Prize of My Heart

by Lisa Norato

  Brogan followed, his thoughts not so much on his ship as on all the possibilities two weeks could hold. For that matter, an evening could hold, because tonight he’d be dining with his son.

  Standing before the looking glass of her two-tiered Sheraton dressing table, Lorena worried her bottom lip as she tried to contain two handfuls of tight spice-brown ringlets that seemed to overtake her head the way English ivy overran a brick wall.

  “No, Drew, you mustn’t” came Temperance’s voice from just outside her bedroom door. “A gentleman never intrudes upon a lady’s bedchamber. If you wish to see Lorena, you must wait until she is ready to receive you.”

  “Oh, she won’t mind.”

  Lorena dropped her hands, releasing the unbound coils that spilled to her waist, and then opened the door in time to see Temperance narrow her eyes at the rebellious little scamp. “I saw how rudely you behaved to Papa Huntley’s guests, and won’t you be embarrassed when you greet them for supper?”

  She didn’t pause for Drew’s response, but marched past the boy, only to have him squeeze by her into the bedroom before she could finish closing the door in his face.

  “I’ve seen him, Lorena.”

  “He’s come!”

  They spoke at once, both Temperance and Drew rushing to her side. Lorena raised a hand to ward them off. “Please, one at a time. Of whom do you speak?”

  “Captain Talvis.”

  “The giant!”

  Again, they spoke at the same time, and it was all Lorena could do to still her racing heart long enough for reason to assure her they could not possibly be referring to the same man.

  Temperance scrunched her nose at Drew as if he were something green and slippery that had crawled out of the root cellar. “The giant. What giant?”

  Drew stuck his tongue out at the girl.

  “Wait for me in your room, would you, Drew?” Lorena directed. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.” The giant … well, nothing could be more urgent than the giant, but Lorena needed to dismiss Temperance first. The giant was a most private and embarrassing matter.

  “But—”

  “No argument. Be a good boy and go to your room.” She eyed him sternly to end further protest.

  Her astute little man got the message. He turned and walked out the door, practicing with his sling.

  With an inward sigh of relief, Lorena turned to the fourteen-year-old servant girl she mentored like a sister. Both Temperance Culliford and her mother, Wealthea, had been fixtures in the Huntley household these seven years. Long ago, Temperance’s father vanished at sea amidst rumors he’d been impressed by the British, and Papa, being the good Christian man he was, had taken compassion by offering Mrs. Culliford employment as the family housekeeper. This included not only a steady income, but a cozy home within walking distance from Lorena’s own residence. Temperance and her mother were treated with the fondness and consideration of family members.

  Lorena pulled a long piece of straw out from under the small ruffled cap hugging the top of Temperance’s head. “I thought I smelled horse,” she teased.

  In the early morning hours, if either of them were nowhere to be found inside the house, just as everyone knew to look for Lorena in the summer kitchen, so too could they be assured of finding Temperance in the stables.

  She was a spirited girl, and though some might look upon her equestrian pursuits as unladylike, Papa did not believe in discouraging an impassioned heart. And Temperance’s passion was for horses. For several years now he had turned a blind eye to her daily visits to the stable. He pretended not to notice the occasional absences from her duties. No one complained when there were no carrots to be found in the garden for dinner because they’d been fed to the horses earlier. Anyone could see they thrived under Temperance’s love and attention. They were God’s creatures. And Papa considered she was doing him a service in helping to groom and exercise his horses, for as long as the girl promised to be careful, he did not forbid her to ride them.

  Sometimes he even brought her along riding with him for the company.

  Lorena handed her back the piece of straw. “Now, Temperance, what of Captain Talvis? Has there been a change of plans about his joining us for supper?”

  “Oh no, nothing like that.” Temperance claimed the white ribbon Lorena held and turned her to face the mirror. As she combed her fingers through Lorena’s long brown ringlets, she said, “But Mother would like to know which sweet you plan on preparing for this evening’s dessert.”

  Lorena waved the girl’s hands away. “And what of my cranberry tarts? I was up at five this morning baking them.” As she whirled to confront Temperance, her hair tumbled once again down her back. “What’s become of them?”

  “Drew ate two, dropped one on the floor, and stuck his fingers in another. There’s only a few left to serve with tea.”

  Lorena didn’t dispute it was true, but four missing tarts was not cause to bake a whole new dessert. “And?” she prodded, suspecting more than Temperance was telling. “How many did you eat?”

  “Only two. Mr. Huntley said I could, after he took four for his own breakfast and made me promise not to tell.”

  Temperance lowered her lashes, twisting the white fillet ribbon around her finger in a show of conscience. A show, Lorena knew, because not a moment passed before Temperance’s frown curled into a grin.

  “Oh, Lorena, it will be little bother for you. All of Duxboro knows how much you enjoy baking sweets. Of course, Mother is the house cook. She could easily prepare something, but you told her you wished to do the baking for dinner guests.”

  Lorena had no argument, and with a roll of her eyes admitted, “Yes, yes. I did say that. Very well, Temperance. I had hoped to avoid the heat of the summer kitchen at midday, but I suppose I’ll have to change back into my work dress and bake a gingerbread.”

  Temperance’s face dropped in disappointment. “Gingerbread? For a guest like Captain Talvis? Oh no, Lorena, your father would not be pleased. I suggest you make your chocolate custards.”

  “Chocolate custards require a great deal of preparation. I have too much on my mind at present to bother with chocolate custards.” She started for the door before Drew got restless and came looking for her, but Temperance blocked her path.

  “Lorena, I have come to tell you something more. I have come to advise you to choose your garments carefully this evening.”

  “And why is that, pray tell?”

  “Because the captain … Captain Talvis, that is … oh, his eyes, they’re beautifully … haunting. You will need to see for yourself to understand, but he bears quite a singular and striking appearance.”

  Lorena was already haunted by a pair of eyes from earlier that morning; she had no interest in another’s. For a brief instant she regretted to think she’d never behold them again, and she was quite horrified to discover some obscure part of her maintained even the slightest interest in a second encounter with that arrogant stranger.

  She shook it off, and as she brushed past, Temperance chimed in a little birdy voice as though expounding some great prophecy, “I suspect Captain Talvis will be capturing the attention of all the marriageable young ladies in Duxboro.”

  “Hurrah for Captain Talvis and the unmarried ladies of Duxborotown. I am going to see about Drew.”

  “You know, Lorena, at nineteen years of age, with no husband and no suitable prospect for one, you should pay more attention to a man like Captain Talvis,” Temperance called after her from the bedroom doorway. “Unless you’ve changed your mind and plan on marrying George. Have you? Changed your mind, that is?”

  This was not a subject Lorena wished to discuss shouting across the hall, but neither could she let the question go unanswered. She spun around. “I seek a better future for myself than marriage to a man I do not love. But if you had your way, Temperance, you’d have me betrothed to every unattached fellow who strolls through our door.”

  Temperance approached to brush a thick fall of gin
gery curls off Lorena’s shoulder. “No, not every fellow,” she said, “but why not a handsome, smart fellow like George? You did seem to favor him well enough once. Has he done something to displease you?” She picked at the pristine lace edging on one of Lorena’s short puffy sleeves, her voice dropping to a soft, wistful tone. “Or do you refuse George because he is sailing for England, and you would not wish to be separated from us?”

  “Temperance, if ever in my foolish youth I imagined affection for George Louder, I can assure you, I have long since grown to feel otherwise. England, bah. Under no circumstance would I wish to abandon my family.” And then Lorena remembered to add, “And in referring to family, you know I include your mother and yourself?”

  Words Temperance had been waiting to hear, for the corners of her mouth curled into her full cheeks, widening into a smile that fairly reached her ears.

  Then, as though seeking further reassurance, Temperance narrowed her hazel-green eyes in a keen, assessing stare. “George hasn’t done something to upset you, has he, Lorena? You wouldn’t keep secrets from me?”

  Lorena dismissed the notion with a giggle. “Temperance, I do not have a secret,” she assured and did not lie, because thanks to this morning’s misadventure, she had two.

  Temperance grinned, content to let the matter drop. “In that case, Lorena, I beg you to make your chocolate custards. Shall I tell Mother you’ll join her in the summer kitchen?”

  Lorena summoned what little patience she had in reserve. “Very well. Chocolate custards. Though not for the sake of Captain Talvis. I am doing this for my father.”

  Temperance gave no reply, save for a smile and the prim satisfaction on her face. She’d gotten exactly what she’d come for and excused herself with a nod.

  As Temperance bounded down the staircase, Lorena admonished herself for being so easily persuaded and continued on to Drew’s room. As quickly as she stepped inside, however, the boy was upon her.

  He threw his arms about her legs and mumbled incoherently into her skirts.

  “I cannot understand you, Drew.”

  The child lifted his face. “The giant is come. Come to get us.”

  Lorena refused to get unnecessarily alarmed. She took Drew’s chubby hands and held them tightly in her own as she leaned forward to search his face. “You’re telling me you’ve seen the man from the shipyard again?”

  He nodded.

  “Where, Drew?”

  The boy stomped his foot angrily on the carpet. “He is here.”

  “Here. Here in our house? You’ve seen that man in our house?”

  Drew nodded, vigorously this time, as shock washed over her. Lorena could barely think straight. First in the shipyard, now in her home. Who was this giant? she wondered, knowing full well he was no giant, but a man.

  The same striking figure of a man who had impressed Temperance, with eyes she could not describe, and as Lorena feared, her papa’s client—Captain Talvis.

  “He is a dangerous giant,” Drew warned. “I can tell by the looks of him.”

  “Did he speak to you?”

  “He smiled like it was Christmas and he had found a present under the tree. He tried to get me, but I ran away.”

  Get him? Lorena hardly thought so—not in their home, surely. Doing her best to hide her confusion, she squatted level with the boy. She braved him a smile and ran her fingers through his soft white-gold curls. “No one is going to get you, I promise. We needn’t fear the giant. He is our papa’s client, Captain Talvis. Remember your papa Huntley telling us about him? He’s master and owner of the largest ship built in our yards.”

  Drew considered her words carefully. “Captain Talvis?”

  “Yes. I imagine the captain was anxious for a look at his finished ship. That would explain his presence in the shipyard this morning.”

  Where I had the misfortune of meeting up with him, Lorena thought wryly.

  She gave the child her most serious face. “Drew, if anyone were to find out about what happened in the shipyard this morning, the captain would be embarrassed. I think it best if we do not mention the giant to anyone.”

  Pressing a finger to her lips, she made a soft shushing sound. “We must refer to him only by name. Captain Talvis. And not as the giant. Do you understand?”

  He stared back with that precious, innocent face she loved so well. He did not fully comprehend, Lorena could tell, but he would do as she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “At a convenient time, I will apologize to him in private. Meanwhile, you are not to hurt the captain again. No sling, no stones, not even a cross word. Promise me.”

  He avoided her gaze, stubbornly refusing to answer.

  “Drew …”

  “I promise.”

  “There’s my good boy.” Lorena kissed his soft cheek with a loud smack.

  “He called me Ben,” Drew blurted.

  Lorena pulled away, startled and speechless. Benjamin had been Drew’s name before he came to them. Why would Captain Talvis call Drew by his former name? How would he even know of it?

  A chill of foreboding stole up her spine, rattling her composure until her hands shook. She clasped them behind her back, before Drew noticed how shaken she was. This innocent child had no idea of the dark secret that surrounded him.

  But Lorena knew the secret. It smoldered bitterly in her heart.

  Except for Papa and herself, no one knew about Ben.

  No one who was still alive.

  3

  Her father asked that she wait in the east parlor, but Lorena brought Drew across the hall to the more feminine west parlor, where she would be better situated to hear her dinner guests arrive.

  Butterflies flittered nervously in her stomach, making her wonder whether it wasn’t the anticipation of receiving her papa’s client that had her pacing the floor or the inevitability of another face-to-face encounter with Captain Talvis.

  He’d never seen his attacker in the shipyard, and since Drew had reclaimed his stone, Lorena doubted the captain even realized what had hit him.

  She feared his reaction. Would her identity shock him? And once revealed, would that identity as the lady of the house, rather than a servant, diffuse any anger he might be inclined to vent for the way she’d left him lying in the marsh?

  The blame was not all hers to bear. By all accounts, the captain should have made a proper introduction. It would have explained his presence in the shipyard. Lorena could have welcomed him to Duxboro and might now be looking forward to his stay in town with pleasure instead of dread.

  More than the sort of nervousness a woman in her situation might be expected to feel, she felt disquiet.

  Benjamin was Drew’s middle name. Andrew Benjamin Huntley, named for her paternal grandfather, Squire Andrew Josiah Huntley, whose portrait hung over the mantel in her father’s study and who had founded the shipbuilding empire he later passed on to his eldest son. Had Captain Talvis mistakenly transposed Drew’s first and middle names? Was it that simple? Had she overreacted, or was there good reason to remain leery of the man?

  In any case, this was her home, and she would not allow him to take her at a disadvantage again. No, not as he had this morning, approaching her unawares, bullying her with muscle and arrogance, with haughty smiles and deep, arresting stares.

  She peered out one of the front windows, but the dark, moonless night saturated the glass so thoroughly, Lorena saw only her reflection and the parlor’s interior.

  Hand-blocked French wallpaper depicted a mural of well-dressed ladies and gentlemen at a lakeside picnic. The tall case clock ticked five past the hour. Chinese porcelain vases sat atop the fireplace mantel adjacent to a yellow and ivory silk damask sofa, where her gaze came to rest.

  She whirled about. “Don’t slouch, Drew, or your clothes will get rumpled.”

  The child half sat, half reclined on the sofa, head propped against the back with his chin pressed to his chest in a way that concealed his pout in the lacy ruffl
es of a cravat. He wore a pistachio waistcoat that did marvelous things for bringing out the peacock blue of his eyes.

  Yet perhaps it wasn’t the waistcoat at all but the angry defiance blazing through those eyes that intensified their color.

  Lorena marched over for a seat beside him, leaning closer when he made no visible acknowledgment of her. “Listen to me, sweetheart. Papa Huntley is entertaining a very important client this evening. Think how rude it would be for Captain Briggs to sit on the table while you carried on a conversation with him none of us could share in. You’ll be together with Captain Briggs soon enough. In the meantime, give me a smile and be a good boy for your papa Huntley. Think of all the nice things he does for you. Why, just the other day he took you for a ride in the chaise to Timmy Baker’s farm and let you chase the baby pigs through the mud. And didn’t he say you could have one of Taffy’s puppies once they’ve been weaned?”

  Drew turned his head and mumbled something about a stupid giant, his body slumped in a manner that reminded Lorena of the cloth doll he pined for. Captain Briggs wore a tiny sea captain’s uniform in honor of the father he believed had perished at sea. Drew and Captain Briggs had joined the household as a pair. Young and disoriented in his new home, the frequency with which Drew had awakened during the night came as no surprise, but Captain Briggs, tucked under the quilt beside him, never failed to ease the child back to sleep.

  It brought to mind a certain Boston townhouse during the war. Heavy fringed draperies hung at the windows, blocking the sunlight but not the sound of soldiers drilling or the constant beat of their drum. Vessels sat anchored up and down the coast with British men-of-war standing guard over them in the harbor.

  The voluptuous blond woman showed no emotion as she delivered the baby called Benjamin into Papa’s arms. Papa bounced the pudgy towhead on his hip, but Ben squirmed against a stranger’s embrace. He searched pitifully about the foyer, and when he didn’t find whom he was looking for, he screwed up his little face and cried out, “Papa?”