Patricia Potter (6 page)

But he found his eyes searching for something other than tobacco when he reached the interior of the store. Jeremy was getting ready to close, and the merchant’s eyes seem to twinkle knowingly as Adrian approached him.

“Captain?”

For one of the few times in his life, Adrian was disconcerted. “Some cheroots,” he said briskly.

“How many?”

Adrian hesitated, drawing out the visit as his eyes went to the stairs he knew led upward. “A dozen,” he said finally.

Jeremy nodded, and reached inside a humidor, extracting the long, thin cigars. “And a peppermint for your friend? A gift from me?”

Adrian nodded. Something else that ran in the family, he thought. Jeremy, too, inexplicably liked Socrates, a rarity in Adrian’s circle of acquaintances.

Socrates chattered happily, as if he understood that the piece of candy being added to the cigars was meant for him. Adrian’s eyes moved from the stairs to his small companion. “Say thank you,” he instructed, and Socrates bowed quite nicely, taking off his cap as he did so.

Adrian heard laughter then, a soft chuckle that somehow warmed him deep inside. He looked up and saw Lauren Bradley descend the steps. She looked different now, the somber gray dress replaced with an equally modest one, but of a green color that caught flashes in emerald in her eyes, and her hair was down, tumbling in damp waves as if she’d just washed and brushed it nearly dry. He felt himself tensing in a rare way, his senses responding to her as they had not responded to another woman in a very long time, and a warning bell exploded in his head.

He nodded his head and bowed, much as Socrates had, and he saw her smile broaden for just a moment before something happened to it, and the smile became stiff and forced. He felt suddenly confused. Confused, disappointed, and strangely bereft.

“Captain,” she acknowledged, before turning to Jeremy, “I was sent to fetch you for dinner.”

Adrian watched her turn and flee upstairs, and he wondered why she seemed to avoid him, to be so on her guard with him when she was so open with Socrates—just the opposite of other women’s reactions to them.

But perhaps he could melt some of her reserve tomorrow at dinner. He quickly paid Jeremy, swung Socrates up onto his arm, and left for the Royal Victoria. It was time to ready Socrates for the standard welcoming of newcomers to the circle of blockade runners.

A table of eight was awaiting them in the Royal Victoria’s dining room. Four other blockaders rose when Adrian appeared with Socrates, who was now adorned with a small captain’s cap and a pair of small shoes. Adrian accepted congratulations on the successful run and joined the others for a glass of champagne, trying to dismiss Lauren Bradley from his thoughts.

“To cotton,” toasted one of the men.

“And England, which buys it,” said another.

“And the Yankee blockade that keeps the price high,” said the third.

It was a traditional toast, oft repeated in the Royal Victoria Dining Room, much to the discomfort of the occasional Union seaman who wandered into the hotel on leave.

David Beauregard, a Charlestonian and probably the most experienced blockade runner among them, looked at his watch. “Nearly eight,” he observed.

Grins broke out on the faces of Adrian’s companions as he urged Socrates under the table. Sometimes Socrates cooperated; sometimes he did not.

But he’d been on his good behavior most of the day, and now he appeared predisposed to participate in this traditional game. He disappeared under the table.

Exactly at eight, Clay entered the dining room with a man dressed in a gray uniform, and all five men at the table stood, welcoming the newcomer to their midst. Once more, they repeated the traditional toast.

A waiter approached and asked their pleasure. The newcomer, who had been introduced as Reid Cooper, looked curiously at the one empty chair. “Perhaps we should wait on the eighth person,” he said.

“Ah no,” David said, with an exasperated smile. “No sense waiting for him. It’s the pilot of Cabot here, our English lord,” he teased. “The rascal is always getting into one thing or another. Fine pilot, but totally lacking in any kind of manners.”

“Pilot?” Reid Cooper’s eyes brightened. “I’ve heard you have one of the best. Perhaps you can help me find a capable man.”

Just then, a shoe stuck out from under the table.

Adrian grinned. “I might … just might … be persuaded to part with mine. He’s getting a bit restless.”

Cooper smiled. “I would be grateful.”

Prompted by Adrian’s foot, the shoe from under the table stuck out a bit farther, and the newcomer noticed it. “Some … someone’s under the table.”

Clay raised his eyes toward the ceiling. “Not again, Adrian. You simply have to keep better control of your …”

“Pilot,” chimed in Davis, as the new captain’s expression changed from confusion to sudden dismay.

“Your … pilot?” Reid Cooper repeated, his eyes studying the awkward position of the shoe.

Adrian shook his head sadly. “He’s a little eccentric,” he said solemnly. “And shy.”

Puzzlement covered the newcomer’s face as he quickly reevaluated Adrian’s earlier offer. The others looked around innocently, although devilment danced in six pairs of eyes.

Slowly the shoe moved farther out from under the table, revealing a very hairy ankle. Another leg emerged as the Confederate captain moved back, almost tipping over his chair as chuckles filled the air. Then a hairy arm was revealed, and finally a head, as Socrates scampered up and took his place on the chair, looking very pleased with himself. One of his hands clutched his hat, and he pulled it on his head, and then doffed it toward Reid Cooper.

“Your pilot,” Adrian explained graciously as chuckles grew louder.

The new blockade captain stared in horror as Socrates calmly sat in the chair, looking hungrily at the empty plate. Slowly, comprehension dawned as Reid Cooper’s gaze moved from man to man, each one trying to stifle laughter in his own way, and finally Cooper’s own mouth stretched into a wide, appreciative smile.

Lauren would have enjoyed dinner thoroughly if it had not been for the lingering thoughts of Adrian Cabot and disgust at her own earlier behavior. She didn’t understand why she’d been assaulted by such confusion when she saw him, nor why the rhythm of her heart had suddenly quickened.

She tried to dismiss those thoughts and give all her attention to her current companions, and when she could indeed banish Captain Cabot from her mind for a while, she relaxed in a way she hadn’t in months.

Until this moment, Lauren hadn’t completely realized how lonely the past weeks and months had been. She had retreated from everyone, nursing her wounds until she had met with the mysterious Mr. Phillips.

And although purpose had fired her anew, the loneliness remained, deeper even than before because she was so entirely alone.

But she felt drawn to Jeremy and Corinne Case. Their natural warmth reached out to her without demand or invasion.

Jeremy had said Corinne did not know about his activities for the Union, but she must guess. The couple appeared to be too close to keep anything secret for long.

It was not, she knew, that Jeremy would be in danger of arrest or imprisonment. Nassau was neutral, and men in gray and blue both walked the streets. But being known as a Union spy, or even sympathizer, would hurt his business, if not ruin him. Although the people of Nassau tolerated the Union soldiers on leave, they made no secret as to their sympathies. The Union consul in the city was often snubbed and taunted in the streets; he was even attacked once, according to Jeremy and Corinne, who told her even more of the blockade runners and their activities.

In the name of amusement, Jeremy said, the blockade runners did some very strange things. They spent the better part of each month in port, waiting for the new moon, and their restlessness was legendary. Some would sit in windows with bags of shillings and throw handfuls of the coins to crowds of loafers in the street to see them scrambling. Others remained drunk on champagne during most of their time in Nassau.

“Doesn’t that affect their abilities?” Lauren asked, her mind going back to the clear blue eyes of Adrian Cabot.

“It doesn’t seem to,” Jeremy grimaced, confirming what Phillips had told her.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with all that, anyway,” Corinne said. “I hope you just enjoy Nassau. I don’t expect your father would have wanted you to be unhappy.”

“I would like to help Uncle Jeremy in the store,” she said.

“Good gracious, no. You’re our guest.”

Lauren looked over at Jeremy again for help.

“I think Lauren would like something to do. Why don’t we try it for a few days?”

Corinne looked doubtful. “I’ve already planned a tea for the day after tomorrow for a few friends … and their daughters.”

“And Captain Cabot is coming for dinner tomorrow night,” Jeremy said.

Corinne looked askance at that. She, like every woman in Nassau, had been charmed by the English captain, but there was something about him that radiated danger.

“He did Lauren a service today,” Jeremy said quietly. “I could do nothing less.”

Corinne’s eyes turned to Lauren with curiosity.

“I … stumbled and fell. I fear I would have gone straight into the water were it not for the captain.” Lauren was aware of an unwanted blush creeping up her cheek, and she didn’t quite understand why.

“And that little companion of Cabot’s took a shine to her,” Jeremy said with amused understatement.

“The monkey?”

“Aye, I invited him too. So you’d best serve some fruit.”

Corinne looked at her husband as if he were mad. Jeremy had always been friendly to the blockade runners who patronized their store, but he’d never invited any into their home. She had sensed that he disapproved of them, although he’d never said anything about it. She did know, however, that he abhorred slavery. When the subject was mentioned, his eyes went cold. Now, however, his eyes were sparkling with life, and Corinne was grateful. Entertaining Captain Cabot and his monkey was small-enough price for such. She smiled her assent.

Lauren looked from one to the other, envying the Cases’ closeness, the way they looked at each other. It was a tragedy, she thought, that they had not had children. And she felt the ache of aloneness again.

It was as if Jeremy understood. “Would you care to visit the garden?” he said, as Mary started to clean the table.

Lauren smiled her assent. Nassau had looked fascinating from the ship with its colorful buildings sitting in the sun. It appeared pleasantly exotic, and she had never been short of curiosity.

While the front of Jeremy’s building faced Bay Street, the back faced the wharf area. A colorful garden, surrounded by a neat white fence, buffered the house from the busy docks. Unfamiliar but lovely blossoms flourished. There was a certain haphazard design in the vivid garden of colors that delighted the senses.

“But it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed, and Jeremy smiled in pride.

“Corinne can make anything grow,” he said, with a tender smile.

They went out a gate in back and walked around the front to Bay Street. Most of the shops were closed now, but Jeremy pointed out a tailor, a hat shop, a dressmaker’s establishment, a confectioner’s shop. They heard the sound of faraway noise, and Lauren looked questioningly at Jeremy.

“The taverns and grogshops,” he explained.

“Where do the blockade runners go?”

“The officers usually stay at the Royal Victoria,” Jeremy explained as he studied her carefully. She was not at all what he had expected. When he’d received word a woman spy was coming, he had been wary at first, reluctant to bring a stranger into his home. But he had been assured she would fit in quite nicely. And she did. She appeared the kind of girl anyone would welcome as a niece or daughter.

Jeremy could not imagine her as a seductress. Yet, strangely enough, she had caught Captain Cabot’s attention immediately. Jeremy had not missed the spark of interest in the blockade runner’s eyes. Perhaps Phillips was far more astute than he’d believed.

“It was a stroke of luck … your fall today.”

Lauren was surprised to feel herself blushing again. She’d never blushed much before, and yet she had done so several times already today. “It was an accident.”

“So it appeared.”

They returned to the garden, taking a seat on a wooden bench. Lauren looked out toward the bay, which was sparkling in the soft light of a quarter moon. Activity still continued around the
Specter
, though she didn’t see the tall figure of its captain. “It’s a lovely ship.” Her voice was wistful, uncertain.

“And could be very useful to the Union,” Jeremy said, his voice soft but passionate.

She turned and studied his face, now harsh and determined. “Why … ?” She hesitated, reluctant suddenly to intrude on private reasons.

“Why do I care?” he finished for her.

Lauren nodded.

Jeremy was silent for a moment, considering an answer. They would be working together, but there were some things that he could not tell anyone. Not even Corinne.