Seger, Maura (2 page)

Nearby, a wizened Oriental gentleman gestured toward the display of fine porcelain outside his shop as he extolled its virtues in mingled English and French. His audience, consisting mainly of American buyers from California and New York, rapidly converted his asking price into their gold dollars.

The sale seemed about to be made, when a Canadian complicated the matter by offering to trade a scale model of a steam engine. As the jinrikisha turned a corner, Erin looked back to see the entire group locked in intense, multilingual bargaining.

"I could never have imagined such a place," she murmured dazedly. "Does anyone manage to do anything here besides conduct business?"

No sooner were the words out than it became eminently clear that the largely male population of Yokohama did find some opportunity for recreation. The jinrikisha sped past a row of buildings whose outer walls were made of translucent paper screens pushed aside to reveal gaudily painted women of all sizes and nationalities, who beckoned encouragingly to potential customers passing on the street.

Erin could not quite suppress a blush, which did not go unnoticed by the young lieutenant. He hastened to assure both her and Mrs. Gilhoully that the less reputable quarter of the city was being rapidly taken over by more respectable institutions. As an example, he cited the nearby cricket field, Masonic lodge, and the headquarters of the Chamber of Commerce.

"We hope to have a public garden quite soon," he added, "and possibly gaslighting for the major streets."

This evidence of progress was met with mixed feelings. Mrs. Gilhoully was all for it; Erin was less enthused. Much as she tried to keep her mind on the single goal of saving her family's business, she also hoped to discover something of the Japan beyond the foreign enclave of Yokohama. There simply had to be more to it than gentlemen in frock coats playing cricket in the shadow of the Masons.

According to Mr. C. P. Hodgson's absorbing book, Japan had existed as a national entity for thousands of years. It had a mysterious, complex, and, until recently, completely self-sufficient culture. Out there beyond the edges of the port and the swamp bordering it, there was an entire kingdom waiting to be discovered. To have come so far and not at least get a glimpse of it would be frustrating indeed.

But for the moment at least, she had to be content with far more restricted surroundings. The road they were traveling along became steadily broader and better paved as it moved away from the dock area. Trees painted with the vibrant oranges and reds of fall brightened the stolid stone edifices lining the avenue. On one side stood the Japanese government buildings—the customhouse, police headquarters and post office. On the other were arrayed the consular buildings of the Western nations.

The American consulate was smaller and less ornate than its British counterpart next door, but it was still a welcome sight. Erin glanced up at it, thinking about the man she was here to meet.

Early that morning, when fine curls of mist still clung to the pine-fringed hills surrounding the city, she had sent a note to Mr. Ned Carmody, a junior diplomatic official she had been informed might be of some assistance to her. He responded with an invitation to visit his office that afternoon to discuss her business in Yokohama.

Accepting Meg's announcement that she would remain outside to keep an eye on the luggage, Erin went in search of the man she hoped was going to make her journey worthwhile.

Mr. Carmody occupied a small cubicle toward the back of the consular building. He was sitting stooped over his desk when Erin entered. Autumn sunlight filtering in through the large windows shone on thinning blond hair, pale features and a somber black wool cutaway.

After waiting politely for several moments to have her presence recognized, she took a step forward. When Mr. Carmody still did not react, her suspicions were aroused. Only to be quickly confirmed as a healthy snore reached her. The junior consular official was fast asleep.

Biting her lip, Erin debated what to do. She had no wish to be impolite, but neither did she particularly want to wait until he chose to rejoin the living. The precarious pile of books and newspapers on the corner of his desk provided the solution. A brush of her hand was enough to topple them to the floor and startle Mr. Carmody back to consciousness.

"Whazza . . . ! Oh . . . blasted books He began to rise, only to become aware of the lovely vision standing before him.
"I say . . ."
Reddening slightly, he was nonetheless able to take command of himself with a speed that spoke well for his future as a diplomat, provided of course that he did not customarily sleep on the job. "I beg your pardon, miss. I must have nodded off. Excuse me just a moment while I tidy up this mess."

Erin felt it only right that she should help him. But Mr. Carmody would not hear of it. He quickly straightened the books and papers, assisted her into a chair, buttoned his jacket and sat down at his desk prepared to listen attentively to anything she might have to say.

But when she introduced herself, his professional composure wavered.
"You're
Miss Conroy? Whom I had the note from this morning? Forgive me, but I had no idea you were so young or so . . ." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "What I mean is, I had presumed you were a lady of more advanced years."

"I rather think it is fortunate I am not," Erin said with just a hint of tartness, "since I have a difficult task ahead of me."

"Ah . . . yes . . . that's right, you did say something in your note about wanting to reclaim several ships belonging to your family."

"Belonging to me now. I inherited them from my uncle, who died last year. After the payment of his debts, they are all that is left of what was once a proud shipping line. I am determined to reclaim them." More softly she added, "If, that is, I can find out where they are."

"Oh, that's no problem. I know exactly where they are." He consulted a sheet of paper extracted from the pile in front of him. "Both the
Nantucket Moon
and the
Emerald Isle
are in dry dock not far from here, at Captain Davin's boatyard."

The relieved smile that had begun to light Erin's sapphire eyes vanished. She leaned forward slightly in her chair, her hands suddenly clenched in her lap. "Captain D-Davin ...?"

"That's right. Storm Davin. Late of the Confederate Navy. Not that I suppose it matters this far from home. He's holding them as collateral against debts incurred by the owner." Mr. Carmody frowned slightly. "I guess with your uncle gone, that means you."

Erin forced herself to take several deep breaths before responding. Every ounce of pride she possessed was concentrated on masking the shock Mr. Carmody had so unwittingly given her. "I don't understand . . . the last I had heard, the ships were in the possession of the Black Star Trading Company. There was no mention of a Captain Davin."

The young diplomat shrugged. "Storm Davin
is
the Black Star Trading Company. He started it upon his arrival in Japan a little more than a year ago. I understand he was practically penniless when he left the United States directly after the South's defeat." An envious sigh escaped him. "Of course, he's anything but that now. Black Star Trading controls a large portion of the Japanese market. Captain Davin has made himself a very wealthy and powerful man." Gallantly he added, "But I'm sure you'll have no difficulty with him. After all, who wouldn't wish to help a lovely young lady?"

Erin could think of at least one man who would not fall all over himself to do so; Storm Davin himself. But she resisted the urge to say so. Instead, she concentrated on marshaling her resources to face this new and potentially disastrous situation.

"Does the captain know of my arrival?"

"Why, yes, as a matter of fact he does. After I received your note this morning, I got in touch to tell him when you would be coming by the consulate." Mr. Carmody consulted his pocket watch. With no hint of the impact his words would have, he announced, "He should be here at any moment."

"Here! But why?"
Erin jumped up, unable any longer to bide her dismay. "He must be a very busy man, and this can't be particularly important to him, so why would he . . . ?" She broke off, aware that her host was gazing at her in surprise.

"Miss Conroy ... is there some reason you are concerned about meeting Captain Davin? I assure you there is no cause to be. Granted, he has a well-deserved reputation for being rather ruthless, but I'm certain you will get along famously."

Erin opened her mouth to try to make some reasonable response, only to be abruptly forestalled by a low, mocking drawl from the vicinity of the doorway.

"Oh, I'm certain we will, too. After all, Miss Conroy and I are . . . old friends."

No amount of self-discipline could prevent the ashen pall that spread over her cheeks. The voice was the same that had haunted her dreams for eight long years. She had only to close her eyes to see again every detail of the fateful night when a dashing Southern officer had dared to ask a beautiful but spoiled Yankee belle to forget the turmoil that was about to explode around them and become bis wife.

The young girl who had so unfeelingly refused him was gone forever, and not at all lamented. But memories remained to tear at her heart and fill her mind with thoughts of what might have been.

Valiantly she told herself dreams had no place in the harsh reality confronting her. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him.

In the first instant that their eyes met, she was struck by two things: he had changed a great deal and he had changed not at all.

Beneath thick chestnut hair just long enough to curl slightly, the broad planes and hollows of his face stood out in sharp relief. His pewter eyes were deepset under slanted brows. There was a certain grace about the long, aquiline shape of his nose and the mouth whose contained sensuality she had never before fully appreciated. His chin was broad and firm, free of the beard and mustache many men favored. To keep it that way, he had to shave at least twice a day. Although it was barely afternoon, bristly shadows lay against his burnished skin.

His big, hard body remained the epitome of male strength and virility. A perfectly tailored dark blue frock coat stretched tautly over his powerful shoulders and chest. Beneath it, she caught a glimpse of a white linen shirt open at the throat. Matching wool trousers hugged his narrow hips and sinewy thighs before disappearing into highly polished black leather boots.

At thirty-five, he was easily the most compellingly attractive man Erin had ever seen. But there was a cynical gleam in his thick-fringed eyes and a smattering of silver in his glistening hair that bespoke harsh lessons well learned.

An ache rose within her as she studied him. How many times in those violent years had she pictured him wounded or dying? How many times had she searched the columns of names released by the Northern prison camps, praying she would not find his? How many times had she dragged herself wearily out of bed after just a few hours' rest to return to the hospital where she worked in the hope that if he ever needed such care, it would be available?

After the war, she had made discreet inquiries about his whereabouts. In the back of her mind was the thought that she might sometime, somehow encounter him and have an opportunity to undo a small measure of her cruelty. But all she was able to discover was that after returning briefly to his Virginia plantation to find it completely destroyed and his entire family dead, he had vanished from sight.

Suddenly confronted by him, she had to struggle against the desire to go to him at once and offer her woman's softness as comfort for all he had endured.

The disparaging twist of his chiseled mouth made it clear how any such attempt would be received. "I almost failed to recognize you, Erin," he declared. "The last time we met, you were an enticingly pretty sixteen-year-old. But now ..."

Despite herself, Erin winced. She didn't have to be told that her practical clothing, subdued hairstyle and sedate manner bore no resemblance to the beribboned coquette she had been. But neither was she about to apologize for her appearance. Not when it was the result of experiences that had made her a better person.

"You, on the other hand, look much the same, Captain," she murmured. "Japan seems to agree with you."

He frowned slightly at her formality, but did not attempt to override it. Instead, he sat down and nodded at the bemused Mr. Carmody before returning his attention to her. "I gather you have been apprised of the whereabouts of your ships?"

"Mr. Carmody explained that you are holding them in lieu of debts you claim against Conroy Shipping, but I—"

"Not
claim,"
Storm interrupted firmly. "There is no doubt about the liability. Your uncle has had ample opportunity to honor his obligations. He simply has not chosen to. What he expects to gain by sending you on this errand, I hesitate to imagine."

Erin's back stiffened. There was no mistaking his implication. The speculative light in his eyes as he blatantly looked her over made it only too clear. Taking a deep breath, she said, "My uncle is dead, Captain Davin. The ships belong to me now, and I assure you, I have every intention of meeting all
proper
business obligations."

Did she imagine the faintly appreciative smile that vanished almost the instant it appeared? She must have, for there was no hint of approval in his tone. "Ah, yes, you were always one for propriety, weren't you, Erin?"

Refusing to be baited any more than she already had been, she contented herself with a glare. For long moments they stared at each other in uneasy silence.

It was left to Mr. Carmody to put an end to a situation he could not begin to understand but sensed was somehow dangerous.

"Ah . . . Miss Conroy . . . I'm sure you must be eager to get settled in Yokohama before pursuing your business any further. My wife and I would be delighted to have you stay with us."

As Erin began to protest that she could not take advantage of such generosity, he explained, "There really are no suitable accommodations for young ladies in the city, and besides, Elizabeth would never forgive me if I denied her such congenial company. Please say you will accept."