by Laura Landon
Ford took mental notes of the information he was getting. But he knew he’d need much more before he could determine possible reasons for the two clippers’ shortages.
“How soon will you be able to set sail again?” the admiral asked.
“Within a fortnight I would think. The crew will begin loading sugar, coffee, and rice from the warehouses as soon as we’ve unloaded our cargo. Two trips a year, Admiral, just like we promised. We’ll keep you competitive.”
The admiral nodded in approval.
“Is there anything else?” Captain Fletcher asked.
“No, Captain,” the admiral said.
“If not, I’ll get the bill of lading for you.”
“Thank you,” Lady Calinda said.
The captain left to get the paperwork, and the admiral turned to walk the deck of the Night’s Lady.
“He loves it when the ships dock and he can come aboard,” she said, watching her grandfather take a turn around the deck. “He especially loves the clippers. I think he regrets having retired from the sea before Crown’s acquired them.”
“No doubt. But he obviously has a wealth of wonderful memories of his time at sea.”
“Yes, he does.” She watched her grandfather for several moments, then turned to face Ford. “Thank you,” she said. “For the next several days he’ll speak of nothing but his time with you. He has had a wonderful day.”
“So have I. Your grandfather is a remarkable man. One of Britain’s bravest.”
Her gaze locked with his for several moments, and the happiness he saw in her eyes warmed him.
“Here you are, my lady,” Captain Fletcher said, handing Lady Calinda the bill of lading.
“Thank you, Captain.”
“Will there be anything else, my lady?”
“No, that is all.”
Captain Fletcher nodded respectfully, then returned to his duties. As soon as the captain was away from them, Lady Calinda flipped to the last page of the papers and studied the figures.
“Is everything all right, my lady?”
She righted the papers, then lifted her chin to look at him. “Yes, of course.”
But Ford wasn’t sure everything was. Although there was a hint of relief on her face, there wasn’t the satisfaction of a successful and profitable venture. It was obvious, though, that the lady wasn’t ready to confide in him.
“Will you be attending Lady Wentfield’s ball this evening?” he asked.
Lady Calinda sighed. “Nora is looking forward to going, so I’ll most likely be forced to accompany her.”
Ford laughed. She truly disliked going out in Society. “I look forward to seeing you, then.”
A look of near panic filled her eyes. She paused for several uncomfortable moments before she spoke. “I would ask that you not invite me to dance, Captain.”
Ford tried to smile. “You weren’t impressed with my skills in the quadrille?”
“It’s not that. As you attested, you are an adept dance partner. It’s that . . . well . . . asking me to dance might be construed as something more than it is. It might lead to talk, or give other men the impression that I have ulterior motives in attending Society’s social events.”
“I see.”
“I hope you do,” she answered, almost too quickly.
“You know,” Ford said, “just because the man you were engaged to marry proved to be unfaithful it doesn’t mean that all men are such deceivers.”
A smile lifted the corners of her mouth, but her expression couldn’t signify as a smile. Far from it. It was more a derisive grin. “Would that my betrothed were the only example with whom I am acquainted. But I can name a half dozen married men who have perfectly lovely wives, yet keep mistresses on the side, including . . .” She paused. “Including my sister’s husband whom you met earlier.”
Ford saw the expression on Callie’s face. The heartache she felt for her sister was evident. “Does your sister know?”
Lady Calinda turned her back to him and walked to the ship’s railing. “I don’t know.” She looked toward the wharf as if she were watching the crew of the Night’s Lady unload the ship’s cargo. But Ford doubted she saw what the crew was doing.
He took a step to stand beside her.
“If she does,” she continued, “she’s never confided in me.”
“Not all men are so reprehensible,” Ford said.
She turned to face him. “So you keep saying,” she answered, then walked away from him to join her grandfather.
“But how is one to know?”
CHAPTER 6
Callie sat on a secluded chair near the wall and watched the couples enjoy themselves on the dance floor. Nora was dancing this set with the Earl of Blankey. He seemed to partner her at least once at each event they attended.
Callie watched them move through the steps of the Scottish reel. They made a handsome couple, and the look they shared when the dance brought them together was as intimate and powerful as any look her sister had given any of her partners. It might be important for Callie’s mother to have a discussion with Nora concerning Lord Blankey and exactly how serious Nora was concerning the young gentleman.
The dancers moved in step, and of a sudden, they parted enough that Callie’s gaze caught a group of four men talking and laughing. They were obviously enjoying themselves. And none more than Ford Remington.
She tried not to stare at him. Just as she’d tried not to focus on his handsome physique all evening, though she’d failed miserably.
What was it about him that drew her attention as it did? She’d survived three years without feeling a connection to another man. Why did this man consume her thoughts? And her dreams?
She turned her head and longingly looked at the French windows that opened to the terrace. She was impatient to escape the ballroom and step out into the evening air. But she didn’t want Ford Remington to see her leave. She didn’t want to take the chance that he might follow her.
Just as he’d kept his word not to ask her to dance, he’d also avoided approaching her to carry on a conversation. He seemed to understand that talking to her would draw the same attention as dancing with her. She was afraid, however, that if he saw her step out onto the terrace, he might seek her out. And for as much as she knew she would enjoy being with him, she also knew she couldn’t risk being with him. She was too drawn to him for her own good.
The music ended the reel, and the orchestra struck up another set. Callie cast a fleeting glance across the room, but Captain Remington was no longer there. Perhaps he’d gone to the card room to join some of the other gentlemen in a game of chance. Or perhaps, if she was fortunate, he’d left entirely.
Another gentleman came to partner Nora, and they stepped out onto the floor. Callie looked across the room to where the captain had been before, but he was still absent. She rose from her chair and made her way to the terrace.
The night air held a hint of a breeze, and she inhaled its freshness. Her worries didn’t vanish, but the quiet solitude cast some clarity on the problems that had seemed insurmountable earlier.
Something was wrong at the shipping office. The ledgers indicated that, but she couldn’t ferret out where the clues led. If only she could talk to her grandfather. But she didn’t want him to worry. And she couldn’t go to her family. They’d been against her spending time down at the Surrey docks from the beginning. They didn’t think a woman should keep the books for the shipping business, and if they thought she couldn’t handle the job, they’d insist she find someone else to take charge.
She couldn’t allow that. She loved being around the ships and the sea and the excitement every time a ship came in with a new cargo.
If only—
“I wondered how long you would survive the crush before you escaped.”
“Oh!” Callie said on a squeak. The voice from the shadows startled her, and she turned so quickly she lost her balance. She reached out, and thankfully the captain’s muscled arms were there to catch her.
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br /> “I apologize,” he said, gathering her closer. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t . . . I mean . . .” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I was merely lost in thought.”
“So I gathered. Would you care to share what has cast you adrift in this veritable sea of thought?”
Callie hesitated, and, as if the captain realized she needed time to consider the wisdom of sharing her problems with him, he took her by the elbow and led her to the garden.
“Would you care to sit?” he said, pointing to a bench they were nearing. “Or would you rather stroll through the garden?”
“I’d rather walk, if you don’t mind.”
By way of answer, he looped her arm through his elbow, and together they took the nearest garden path.
“I know something is bothering you,” he said softly, “and I know it has something to do with the shipping company. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Her footsteps faltered, and he gathered her closer to him.
She desperately wanted to tell him what she suspected, but how could she ask the help of a complete stranger? And yet . . . there was no one else she could ask. She suddenly wanted Ford Remington to be the one to whom she could turn for help.
“If you’re concerned that you cannot trust me, please know that you may rely upon me to keep confidential anything you say.”
Callie lifted her chin and focused on him. “You swear it?”
“Upon my life, my lady.”
The captain seemed to know she needed privacy, and led her off the main path and down a narrow cobblestone lane. They sat on the first scroll-worked bench they came to. He didn’t push her to speak, but waited patiently while she gathered her courage.
“You’re correct. There is something wrong. And it does concern Grandfather’s company. At least, I believe there is something wrong, although I can’t show you any proof.”
“You don’t need to show me proof. The fact that you believe something is wrong is enough.”
Callie lifted her gaze. “You would accept what I think without proof?”
“Is there a reason I should not?”
Callie shook her head.
“What do you believe is happening?”
“I believe someone is . . . is . . . stealing from the company.”
“Do you have any idea who that might be?”
She shook her head and continued to study her clenched hands in her lap. “I wish I did.”
“Perhaps you can begin by explaining what leads you to believe this is happening.”
She nodded. “Crown’s has always been profitable. For years the income greatly justified the enormous expense. With the purchase of the clipper ships profits rose even further.”
“When did you acquire the clippers?”
“Three years ago.”
“Tell me when you first noticed something was wrong.”
“Nearly two years ago. The profits lessened by amounts that were so insignificant at first I didn’t think anything of it. But the earnings steadily decreased until there were times when one or more of the clippers sailed at a near loss.”
“Have you questioned your captains?”
“Yes. I spoke to them individually and together.”
“What was their explanation?”
“Mostly that the prices they are forced to pay for the goods they picked up in the Indies, especially the cost of spices, are greater than ever. They also claim that the tea they buy at auction in China costs more than in the past.”
“Do you think that is an accurate assessment?”
Callie rose from the bench where they sat. “It could be. Except that I’ve not heard any other shipping lines complain about rising costs or lower profits.”
Ford rose and came near her. Even if she hadn’t heard his footsteps as he approached her, she would have known he was there. It confused her to discover that she didn’t need to see him. She could merely feel his presence, as if the nerves along her skin just suddenly awoke.
“I say, perhaps—no, I won’t say it. Nevermind.”
Lady Calinda turned to him and laid an urgent hand on his arm. “Please tell me. You had a thought? Something that I may not have considered? I do so need to hear it.”
“Well, you see, the thing is, I know something about ledger-keeping. Would you like me to take a look at yours? Perhaps another set of eyes to look over the numbers would help.”
She took a step back and brought both hands to her breast as the hope in her eyes spread across her face. “You would do that?”
“How long before the Night’s Lady sets sail?”
“A week. Perhaps a few days longer. It will take that long to assemble and load the cargo. And give the crew some time ashore, of course.”
The captain nodded, his face in serious thought. “Good. That will give me time to speak with the captain.”
“Thank you,” Callie said. “I know I have no right to ask you to look into this for me, but—”
“You have no need to thank me. I’m glad I might be of some assistance.”
Callie tried, but she couldn’t shift her gaze from his. Even in the moonlight—especially in the moonlight—he was so terribly handsome. That should have alerted her, but she found she could no longer pay attention to the warning she’d always considered so important. How could she when being near to him kept her from thinking straight?
“We should return before we’re missed,” she said in a voice that felt strangely out of breath.
The captain didn’t answer, but extended his arm in response.
Callie placed her gloved hand on his arm, yet the captain didn’t step forward. Instead, he turned so they stood face to face. His gaze locked with hers, and after several breathless moments his focus lowered to her mouth.
He was going to kiss her. She saw the desire in his eyes.
She knew she should step away. She knew if she allowed him to kiss her, nothing would ever be the same. But she couldn’t move. She wanted his kiss with an urgency that startled her.
She continued to hold his gaze, realizing that the longer she looked at him, the more lost she was. Then, she slowly lowered her gaze to his mouth. To his full lips that promised a wealth of pleasure.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he lowered his head until his mouth hovered a whispered breath above hers. Then, he covered her mouth and kissed her.
His touch was gentle at first, just the tasting of her lips, a sampling of what they might share. Then, he deepened his kiss.
Warm, inviting lips offered her an experience she had not known she craved.
He tightened his hold and brought her closer to him. She went willingly. She went eagerly. Whatever he offered, she wanted to experience it. Even though she had thought she would never feel such an attraction for another man, she did. Kissing him felt not only right, it felt glorious.
He deepened his kiss until their breathing became labored, then kissed her once more before he lifted his lips from hers.
Instead of dropping his arms from around her, he kept her securely in place as if he realized that she needed his support to keep from falling.
They stood in each other’s arms for several moments, each cherishing the feel of the other. Reveling in the newfound comfort they had discovered there. Too soon, he loosened his hold, and Callie stepped back.
“Now it’s time we returned,” he said, extending his arm. He paused as they both summoned the composure they would need, and then he led her back to the ball.
The music spun and the conversation churned, just as it had before. But for Callie, nothing about the evening was as it had been before. And it felt woefully wonderful.
. . .
The hope in her eyes had nearly undone him. Ford tried to shed the guilt of it as he watched her from across the room. She’d responded exactly as he would have expected. If he’d laid a trap for her it couldn’t have gone more smoothly. And yet a trap had been furthest from his mind. He truly wanted to plac
e himself between her and the thing that had her so troubled.
He left the ball early, painfully aware that he’d just set himself on a course from which it was now impossible to withdraw. And while it may garner some answers for the shipping company, it could only validate one thing for Lady Calinda Barclave.
No man could be trusted with the lady’s heart.
CHAPTER 7
The smell of the wharf reached Ford’s nose before the ships came within view. He was sure the smell wasn’t pleasant to some people, but he wasn’t one of them. The mix of pungent odors spelled excitement. It hinted at a world of unknown adventure.
As he neared the Crown’s office, he promised himself that the day would come when he would sail one of Her Majesty’s clipper ships to the Indies. Or to China. Or beyond.
His heart beat faster as he thought of making such a voyage. When he reached the office, his excitement was nearly palpable. He opened the door and was met by the most beautiful sight. A lovely woman with her sleeves protected by elbow-length ink cuffs, a wayward curl tickling her ear, and a jubilant smile spreading across her face.
“Good morning, my lady,” he said, greeting the woman he’d kissed the night before.
Ford couldn’t stop a smile from darting across his face when Lady Calinda’s cheeks reddened and her gaze lowered. Their shared kiss had obviously been memorable for her, too.
“Captain Remington,” she greeted as she hurriedly tucked the renegade curl into place.
Ford smiled, then turned his gaze to the empty chair where the admiral usually sat. “Is the admiral unwell?”
The lady shook her head. “No. He’d mentioned that he wanted to visit some of his naval friends, and I thought today would be a perfect time for him to be absent. I don’t want to alert him to the fact that something might be wrong. I can’t imagine how such news would upset him.”
“Perhaps we should begin then.” Ford stepped around the desk to stand beside her. The memory of her in his arms struck him with vivid clarity.
He pushed such thoughts away. He could hardly concentrate on the business at hand if memories of last night remained in the forefront. He forced his attention to the problem before them.