Weathering Captain Storm

by Charles, Jane

  Her back stiffened, but Isabella didn’t turn around. He’d really like to watch her face right now.

  “Your family?”

  This caused her to face him. Her auburn eyebrows drew tightly over her stormy grey eyes. “My family?”

  “Yes. What is your real name?”

  Fear flashed in her grey centers, but in a blink it was gone. “I don’t understand.”

  “Let me explain, Isabella.” Nate took a healthy drink. “You see, after your heartless rejection of my love.”

  She sucked in a deep breath,

  But Nate continued, “I sold my commission and traveled. I wished to get away from my memories of the war and of you. I couldn’t go far enough because you were still, always there, haunting me every time I closed my eyes.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes, but Nate refused to allow himself to be moved.

  He took another drink and began pacing, otherwise, he’d reach out and pull her to him again. “One of those places was India. Fascinating country that I found delightful. Of course, it could be because it is the country where you once lived, and you were haunting my dreams.”

  Isabella sank down onto the settee, her face pale, but she offered no words of objection nor did she ask him to stop.

  “In one of the provinces there was a delightful little church that I was quite taken with. And just for a moment I began thinking about pursuing a career in the church.”

  Isabella raised her eyebrows in surprise.

  Nate shook his head. “It was a momentary lapse. We both know I’d make a horrendous vicar.”

  “There is always the law.”

  Nate pretended to think about it for a moment and then shook his head again. “Still sounds as boring as before.” He took another drink. “But back to this delightful little church. Imagine my surprise when I stepped inside and saw a gold plaque on the wall, a dedication to Peter Valentine and his wife Martha, for their sacrifice to…I can’t recall the name at the moment, and I never did learn how to pronounce it.”

  Isabella gulped and drank deeply.

  “Of course, I had to know if they were your parents. I assumed they must be. How many Valentines could be in India that were also associated with a church?”

  Any color that had returned to her lovely cheeks was now gone.

  “Luckily for me, I found a person who not only spoke English, but remembered Peter and Martha.” Nate grinned. “A few persons actually.”

  Isabella groaned and slouched against the settee, but Nate wasn’t about to stop in his storytelling.

  “Do you know what I learned?”

  Isabella looked away.

  “Well, I’ll tell you. After several discussions, I did confirm that Martha Valentine is the sister of Mary Valentine, the woman you claim to be your aunt.”

  A tear slipped down Isabella’s cheek and Nate almost stopped, but she’s the one who was never truthful. Not once had she ever hinted that she was someone else the entire time he was falling in love with her. He’d felt sorry for the little girl who had lost her parents in a massacre when it’d all been a fabrication. The whole family still kept up the charade and he wanted to know why.

  “Sadly, I also learned that all four of their children also died. I saw their graves myself and was assured, that no children survived, or returned to their aunt and uncle.”

  Nate sat down across from her. “Well, you can imagine my surprise, since you told such a heartbreaking tale of your parents, dying in a very similar massacre and you being sent to England.”

  Isabella stared down into her empty glass, and he waited. He’d wait forever, and he wasn’t leaving her until she told him the truth.

  He rose and crossed to the sideboard and grabbed the decanter and refilled her glass. “Perhaps this will help loosen your tongue.”

  A moment later she finally looked up, her grey eyes dead and distant. It was as if he’d taken the very life from her. That had not been his intention, and for a moment, he regretted everything he’d just said to her.

  “What would you have me tell you?” she asked softly.

  “The truth.”

  “When I’m done, will you leave and never speak of this again to anyone?”

  Nate nodded.

  Isabella took another drink and closed her eyes. Then she opened them and Nate saw determination in her grey depths. “My mother, daughter of a marquess fell in love with a stablehand,” she began haltingly. “Because her father would never approve of such a match, the two ran off to Gretna and married. Jones, the stablehand, thought that as her husband, the marquess would have no choice but to accept them, and his life would improve greatly.”

  Nate suspected what would come next.

  “Instead, my grandfather threw her out of the house and cut her from his life. The two made their way to London where they settled in St. Giles and Jones found a position with a livery.”

  Nate nodded.

  “Soon after, Demp, Benny, and Ollie were born.”

  Nate frowned. Those were not names he’d heard before.

  “You wanted the truth, I’m giving it to you, along with the real names of the Valentine children in question.”

  Anger laced her words, not that Nate blamed her. He had been the one to insist that she tell him.

  “Jones turned out to be a drunk and died while my mother was increasing with Merc.”

  His stomach tightened.

  Isabella laughed bitterly. “I’d always thought I’d never know the name of my father, or that any of us born after Merc would.” Her eyes met his. “You see, even as a widow, my grandfather would not let her return home and offered no assistance. So, my mother went to work doing the only thing she could.” Isabella leaned forward. “On the Continent, you called them light skirts, in St. Giles, they are called whores.” She practically spit the words.

  No wonder she’d kept this secret, but it still explained little, like how the family stayed together and their names were changed.

  “A month ago, I learned differently.” She took a drink. “You see, a certain gentleman was in love with my mother and had wanted her to marry her before Jones was successful in his seduction. A Viscount Perry.”

  Then why wasn’t Isabella a lady? Why had she been raised by others?

  “Of course, he didn’t love her enough to marry her after what she’d done, so he set her up in a house, for only her, of course. He didn’t want any of the children around, and proceeded to support her as his mistress and in producing six more children.”

  Isabella took another sip is if trying to compose herself. Nate didn’t rush her. This story was difficult for her to tell, and as much as he wished to save her the pain, he needed to know everything. Their future depended on it.

  “My mother died shortly after Perdita was born. Delivering a babe a year for ten years had taken its toll.”

  “What of Viscount Perry?”

  She snorted. “I never knew the gentleman existed until a month ago. He certainly did not offer any assistance.”

  “So how did all of you end up with the Grants?”

  A small smile pulled at her lips. “When Demetrius tried to lift his purse, Uncle Osborn chased him down and found all of us living in one room. Demetrius, Benedick, and Orlando had been doing their best to take care of us, but if Uncle Osborn hadn’t come along, who knows what might have become of us?” She shivered as if she didn’t want to contemplate what kind of future that would have been.

  “At the time, Uncle Osborn was assigned to the same parish as the Duke of Eldridge, my mother’s cousin, and my uncle found letters addressed to my grandfather, uncles, and cousins, begging for assistance. My uncle assumed the letters had not been delivered, and it was a travesty that relatives of the duke were living in such a manner. So he gathered us all up and took us home.”

  “I’m assuming that did not go over well with His Grace.” Nate only knew of the current Duke of Eldridge, and if he was anything like his father, the orphans would have been turned awa
y without blinking an eye.

  “He arranged for my uncle to relocate to a new parish and insisted he keep the children since he was the one who plucked us out of Seven Dials without inquiring if anyone wanted the brats.”

  “Seven Dials? I thought you lived in St. Giles.”

  She shrugged. “We moved often, sometimes living on the street when rent could not be paid. Truthfully, I was so young, I have no idea where we lived at the time.” Isabella took a deep drink, as if to fortify her nerves. “Eldridge arranged for the boys to be educated so long as the connection to our families remained a secret. He’d learned that Martha and Peter Valentine had been killed in India and created the story that my aunt and uncle were to tell so that no uncomfortable questions were ever asked.” She looked up into his eyes. “And that is the secret I’ve been keeping. Had any of us ever said anything, all financial support my aunt and uncle received would have been terminated, and Eldridge would have denied all association with our family. Society would always believe a duke over penniless orphans.”

  * * *

  Isabella set her glass on the table, stood, and walked to the door. “If there is nothing further, I’d like you to leave and once again beg you not to ever tell anyone what I told you.”

  She couldn’t look at him. She already knew that she’d find disgust and all manner of disrespect and loathing in his eyes. Not only for the lies she’d told him, but for the fact that she was a bastard while holding herself out to be a gently bred miss.

  “Roxburg and Felding know, don’t they?”

  “Yes, so you don’t need to worry about going to them with the awful truth about their wives.”

  “I would never do so, Isabella.” His voice was so soft and kind, and it nearly tore her heart in two. “And I’m not finished.”

  Isabella straightened her spine and lifted her chin. Nate knew the worst, so how much more difficult could this be? She’d simply need to answer his questions, and then she’d never see him again. She turned and looked him in the eye, refusing to be ashamed of who she was. “What is it that you wish to know?”

  “Was it the truth, the day after Waterloo, that you’d only kissed me so I might have a pleasant memory going into battle?”

  This could get worse, and she held out a hand. “Please, don’t.”

  “I need to know, Isabella. Did you ever love me, or did you only consider me a friend?”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Don’t you understand?”

  “No, I don’t.” He took a step toward her. “Explain. I need to know if I only imagined the passion we shared. I need to know if my love was only one-sided.”

  He was a blur because of her tears, which was for the best. Being able to see his eyes would be her undoing.

  Blast, she was already undone.

  “No. I mean yes…I mean.”

  He grasped her hand, and her words failed.

  “I loved you from almost the moment we met when you were recovering from the bayonet wound. I loved you as I watched you with Mary, believing you loved her. I craved moments of you, and while we were in Brussels, I could pretend for a very short time that I was worthy. That I was someone else. That I truly was Isabella Valentine, daughter of a missionary, and that Captain Nate Storm might one day love me too.”

  He drew closer, but she couldn’t look up into his face. Hatred would be easier to see than sympathy, and she very much suspected that he was feeling sorry for her right now. “I had no idea you felt the same as me until the ball. I never dreamed it could actually be possible, but when you told me you loved me and asked me to wait, my world collapsed.”

  “So you lied to me again, when you sent me away?”

  “Yes!” She cried and pulled away from him, then swiped the tears from her cheeks. “We could never have a future.” She whipped around and looked him in the eye. “The son of an earl does not marry the bastard daughter of a whore. It was easier to reject you than to tell you the truth and have you reject me.”

  “Your mother wasn’t a whore but a mistress.”

  “I didn’t know that at the time,” Isabella cried. “And it still doesn’t change the fact that I was born on the wrong side of the blanket.”

  “You didn’t even give me a chance,” he said after a moment. His words were quiet, as if he was sincerely hurt. Perhaps he was. She’d handled this badly, but it was the only way she knew how.

  “You are a gentleman, privileged. You are meant to marry a lady.”

  He took a step in her direction, and Isabella held her place even though she wished to retreat from the intensity in his green eyes. She couldn’t read the emotion at the moment and feared it was anger.

  “Don’t you think that was up to me to decide?”

  “Perhaps it was,” she finally admitted. “But I’m not sure I could have trusted any declaration made before or after the heat of battle. We’ve both witnessed poor decisions from near death experiences.”

  Nate simply nodded. “I will give you that.” He took another step toward her. “Then answer me this. Did you truly love me?”

  Tears filled her eyes again. “Yes. With my whole heart.”

  “Did you ever stop?”

  Oh why did he have to ask her this, now? “No.”

  A gentle smile formed on his lips as he cradled her face and swiped away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “And I never stopped loving you.”

  Chapter 29

  He understood everything now. His only regret was that he demanded his answers in the way he had. Of course, Isabella was ashamed, though she had no control over her birth. And while he’d like to argue that she should have trusted him and known him well enough, Nate was all too aware of Society’s opinion on by-blows. It was not his opinion, however, and apparently not that of Roxburg or Felding. And Nate would much rather live out his days with the woman of his heart and the passion of his soul, than a suitable bride from the peerage for which he had only a mild attraction.

  The tears had stopped but her beautiful grey eyes were still damp. He’s the one who had made her cry, and never again would he be the cause of her tears. Nate would do everything in his power to see that she never had a need to cry because of him again, but only smile and even laugh. Oh, how he missed her laughter.

  “I do love you. I tried not to. I tried to forget, but it was impossible.”

  “I didn’t even try.” Isabella offered him a watery smile. “I just never expected to see you again.”

  Nate could stand here all day looking into her eyes, holding her, but what he wanted more than anything was to kiss her again. As if sensing his thoughts, Isabella’s tongue darted out, moistening her lips, and he plunged. This wasn’t a kiss in the heat of passion like before. But gentle. He wanted to convey love and tenderness. He treasured her and always would. She was his heart. She always had been.

  Isabella tilted her head as her hands grasped his shoulders. He drank her in, and she did the same. His body grew warm, and he pulled her tighter against him.

  The door crashed open, breaking the spell that was being woven about them, and they jerked apart. The first to stride in was Dr. Valentine, followed by Demetrius and Benedick Valentine, whom he’d met at Roxburg’s ball. Two others Nate had not met followed in their wake.

  “Please tell me one of them is not the pugilist.”

  Isabella giggled and stepped away from Nate and quickly made the introductions.

  Her five brothers stared him down, not an ounce of friendliness or humor in their eyes. Thinking back, the French Army didn’t seem so terrifying in comparison.

  “She told you?” Dr. Valentine demanded.

  “Yes,” Nate and Isabella answered at the same time.

  Demetrius stepped forward. “And what are your intentions?”

  He glanced down at Isabella and smiled. “I intend on making Isabella my wife, if she will have me.”

  Her eyes widened, and she looked up at him. Did she really think that after his professions of love, that kiss, that m
arriage wasn’t next?

  “Will you have me?”

  The happiness he longed to see in those grey eyes burst forth with her smile. “Yes!”

  If her five brothers weren’t standing before them, Nate would grab her up in his arms again. Years of longing and distrust, wiped away in a matter of moments.

  “And were you going to discuss this with me, with any of us?” Demetrius demanded.

  He was her oldest brother and even though Vicar Grant had raised her, he wasn’t really her uncle either. Nate cleared his throat. “I’d be honored to sit down and discuss whatever you wish.”

  “Leave us, Isabella,” Demetrius ordered.

  She gasped. “I will not.”

  “Your two sisters took matters into their own hands and were married by special license with little time for any of us to prepare.”

  That had been Nate’s intention too. He’d waited long enough and did not appreciate the idea of waiting even a moment longer to make Isabella his wife.

  “You will not do the same,” Benedick ordered.

  Again she gasped. “What if I don’t wish to wait?”

  One of the men stepped forward. “Think of Aunt Mary.”

  “Aunt Mary?”

  She never told your sisters, but she has me.” He glanced at his brothers and they nodded. “She and Uncle Osborn couldn’t have children of their own, as you know. After Bianca wed so quickly, she said she hoped at least you or Perdita would allow her the privilege of helping you plan your wedding.”

  With those words, Nate knew instantly that they’d wait a month, at the very least, to wed.

  Isabella looked up at him, her eyes laced with disappointment. “I hope you aren’t in a hurry. My aunt and uncle gave my brothers and sisters so much, I need to give her this if it’s her wish.”

  How could he argue with such a plea? “I’ll even pretend to like the idea,” Nate grumbled.

  “Now, run along, Isabella, so that we can discuss marriage settlements.”

  She snorted. “What marriage settlement.” Then the smile dropped from her face as she turned to Nate. “I don’t have a dowry.”