Against the Tide (8 page)

8

L
ydia rested her elbows on the rope fence that kept spectators a safe distance from the dry dock. She loved coming to watch the laborers renovate old ships. Winches hauled the ship into the berth, keel blocks were set into position to keep it upright, and lines stretched to hold the vessel in place as workers set about repairing the hull. Something about watching dozens of men scrambling over the ship and securing the mighty vessel into the dry dock was an oddly comforting sight to Lydia. It was as though a tired and exhausted old warhorse was brought home to be cared for by people whose sole purpose was to make it hale and hardy once again.

She only wished there were a crew of healthy workmen who could fix her problems as easily. She had a little over a month to come up with the money to purchase her apartment and was running out of options. Even if she continued to take the piecemeal work from Bane, she would be more than two hundred dollars short.

“If your face looks any more grim, you will start frightening the children.”

She recognized the voice. Bane came up alongside her, mimicking her stance by leaning his elbows against the rope fence as he gazed out at the dry dock. She should have known he would not easily be dissuaded from pestering her, but she refused to look away from the ship before her. Perhaps if she ignored him he would leave her alone.

“Please don’t operate under the assumption that ignoring me will work,” Bane said. “It just makes me more determined to get under your skin.”

It annoyed her how easily he read her. She kept her gaze fastened on the ships and asked the question that had plagued her all afternoon. “What were you and the admiral arguing about?”

“You.”

She must not have heard him correctly and whirled to look at him. “What?”

“You heard right. We were arguing because I suggested Admiral Fontaine ought to marry you.”

Lydia choked on her own breath. She opened her mouth but found she was struck speechless.

“He declined, by the way. When I insisted, he became quite heated about the whole affair.”

Bane turned and sat on the sagging rope fence to face her. Everything about his tone and expression was as bland as if he were talking about the price of tea. The early evening breeze ruffled his hair, giving him a decidedly boyish look. There was a youthful, almost angelic look on his stunningly handsome face, but Lydia knew the innocent expression was merely a façade.

She narrowed her eyes as anger took root. Working at the Navy Yard was the best job she had ever had, and Bane had no business toying with it. The ideas Bane was planting in the admiral’s head threatened her continued employment.

“Why on earth would you suggest such a thing? The admiral has no romantic interest in me.”

Bane leaned forward. “I think you should start calling him Eric.”

“Why should I do that?”

“It might help humanize him. Make him seem less off-limits in your mind.”

Her eyes narrowed. “He
is
off-limits. He is my employer.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be his wife? He is in his forties, so not too old for you to consider. And women tell me they consider him a smashing catch. Give me a month or two, and I’m sure I can make this happen, Lydia.”

The suggestion was so outrageous, so inappropriate, that Lydia whirled and stormed down the pathway toward the north end of the Navy Yard. Bane always,
always
had the ability to throw her off-kilter. She had half convinced herself his bogus need for a translator was some sort of bizarre form of courtship, when in truth he was lining her up for marriage to another man! He had a lot of gall to meddle in her life that way. It was insulting too. She had been thinking of ways to let Bane down gently when he never had the least bit of interest in her. She ought to be relieved, but somehow . . . Not that it mattered. She would not trust Bane if he told her the sun rose in the east.

Bane strode to catch up with her. “Will you at least think about the idea? It has a lot of merit.”

Lydia stopped, and Bane almost bumped into her. She would rather die than reveal the foolish, fledgling fantasies that had begun to take root in her mind regarding Bane, but she had to know the truth and would not settle for any more of his annoying, evasive answers.

“Everyone in the office thinks you are carrying a torch for me.” There. She said it. It was much easier to lay the blame on Willis
and the others than hint at the fascination she was beginning to feel for Bane. “For months you have been making up excuses to bring me nonsensical translation work,” she said. “I want to know if the translation work was completely pointless and if you had another reason for wanting to see me.”

He grasped her elbows, and for the first time since she had known him, he seemed to be serious. “It wasn’t pointless. I can’t tell you why, but I really do need those translations. And I like you, Lydia. I wouldn’t try to arrange a marriage between you and Eric if I didn’t.”

Those words hurt. She was hesitant to look him in the eye, but she needed the truth, and she needed to be looking him square in the face when she asked him. “So . . . you have no interest in me. As a woman, I mean.”

A slow, curling smile tilted up one side of Bane’s mouth, making him look so deliciously wicked. “I have plenty of interest, but you are off-limits for me.”

She raised her chin. “Why?”

“A long time ago I made a vow never to marry. Delightful as I find you, I’m afraid you are a temptation I am simply not allowed to pursue.” Bane glanced around at the dense assortment of workmen and laborers competing for space on the narrow walkway surrounding the harbor.

“Let’s go get a mug of coffee and I’ll tell you what I’m planning,” Bane said.

The interior of the Old Galley Coffeehouse was not as crowded as the Laughing Dragon, and they were able to find a booth facing the window overlooking the bay. They slid onto the benches, and as soon as a waiter placed two steaming mugs of coffee before them, Bane wasted no time explaining his plan.

“I want Eric Fontaine to be the next senator from the state of Massachusetts,” he said bluntly. “He is wasting himself in the navy, and he knows it. All Eric cares about is overhauling the decaying navy and turning it into the world-class fleet it once was. He has been fighting that battle for a decade, and he has been losing. He will make more progress toward reaching his goal if he quits the navy and sits in the U.S. Senate. I can help him get there.”

The moorings of Lydia’s world tilted. “The admiral wants to leave the navy?” she gasped. Fear clenched her belly. If Admiral Fontaine left the navy, it would have implications for her job. Not many men would consent to having a woman working in a professional position, but the admiral made it plain he valued her language abilities more than her gender. Another man might not be so pragmatic.

“Yes, he is ready to launch a campaign. He will be a more competitive candidate if he is married.”

Lydia drew a quick breath, stunned that she would even be considered in such a capacity. The admiral had never once, in all the years she worked for him, indicated the slightest romantic interest in her. She couldn’t quite say the same for herself. Admiral Fontaine was an attractive man, and half the unmarried women in Boston had secretly harbored hopes of helping him get over the grief of having lost his wife. Lydia fingered the sturdy muslin of her skirt. “Surely he would do better with a lady from a more distinguished family.”

Bane snorted. “Eric’s family has been making a fortune from shipping ever since they stepped off the
Mayflower
. The Fontaine family is the closest thing America has to aristocracy, so he doesn’t need a wife to prop up his pedigree. He needs a wife who will appeal to the immigrant voting blocks that make up almost thirty
percent of the Massachusetts electorate.” The odd half-smile was on Bane’s face again. “And that is where a half-Greek, half-Turkish orphan becomes highly attractive.”

She had heard stories of how manipulative Bane could be, and now she was seeing, with blinding clarity, how true the stories were. “That seems rather cold and calculating.”

“I prefer to think of it as highly effective.”

She swiveled in the bench to pin him with a stare. “Why do you care? What do you gain if Eric Fontaine becomes a politician?”

“I gain influence over another U.S. senator,” Bane said blandly.

She blinked. “
Another
senator?”

“I helped the senators from Rhode Island and New Jersey into their current positions as well.”

Lydia remembered the story Karl had told . . . something about Bane being responsible for a governor losing an election in Vermont. Then there was the time she saw him in the State House, when she overheard the governor of Massachusetts joking about a senator who was indebted to Bane. Frankly, she didn’t care about Bane’s motives; all she could think of was her cold, stark fear of what would happen if she lost her job.

“If the admiral resigns from the service, who would take his position at the Navy Yard?”

Bane shrugged. “They would transfer some other admiral into the position.”

“And would that person be required to keep the same staff?”

“Why should you care? You can be Eric’s wife by then. He is obscenely wealthy, so you certainly won’t have to work.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “You said he wasn’t interested in me.”

“Sadly, no.”

It was one thing for the admiral to decline to pursue a relationship, another to be so obstinate that his denials shook the rafters.
It was a bit off-putting, actually. “It sounded like he put up quite a fight about it.”

Bane bit back a grin. “Indeed he did. I tried to sing your praises, point out your finer qualities as a woman, as a wife. He was having none of it.”

Her battered pride needed a bit of propping up. “So what did you say? About my finer qualities, that is.”

“I told him you have an iron jaw. That you can take a punch and keep on fighting.”

Lydia’s eyes widened. “And this was supposed to be complimentary to me?”

“I certainly find it attractive.” He said it casually, but the way his eyes gleamed in the twilight made her believe him. She felt a curious little tug in her midsection at the way Bane was practically beaming at her.

“Well, we both know that I’m off-limits for you,” she said cautiously.

“Utterly and completely.”

“No matter what I do, no matter how fine my qualities, you have no interest in me.”

He continued regarding her with warm approval in his eyes. “Correct. Your virtue is safe with me.”

How strange that she found Bane even more appealing now she was certain he had no romantic interest in her. Yet Lydia was too practical to overlook the benefits of this new revelation. “Now that I don’t need to fear your predatory interest in me, do you have any more translation work? I could use the income.”

“Ah, how foolish of me to have forgotten your pecuniary tendencies. Eric alluded to your troubles in purchasing your apartment. Why don’t you just find another place to live?”

How could she explain to a person like Bane the difference
between a “place to live” and a sanctuary, especially when she didn’t fully understand it herself? “That apartment is my home,” she said. “I love it there and I’ve spent years making it exactly the way I want. I feel safe at the Laughing Dragon. I don’t expect you to understand.”