by Lucy Monroe
"Find her fascinatin', I'll be bound. Most gentlemen do. She's oblivious, of course. Thinks love is for weak-minded women, and marriage is an institution just this side of prison. Shame, that." The older man shook his head.
"I'm sure you are right. However, as Miss Selwyn told you, I am here for business purposes." Providence alone knew why he had made the comment about marriage.
Drake certainly didn't—unless it was for the satisfaction of watching Thea's reaction.
Merewether bobbed his head up and down. "Yes. Yes. What can we do for you?"
"I need the use of a skilled blacksmith."
Merewether stood silent as if he expected Drake to say more. When he didn't, the older man cleared his throat. "Well. Yes. Well. That is certainly possible. We don't actually have a blacksmith working for us, but I can find you one. Yes, indeed. I'll arrange for him to help you first thing in the morning."
Merewether beamed at Drake as if he had come up with an altogether pleasing solution, not a death knell on Drake's schedule and a blight to his honor.
Drake's insides tightened. "That is not acceptable. I need his services now."
"Yes. Well. You see, he is busy right now on a project for Thea, er … Miss Selwyn. Perhaps if you had asked her…" Merewether let his voice trail off.
Drake took in the now cold tea Thea had served him, the muddled chaos surrounding him, Merewether's expectant features, and the words the other man had just spoken.
Bloody hell. "She has engaged the services of the blacksmith privately?"
"Not privately, m'boy. For the company. She's got him building something to improve safety or efficiency. She's a proponent of both, I don't mind telling you."
Ah, so that was it. Drake felt on firmer ground since he had first laid eyes on the indomitable Thea. "I will compensate both Merewether Shipping and the blacksmith for the time spent away from his project here."
"As to that, no such thing—but I don't know if Thea will easily let the man go."
"Surely you are not going to tell me that Miss Selwyn's project cannot wait."
"Not for me to say, m'boy. Not for me to say."
Drake felt the small store of patience he had entered the office with slip away completely. "Couldn't you ask her?"
"Well. Yes. She's not here now, of course. Off supervising her project, I'm bound." Merewether's expression left no doubt in Drake's mind as to whom the older man blamed for her departure.
"Where might that be?"
"Why, in the blacksmith's shop, of course."
Drake felt a certain affinity for teeth pullers. "And where is the blacksmith's shop?"
"In town. I'll have someone show you if you like."
"The sooner the better."
Merewether disappeared through the door of the office, his head still bobbing in agreement.
He returned moments later with the warehouse manager. "Philippe has agreed to take you to Miss Selwyn. He'll find her for you if she's not with the blacksmith."
Drake said nothing, but if Thea was not with the blacksmith, he had every intention of convincing the man to take on his engine repair immediately, even if he had to pay him in bloody diamonds to do it.
Philippe's large bulk moved with a fluidity that surprised Drake as he followed the other man down the main street of the tiny village Merewether had referred to as town. White buildings with red tile roofs reminded Drake of a Mediterranean seaport. He impatiently scanned the structures for any sign of a blacksmith or stable but saw nothing.
As he was on the verge of asking the warehouse manager where exactly they were going, his thoughts were interrupted by Philippe's voice. "You are a fast-thinking and fast-acting man, Mr. Drake. This morning we would have lost our Mademoiselle Thea had you not been there. Sacre bleu, it was a good wind that blew you to our island."
"Did you find out the cause of the accident?" Perhaps Thea had a penchant for safety because others in the shipping company did not.
"That was a strange thing, oui?"
Drake made a noncommittal sound. He didn't know if it was strange or not.
"The cargo, it is all stacked the same way. Mademoiselle Thea insists on it to protect the warehouse employees. She is very conscientious."
"Then how did it fall?"
"This I do not know. It would have taken the arm of a very strong man, but that is impossible."
"There is no one on the island who would wish Miss Selwyn harm, is there?"
As irritating as Drake found her personally, he did not think her take-charge attitude enough motivation for someone to try to hurt her.
"No. No. Even the plantation owners would not do her injury."
Drake's interest was peaked. "What do you mean, even the plantation owners?"
Philippe smiled, his white teeth glistening against the dark tones of his skin. "Mademoiselle Thea, she speaks out against the slavery. It is not a popular position here on the island, vous comprenez."
That would be an understatement. The surrounding plantations relied on slave labor to function. It was only a matter of time before they would lose their conscripted labor force, and there was considerable speculation regarding the feasibility of paying wages high enough to encourage the backbreaking labor required on a sugar plantation.
"She is not foolish enough to be vocal about her abolitionist beliefs in a climate such as this?"
Even as he spoke the question, Drake guessed at the answer.
"She does not know caution, that one. She does not consider it a political issue either, but a moral outrage, and she refuses to be silent about it," Philippe confided.
If that were true, Drake marveled that today was her first brush with danger. Perhaps it wasn't. When he voiced his thoughts to the other man, Philippe grew pensive.
"Non. Non. Today, it is the first time she has come so close to real harm. Mademoiselle Thea, she helps all the landowners with the shipping company. They do not like her beliefs, but they like the money she brings. Monsieur Merewether, he is a kind gentleman, but the business side of the shipping venture falls to Mademoiselle Thea, as it did to her mother before her. The plantation owners know this. Non. It was a very strange accident, but an accident all the same."
Drake stopped himself from arguing with the man. Thea's safety was not his concern.
Thea watched Jacob's bulging black arms operate the blacksmith's bellows. While her thoughts should be centered on her business plans, or even the new winch, they kept drifting back to her meeting with Drake. He had infuriated her, and yet she found him strangely fascinating.
Mortification at what she had said in her fit of temper still tormented her conscience. To have implied to Uncle Ashby, of all people, that Drake was trying to proposition her had been foolishness itself. Uncle Ashby's heart could not stand great shocks and she well knew it. Drake deserved a proper set-down, but as usual, her tongue had gotten away with her and she had said entirely too much. She sighed.
The man had his own purchase on mockery, should she take his remark about marriage into consideration. Undoubtedly he had said it only to discompose her. He could not be in earnest. Regardless, she would never consider such a move. Unmarried women had few enough rights. Married women had none. Olympe de Gouge had lost her life, accused of treason, for revealing the disparity between the rights of men and women in France.
Thea could not ignore the reality of the plight of her sex. If she ever married, it would not be to a hard man like Drake. Her mother had been careful to educate her regarding the pitfalls of marriage, particularly to a man of inflexible nature.
Somewhere in England, a man born the same day as Thea lived and breathed. Her brother. She had never met him, had never even seen him because of their father, a man who would tear a babe from its mother's arms to punish his wife for a wrong she did not commit—simply because he could.
"This be a mighty good winch, yes'm."
Jacob's words brought Thea back from her woolgathering.
She leaned forward to exam
ine the tackle attached to the pulley. The spool-shaped wheel looked sturdy enough to handle the heaviest storage barrels. "You've done a marvelous job, Jacob. I believe that is exactly what we need."
"Good. Then you will have no objection to him accompanying me to the Golden Dragon to make repairs to its steam engine."
Thea's body tensed at the sound of that voice.
Drake. What was he doing here?
She spun around to face him and her skirts brushed against the forge, picking up soot along the hem. Intense heat from the fire licked at her arms as she came too near in her surprise.
Drake swore and, taking a giant step forward, grasped her arms to pull her from proximity to the fire. "Trouble follows you like a friend, Miss Selwyn."
She wanted to respond with a curt comment, but found the intensity of his eyes hotter than the fires in the smithy. "I do not know what you mean, sir."
He let go of her arms, although he remained indecently close. "I wonder how you avoid harm when I am not here to pull you to safety."
She stepped away from him. "I manage quite nicely. Perhaps it is your presence that accounts for my mishaps today. What think you of that?"
He laughed. The rich sound and unexpected softening of the hard angles of Drake's face entranced her.
She smiled with him. "Perhaps I am too harsh. I am truly grateful for your quick action earlier."
He cocked his brow. "And now?"
Chagrined, she forced herself to answer. "And now. Thank you for pulling me away from the forge. I lost my bearings for a moment."
He nodded. "I am glad I was here."
She almost answered that had he not been, she would never have lost her bearings, but she had allowed her unruly tongue enough license for one day. "Why are you here?"
"As I said, I would like to hire the services of the blacksmith for work on my steam engine."
"Your ship is a steam vessel?" She didn't understand. He was English. The only steam vessels she knew of were American, and only one had been built for ocean going, the SS Savannah.
"Not entirely. It is a combination sailing and steam vessel."
Ah, like the SS Savannah. When he didn't elaborate, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot. "And?"
He smiled. The controlled amusement in the brown depths of his eyes surprised her.
A school of dolphins took up frolicking in her insides. This tall, dark man was entirely too appealing.
"And … my ship's engine boiler has burst. I need the services of your blacksmith. I am willing to pay both Merewether Shipping and him for the use of his time."
"There would be no reason to pay my company for the use of an independent man's time. I believe I mentioned that we do not practice slavery." She barely restrained herself from saying more on the subject. Drake was not here to listen to a lecture on the merits of abolition.
His eyes narrowed. "I merely intended to compensate your company for the loss of the man's time on your project while he takes care of my engine."
She shrugged. "The winch can wait. It is almost finished anyway."
"Good. Then we can proceed." He turned to Jacob. "Mr.…"
Jacob set the winch down and pulled off the heavy gloves that protected his hands from the heat of the fire in the forge. "I'm called Jacob."
Drake put out his hand. "Jacob it is then. I'm in desperate need of your services."
The action surprised and pleased her. It apparently surprised Jacob as well.
He stared for a moment at Drake's hand, as if not sure what to do with it. Finally he wiped his own hand on the leg of his breaches before shaking hands with the other man. "You want that I fix the boiler, sir?"
"Yes. As quickly as possible."
"Where is it then?"
Drake's look of confusion would have been funny, but Thea feared it would turn to anger when he discovered Jacob's little idiosyncrasy. "On the ship, of course."
"I'll no be going to any ship, sir."
"But the boiler is on the ship."
Jacob shrugged his massive shoulders. "Best to be bringing it here if you want that I fix it."
Drake turned to her, his face a study in frustration. "Could you explain what I am missing?"
"If you want Jacob to fix your boiler, you will have to disassemble it and bring it here."
"There is no time." His frustration was a palpable force.
She felt sorry for him, but there was nothing she could do. Jacob had an uncompromising fear of the ocean and there was no way Drake was going to get him onto the Golden Dragon. "Jacob will not go near the ocean."
"That's ridiculous. He lives on an island. How can he be afraid of water?"
The black man drew himself up, his brows drawn together in a severe frown. "I'm no afraid o' de water."
Drake smiled. "Good. Then we can proceed to my ship."
Jacob's frown did not lessen. "You be wantin' that I fix your boiler, sir. You be bringing it here."
"I told you, there is no time."
"You be bringing it here," Jacob insisted stubbornly.
Drake went still. "How much?"
Jacob shrugged. "Don't know till I see it, sir."
"I mean how much to get you to come to my ship?"
"I no be going to your ship."
Drake swore and spun on his heel to face Philippe, who had remained silent since arriving. "Are there any other blacksmiths on the island?"
"No, sir," Philippe replied.
The controlled anger she saw in Drake's expression made Thea shiver. "Bloody hell." He turned back to Jacob. "I'll have the boiler here as soon as can be arranged."
Jacob picked up the winch. "I be finishing this then."
Thea smiled at Jacob. "Thank you. I'll see Mr. Drake to the wharf. Philippe, please tell Mr. Merewether that I will be with Mr. Drake."
Drake turned to her. "I can find my own way to the ship and back, Miss Selwyn."
"I'm quite sure that you can, but it will be faster if I drive you. My carriage is waiting outside as I had intended to go far island on some business. You did say that time was of the essence?"
She watched the muscle in his jaw work.
"You're a bossy bit of goods, Miss Selwyn."
"You are welcome, Mr. Drake."
Hot Caribbean air pressed against Drake as he and some crew members from the Golden Dragon loaded the boiler into the back of a wagon Thea had commandeered.
"It's much bigger than I expected." Thea walked around him and peered intently at the boiler. "No wonder you balked at bringing it to Jacob."
Drake grunted.
She laughed. "It wouldn't have made any difference to Jacob. He spent two days on a raft surrounded by hungry sharks during an attempt to escape his life as a slave. He won't go anywhere near the ocean, not even to return to his homeland."
Drake tied a final knot in the lashing against the boiler.
"How did he end up as your town blacksmith? I thought runaway slaves were punished, not freed."
"They are." The fierce expression in Thea's eyes softened. "My mother purchased his freedom. She offered to send him back to his family in Africa, but he wouldn't go. He worked for our company until he had made enough money to open his smithy. He's married to the sweetest woman and they have six children now. The oldest just got orders to sail on one of our ships."
Drake marveled at the genuine feeling he heard in her voice. She cared, really cared about this freedman and his family. The difference between her viewpoint and that of a typical London beauty seared him. Would she care about the circumstances of his birth, or would her acceptance stop short of that?
He had no intention of finding out. He would not be revealing any secrets, of his birth or otherwise, in the short time his ship was moored in the waters of her island's bay.
He moved toward the front of the wagon to take his seat in the driver's box, only to come up short when she did the same thing. He pulled back. "Miss Selwyn, perhaps you will allow me to drive?"
She put her han
d over her eyes, squinting up at him. "Why? I can assure you that I am perfectly capable of driving."
He had no doubt that she was capable of doing just about anything she set her mind to, but it was his boiler and his responsibility. He would drive. "Thank you for the offer, but it isn't necessary."
She drew herself up. "That's silly. I know the roads better than you. After all, I live here. I will drive you and your boiler to Jacob."
He had wasted all the time he could afford to. She let out a surprised shriek when he picked her up and tossed her onto the passenger side of the bench.
Before she had time to right her clothes, much less herself, he jumped up next to her and grabbed the reins. "As there is only one road between here and the smithy, I do not think it will require your lifetime of living here to navigate it."
She sputtered something about insufferable, bossy men before situating herself on the bench. Her stiff posture left no question that she was annoyed and he almost smiled. When she finally did marry, she would lead her husband a merry chase.
"Why is it so important for you to fix your boiler now?" she asked in a tone that said her curiosity had gotten the better of her anger.
Knowing it would tweak her temper, he replied, "It's broken."
She drew in a long breath that put her gentle curves in prominence, and he found himself looking at her in a way no gentleman should ogle a lady.
"I realize that." She shifted as she was facing him on the seat, and he forced his own gaze forward before she noted its direction and became offended. "But why now? Why won't tomorrow or the next day do?"
His shoulders tensed, any humor he had found in baiting her disappearing.
* * *
Chapter 3
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Langley has discovered that his aunt has been allowing me to see my son. Langley is furious. He told her that if it continues, she will never see Jared again. She told me that he has plans to take the babe back to Langley Hall. Ensconced in this crackerbox of a house on the outskirts of London that my husband has seen fit to banish me to, how can I see my son? I ache for him. What can he learn of love from a man whose heart is no more than stone?