Becoming Lady Lockwood (15 page)

Amelia heard voices echoing from
far away. She struggled to understand them, feeling as if she were swimming toward the surface of the sea but unable to reach it. She finally gave up the battle and slipped back into the deeper water.

The voices came again, but this time they sounded nearer. She recognized Dr. Spinner’s clipped tones, followed by William’s low responses. Gradually she began to understand what they said.

“. . . luckily not deep. If it hadn’t been for that corset, it would have been much worse. As it is, I was able to stitch up the wound cleanly. She is just sleeping off the effects of the laudanum now.”

“I thank you, Dr. Spinner. Mr. Fletcher, please inform the other officers of Miss Becket’s condition. They have been quite concerned.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. And I must say that I have found another reason to appreciate ladies’ undergarments. Not that one was needed.”

“You’re dismissed, Mr. Fletcher.”

Amelia forced her eyelids apart, trying to bring the room into focus, but it was too hard to keep them open. She shifted and sucked in her breath at the pain in her side. She immediately felt a hand upon her forehead.

“Amelia,” William said softly.

She struggled to open her eyes again, willing the room to stop spinning.

“Are you in pain?” he asked.

“A bit,” she whispered. Her mouth was so dry. “But I do not want any more medicine.” She glanced around the room before she closed her eyes again, realizing that she was lying upon a table in the operating theater. She vaguely remembered Dr. Spinner finding her in the dark corner near the brig and inspecting her wound by lantern light. At her direction, he had found the laudanum in the secret pocket of her petticoat and held her head up as he tipped the bottle into her mouth. She had choked on the bitter taste and fumes and then remembered no more.

As her mind became more alert, she jolted. “William, the ship. You’ve reclaimed the
Venture
.”

William’s hand brushed down to cup her cheek. “Yes. Thanks to our daring sugar saboteur.”

Amelia leaned her head against his palm. She closed her eyes again. “I am so glad you are safe, Captain,” she said and drifted back to sleep.

***

The next time Amelia woke, her head felt much clearer and the sun was shining through the curtained windows. She recognized that she was in the captain’s quarters, but instead of rushing out of the berth as she had done previously, she allowed her mind to wander to the evening before. More specifically, the moment William had kissed her. Her first kiss. The mere memory of his lips on hers sent tingling shivers across her skin and caused her toes to curl.

If there had been any doubt that she was in love with Captain Drake, that one small action had put it to rest. Despite the pain of her wound, the kiss had felt like warm sunshine spreading over her. Had it been the same for William?

She thought back to the words he had said.
I will not fail you.
Not exactly a declaration of love. A small ribbon of doubt wove its way into her thoughts. Had he merely kissed her because he thought she might succumb to her wound? He hadn’t known that it was not her lifeblood pouring out onto the floor. Or perhaps the kiss was a result of his excitement at the chance to reclaim his ship.

She pulled her blanket up, holding it against her cheek as she turned onto her side. How did William feel about her? He had been charming, to be sure. They had developed a friendship and had even waltzed. But she had been the one to kiss him twice upon the cheek. She had told him that she cared for him. And he had never said the words in return.

It would be wise not to allow himself to develop feelings for her. If the legality of her dratted signature next to his brother’s was validated, it would be immoral—not to mention illegal—for him to love her.

Two months ago, widowhood and the benefits it brought with it had felt like a prize she had won, but now she would give anything—her plantation, her freedom—if only she could undo the action. If only she had not become Lady Lockwood. Amelia choked back her tears. She had cried quite enough over the last few days.

She reached her right arm across her body and tenderly touched the wrappings the doctor had applied around her torso. Carefully, she pushed herself into a sitting position, and while it was painful, it was not unbearable. Beneath her blanket she found that she wore a man’s white shirt over her blue gown. Upon further inspection, it was apparent that the gown was torn and damaged beyond repair. The corset she’d worn beneath it was missing. She assumed the doctor had removed it to apply her sutures.

Though she was weary, Amelia decided against allowing herself to fall back to sleep. She was anxious for details about how the officers had reclaimed the ship, and she also worried about what dreams she might have now that she was not relying upon medicine to put her to sleep. She climbed out of the berth and moved to the washstand. After washing her face, she brushed her hair, despite the difficulty of lifting her left arm, and finally allowed the curls to fall naturally over her shoulders rather than arranging them. Peeling off the bloodstained dress while keeping her left arm close to her side, she slipped on a fresh gown and was attempting to fasten the buttons down her back with one hand when a knock sounded at the door. She opened it.

William stood in the doorway, dressed in his full-metal regimentals. She raised her eyebrows, wondering why he wore his formal uniform, and then she noticed that he held his Bible. A fresh wave of sorrow settled over her.
Another funeral
.

“I heard you moving about. Are you in pain, Amelia?”

“No. Just a bit tired.”

“And do you need assistance with . . . anything?”

Her face colored. “Actually, if you don’t mind, would you fasten my gown?” She turned around and swept her hair out of the way.

William stepped closer and made quick work of the buttons, the brush of his fingers sending tingles flowing over her skin. She turned around, shaking her hair back over her shoulders and feeling suddenly shy. “Thank you, Captain. If you find that ruling an earldom does not agree with you, I believe you might choose to seek a career as a lady’s maid.” She glanced at him and saw a small smile lifting the sides of his mouth.

He stepped aside and indicated for her to precede him into the sitting room.

Amelia stepped back into the cabin, pulled her blanket from the berth, wrapped herself in it, then made her way into the outer room and sat in her favorite spot upon the window bench, pulling her stockinged feet up on the seat next to her.

William stood next to her and arranged the blanket, pulling it to cover her legs. “I have sent Riley to fetch some breakfast. And Corporal Ashworth will be outside your door if you have need of anything. Please do not feel as if you must attend the services today. It is more important that you rest.”

Amelia nodded. Getting dressed had drained her energy. “I am sorry, William. I know the funerals are difficult, especially for the captain.”

“It is difficult for everyone. But it is an honor for me to pay tribute to these men and their sacrifice.”

A knock sounded on the door, and Riley entered, carrying a breakfast tray and setting it on the table. His face lit up in a smile when he saw Amelia. “The whole ship has been worried about you, Miss Amelia. I’m glad to see you feeling better.”

She tried to muster a smile of her own but was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open.

“Please eat, Amelia,” William said.

“I shall in a bit. I just want to rest for a moment.”

Amelia leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. She heard William and Riley leave and imagined the captain standing upon the deck, reading the verse of scripture, and the bodies being tipped into the water. Strange images filled her mind, distorted pictures of fighting, of dismembered soldiers, of blood dripping onto the floor of the operating theater, of bodies floating in the sea. Screams of dead and dying men filled her ears, and Amelia woke with a jerk.

William stood over her, his hands upon her shoulders, as if he had shaken her. His brows were drawn together. “Amelia, wake up. You are dreaming.”

Her eyes darted around the room, and she realized she was trembling.

“It’s all right, now.” William sat upon the bench next to her feet. He held on to her hand. “You are safe.”

“I must have fallen asleep,” she said, still trying to push the images from her mind.

William looked into her face, frowning. “You did not eat.”

“I am not hungry.” She noticed that the captain’s coat hung upon the chair at his desk. “How long did I sleep?”

“A few hours. It is nearly time for the afternoon watch.”

“I did not realize I was so tired.” She stifled another yawn and bent her neck, which was sore from leaning in such an awkward position.

William helped her to stand and led her to the table. “Please, try to eat.”

She obediently picked up a biscuit and rapped it upon the table before taking a small bite.

He sat next to her, pouring water from a pitcher into two cups and setting one in front of her plate.

“I am sorry to have missed the service,” Amelia said. “How many?”

“Seventeen.” William rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “We lost many more, but when the French had control of the ship, my men were not given a decent burial.”

Amelia set her biscuit upon her plate. “It would have been many more, Captain, if you had not surrendered the ship when you did.”

“I believe, Amelia, that the honor of saving English lives is due to you.”

“Any man aboard the
Venture
would have done the same.”

“You give yourself too little credit. No man aboard would have been able to do what you did.”

“I was just lucky the capitaine did not consider me a threat.”

“A mistake he will not make again, I wager. The man may never trust another woman as long as he lives.” William took a drink. “At least he will not allow any near his mustache.”

Amelia smiled. “And in what condition did you find the capitaine and his officers?”

“Most were sleeping like babies. Those that weren’t were easy enough to overcome, as I believe they’d had too much to drink.”

Amelia’s smile grew. “I am so glad the plan worked. I feared the laudanum would be discovered.”

“You should not have done it, Amelia.”

Amelia’s smile fell from her face as she saw William’s expression. His eyes bore into her, and she could not believe the fury she saw in them.

“Sir?” She shrunk under his gaze. “I only thought to—”

“You were very nearly killed. You put yourself in unnecessary danger, and what would have happened if you were exposed?”

Tears burned the back of her eyes. “Are you angry with me, Captain?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes. No.” William stood and began to pace.

Amelia suddenly felt like a child who had misbehaved. She had not expected this, so she hung her head, hoping he would not see her tears.

He finally stopped and pulled his chair closer to her, raising her chin. “Amelia. I cannot begin to thank you for what you did. It was brave and brilliant, and it terrifies me to think that you put your life at risk for—”

“For my shipmates, Captain.” She kept her eyes lowered.

“I would never have forgiven myself if anything had happened to you.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb.

“I would never have forgiven myself if I had not tried. These men, this ship, it has become . . . I care for them, William, for all of you.”

He raised her chin even higher, so that she was forced to lift her gaze to his face. He stared at her for a moment. Then his eyes dropped to her lips, and Amelia’s pulse began to race. Would he kiss her again? They sat frozen for a heartbeat, and then William stood, stealing with him all of the warmth in the room.

“I must take the noon bearings on the quarterdeck.”

Amelia swallowed and pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders. The doubt that she had felt earlier returned, causing a quiver in her stomach.

“I am sorry I spoke in anger. I was out of line,” William said.

“I understand.”

He pulled on his jacket and walked toward the door.

“Captain?”

He stopped and turned back to her.

“If you had told Capitaine Valiquette that you are an earl, he would have no doubt spared your life.”

“And abandon my men to face the guillotine alone?” His eyebrows were raised; his expression told her the very idea was completely ludicrous.

Amelia nodded. “I thought you would say that. You are a good captain, William.”

He looked at her for a moment, as if he might say something, then nodded stiffly and left the room.

Amelia finished her biscuit but could not bring herself to eat anything else. She wandered around the room for a moment, stopping at the captain’s desk.

Sealed envelopes were piled into a neat stack next to a ledger on one side of the desk. The book was opened to a page with a list of names. A piece of paper lay beneath a quill. It appeared to be the beginning of a letter. She glanced at the words:

To the family of Edward Baker,

I regret to inform you that Mr. Baker was killed in battle on the evening of the third of October, 1809, when an enemy force
. . .

Amelia glanced back at the stack of envelopes and remembered what William had said—seventeen buried today, in addition to those lost earlier and those whose bodies were not recovered. Her heart ached as she thought of all those letters and all those families who would never see their loved ones, and she moved back to the window bench, feeling as though she had intruded on something private.

When William opened the door, Sidney was with him.

“. . . but both missives were exactly the same, Captain. How many others are out there? And who might have . . .” Sidney’s voice trailed off when he saw Amelia.

He hurried to her. “If it isn’t the mustache bandit.” He grinned and pulled an envelope from his pocket. “I shall consider these bits of waxed facial whiskers as some of my greatest treasures until the end of my days. I do not think I shall ever be able to look at a mustachioed man the same.”