’t want him to touch her or kiss her or do the things he so desperately wanted to do.
“No. It was the right decision. Not only for Penelope, but for me as well. I just…” She turned away so she could stare at the endless blackness beyond the ship’s railing. He waited for her to continue, until he was tempted to prompt her or shake her or something. And then she turned back, her eyes meeting his with bold intensity. “You are a wonderful man, Dev. The best man there is, I believe. And I am sorry I’m being so difficult. It’s not fair to you at all when you have been nothing but patient and kind. But I…I…” She shook her head as if to inform him she’d lost the words to explain, and because he sensed what she required right now more than anything else was friendship, he pulled her into his arms for a hug.
It took a moment before she responded, but then her arms came around him as well, with a fierceness that surprised him. Somehow, for whatever reason, she needed to be held and comforted, to know she wasn’t alone as she may have felt for so very long.
Yes, she’d had Mary and Emily to help her at Clearview, but when it came to Penelope, the reality was she’d been a single mother who’d lacked the support and love she should have received from her own parents. She’d lived through tragedy at much too young an age and been forced to shoulder problems no young woman of eighteen should have to bear.
Warm and soft and smelling of roses, she pressed her face against his chest and held on as if she were drowning.
“Sometimes,” he murmured against the top of her head, “it can be freeing to talk about the things that plague us.” When she didn’t pull away, he smoothed his hand against her back and gently added, “Keeping it bottled up inside can cause it to fester until it destroys our soul.”
Aware of the risk he took by pressing the issue – the chance of her walking a
way and leaving a gorge between them – he leaned back and tipped up her chin. Eyes haunted by pain and guilt and heartache stared back, causing his own heart to shudder with grief. And he knew that the only way forward was for him to be more transparent with her than a pane of glass.
So he eased her away just enough to take her hand and lead her toward a couple of crates. “You loved Penelope’s father a great deal.” It was curious how in all of their conversations and all the years they’d known each other, the man’s name hadn’t come up. Gesturing for her to sit, he waited for her to do so, then sank down and placed one arm around her shoulders. “I cannot imagine what it is like to lose someone so close, but that doesn’t mean I do not understand the anguish death can bring. Especially when it takes a person before their time.”
Her eyes were impossibly bright, like moss right after the rain. “You lost someone too.”
“Not in the way you did. But yes.” Devlin closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to remember the details he’d struggled so hard to forget. “His name was Luke and he was a crewmember – a lad no older than sixteen years of age – and we’d just returned to London from Athens. It was my first voyage as captain and…” He blew out a deep, agonizing breath. “I sent Luke up the mainmast to make sure the sail had been properly secured before disembarking, but it started to drizzle the moment he stepped out onto the topgallant yard – that beam of wood you see up there – the second one from the top.”
He pointed toward it even though it was hard to make out in the dark. Cassandra still gasped, perhaps because she’d discerned the direction the story was taking. “I shouldn’t have issued the order. I should have sent someone with more experience up there and…and I should have paid better attention to the condition the ropes were in. But I had a different boatswain back then. As it happened, the rope Luke grabbed hold of was damaged. It snapped the moment he checked its strength, but I’m not sure he would have fallen if it hadn’t been for the slickness of the beam beneath his feet.”
Her Seafaring Scoundrel Page 12