Within a Captain's Treasure (22 page)

On the way back to the nursery, the children discussed the pros and cons of pistol ownership versus something even better than mommies—puppies. Leaving them in Susanna’s gentle care she couldn’t help but wonder about Bump.

It had only been a day, and she missed him desperately.

Dressing in one of her new gowns, a lightweight, striped cotton in a soft shade of green, Alice applied a bit more concealing powder. The color of the dress did wonderful things to the green of her eyes, and it fit her like it had been made for her.

Arriving in the parlor, she found Isabelle Whitmore looking lovely in a dress of silvery blue. She was the very height of elegance and grace. A single teardrop of sapphire adorned her throat and dripped from each ear. The perfect hostess, she was pouring the wine.

Alice twisted her ring. It had been months and an entire ocean since she dined amongst gentry. She hoped she remembered which fork to use. “Good evening, Isabelle.”

“Alice, dear, don’t you look lovely. I knew the color would suit you. So much more attractive than the mud-colored skirt you arrived in.” She handed her a glass. “I’ve just come from seeing the children. They are quite taken with you already. I’m so pleased.”

“They were fun today. Both so eager and curious.”

Isabelle beamed. “I told you, everyone loves them.” She took a sip of wine, and slipped her hand through Alice’s arm, steering her toward the back patio overlooking the gardens. “I worry about Rebecca being too timid, but she’s young yet. And Brighton takes after his father in so many ways. He’s anxious to wish away his childhood so he can do all those grownup things he thinks are so interesting.”

They stood catching the first cool breeze of the evening. “It’s beautiful here. The children gave me the tour. Tomorrow, Brighton wants to show me the stream.”

“It’s one of his favorite places. I’ll have Cook pack you a basket lunch.”

“Well, what have we here?” Carlton Whitmore stepped out onto the patio. “Blake, we’ve found their hiding spot.” Isabelle tipped her cheek as he kissed her. “My dear, you are a vision.”

Isabelle scolded, “We weren’t hiding, and if you men had any sense of time, you’d not have kept us waiting.” She smiled at their guest. “Emerson, I’m so pleased you asked to join us tonight.”

Emerson Blake looked much better when he wasn’t flying into a study anxious to hang a ship full of pirates. “Isabelle, you’re too kind. I forced myself upon you and you’re gracious enough not to show me the door.” Emerson kissed her hand. Had she been meeting him for the first time, Alice might have considered him attractive.

“Nonsense, you’re always welcome.” Isabelle turned toward Alice. “Have you met our new governess, Mistress Alice Tupper?”

“Yes, this morning. My lack of manners precedes me, I’m afraid.” He nodded a greeting in her direction. His eyes warmed. “But the idea of spending my evening in the company of two such beautiful women was all the incentive I needed to be boorish once again.”

His flight of angry agitation past, Emerson Blake was the vision of a country gentleman. Wig, waistcoat, and walking stick. Dressed in his dinner clothing, he was quite handsome. His dark coloring hidden by a short wig, yet the strength of his brows and the depth of his brown eyes seemed more striking in contrast. When he smiled, a boyish dimple flashed in one cheek. Broad shoulders filled the fine brocade of his wine-colored waistcoat. A froth of lace adorned his neck and cuffs. Slim hips and long legs were encased in a dark gray satin. A proper gentleman down to the silk of his stockings and the buckles on his heeled shoes.

“I would have thought all your evenings would be spent with Harriet Applegate. Rumor has it you’ve spent a good deal of time in her company. Perhaps we’ll soon have news of a harvest wedding?”

“Isabelle,” cautioned Carlton, “leave the man be.”

Emerson chuckled. “Isabelle, ever the matchmaker. Harriet is a lovely woman, quite proper. Fine stock. A pleasant enough companion. She and her mother are off. Visiting an aunt, I believe. Up North. The summer temperatures don’t suit them.” He moved closer to Alice. “What about you, Mistress Tupper? Does the heat suit you?”

The way he emphasized the word “heat” put her immediately on guard. “The workers in the fields must suffer terribly on days like today.”

He waved a hand in dismissal. “They’re used to it.”

Alice opened her mouth preparing to congratulate him on maintaining his high standard of boorish qualities, when dinner was announced. Emerson scooped her arm and tucked it in his as their hosts led them into the dining room. He gave her fingers a squeeze and whispered, “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“Dinner?” she countered. Emerson laughed as Alice tugged her hand away from his arm.

Five long courses later, Alice was ready to step in front of a cannon and yell, “Fire.” Emerson Blake was relentless in his attention. He dominated the conversation. When he wasn’t asking questions about her life in England, he was regaling her with stories about himself. Each charming anecdote ending with some subtle yet pointed mention regarding his wealth, prestige, or standing in the community.

Alice nearly wept with joy when Carlton suggested he and Emerson retire to the study for their brandy and cigars.

“Wonderful idea, Carlton, I can tell you about the two new racing stallions I acquired. Fine stock.” He rose and smoothed his vest. “Excellent meal, Isabelle. Thank you.” He gave a quick bow. “Mistress Tupper. I trust we’ll see one another again.”

“I fear it’s inevitable.” Her parting shot flew clear over his bow. It hadn’t even ruffled his wig.

After the men left, Alice begged off tea with Isabelle claiming the children had worn her out. She needed nothing more than a quick breath of fresh air before seeking out her bed.

Pale moonlight lit the graveled garden paths. The air, blissfully cool. Alice took a deep breath, willing the tension to leave her shoulders.

A faint whiff of cigar smoke met her before she heard the footsteps in the walk. “Perfect end to a perfect evening.” Emerson’s voice reached out to her in the moonlight. “Mind if I join you?”

Alice screwed her eyes shut and refused to turn around. “Actually—”

“Staring into my brandy just now, I couldn’t get a particular image out of my mind.” He had come to stand beside her, took a pull on his cigar, and blew a cloud of smoke above their heads. “Aren’t you going to ask what image?”

Alice waved the smoke away from her. “I’m assuming you’ll tell me.”

“You. This morning. Swallowing my brandy as if it were mother’s milk.”

“Did you bring me another?” She looked at his hands before raising her gaze to his all-seeing eyes.

“Afraid not.” He grinned. His eyes twinkled with amusement.

Alice crossed her arms and dropped her chin. “That’s probably for the best. It’s not a proper thing for a lady to do. Swilling brandy.”

“All I can offer you is a smoke.” He smirked holding his smoldering cigar toward her.

Alice plucked the cigar from his fingers. “Do they taste as horrible as they smell?”

“You’ve no intention—” He reached for it, but she was quick to pull it away from his reach. Lifting it to her mouth she took a puff, grimaced, and handed it back to him.

“Worse than I imagined.” She wiped at her mouth with the backs of her fingers.

Emerson threw his head back and laughed. “Who the devil are you?”

“Poor stock. Not a proper lady, obviously. But a tired one. Good night, Mister Blake.”

“It’s Emerson,” he called after her.

“Come on, Rebecca, you can do it,” coaxed Alice.

The child stood in the dark, wide doorway of the massive stable and sucked her thumb. Alice crouched down and rubbed at the child’s arm. “I’ll be right here and Starr is very gentle. She’ll love the apple you brought her. Let’s go give it to her. I bet she’ll whisper ‘thank you’ in your ear.”

“I need the tooth.” Rebecca lisped around her thumb.

“I left the lion tooth in my room, but you don’t need it. You’re already brave and strong like that old lion. Come on. Starr is hungry.”

Alice cajoled and nudged the girl enough to enter the stable full of intimidating horses. Rebecca could either be afraid all her life and swoon at the sight of a spider, or she could inherit some of the determined fortitude of her father and brother. It was in her to become a strong, capable young woman, if she’d allow herself to be.

When the child walked those last few feet and lifted the offered apple, Alice silently whooped like a pirate swinging from the rigging.

Before long, Rebecca was climbing trees and bringing Starr apples and carrots each afternoon. She even knocked her brother on his backside after he’d stolen one of her toys.

Isabelle noticed the change, too. She mentioned it at dinner one evening. “I see you’re teaching my daughter to be as strong as my son.”

“Rebecca is every bit as strong as Brighton. She’s coming out of her shell.” Alice frowned at the concerned look on Isabelle’s face. “Is that a problem?”

Isabelle shook her head. “No, I think it’s wonderful she’s becoming less timid, but there are proprieties that need to be remembered as well. A man rarely chooses a headstrong woman to be his wife. Rebecca needs to learn the proper etiquette for a young woman.”

“I agree. There’s no harm in helping her find a bit more self-confidence. Brighton is such a strong boy. He tends to over shadow her. Encouraging Rebecca also teaches Brighton things like respect and compassion for others.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way. It’s a wonderful prospect for both of them,” smiled Isabelle. “You are a wonder, Alice.”

“I’ll draw the line if she suddenly wants to wear britches.”

* * * *

Weeks passed, and Alice finally begun to relax. Her bruises had faded and she’d not heard any news from Carlton or Emerson Blake regarding the
Scarlet Night
or Gavin. They’d questioned her again as to whether she’d remembered anything more. She told them Gavin may have mentioned a sister living near Boston. No doubt, at this very moment, at least one British Naval ship was headed north in search of a wild goose.

Gavin headed south for sure. All the safe ports for him are there. By now, the mast had been repaired. She imagined he’d be heading back to intercept more slave ships and fill his coffers again. After witnessing a slave auction last week in town, men and women chained like animals, giving Emerson Blake any tiny tidbit of misinformation well justified the lie in her mind.

Neither Carlton nor Emerson was pleased about the fact Gavin and his crew had escaped the hangman’s noose. They grumbled about it often. Alice would nod sympathetically, all the while relieved they were well away from danger. You’d have thought that fact alone would help her sleep at night.

Her days were packed full of activities with the children. Alice would fill the hours with a busy array of lessons and walks, trips to the stream, picnics. All so when she dropped her exhausted body into bed, her nights might be filled with dreamless sleep.

Gavin only whispered into her thoughts during the day; however, he would ride full-sail into her dreams at night. The passionate images were so vivid she would awaken certain she was not alone in her bed. Realization would collapse atop her heart and punch the air from her lungs while frustration and want raked across her body. Try as she might, she couldn’t put him from her mind. He was there each time she closed her eyes.

Today she and the children secured a basket lunch from Cook. Taking fishing poles and a wide-mouthed jar of earthworms, they headed down to a small pond near the very back of the property. The day was crystalline clear, the sky a cloudless swath of vivid blue. Alice and Rebecca wore straw hats and drank cool, tart lemonade from a thick stoneware pot. Brighton hunted frogs and skipped stones over the dark, flat surface of the water.

Following their lunch of cold chicken, fresh apples, and leftover cornbread from breakfast, Brighton was patient in showing his little sister the proper way to stick a worm on a fishhook. All were proud when Rebecca mastered the maneuver with no squeamishness at all.

Hours later, the trio rushed happily into the manor house. Brighton was so excited about the three fat fish he caught, he couldn’t wait to show his father. Rebecca had caught one small sunfish, but by the look upon her beaming face, you would have thought she’d hooked a whale.

Both children raced through the house calling after their father, holding their prize catches high. Alice hurried after them. “Keep your voices down. Don’t run in the house.”

Ahead, Brighton ignored Alice’s warnings and burst into his father’s study.

Carlton Whitmore jumped to his feet. “Brighton, don’t you knock, boy?” scolded his father.

“Sorry, Father, but look.” He held up his fish.

Rebecca was right behind him. “Father, me too, look.”

Alice was less than three strides back and came up behind both children. “I’m terribly sorry,” she huffed, out of breath. “The children were excited.” Emerson Blake stood. Since the night in the garden, she’d done all she could to avoid the man, but he seemed a constant visitor. “We didn’t mean to disturb you.”

She patted the children’s shoulders. “Say ‘good day’ to Mister Blake, children.”

“Good day, Mister Blake,” they repeated before excitement caught hold again. “Aren’t they the biggest fish you’ve ever seen?” Brighton insisted. “I caught mine all by myself, Father,” Rebecca added.

As Carlton examined the children’s prize catch, Emerson stepped closer to Alice. “We were actually just talking about you.”

Uneasiness washed over her. She focused her gaze on the children and tried to keep the rise in her breathing under control. “Me? I can’t imagine a less interesting topic. What were you saying?”

“The subject of pirates came up again.”

“And you were wondering if I’d ever scaled a yardarm or sported an eye patch?” She gave him a quick smile and watched his dimple flash. “Children, your father has seen your fish, and we’re being rude to Mister Blake.” She tried to pull the children back out of the study.

Carlton Whitmore smoothed the front of his waistcoat and smiled at his children. “Those are the finest fish I have seen in quite a long time.” He leaned forward. “They look delicious. Why don’t you take them to Cook and ask her to fix them for our dinner?”