The Dreamer (11 page)

“No, Captain.” I stopped him. “Don’t barge through the door. It startled them before. Here, let me take your arm. Doing so will naturally slow you down. Now Captain, that won’t do. Clear your brow. There. No need to approach them as though marching into battle.” I suddenly laughed, poking his ribs with my elbow. “We’ve playacted before, haven’t we? Except now our roles are reversed. Laugh with me, Captain! You’re very shrewd about everything at sea, and shore is no different. Easier, in fact.
I’ve
been stabbed.
You
can certainly face a few apprehensive stares.”

He laughed reluctantly.

“There. Perfect. Now in we go.”

We entered. And behind the counter this time was a middle aged, big busted woman with pins in her hair. She looked up, a smile on her face. But when her eyes fell on the captain, her smile disappeared. With an indistinctive yelp, she turned and fled out of sight to the back room.

Minutes later an older man appeared, nervously pulling at his vest and clearing his throat. “Why, Mr. Tucker. What a surprise. What can we do for ye?”

“Smile,” I whispered through my teeth.

We approached the counter. “Good day. It’s Mr. Franklin, isn’t it?” the captain began.

But he was cut short by the jingle of the bell on the door as someone entered. We turned. Suddenly before me was the loveliest looking man I’d ever seen in my life.

His hair was blond and curly, and, styled in the mode of the day, it fell down his neck and framed his face beautifully. That was certainly no wig. His face was smooth and narrow, and he was neither tall nor broad, but had a slight, athletic build. There was grace in every movement, but he did not appear effeminate. Like a powerful dancer, his elegance testified rather than belied the strength of his limbs. And had I been an imaginative, fanciful person, I might have considered him angelic.

He entered with a knowing, anticipating look, and his eyes went directly to the captain, not only recognizing him, but expecting to find him there. And I knew the man had followed us in deliberately. In one perfect hand he held his walking stick, a single ruby ring on his last finger. He held the stick in front of him and said with a slight French accent, “Captain Tucker. I thought it was you. How do you do, old friend?”

I found the captain momentarily startled, even alarmed, and then, to my surprise, irritated. He glanced down at me before looking at the man again. He said nothing, just slightly bowed his head, acknowledging recognition.

“Why, if it ain’t the honored Duke of Norcross,” the shopkeeper said. “Capturer of a thousand pirates. Sent ‘em to the gallows to meet their maker. Hello, Mother! Come out ‘ere and see who graced our ‘umble shop. ‘Is Grace, Mr. Charles Dubois hisself.”

The woman emerged, her eyes wide and happy.

He turned to me, his eyes a striking, pale blue. He bestowed upon me a smile that lit up every feature in his face, exciting in my breast the queerest feeling, almost unpleasant in its intensity, like falling from a great height. I felt my answering smile. I glanced up and saw the captain watching me, and a muscle moved in his jaw.

“Will you introduce me to your beautiful companion?” the stranger asked the captain.

His voice low and stony, the captain made introductions. “His Grace Duke of Norcross. Charles Dubois. Miss Rachel Madera.”

I held my hand out to him for him to shake, and he looked at me in surprise. Too late I realized this was not the accustomed manner of greeting a nobleman. “Oh, dear,” I said, dropping my hand. “I ought to curtsey, oughtn’t I? How disconcerting. I’ve never done it before. Such ceremony is uncustomary and considered priggish in my homeland,” I explained to him.

He stared at me, evidently shocked. And then his lovely face softened and he laughed in surprise. Graciously, he took my hand and bent and kissed it. And the gesture, which had always seemed to me to be pretentious and insincere, was somehow flattering coming from him. I felt a flush come to my cheeks. “Well, wasn’t that pleasant! Perhaps we could stand some ceremony back home after all,” I told him with uncustomary breathlessness. “Are you really a duke?”

“I am.”

“Delightful! My first introduction, too. The chances are astronomical, considering the statistics. Less than three percent of the population is titled at this time.”

He laughed again, and the sound was light and deep and pleasant, and it made me smile, too. He didn’t immediately release my hand.

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but even for an aristocrat, you are quite superior. If my memory serves me correctly, Dukes are third in line from the King. It goes, King, Prince,
Duke
, Marquis, Earl, Baron, Viscount ….” A slight movement from the duke made me say, “Oh, no. You’re right. Viscount comes before Baron. My, that
is
impressive. I shall certainly remember to record
you
in my notes.”

“Mademoiselle, I have never met anyone like you before,” he declared appreciatively. The captain made an impatient sound in his throat.

“And have you really captured a thousand pirates?”

“It is an exaggeration,” he said modestly.

“But it is uncommon for aristocracy to be mariners.”

“I don’t pursue them, Miss Madera,” he said with an amused smile. “I simply work with the ambassadors here and there, giving the proper authorities pertinent information. I have … connections who know of my interest. And I hear much.”

“How very civic minded of you.”

He smiled again, his eyes moving over my face. “Such a beautiful creature in the company of our Captain. May I presume to wonder how this is so?” He stooped down conspiratorially. “You are his prisoner, no?”

At that moment, I knew I liked him more than I’d ever liked anybody upon first acquaintance.

The object of our discussion exclaimed indistinguishably and turned to the counter and demanded a dress — anything would do as long as it “fit
her
.” The captain jerked his head towards me.

The shopkeeper looked shocked, his eyes going from me and back to the captain. “I run a respectful establishment here, sir,” he said with dignity, eyeing my shabby dress and scuffed shoes. For the first time, I realized that my hair was down and free, and women did not wear their hair down and free. I wonder what I looked like to him ...
and
to the duke.

“Just what exactly are you implying,” the captain answered quietly … dangerously.

“Well, I …” the man gulped, and did not finish.

“I’ll have an answer, sir,” the captain said through his teeth. “If I have to —”

“Oh, Captain.” I couldn’t hide my disappointment.

“If I may,” the duke interjected in his musical tones. We all stopped and looked at him, compelled by something beyond our control. He turned to the clerk and smiled. “My good man, surely you recognize the heiress to the Madera fortune?”

The clerk blinked. “Never heard of no Madera family.”

“They are from the Americas.”

“Colonials?” the man looked at me suspiciously.

“Of course.”

His eyes scanned me, and then he said, “Funny way for an heiress to dress.”

“Her trunks were lost at sea.”

“A storm,” I interjected.

“Then why is Mr. Tucker in ‘ere payin’ for ye?” the clerk asked in triumph.

I hesitated and looked at the duke for rescue. He didn’t even glance at me, but said to the clerk, “Don’t be a fool, man. The captain is simply her banker for now, until she’s safely at her destination. You know very well she can’t traipse around town with a load of money in her purse.”

The shopkeeper hesitated, looking from me to the captain again. Then he laughed reluctantly, apologetically, and said to the captain, who looked anything but pleased, “Sorry, Mr. Tucker. Forgive an old man’s suspicions. We have just a dress for the lass. And if she’d like to come this way ….”

The rest was easy, thanks to the duke. I was taken to the back room and dressed in a simple blue number that the woman of the shop assured me was the color of my eyes. I was fitted with a corset, which was undoubtedly designed by a man, for it pulled my shoulders back until my shoulder blades almost met, resulting in my bosom being thrust out much further than I would ever naturally hold it. The woman tightened the laces on this contraption until I was certain I felt my bellybutton hit my spine. I was then layered with a number of other undergarments including a hoop that, not only served no purpose, but would make it difficult for me to walk and sit naturally. I’d never felt so stiff and uncomfortable in my life.

But when I turned to the mirror and saw my reflection, I gasped. Never before had I been so lovely, and suddenly I didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. The woman even did up my hair, too. And when I emerged from the back room, with those miles of fabric and lace, I quite involuntarily twirled before the two men, who’d been lounging on opposite sides of the room. The captain had frozen while the duke kissed his fingertips.

“Call me masculine now, Captain,” I crowed in triumph, and then went to a mirror that stood on the opposite wall and regarded my reflection, a glint in my eye. “This has been so educational. I have been inexcusably ignorant up until now in the culture of femininity. I don’t know how I neglected it for so long, for I am nearly twenty-seven. But what a pleasing sense of
rightness
it brings, you know? Like for the first time in my life, I am a whole, complete person, and not just an intellect.” I sighed, running a hand down my skirt. “I didn’t think it was possible, but I believe I have been
thinking
too much.” I moved the skirt aside and admired my gleaming shoes.

I heard a footfall, and I looked up to find the captain had awoken from his stupor, and without taking his eyes off me, came my way.

But the duke was quicker, and he approached me and raised my fingers to his lips as he’d done before and said, “Ma cherie.”

“
Combien de temps avez-vous habite en Angleterre
?”

Duke Dubois gasped, a smile on his beautiful face. “
Vous parlez francais
?”

“
Un peu
,” I answered. “
Parlez lentement
.”

We both laughed, and the captain morosely turned to the counter and demanded the bill in a voice that interrupted our conversation.

The shopkeeper hurried to complete the invoice, his hands nearly trembling with fear. The duke and I both looked on sympathetically, but instinctively did not interfere, knowing it would make the captain more irate.

I sighed.

I turned to the duke and asked, “How do you know the captain? Does he regularly mingle with the aristocracy?”

“We were in school together for a short time.”

“Oh? And you’ve remained friends these subsequent years?”

The duke regretfully shook his golden head. “We meet less often than I’d like. I spotted him from afar just before you two entered the shop, and I couldn’t forgo the chance to see him again. I’m glad I did,” he finished, watching me with a look in his eyes that made me blush.

The captain, arguing over an item on the bill, hit the counter with his fist, and we both turned. “Tucker, he hasn’t changed,” the duke said soberly.

I looked at him. “He was like this in the university?”

He nodded, and then grimaced when the captain swore at the shopkeeper. “It’s why he left.”

“Really? What happened?”

The duke leaned closer, and I caught a whiff of his masculine cologne. “He hadn’t been at the university long, only a few months, when it was obvious to us all that he preferred the company of a certain young lady, a Bridget Bloomington. Her father was a mere colonel, and she was quite open about her determination to marry an aristocrat.”

“Bridget Bloomington?” I repeated, and then frowned unhappily. “I don’t like the sound of it. It is very jarring to the ears.”

“She invited several of us students to her country estate for the Christmas holidays. There was a ball, and Mallory came down late, dressed in formal breeches that he’d obviously had since his youth.” The duke grimaced. “They were ill fitting and faded, and Miss Bloomington didn’t hesitate to tell him so. He turned and left, upsetting a trolley containing the Christmas punch on his way out.”

His voice faded, and he suddenly turned away to straighten a rack of hair ribbons that sat askew. When he turned back to me, he was biting his lower lip hard. “He left the university soon thereafter.” His eyes were very sad.

I looked at the captain, a new compassion in my breast. Those late teen years were vital in the psychological development of a young man, and … well, land had never been very good to him, it seemed.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” the Duke of Norcross whispered in my ear just as the captain finished his business and approached us.

“Miss Madera, shall we go?” he asked stonily, eyeing the duke.

I had begun to nod and move towards him when the duke stopped me with his hand. “Miss Madera has just consented to do me the honor of dining with me at Norcross Hall, Tucker. Be so good as to leave her address with my man, and I’ll accompany her from here. It really has been a pleasure to see you again, dear friend. Let us be strangers no longer.”