The Merchant's Yield

by Lorri Dudley

  His lips contrasted with the sharp angles of his face. His bottom lip was especially full and usually drawn up in a sardonic half-smile as he conversed with the captain. He wore relaxed confidence like a cologne and extended his long legs under the table. She shifted her feet to the side so she didn’t accidentally encounter his. Despite his casual state, passion lit Nathan’s eyes as he became engrossed in the discussion on the safety of their crew.

  Usually, men didn’t converse about business in front of a lady. They retired to another room to deliberate such topics, but Nathan neither begged her pardon nor drew her into the conversation.

  How utterly rude.

  Finally, silence settled in the room. Nathan sipped from his cup and examined her over the rim of his glass as a locksmith would a keyhole. He maintained torque tension, keeping her ill at ease while his gaze maneuvered, poked, and prodded, hoping for a click, or in her case, a concession. Her jaw tightened, and she pushed a turnip root around her plate.

  She wouldn’t give him the pleasure.

  He set his cup down. “I do believe our business ramblings have bored Lady Winthrop.” He turned to her. “Is there another more suitable topic you’d like to discuss?”

  “Actually, yes.” She folded her napkin and set it on the side of her plate. “I was hoping you could tell me more about what to expect when we reach St. Kitts?”

  “Splendid idea.” Nathan issued. “Proper expectations should be set so you’re not disillusioned.”

  Of all the egotistical…

  “It is very different from England and from what people think they know of the island. Most of the sugar barons have made their fortunes and returned to England, letting their bankers and attorneys hire overseers to manage the properties. The land isn’t producing as well now as it has in the past, so everyone on the island pitches in to work and do their part. It’s not an easy life.

  “The sun is strong, the heat saps a person’s strength, and the fever runs rampant, taking people at will. English women are scarce, so don’t be shocked to find freed mulatto women married to white men and some freed slaves intermarrying with Englishmen. Rum is poured freely, and men partake overmuch, becoming reckless.” His eyes darkened, and he leaned over his wooden plate. “It’s a demanding and dangerous place for a woman.”

  Lottie swallowed against the bile rising in her throat. “I’m certain there are some nice attributes about the island?” She despised the quiver in her voice.

  Captain Fielding smiled. “Ah now, St. Kitt’s is a beautiful isle—soft white sand and stretches of crystal-clear blue water. What’s not a brilliant blue is a rich green. The cane ripples in the wind, beckoning with its wave, and the bayan trees rescue you from the sun with their thick canopies.”

  The tension tightening her shoulders eased. “It sounds lovely.”

  “Island folks are easygoing, unlike Nathan here.” The captain chuckled and slapped Nathan on the shoulder. “The rum flows like the hot springs, but you probably won’t be partaking of such, being married to this bloke.”

  She focused on Captain Fielding but could feel Nathan’s eyes still on her.

  Captain Fielding leaned in, resting a forearm on the table. “Nathan tells me you met when you asked him to dance?”

  Lottie’s mouth dropped open, and her gaze flew to Nathan. “I never—” How dare he misconstrue the truth.

  Nathan lifted one of those thick sardonic brows. “I don’t recall ever requesting a dance. Which means you asked me.”

  Lottie crumpled her napkin. “Ladies do not ask men to dance.”

  Captain Fielding’s brow wrinkled. “You suggested a dance then—”

  “That’s not—”

  “Yet, we partnered for the quadrille.” Nathan pinned her with his stare. “At least confess to dancing. There are witnesses.” His lips curled into a smug smile as if amused at her expense.

  “We danced, but I did not ask you. We…we…” Lottie fumbled for words. “I didn’t ask you, and you didn’t ask me. We merely ended up dancing.”

  “If that’s how you’d like to view it,” Nathan said with a wry tone.

  The captain snorted out a smothered laugh and covered the lower half of his face with his hand. His eyes glittered at their volley of words. “To think, a beautiful woman, whose dance card must have been full, decided to dance with the likes of you. Nathan, I believe that to be the utmost compliment.”

  The captain’s eyes never left her, although he directed his comment at Nathan. Lottie pushed that same turnip root around her plate.

  To her chagrin, Captain Fielding probed further. “I’ve always wondered how many dances a lady typically accepts in one night. It may be impolite to ask, but I beg you to forgive an old sailor and assuage my curiosity. The night you met Nathan, approximately how many dances did you partake in?”

  Lottie closed her eyes. Would her humiliation follow her everywhere? When she opened them, the captain’s eyes held a gentleness, but it didn’t make the truth sting any less. She inhaled and, as if of their own accord, her spine straightened and her shoulders squared. Her mother would have found no fault in her posture as she answered. “One. I participated in one dance.”

  She didn’t miss Nathan’s flinch.

  Captain Fielding issued Nathan a nod. “Wow, my friend, even more to your credit. Lady Charlotte is extremely selective, and you made the cut from among all the fine gentlemen in the room. Impressive.”

  Lottie clenched her teeth. Her husband’s ego already filled the room. If it swelled any more, there’d be no room for any other on the ship.

  “What was it that stuck out to you in regards to Nathan?” the captain asked. “His ravishing good looks, his dashing smile, the allure of a sugar baron?”

  “None of those, sir.”

  The captain scratched his beard. “I can’t imagine it was his cheerful disposition.”

  Nathan grunted and shifted in his chair.

  “Why, then, out of all the men in the room, did you choose Nathan?”

  Lottie squirmed under the captain’s penetrating look. Nathan crossed his arms and also stared her down.

  “Because he’s an islander.”

  “So, you enjoy travel? You were looking for adventure?”

  Lottie twisted her napkin into a rope under the tablecloth. “Not particularly.”

  “No.” Nathan’s voice dripped with scorn. “I was merely her escape plan. Are you certain the islands are far enough to transcend your mother’s reach?”

  Lottie ignored his question.

  The captain leaned towards her. “Surely Nathan exaggerates?”

  Her jaw tightened like a rusted trap, but she forced it to relax. Captain Fielding didn’t intend to humiliate her further. He hadn’t been there. He didn’t know.

  The overwhelming urge to defend her dignity pressed her heart against her breast bone. “The reason I only danced one dance was because people avoid me out of fear of facing the lash of my mother’s tongue. The only reason Nathan danced with me was because he’s a foreigner and doesn’t know better. There.” She rounded on Nathan. “Gloat in your triumph. Now you know the true extent of my humiliation.”

  Charlie had stepped into the room and silently moved about the table, collecting plates.

  The captain pointed a finger at her. “Humiliation? Bah. I commend you for your bravery. While others cowered, you lived in the warzone. You suffered injustice and rebelled against tyranny. You embody spirit. Bravo.”

  The captain wasn’t aware of the many hiding places she’d used to steal away unnoticed until her mother’s ire cooled. He didn’t know how hard she’d struggled for perfection in her imperfect body to spare herself another lecture. “I’m not a brave woman. Far from it, but thank you for your kind assessment.”

  “Intelligent, brave, and humble.” He saluted Nathan with his raised glass. “Nathan, you are a lucky chap.” He tipped back the rest of his drink. “Charlie, bring my best brandy. Tonight deserves a toast.”

 
Charlie scurried to the wall above Lottie’s trunk and pushed on a wooden panel. It fell forward to reveal a secret compartment. Charlie removed the stopper on a crystal decanter, and the smell of honey and strong alcohol filled the room.

  He poured three glasses and handed one to the captain.

  Nathan declined with a wave of his hand.

  “I’d forgotten you don’t partake of spirits.” The captain raised his glass to Lottie. “Lady Winthrop, will you have a toast with me, at least? It’s not right for a man to drink alone.”

  Lottie’s stomach squirmed. The sickeningly sweet smell made her want to wretch.

  Nathan stared at the two glasses resting on the table with a furrowed brow. “Who had you been waiting for that evening?” His brows angled into a harsh slash. “Two glasses of brandy rested on the table. You were expecting someone.”

  Lottie felt the air around her change as his body tensed.

  Yet his voice remained low and deadly calm. “I thought Middleton was planning to celebrate our deal, but it wasn’t he who’d poured the glasses. It was you.”

  Lottie watched the tiny muscles around his mouth flex, and his eyes flared. She knew that look. It was the same angry expression her mother would display before exploding into one of her tirades. Lottie pressed back into the wooden slats of her chair.

  “Who were you waiting for?” His blue eyes turned to ice.

  Lottie’s hand rose to her lips, and she nibbled on her index fingernail.

  Nathan swiped her hand away. “Do not hide from me.”

  “P-Priscilla.” She hated the quake in her voice almost as much as she hated him. “Priscilla and I were going to drink to my last night of freedom.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “It’s true. Mama didn’t like that I’d danced with you. S-she was forcing me to return with her to the country for the remainder of the season.”

  “So you’d been drinking.”

  She shook her head.

  “Don’t lie to me.” His face reddened and a vein on the side of his head enlarged. “I told you spirits would addle your wits.” He slowly stood and leaned across the table on his palms.

  Lottie slid her chair back from the table. Her back dug into the wooden trim of the backrest.

  “But you didn’t listen, did you?” He sidestepped around the table.

  She rose and scurried around to the other side of her chair, using it as a barrier to separate them.

  His stance appeared deceivingly calm, but his eyes glowed with anger.

  Lottie’s stomach rose into her throat.

  His eyes bored into her. “You’re wrong, Captain. Despite her little show, my wife isn’t brave. Her actions prove she doesn’t have the guts to stand up to a field mouse.”

  Lottie stepped back.

  “I was forced into marriage due to a cowardly act of drunken stupidity.”

  The furrow of his brow deepened, and he stepped forward. “Now it all makes sense. That’s why you were swaying, why you closed your eyes and I had to steady you.” His eyes blazed. “You were foxed.”

  She backed into the wall. The same feelings as that night returned. All those eyes boring into her. The stuffy hot air. The dizziness. Don’t faint. It would only increase his contempt for her.

  His face distorted with rage. “Because of your—your—lack of good judgment, I am now responsible for your life.” A harsh laugh burst through his lips. “Do you know that I’ve witnessed over thirty deaths on the island? It’s not a place for the meek or mild. I warned you.”

  Lottie backed up a step. “I…I didn’t know.”

  Captain Fielding tried to interject. “Nathan. You’re scaring her.”

  Nathan stepped closer until they were inches apart. “Because of you, my ships remain unprotected. The deal with Middleton was set. His military vessels were approved to provide escort for our ships to and from England to ensure not only the safety of the cargo from pirates, but the safety of the crew. All I needed was Middleton’s consent, but he rescinded because of you.” His lower jaw thrust forward, but his lips remained pinned together in a thin white line. With eyes that blazed, he jabbed a finger toward her chest.

  Lottie tried to step back, but her foot bumped against the cabin wall. She was pinned, and she had to fight the panic welling inside her.

  “Because of you, my ships and crewmen are vulnerable to attack. There are children who may never see their fathers again. Wives who are even worse off than widows because they don’t know if their husbands are alive or dead. Families whose bellies will go empty because our supplies will be confiscated. They won’t know where their next meal will come from.” He ground out his next words in a harsh whisper, and they cut deep. “All because of your childish behavior.”

  “Nathan!” The captain’s voice cracked through the air. “Enough. Your anger does you a disservice.”

  Nathan froze, but his eyes still bore into hers. Her entire body trembled, and sweat dripped between the cleft of her bosom. Her abdomen clenched. She tried to run, tried to push past him, but he was as solid as a boulder.

  Lottie’s stomach lurched, and her teeth began to chatter. She turned to face the wall and wrapped her arms about her waist, struggling to keep her food down.

  Did her embarrassment know no end?

  Nathan turned on his heel and, without a word, stormed out of the room.

  Captain Fielding followed him, but stopped and turned back in the doorway. “Please forgive my colleague. Due to the weight of his responsibilities, his emotions run too high.” With that, the captain left.

  Lottie dashed to the chamber pot and cast up her accounts.

  The violent heaves sapped her strength. She squeezed her eyes closed and covered her face with her hands, but another surge of nausea threatened. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as Nathan’s words rang in her ears. Because of you… Guilt compressed her heart as nausea clenched her stomach.

  She’d never meant for anyone to get hurt. A sob escaped her throat.

  Charlie scuffled about, cleaning up the remainder of the table.

  Heaven help me. He’d witnessed her mortification.

  He gulped down the brandy as if not to let it go to waste. “Shall I summon yer maid for you?”

  Lottie rose as best she could and raised her chin, even though she still clutched the chamber pot. “Please do.”

  The door closed behind him with a click.

  Her legs turned to jelly, and she placed a hand on the wood paneled wall to steady herself, but it wasn’t enough. Her legs wouldn’t hold, and her fingertips slid down the polished wood as she crumpled into a puddle on the floor.

  Sobs wracked her body, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach as if the action might somehow hold her together. She dragged in another breath after the last sob left her devoid of air, and released a mournful wail into the silent room. The ship dipped and replied with its own sorrowful groan.

  Chapter 8

  Storm passed quickly. Warm and pleasant with a stiff breeze. Rations are full. All is well with crew except for one specific passenger who has taken to her cabin.

  ~ Recorded in the ship’s log June 16, 1814

  “Lady Winthrop?”

  Lottie’s heart folded in pain at Franny’s use of her new name. She didn’t want to be that person. Neither did she want to be Charlotte Etheridge.

  Her stomach cramped, and she moaned.

  She didn’t want to be.

  “I have some broth for you, and Cook is baking fresh bread.” She tapped on the door. “Please open. You need to eat. It’s been two days.”

  Lottie pulled a pillow over her head and groaned into the mattress. How there was anything left in her body, she didn’t know, but the seemingly endless well of tears and nausea had not run dry. She’d tried to rouse herself on several occasions, but her blood had turned to lead, and her limbs were as weak as kindling. There seemed little point in facing anyone. Nathan would scoff at her weakness, and she couldn’t demand to return to Eng
land.

  She was a ship without a shore. Her father had been quick—too quick—to marry her off to a stranger, and certainly, her husband didn’t want her. He’d made that abundantly clear.

  Because of you…

  Families would starve. Fathers and husbands wouldn’t return. People would die.

  Because of you…

  She curled her legs into her chest and let the tears flow. Usually, she could find a positive, something to hold onto to get her through the day, but the only blessing she could count was that her wretched husband hadn’t sought her bed. The idea of Nathan touching her only brought on another bout of sickness. She needed something to strengthen her courage so she could face the bleak misery that was her future. She didn’t want to think these thoughts, but since her wedding night, it was as if a dark cloud had settled in around her, suffocating any hope she tried to grasp. Never had her sorrows penetrated this deeply. Never had she succumbed to such despair. She cried out to God, but the dark cloud mocked her. God wouldn’t help someone so worthless.

  “If you don’t answer,” Franny said, “I’ll notify Mr. Winthrop.”

  Lottie stayed silent until she heard the shuffle of the girl’s steps move away from the door. Then she cried harder.

  Nathan stood at the helm. Not a single ship in sight. So far so good. The sun cracked over the horizon behind them, illuminating the sails in a yellowish-pink light.

  The exhausted night crew yawned and shuffled off to their hammocks while the day crew resumed their posts. The screech of the gulls disappeared as they trekked farther away from land. Now, the only sounds were the gentle lapping of the waves and the flapping of the sails. Everything was peaceful, at least, compared to the drama before they’d boarded and directly thereafter. Nathan credited the serenity to the fact that his wife had sequestered herself below in the captain’s quarters.

  Nathan stood on the quarterdeck near Captain Fielding and stretched his stiff muscles. The sway of his hammock in the ship’s hold helped him drift off to sleep, but the cramped position kept him from remaining asleep for long. He thought of the comfortable bed in which his wife lounged, and he grunted. She wouldn’t appreciate the sacrifices others made for her well-being.