Malia Martin (15 page)

“Captain!”

“Captain!”

“Captain!” Three little voices chorused behind him, and James stopped once more and turned to face the three angelic faces of the Sawyer family.

“Did Sickly-poo work her magic?” the oldest girl asked, hands behind her back, body swaying forward and back.

“Yes, have you taken care of her?” the middle girl piped up.

“Sickly-poo is a boy!” the little boy informed them all adamantly.

James had actually been on his way to return Sickly-poo to the baker. “Sickly-poo did a wonderful job,” he said quickly. “I am feeling tip-top.”

“We told you he’s magic!” the little boy beamed.

James took the stuffed plaything from his pocket and held it out to the little boy. “I only wish that I had known about Sickly-poo before. He would have been a great help to the officers injured in battle.”

“You fought the French?” the little boy asked eagerly, cradling his stuffed rabbit close to his body.

“Do tell us all about it, Captain,” the oldest girl demanded.

“Children, do not bother the captain.”

James looked up to see Mrs. Sawyer emerge from a small shop across the street. “Oh, they’re no bother,” James said quickly, actually amazed that they truly weren’t.

Mrs. Sawyer laughed. “Well then,” she said merrily. “You could not be speaking of my little urchins.”

“He is, Mother! And he is going to tell us about fighting the French.”

“That’s just lovely, Tim.” Mrs. Sawyer smiled at James. “But I’m sure the captain is terribly busy.”

“Oh, please!” the girls cried together.

“Emily, Rachel, you mustn’t beg,” their mother remonstrated.

“It is quite all right, Mrs. Sawyer,” James said quickly. “I do not mind telling the children stories.”

“Well, then, you must at least allow me to offer you dinner. Could you come this evening?”

James blinked. The three children were begging with their eyes as Mrs. Sawyer waited for his answer. “Of course,” he said finally.

“See, children, we will have Captain Ashley for dinner, and he can regale you with his stories.”

“Hurray!” All three of the children danced around James and clapped their hands.

“Come now, children.” Mrs. Sawyer held out her hand and Timmy grabbed hold. “Until this evening, Captain.” She grinned at James and marched off with her charges.

James stood watching after them with the strangest feeling in his chest. He was not sure exactly what it was, but it felt a bit like an ache. He had grown up without many friends, and definitely as the pariah of the community.

Though his maternal grandfather, Robert Frederick Ashley, had been extremely wealthy, the man had not been a peer, and so the upper society of Calcutta had ignored him and his daughter.

When Mr. Ashley had died and his daughter had given birth to a bastard child, she had been absolutely shunned. The middle-class English population had treated James like some sort of disease that one wouldn’t want to get too near.

At the age of ten, James’s life changed completely. His mother died, and James inherited his grandfather’s fortune. From then on, James had friends. They were slimy, two-timing thieves. But they paid attention to him.

All along, James yearned for acceptance. He had thought, once, that it was within his reach. With his commission in the navy, and, of course, his money, James had secured the hand of Melissa Rutland in marriage.

She had been the daughter of the Honorable Mr. Tobias Rutland, a younger son of a younger son of an earl. Mr. Rutland had grudgingly given his blessing to the marriage. Obviously, the man’s blue blood ran a bit cold at the thought of James’s parentage, but he was quite ecstatic at the extent of James’s fortune.

Still, James had learned a valuable lesson. Money did not overcome all obstacles. All it had taken was the arrival of Viscount Leighton in India for Mr. Rutland, and the fair Melissa, to forget that James existed.

It had been humiliating, especially since they broke off the engagement without any real commitment from the viscount. James had left India, not so much heartbroken as world-weary.

If his experience in India had not taught James to distrust the peerage of England, his time in London most definitely had. He trusted no one.

But he still yearned for acceptance.

He had thought to accomplish that goal on English soil. Unfortunately, London society thought him an interesting enigma, with his great heroics in battle, uncertain parentage, and rigid manners. Still, they had never truly opened their ranks. And certainly his one true desire had not been met, yet.

The navy had been the only place where James had felt accepted and respected. Until now, in this town which was supposed to revile him for hunting down one of their own.

Perhaps it was a trap?

James watched the Sawyer children skipping down the lane and shook his head. He had never before in his life been invited to dine with a family. He was actually looking forward to the evening, and he hoped with all of his heart that it was not a trap.

P
ru was in a deadlock with her butler. They stood several feet apart in the parlor, arms akimbo, eyes glaring.

“Swords or pistols?” Pru demanded.

Clifton rolled his single eye skyward and made a strangled sound deep in his throat.

She should not have teased him, but he was soft beneath his crust, and he made her laugh when he got riled. “Well, I can think of no other way to compromise, so we shall have a duel,” she said.

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Tuck singsonged through the open doorway. “But Mrs. Sawyer’s here to see you.” The boy continued on down the hall and Sarah Sawyer came into view, delicate brows knit together over her light eyes.

“Sarah! I am so glad you have come. I have a pinafore all made for Emily, and I’ve meant to bring it to you.”

Sarah hesitated, her uneasy gaze on Clifton. “Is this a good time?” she asked.

“Of course.” Pru nodded at her butler. “Clifton and I are just having a bit of a row, but that’s quite normal.”

“I just wanted to let you know that I have invited your captain to dinner tonight.”

“He’s not
her
captain!” Clifton roared.

Poor Sarah looked as if she might scamper off like a scared rabbit. Pru wanted to clock Clifton on the side of the head. Instead, she went quickly to take Sarah’s arm. “Come in, Sarah, we shall have tea.” She gently steered Sarah toward a chair. “Do tell Mabel to bring tea, Clifton.”

The man stalked off grumbling about captains sent from the devil, and Pru sighed with relief when he finally rounded a corner and she could not hear him anymore.

“So, you have invited the good captain to dinner, Sarah. That is lovely of you, really.”

“I thought it a wonderful way to keep him occupied. And, actually, the children absolutely adore him.”

“A perfectly smashing idea, as we have a long night ahead of us. Of course”—Pru frowned as she sat next to her friend—“the men need to haul some wool out of the basement of Harker’s. That
is
rather close to your house.” She tapped a finger against her chin. “How long do you think you could keep him?”

Sarah threaded her fingers together in a nervous gesture. “I don’t know, Lady Pru, and I do not believe I would be able to detain him if he wanted desperately to leave.”

“And if you did try, he might become suspicious.”

Sarah’s eyes rounded in fear, and Pru realized she should not have said that last bit. “It would probably be easier if you had someone else there as well …” Pru stopped suddenly, her mind running on ahead of her. “I just had a wonderful idea.” She stood and paced for a minute. “It will be tricky, but I think it will work perfectly.”

Young Mabel entered with the tea tray.

“Ah, Mabel, I’ve had the most wondrous idea, but it all depends on you and Delilah.”

“Yes, milady,” Mabel said as she set up the tray on a little side table. “If I may be so bold, I’d say Delilah can handle anything you need her to do. And if I do say so myself, I’ve become quite versatile since I’ve been in your employ.” The thin girl nodded her mousey brown head at Mrs. Sawyer and straightened. “What shall we be up to now, milady?” She grinned at Pru.

“Could we have a party together for this very night, do you think?” Pru asked.

Mabel tapped the toe of her sturdy boot. “For how many people, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“The whole town.”

Mabel tapped her toe some more. “Hmmm, that would be a right good number. The guest of honor, I’m guessing, would be your captain?”

It was interesting that the entire town was starting to think of James as “her” captain. She actually enjoyed the sound of that. It probably was a bad thing that she liked hearing it. But, then, she tended to be bad lately. “Captain Ashley will be invited and will spend his evening much occupied.”

“He seemed interested in telling the children stories of his time in France, perhaps we could persuade him to entertain us all,” Mrs. Sawyer interjected.

Pru clapped her hands. “Brilliant, Sarah, and while he is entertaining us, we can have the men rotate out. The captain will never even know that there was ever anyone missing at any given time.” She twirled and giggled. “’Tis perfect!”

“’Tis stupid!”

“Oh, Clifton, you have become the worst of worriers.” Pru sighed as she elbowed her way past her butler. She plunked the barrel full of potatoes she held down in front of the fire and sat on a stool. “It will be a marvelous evening. We will keep the captain diverted from his goal and get our own accomplished with no fear of detection.”

“And that is your problem right there,” Clifton roared. “There ought to be great fear of detection.”

“Oh, Clifton.” Pru took a paring knife to one of the potatoes.

Mabel hustled in with a pile of folded linens. “All ironed, starched and ready to beautify a table,” she announced, stacking the tablecloths on a counter. “I’m off to town to make sure everyone has their orders right. Unless
you
would like to, milady. I could peel potatoes instead.”

“Oh no, Mabel, you go.” Pru grinned. Mabel had on her best dress, and her hair was all done up in a tight coil at her neck. Pru was rather sure Mabel’s first visit would be to Paul, the butcher’s son.

“I don’t like this one bit,” Clifton grumbled.

“You have to make sure that the men go out in indiscernible shifts, Clifton, and make sure they know to stay away for short periods of time. You’ll be able to get the whole shipment out of Harker’s and to the beach. I am sure we will all sleep better knowing that it is gone, and I know the entire town will be happy to have the crop out and money in their pockets.”

“And I am sure that no one wants to rot in a London prison,” Clifton said. “I say we suspend all business until Captain Ashley is well away from here, and the sooner that happens the better.”

“You know we cannot do that, Clifton.”

“Well, then, at least you should stop running the transports.”

Pru looked at the potato in her hand and realized that she had whacked the thing down to a white nub. She threw it in the fire, where it plopped into the ashes, sending out a poof of soot. She stared for a moment at the ashes that lay on the hearth, then looked up into Clifton’s dear face.

He had opened the door the first time she had ever come to Chesley House. Pru could remember standing there with her parents, waiting to see the man that she would marry. She had been sixteen, and had never before left the small town of Larkshire. And now she was an entire hour away from her home knocking on the door of a man thirty years older than she, who would wed her the very next day.

And her first sight of her new home had been a man a full foot taller than she, with arms the size of ham hocks, a head that shone like a gazing ball in the sun, with a black eye patch strapped across his face. Pru had nearly fainted at the sight.

Now she trusted that man completely, and loved him even more than she had loved her parents. And, in the last two years since her husband had died, Clifton had given her a new life to which Pru clung with all the tenacity she had within her. Because, truly, before the moment Clifton had revealed her late husband’s work and asked her to continue it, Pru had not lived at all.