The Captain Claims His Lady

by Annie Burrows

  Now it was Rawcliffe’s turn to flinch. At least, he began to tap his forefinger on the stem of his wineglass, which was the nearest he ever got to displaying agitation.

  ‘But somebody killed him,’ Harry continued. ‘That changes everything.’

  ‘Not quite everything. To be frank, neither of us think that you have the stomach to employ the stratagem which Ulysses and I have deemed necessary.’

  ‘Haven’t the stomach for it?’ That was one thing about himself he’d never doubted. He might have done a lot of foolish things, but nobody could deny he’d fought like a tiger to try and mitigate the results of his mistakes. ‘I am no coward.’

  ‘It isn’t a question of cowardice. And don’t repeat your excuse about me not knowing you any more. You have been back in England for several months, during which time I have had ample opportunity to discover what kind of man you have grown to be. You were the only one of us, remember, who made any attempt to defend poor Lady Harriet, when we found her in the park, alone, at dawn. The only one to treat her with respect.’

  ‘Well, that’s different. A female...alone...’

  ‘Well, that’s just it,’ said Rawcliffe with a touch of impatience. ‘The task of bringing Archie’s murderer to justice is going to involve deceiving a female. A gently born female. It is at the very heart of the plan Ulysses came up with. And unless I’m very much mistaken, seducing a gullible virgin is not something you would be comfortable doing.’

  ‘Seducing a...?’ He shook his head. Then looked at the straw clutched in his fingers. ‘It’s too late now. It appears to be my fate.’ And anyway, could anything he did make him despise himself more than he already did?

  ‘Damn fate!’ Rawcliffe slapped his open palm on the table, in a display of emotion that was so uncharacteristic it made Harry jump. ‘I don’t have so many friends I can afford to lose another one.’

  Just like that, Harry understood why Rawcliffe had held this meeting in secret. Had made plans with Becconsall behind his back, too. People might assume Rawcliffe was cold-blooded and unfeeling, but he wasn’t. It was all a façade. Behind it beat the heart of a man who detested injustice. He hadn’t changed all that much since he’d been a boy at Eton, either. Not deep down, where it counted. At Eton, they’d given Rawcliffe the nickname of Zeus, not simply because he out ranked them all, but because he really was a natural leader. Just as they’d nicknamed him Atlas, because not only was he bigger and stronger than anyone else in the school, but he’d been willing to take on the burdens of those who needed his protection. And Becconsall, the third of their band of brothers, had been Ulysses. So named for his cunning and intelligence.

  He’d never forged friendships like the ones he’d formed at that school, even though he’d been there for such a comparatively short time.

  ‘Seducing a gullible virgin doesn’t sound all that dangerous.’

  ‘Going to visit an elderly relative didn’t sound all that dangerous when I let Archie go and do so, either, did it? The point is, there is somebody down there in Dorset who is cunning enough to plan the theft of jewels in such a way that it took years, in some cases, for the theft to even be discovered. And with the connections that enabled him to introduce jewel thieves into the houses of members of the ton, in the guise of ladies’ maids. That person is also ruthless enough to commit murder in order to keep his crimes from being discovered. So we need someone as cunning, and as ruthless, to withstand him.’

  ‘I have already declared myself willing to do whatever it might take. Even to the point of seduction. Though to be frank, whatever female you have selected for this process would fare better with me than with the likes of Thurnham or Nateby. I, at least, won’t debauch her.’

  Rawcliffe looked at him for a second or two, his face blank, though Harry knew it was a mask he adopted to conceal what he was thinking.

  ‘And Archie,’ Harry continued, ‘was not only a civilian, but a scientist. He had no idea how to spot a liar, or a rogue. Whereas I am not only an experienced fighting man, but have lived in close quarters with some of the most despicable criminals on earth. Men who chose to serve in the navy rather than go to the gallows.’

  ‘There was a good reason,’ said Rawcliffe thoughtfully, ‘why I sought candidates for the job amongst other naval men. The ability to handle a boat might come in handy.’

  Harry’s heart picked up speed. ‘There you are, you see? And you can trust me, which you could not do with the others. They would not have had the zeal I can bring to the table.’

  ‘You are still not fit for active duty, though, are you? If it comes to a fight...’

  ‘I am much stronger than I was. Getting stronger every day. And anyway, isn’t it better that our enemy underestimates me?’

  Rawcliffe’s cool grey eyes narrowed. ‘Actually, in one way,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘your physical condition is an advantage. It will provide the perfect cover for you to be in Bath. Where the young lady who is pivotal to the investigation is currently staying.’

  Harry leaned back in his chair. The job was his.

  ‘Why don’t you just tell me what dastardly plan you and Ulysses have cooked up between you? And then let me decide if I’m the man to carry it out.’

  Or not.

  Chapter Two

  Lizzie took the cup of water from the hand of the footman who had just drawn it from the pump and turned hastily. The rooms were particularly crowded this morning and she’d been queuing for what felt like an eternity. Grandfather would certainly think so. Waiting in his chair by the fireplace, he would be tapping his cane on the floor by now, his temper rising with each second that passed.

  Though it wasn’t even as if he’d wish to leave once she’d brought him his daily dose of the water which was supposed to be the cure for his gout, since so many of his cronies were here for the season. He’d be gossiping for ages long after he’d downed his medicinal cup of water, while she would have to stand behind his chair, still as a statue lest he accuse her of fidgeting.

  Nevertheless, she’d annoy him less if she made it look as if she’d completed this errand as quickly as she could.

  As she stepped back to make her way out of the throng pressing round the pump, her shoulder caught on something. Something that felt rather like a brick wall. And which said, ‘Oof!’, just before she heard the distinctive sound of a cup clattering to the floor.

  ‘Oh, no...oh, dear,’ she said, turning to make her apologies to whoever it was she’d just stumbled into. And finding herself on a level with a very determined chin. Above that was a full-lipped mouth and above that was a rather blunt nose, sprinkled with freckles. And above that, a pair of the bluest, saddest eyes she’d ever seen.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, her cheeks heating, though the Lord alone knew why. She had to apologise so often for blundering into someone or something that she ought to be used to it by now. It was just that this man was so...tall. And so solid. Most people would have staggered back under the force of her weight, applied directly to their midriff. Or even fallen right over. In fact, it was a miracle, given that the place was full of the frail and elderly, that she hadn’t knocked anyone over yet this season.

  But this man hadn’t budged as much as an inch.

  Which meant they were standing far too close to each other.

  She took a hasty half-step back. Immediately his facial features blurred into a pale oval topped by a neat thatch of closely cropped black hair.

  ‘Your cup...’ she began with mortification. It would be of no use attempting to pick it up. She had no idea where it had gone and her eyesight was too poor to bother making a search. ‘I shall go and fetch you another...’

  As she made to move, something that felt like a wooden vice gripped her by the elbow.

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ said the large man, in a firm voice. ‘I mean, that is to say,’ he said in a much lighter tone, ‘y
ou have no need to fetch me another. No need at all.’

  ‘But I—’

  ‘No,’ he said, in that same firm tone. Then he leaned in and murmured, ‘You have just saved me from a terrible fate. Do not, I beg of you, undo your good work now.’

  ‘A terrible... My good... What?’

  ‘I know the water is supposed to be good for my health, but...’ He shrugged. With a pair of shoulders the width of a mantelpiece.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. Or rather, sighed. Yes, the sound that had just come out of her mouth had definitely contained far more sigh than sense.

  ‘May I,’ said the enormous, solid man, ‘be permitted to know your name? So that I may render due gratitude to my redeemer?’

  She wasn’t sure, afterwards, if it was the slightly mocking allusion to scripture, or the jocular tone of his voice, but she suddenly felt as if she was making a bit of a fool of herself, standing so close to a man she didn’t know, and feeling all... Well, she wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Only that she’d never felt anything like it before.

  And also, that no matter what he was making her feel, she really ought allow him to keep hold of her elbow in that proprietorial manner.

  She lifted her chin.

  And promptly thought better of saying anything cutting. He’d been so forgiving of her clumsiness. Shouldn’t she return the favour by forgiving his forwardness?

  ‘It is...’ No, she couldn’t simply give him her name. That was not at all the proper thing to do. Why, he could be anybody.

  ‘Miss...?’ he prompted her.

  She ought to step away from him. Why couldn’t she? ‘Step,’ she finished. For it would indeed be a misstep to act in such a fast manner.

  ‘Miss Step?’ His dark brows raised. He shook his head. ‘Are you quite sure?’

  ‘Yes, I...’ She glanced in the direction of the fireplace and her grandfather’s chair. ‘In fact, I ought to be...’

  ‘Because you have the distinct look of the Cheevers family.’

  ‘Cheevers?’

  ‘Yes, I have the distinct impression you are, decidedly, Miss Cheevers.’

  He ran the two words together so that it sounded as though he’d said mischievous. Her breath caught in her throat. Good heavens, was he...teasing her? Flirting with her? No, no, he couldn’t possibly be doing that. He’d looked sensible, when she’d been close enough to make out the expression on his face.

  ‘I am not being mischievous,’ she retorted. And then, heaven alone knew why, she succumbed to the temptation to add, ‘You are clearly Miss Taken.’

  He laughed. The sound erupted from his mouth as though it had taken him completely by surprise.

  ‘No, no, I am no sort of Miss at all. Though clearly you believe I have committed a Miss Demeanour, by being so bold as to ask for your true name.’

  ‘It was a piece of rank Miss Conduct.’

  ‘No, not so bad as that. It was, perhaps, a touch Miss Guided.’

  ‘Which was why I felt obliged to use a Miss Nomer.’

  ‘I understand completely. But believe me, by attempting to be Miss Terious, you have only made me more determined to uncover your true identity.’

  Somebody nearby cleared their throat. And she realised that the pair of them were creating a rather substantial obstacle to people trying to reach, or move away from, the pump.

  The tall, blue-eyed man bowed from the waist. ‘Forgive me, Miss Teak, but I really should be moving along.’

  ‘Oh,’ was all she could think of say, as her spirits plummeted. Of course, a man like that was not going to stand around playing word games with the likes of her for any length of time. She might have amused him, for a moment or two. But he had eyes in his head. She was tall, she was ungainly and she had no dress sense. She didn’t think her face was actually ugly and her hair was the kind of silver blonde that men might go into raptures over, if it sprouted from the head of a smaller, dainty woman.

  But she wasn’t. And it didn’t.

  By the time she’d thought all those things, he’d vanished into the throng. Though she would have thought a man like him would be visible above the general run of people, being a full head taller than she was.

  Her wretched eyesight. If only Grandfather would permit her to wear spectacles when she went out. But Grandfather didn’t hold with them. And she didn’t have the heart to defy him. He’d been generous enough to her over the years. Indeed, if it wasn’t for him...

  She sighed, and, her cup of supposedly health-giving water held firmly in her hand, made her way back to the spot where she’d left Grandfather, holding court over a group of Bath widows and old cronies.

  ‘Who were you talking to, miss?’ Grandfather scowled at her over the rim of his cup as she handed it to him.

  ‘I have no idea,’ she admitted wistfully. ‘He didn’t give me his name.’

  ‘I should think not. In my day a gentleman waited to be introduced before speaking to a lady.’

  ‘Well, I did blunder into him and knock his cup of water out of his hand.’

  ‘Oh. I see. Like that, was it?’ And with that, he turned back to Mrs Hutchens and took up from where they’d left off gossiping, having clearly dismissed the entire incident.

  Which was a bit depressing, actually. For a minute or two, Lizzie toyed with the idea of saying that, no, it wasn’t like that. That the tall, blue-eyed man had flirted with her outrageously. Showered her with compliments, then asked her to elope with him.

  But saying any such thing would only have earned her a sharp reprimand. Grandfather knew she wasn’t the kind of girl that gentlemen ever flirted with. The only thing that might tempt a man to look beyond her gargantuan build, and her clumsiness, was an enormous dowry.

  And Lizzie didn’t have a penny to her name.

  Still, there was nothing to stop her from reliving the encounter in her mind. And imagining the expressions that might have been flitting across his face as they were bantering with each other. Why shouldn’t he have looked at her with admiration? Why couldn’t her dazzling wit have managed to chase the shadows from his eyes and make them twinkle with laughter?

  Grandfather rudely interrupted her daydream by poking her in the leg with his cane.

  ‘Come on, girl, stop wool-gathering!’

  It was time to leave.

  ‘Yes, Grandfather,’ she said meekly. But instead of trailing behind him, shoulders drooping at the prospect of facing the next stage in the daily round of Bath life, Lizzie imagined she was balancing a pile of books on her head. Because ladies were supposed to glide, gracefully, wherever they went.

  And for once, Lizzie could see the point of trying to do so.

  Because, who knew who might be watching her?

  Chapter Three

  ‘And of course,’ said Lady Mainwaring, ‘I told her...’

  Lizzie kept her head tilted to one side, her eyes fixed in the general direction of Bath’s most garrulous widow, while her mind wandered freely. It was one of the benefits of having such poor eyesight. People didn’t expect her to look as though she was focusing intently on them when they cornered her and tried to interest her in the latest gossip.

  She did make sure she smiled at Lady Mainwaring though, because the plump little woman was one of the least terrifying of the Bath set. Lizzie was certain that she gossiped about her the moment they parted company, but she never actually said anything unkind to her face, the way so many of the other dowagers did. Lady Mainwaring had never asked her why she didn’t smarten herself up, for example, or recommended modistes who would know how to counteract her faults, or sigh and pretend to sympathise with the difficulty of finding eligible young men in Bath these days. She was too keen on keeping Lizzie up to date with what everyone else in Bath was doing.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said the Master of Ceremonies, bowing to both ladies and making Lizzie jump.
She hadn’t noticed him approaching, so intent had she been on convincing Lady Mainwaring she was listening to her account of her latest altercation with one of the other dowagers.

  ‘I have here a gentleman I would wish to recommend as a dancing partner, for you, Miss Hutton.’

  ‘For me?’ Lizzie couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d told her she’d just won the lottery. Especially since she’d never purchased a ticket.

  ‘Permit me to introduce Captain Bretherton, of His Majesty’s navy,’ said the Master of Ceremonies, smoothly ignoring Lizzie’s less-than-gracious reaction, and waving to someone who, presumably from the direction of the waving, was standing just behind him.

  ‘Captain Bretherton?’ Of the navy? She peered beyond Mr King’s shoulder and saw an immense figure loom up out of the golden candlelit fog. And her heart skipped a beat. It was the man from the Pump Room that morning. It had to be. For there surely couldn’t be two such tall, broad men in Bath at present.

  ‘Miss Hutton,’ said a voice she recognised at once. A voice that sent strange feelings rippling through her whole body. Making her feel a bit like a pointer quivering in the presence of game. ‘I am charmed to make your acquaintance.’

  ‘Eep!’ That was the noise which escaped Lady Mainwaring’s mouth as Captain Bretherton stepped closer and bowed over her hand. Which also, coincidentally, expressed exactly what Lizzie was thinking.