Captain's Bride (2 page)

“Hello, Ben.” Glory extended a white-gloved hand, and
the young man bowed over it with such reverence Glory feared he
might lose his balance and topple over. She suppressed the tiny
bubble of laughter that welled in her throat.

“Good evening, Miss Summerfield,” Ben said. “You look
absolutely”—his eyes dipped to the swells of her breasts, barely
concealed by a sweep of organdy across the bodice of her
gown—“beautiful.” As he caught Glory’s knowing glance, twin spots
of color stained the youthful bloom of his cheeks. “Might I request
the honor of escorting you?”

“Thank you, Ben, but Eric has already asked.”

Eric Dixon—tall, brown-haired, and handsome—
approached from a few feet away. He glared down at the younger man,
but turned a warm smile on Glory. “I believe I have the honor, Miss
Summerfield.” Eric offered a frock-coated arm, his immaculate black
evening clothes setting off his fine features, clear skin, and
hazel eyes.

Ben Perry flushed and backed away. For a moment Glory
wondered if Eric would deign to speak to Ben at all.

“Better luck next time, old boy,” Eric called out as
he led Glory toward the strains of the music.

The pair stepped into the ballroom, and the hum in
the room dropped to a hushed murmur. A slight applause followed,
which Glory acknowledged with a demure curtsy. Conversation and
laughter resumed as Eric led Glory onto the gleaming black and
white tiled floor. Other couples, all elegantly dressed, joined in,
smiling at Glory and offering natal day felicitations.

It was Glory’s night of nights. Her dance card had
been filled long ago and the less fortunate young men seemed
heartbroken when she turned them away. Most of them fawned over
her, and Glory enjoyed every sugar-coated phrase, every platitude,
every paean to her beauty. She whirled around the floor in the arms
of one elegantly dressed gentleman after another, Eric always close
at hand to offer a word of encouragement or see to her slightest
wish.

Of all her suitors, Eric seemed the most likely. He
was handsome and charming—and obsessively devoted to her. She
wished she were in love with him, but then, maybe she was and
didn’t know it. She’d always imagined falling in love would be like
falling off some towering peak, leaving her breathless, her heart
in tatters, and her stomach doing tiny pirouettes. So far that had
never happened.

Whatever did happen, Glory decided, life was a grand
adventure. Each day brought her happiness and something new to
learn. For Glory, life was as bright as a Christmas bauble—most of
the time.

“Nicholas, my boy! Come in. Come in.” Standing
beneath the huge crystal chandelier in the foyer of the mansion,
Julian Summerfield enveloped the tall lean sea captain in a warm
embrace. “I’d near given you up.”

Nicholas accepted the welcome, extending a
sun-browned hand. “We had a few problems with the offloading.
Couldn’t be helped.” His own sure grip was matched in kind by the
imposing man before him. “It’s good to see you, Julian.”

“I’ve been looking forward to this occasion for some
time,” the older man said. “Ezra, fetch the captain’s bags up to
his room and have one of the stable boys see to his horse.”

The wizened old slave exerted a creaky bow. “Yes,
sir, massa.” Long, bent legs carried him out the carved double
doors, between twin Doric columns, and down the broad steps to the
sweeping gravel drive where Nicholas’s hired saddle horse pawed the
ground nervously. Dozens of horses, countless broughams, phaetons,
and carriages, along with the noisy footmen, lined the drive.

“Come, my boy,” Julian commanded, “let me introduce
you.” With a bulky arm across Nicholas’s broad shoulders, Julian
led him up the stairs to the ballroom. A frail brunette who, except
for her still-dark hair, looked to be somewhat older than Julian
stepped into their path. She snapped several commands to the
servants, her posture erect, her mouth a narrow, uninviting line,
then turned hard dark eyes to Nicholas.

“Louise!” Eyes wide, Julian appeared almost startled
by her presence, but quickly regained his composure. “May I present
Captain Blackwell. Nicholas, my wife, Louise.”

An announcement that the woman was really a pillar of
salt could not have stunned Nicholas more. Louise Summerfield
seemed the antithesis of her husband’s warmth and charm. Cold,
remote, and distant—that was Nicholas’s first impression. For
Julian’s sake he prayed he was wrong.

“Mrs. Summerfield.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain.”

The words, said with little sincerity and even less
enthusiasm, rang with a hollowness Nicholas could hardly have
missed. “The pleasure is mine, madam.”

“Julian,” Louise said, “I’m afraid you must excuse
me. I’m needed in the kitchen. The dinner preparations, you
understand.”

“Of course, my dear.”

“Captain Blackwell,” she addressed him, “I’m sure
Julian and Glory will keep you well entertained. They enjoy this
sort of frivolity much more than I. We’ll have other opportunities
to get acquainted during your stay.”

“I look forward to it,” Nicholas said, and wished he
could mean it. He watched her leave, looking neither right nor
left, saying little to the guests and they in turn saying little to
her. She was not unattractive, Nicholas decided. Tall, willowy,
fine-featured. But her pinched expression, the tightness around her
mouth, made her seem older than her years.

“Louise doesn’t care much for parties,” Julian
explained. “She usually spends the evening out in the kitchen or
upstairs in her room.”

“I see,” Nicholas said, but he didn’t. How could a
man like Julian Summerfield, so vital and full of life, be married
to a woman like that? Then again, why should it be such a surprise?
His own father had married a woman much the same. Elizabeth St.
John Blackwell, Nicholas’s stepmother, was just as coldly
aloof.

“You’ll come to understand Louise after you get to
know her,” Julian said, and Nicholas wondered if his thoughts had
been that obvious.

Nicholas nodded. “I’m sure she has a lot on her mind
this evening.”

They moved into the main salon, where dancers
twirled, dipped, and swayed beneath gleaming crystal chandeliers.
Nicholas discovered he knew several of Julian’s guests, and Julian
introduced him to others. When Julian excused himself to speak with
some banking associates from Charleston, Nicholas took the
opportunity to stroll onto the balcony for a breath of fresh air.
For the past three days a light spring rain had muddied the fields.
The musky, earthen smell mingled with the sweet scent of
honeysuckle, and Nicholas thought how much he had come to love the
South.

Though he’d been born and raised a northerner, his
business as a merchantman had made spending time in the South a
necessity. His fleet of ships plied the coastal waters between
Boston, New Orleans, and the Caribbean, transporting everything
from cotton to molasses, shoes to pickled herring, venison hams to
sperm candles. He loved the life of a seaman, loved the freedom,
the exhilaration of fighting the elements, and the satisfaction of
building his fortune.

“Nicholas!” Lavinia’s syrupy voice drifted across the
balcony.

How appropriate, he thought as she rushed to his side
stirring a fresh wave of the honeysuckle scent. All sweetness and
sugar and not a moment’s regard for the man she had married. Yet
how could he fault her when he’d been sharing her bed all week?

“Good evening, Lavinia, you look lovely.” And she
did. Her flame-red hair curled in delicate ringlets above her head,
and her green eyes sparkled as bright as the emeralds at her
throat. Even in the dim lamplight of the balcony, Nicholas could
see the shimmering perfection of her skin, the fullness of her
breasts.

“And you, Nicholas, look like one of Satan’s own—
devilishly attractive. I blush just thinking of these past few
days.”

“You never blushed in your life, Lavinia. Where’s
Victor? I think you had better go find him before he discovers
you’re missing.”

“Oh, bother. He never pays any attention to me at
all.”

“I’m certain there are others inside who will.”

“Oh, Nicholas, you’re no fun at all.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in what might have
passed for a smile. “That isn’t what you said the other night,
sweeting.”

Lavinia batted her long black lashes and peeped at
him over the top of her fan. With a mock bow, Nicholas excused
himself and strolled back inside.

He was leaning against the doorjamb, one long leg
crossed over the other, when Julian walked up beside him. Nicholas
barely heard him. For the past few minutes, his gaze had been
following a golden-haired woman gowned in white. No, not golden, he
decided. Flaxen. Flaxenhaired. Until tonight Nicholas hadn’t
understood the difference. Her skin was the color of day-old cream,
rich and smooth, with just the hint of an apricot blush. The
radiant creature dancing in the arms of a handsome smiling young
man was one of the most beautiful women Nicholas had ever seen.

“I see you’ve discovered my daughter,” Julian said as
he approached, his voice laced with pride and the hint of a
smile.

“Your
daughter
!” Nicholas nearly choked on the
word. For the past five minutes he’d been scheming how to bring the
girl to his bed, conjuring images of her naked body writhing
beneath him while he trailed warm kisses along the curve of her
neck. Now he felt a wave of guilt bordering on sacrilege.

“My pride and joy would be more apt,” Julian said.
“Lovely, isn’t she?”

“Exquisite,” Nicholas agreed, continuing to watch her
graceful movements on the dance floor.

“I’m glad you approve. Glory is one of the reasons I
invited you here.”

“Oh?” Nicholas forced his attention to the powerful
man beside him.

“My daughter is nineteen today. She’s all grown up.
Ready to make a life of her own. In fact, she should have been
married before now.”

“I’m certain she hasn’t lacked for suitors.”

“Quantity is not the problem, I assure you. It’s
quality I’m worried about.” Julian glanced around to be certain
they had the privacy he needed. “I planned to discuss this with you
tomorrow. But I think maybe now is the time.” Nicholas’s curiosity
was piqued as he watched his friend’s blue eyes turn serious.

“You see, I want my daughter to be happy in her
marriage,” Julian told him. “I want her to love and respect her
mate. I want her to marry a man who is her equal.”

“Surely among all her admirers there must be
someone.”

“Oh, they’re all good boys . . . men, really. Each
would surely give her a good home, treat her well. I’ve spoiled her
terribly, pampered her in the extreme. Any of her suitors would be
willing to go right on spoiling her, just as I have. I have no
worries about that. But Glory has much more to offer than a pretty
face.”

Nicholas couldn’t have agreed more. His practiced eye
measured the gentle curves of her elegant figure, the full breasts
swelling above her organdy gown.

“It wouldn’t be long,” Julian was saying, “before
she’d have any one of her current suitors whipped into a cowering
mass of jelly.”

Nicholas felt the pull of a smile as Julian pointed
to the group of admirers crowding around his daughter.

“Just look at them, Nicholas. Glory treats them as if
they were pets, not men she is considering for marriage. What kind
of life would she have? I want Glory to marry someone who is man
enough to handle her.” He looked hard at Nicholas. “I thought maybe
you’d be interested.”

“Me!” Nicholas’s dark features blanched. “You would
consider
me
for your daughter’s hand? You know my
reputation, Julian. Most fathers would call me out if I so much as
got near their daughters, let alone proposed marriage.”

“With your wealth and position, I hardly think so.
But then, I’ve always seen more in you than you see in yourself.
You’re a good man, Nicholas. You’d make a fine husband.”

“I’m flattered, Julian. More than you’ll ever know.
But I’m not the kind of man to settle down. I live my life from day
to day. I’m at sea most of the time. What kind of life would that
be for a woman?”

“You don’t have to spend your time at sea. We both
know that. You have several estates up north. It’s time you thought
of marriage and family.”

“And your daughter thinks this is a good idea, too, I
suppose.”

“My daughter would be furious if she knew I even
mentioned the word ‘marriage.’ Getting Glory to the altar would be
your job. I just wanted you to know that if you’re interested, you
have my blessing.”

“I’ve never been
interested
in marriage. You
above all others should know that.”

“The past doesn’t always repeat itself, Nicholas.
Just because your father’s marriages failed doesn’t mean yours
would.”

“And what of yours, Julian? Are you happily
married?”

A frown creasing his brow, Julian sighed and looked
away. “My marriage to Louise was arranged. It was never right for
either of us. But I did love someone once.” For a moment he was
lost in the past, his eyes distant. “If Hannah could have been my
wife, I’d have been the happiest man alive.” The frown faded as he
remembered those happy times, hours spent in front of the tiny fire
in their small cabin, Hannah curled beside him, or the two of them
lying in their old iron bed. When a laughing couple jostled him
from behind, his thoughts reluctantly returned to the present, his
attention to Nicholas. “Give it some thought, my boy. But for God’s
sake don’t mention it to Glory or Louise. I’d have my head taken
off.”

Nicholas fought the pull of a smile, and instead
arched the black slash of his brow. “Your secret’s safe with me.
And again I thank you for the compliment, but I’m afraid I’m a
dedicated bachelor. Spoiled young virgins are not my style.”