A Heart's Masquerade (2 page)

She was like a breath of fresh air, bubbling with excitement as she pestered him with questions that shouldn’t interest anyone of her sex. And he couldn’t help admire her striking features, as well as the rest of her, young and unspoiled... Too young and too unspoiled, he told himself, for he’d never been attracted to chits barely out of the schoolroom.

How his shipmates would laugh to learn that their world-weary captain had been drawn to a wide-eyed innocent. Grimacing at the thought, Ransom firmly dismissed the child from his thoughts. By the time he left the village behind, headed on to Barton, the incident with Miss Amberly was buried deep within his memory, where it would lie forgotten for many a day.

***

"Well, if it isn’t little Miss Amberly! We haven’t seen you in some time. We’ve missed your smile."

Through the dim light inside the inn, Cat glanced fondly at the elderly owner of the village’s one hostelry. "It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Tyber," she said.

Although she genuinely liked the old innkeeper, he was not known for his brevity, and Cat dreaded a lengthy chat. The very real fear that Edward would reappear danced in the pit of her stomach.

Cat knew that in his new position as baron of Wellshire and her guardian, her cousin could forcibly drag her from the premises, and no one would raise a hand to stop him. Even if she could convince someone that Edward had done murder to obtain her stepfather’s wealth and title and had attempted to kill her as well, she knew no one who had the power to help her. Her only hope lay in quick escape and the daring plan that had begun to form in her mind.

"I’ve had a little trouble with my horse," Cat told Mr. Tyber nervously. "Do you mind if I rest here before going home?"

"Certainly not, Miss Amberly. You go freshen up in the front room. How about a little mutton pie?"

"Yes, that would be lovely," Cat said before catching herself. "Well, why don’t you wrap it up for me, and I’ll take it with me."

"Certainly, Miss Amberly," Mr. Tyber said, though he looked a bit puzzled by the odd request.

Pie in hand, Cat climbed the stairs, only to exit down the rear steps to the rooms where she knew Jenny, the serving girl, and Jim, the stable boy, slept. Rummaging through the tiny hole in the wall where Jim bedded down, she found what she was looking for: boy’s clothing that just might fit her. In its place she left payment, part of her precious hoard of pin money collected before her stepfather’s death.

Once safely ensconced in the front room, her mutton pie tucked away and the door locked behind her, she dressed in Jim’s shirt, baggy pants, and patched coat and bundled up a spare set of pilfered clothing. Everything was a little large, but the looseness worked all the better to disguise her sex.

Looking critically at the hair reaching to her waist, Cat grimaced and hacked it off with the shears she had borrowed from Jenny’s room. Her first attempt at barbering was atrocious, but more clipping and cutting improved her appearance to the point where she looked merely ragged instead of ridiculous. To complete her costume, she pulled a large cap down over her forehead to shade her features.

Holding her breath, Cat gazed into a milk mirror over the washstand and was delighted with her new identity. She did not look at all like the young girl she had been a moment before. She took off the hat and squinted at her face. The nose was a bit too pert and the cheeks too rosy, but even without the cap she looked like a somewhat grubby boy.

Well, good, she thought, suppressing a twinge of disappointment at the ease with which she had achieved her disguise. Then she collected her shorn hair and original clothing and again sneaked down the back stair. Keeping to the shadows, she slipped away from the inn. She didn’t dare fetch Jackson from the stable for fear that Jim would see her wearing his clothes. And better she not take anything of Edward’s, including his horse, if only briefly.

Avoiding the main road her cousin might be watching, Cat slipped between the buildings, disposing of her girl’s locks and clothing in a heap of refuse. Heading toward a narrow track, she hesitated, fighting against an impulse to say good-bye to her dearest friend.

Budd had worked in the stables of her family’s estate until Edward had cruelly turned him out, probably because of his closeness to Cat. For Budd had been a surrogate father to her after her mother died and the house stood nearly empty, her stepfather rarely in residence.

Cat smiled for the first time in weeks a she remembered the night long ago when she had sought the warmth and comfort of the manor’s kitchens during a storm. Budd had done the same, and the kindly old sailor had seated her in a chair by the great fireplace, tucked a blanket around her, and settled down beside her with a pipe.

Scoffing at the weather that raged outside, he began to describe a typhoon that had tossed one of his great seafaring vessels like a cork upon the waves. By the time his tale was told, Cat was asleep, dreaming of the sea.

The friendship that sprang up that night between the solitary little girl and the lonely old sailor had grown over the years. Cat had soon declared her intention to sail the seas, too, when she grew older, and Budd had indulged her by teaching her everything he knew. What a blow it was when she grew old enough to realize she could never follow in his footsteps.

Cat’s wistful smile spread into a mischievous grin at the knowledge that her long dormant dream of a seafaring life was close to realization. Her heart beat just a little faster with anticipation, though she knew her mentor would never approve of her scheme.

Budd had entertained her with his tales of storms and battles, pirates, and fantastic underwater creatures. He had shared his knowledge with her until she could name each part of a ship and tie every knot in a rope, but in the end, they both knew she had no place upon the water. Her future was to be a lady, and Cat didn’t know which one of them was more disappointed by that fact.

Glancing toward where Budd said he would be staying, Cat was tempted to look in on him, but she knew he would try to stop her from going. Even worse, he would do his best to protect her, though he was no match for Edward.

With a firm shake of her head, Cat stepped away from the lane, sending a silent farewell to her old friend. Then she took a narrow track away from the estate and village that had encompassed her entire world for as long as she could remember.

***

When she reached Barton near dawn, Cat was bone-weary from the hours she’d spent on the road, wary not only of her cousin, but all manner of ruffians, especially the infamous gangs of pressmen who periodically roamed the coastal towns and cities in search of bodies to fill England’s naval vessels.

Her plans for going to sea did not involve being forced to join the navy, where conditions were known to be deplorable. Cat did not want to fight Napoleon. She simply wanted to work her way to Barbados on a decent ship, and she hoped Captain Duprey would provide that opportunity.

She found him standing at the end of the quay, one foot on some rocks tumbling near the edge, his long cloak thrown back and his eyes on the breaking dawn. For a moment she hesitated, wondering fearfully if he would recognize her as the young girl from the day before.

But she could not turn back now, so she took a deep breath and walked toward him. Still, she had forgotten in the span of a night how utterly handsome he was, and her surprise made her stop again before reaching him.

The sun lighting his face seemed to caress his features: the dark brows over deep-set eyes, the classic nose, the full lower lip, and the waves of thick, dark hair brushed back from his face by the breeze. He was blessed with a youthful countenance which made his age difficult to determine, yet his bearing told Cat he was no green youth.

He held himself with complete self-assurance, as though nothing could touch him, no troubles or squabbles or storms at sea. Here was a man Cat instinctively knew others would follow.

"I sincerely hope, for your sake, that you are not intent upon picking my pocket."

Cat almost jumped at the words, for the man’s gaze never strayed from the horizon, nor did he move from his position.

"Certainly not," Cat said, indignant.

At her response, the handsome face turned to survey her, one eyebrow cocked sardonically.

Annoyed to feel herself blushing, Cat straightened her shoulders and looked directly into the chocolate brown eyes that viewed her with such disdain. "You are the captain of that ship, sir?" she asked, pointing to the
Reckless
.

"I am," he answered, a curious mixture of pride and self-mockery in his voice.

Cat’s body tensed with the realization that her life depended on the next few minutes. Sending up a brief prayer of entreaty, she took a deep breath and plunged ahead.

"Well, sir, I would like to offer my services. I would make a good cabin boy. I can read and write and cipher. I could keep your books... and I know about sailing." Cat rushed on. "And I really want to go to sea."

The eyebrow cocked even higher as the captain regarded her in surprise. "Have you ever crewed a ship before?" he asked.

"No, sir, but I..."

"Then how did you come by all that wisdom?"

"My... grandfather, sir. He was a sailor. Taught me everything he knew," Cat said, studying the toes of her boots. She cleared her throat, trying desperately to look and sound less like herself and more like Jim, who would be dumbfounded to learn that anyone was holding him up as a model of behavior.

"I see," the captain said. "And you live with this legendary seaman, I assume?"

"Well, not anymore, sir," Cat said as she looked earnestly up at him, warming to her tale. "You see, he lost his work and sent me out to earn my own way."

"How old are you?"

"Thirteen," she lied. "But I can work hard, truly I can. Oh, please, take me on, sir. You won’t be sorry, I promise you." Cat held her breath while the object of her entreaties turned back to the horizon, considering her request.

When he spoke, he did not turn to face her. "I suspect you are being pursued by the authorities - or worse - over some bad business, and that explains your sudden desire to go to sea," he said, holding up a hand to stop Cat’s protests. "But my gut tells me to give you a chance." He sighed. "Just cease your constant chatter, boy, and don’t be a bother to me or I’ll throw you to the sharks."

Afraid to open her mouth, Cat simply nodded, though she was fairly bursting with relief at her escape from Edward and anticipation of the adventures that lay ahead. She hurried to follow alongside the captain’s long strides as they headed toward the
Reckless.

Cat gazed in awe at the giant vessel that loomed above them, its masts stretching into the pale sky. Even at this early hour, Cat could see the dark figures of men moving purposefully aboard, and her heart soared nearly as high as the crow’s nest at the sight.

Cat’s reverie was broken by the sound of Captain Duprey’s deep voice, raised in casual dismissal. "Bert, this child fancies himself to be my cabin boy. Take care of him, will you?" he told a short, stocky fellow, leaving Cat to study her shipmate.

Bert, the first mate, was older than the captain. He had flecks of white in his wild black hair and a scar that began at the edge of one bushy eyebrow and ran all the way down his cheek, making him look ferocious. He nodded at the captain’s words without even glancing in Cat’s direction as he oversaw the transfer of a sailor, seeming unconscious, from the quay to the ship.

Cat watched in fascination as they rigged the prone man into the block and tackle, a system of pulleys used to haul cargo and people aboard. And she smiled when she recognized the type of knot, a bowline, that was used to secure the rope around him.

"The damn fool drank too much," Bert said, pointing at the still prostrate man being hoisted into the air. "Let it be a warning to you, lad."

"Yes, sir!" Cat grinned, much too excited to be intimidated. Wellshire, Edward and his crimes, and even dear Budd were forgotten as her childhood ambition became a reality. She spared no worries for the captain or the wild-looking man before her, but focused on the future.

"Are you waiting for God himself to invite you aboard?" Bert’s voice broke into her thoughts, and with a deep breath, Cat scrambled up the plank. As her feet touched the wood of the ship’s deck, she nearly hugged herself with happiness at the promise of a sea voyage, at last.

Chapter Two

Cat’s first week at sea passed in a blur as she fetched and carried, scrambled up the ratlines, and watched the anchor and the sails being hoisted. Initially, all was confusion as she familiarized herself with the ship. She discovered that it was one thing to know the parts of a model, another to find where the bow lay when in the dimness below the decks.

Still, she learned quickly, and although turns around Wellshire’s small lake had not prepared her for the reel and roll of the deck beneath her feet, Cat soon gained her sea legs, leaping up among the masts or down into the bowels of the vessel as though she’d been born to it. If Bert was testing her, she passed, for he soon sent her to assume her duties as cabin boy.

Cat liked the captain’s spacious quarters, neat but masculine, with its books, navigational tools, and maps. Sunlight from the diamond paned windows bathed the room in a warm glow, illuminating the massive bed and large sea chest nearby. The cabin smelled better, too. Instead of the reek of damp wood, unwashed bodies, and stale air, here she breathed traces of tobacco, paper, salt breeze, and the captain’s soap.

Cat had barely seen the man since boarding, her only contact those times when she brought him a cup of coffee at dawn or waited on him at meals. Maybe things would be different now, she thought, hoping for a chance to talk with him as she had when he’d rescued her. It seemed then as if they could strike up a friendship, which Cat longed to do.

And now she would have a chance to prove herself, she thought, rubbing her hands together in contemplation of giving the cabin a thorough going over. "Cleanliness be next to Godliness," Budd had always said, claiming that the cleaner the ship, the less chance of sickness.