Mary-Michael promised Mr. Watkins she would give the matter some thought during the day, and have a reply for him that evening when she returned home.
As she stood there in the cold wind, with a mist blowing in off the bay, watching the mast get fixed in place, she knew there was only one thing that could make her happy now. With her hands shoved into the pockets of her rain slicker, she touched her flat belly in a nervous gesture, confident no one could see what she was doing. In the absence of having her own children, designing and building these ships which would sail the oceans long after she was gone, was going to have to make her happy.
Not that she hadn't tried to get pregnant. She'd had two wonderful nights with her captain, and had failed to conceive. As a woman, it tore at her soul. There was one reason God made woman different from a man, and that was to bear children.
And she hadn't done it.
Obviously she was too wicked to be worthy of being blessed with a child. She was a sinner of the worst sort because she willfully broke her marriage vows. Not only that, she'd taken pleasure in every moment she'd spent in her captain's arms. Those first few weeks after the captain had gone, Mary-Michael would smile to herself when she was alone, as she remembered their passionate weekend.
That was why she was worse than wicked. She'd behaved as a wanton, and was now paying the price.
Every single day she'd prayed for forgiveness for having that affair. She also prayed for God to forgive Mr. Watkins as well because he'd given her permission. She couldn't bear it for Mr. Watkins to pass away with that sin on his soul. Truly, it had been her decision to proceed with the weekend tryst, and she begged the Lord to let her pay the price for the sin—not her husband.
If God wanted her to have children He would have seen fit to give her an opportunity to be a mother. Sinner that she was, she wasn't fit to be a mother. And to make matters worse, she'd yet to confess all this to a priest. She couldn't when her only options for confessors were her brother and her husband's oldest friend.
Thus, the guilt was slowly eating away at her. Each day she worked until she was exhausted, slept a while, then worked more. It was how she lived since the day she got her monthly flux after the captain had gone. She was an adulterous, barren woman. The only thing for her to do now was to design and build.
This
she could do.
This
she was good at.
She thought about Lucky's note. The one she'd read so many times that the words were permanently engraved on her brain.
My Lady M, I am yours.
So every day as she prayed for her forgiveness, also prayed for Lucky's safety, and that of his crew. She folded her hands over her barren womb as she watched her brother say the Latin prayers blessing the ship, and wondered where her captain was right then, on this cold, drizzly November morning.
When she arrived home later that day, she would ask her husband to again refuse the offer from Barlowe, saying Watkins Shipyard was not for sale, and never would be for sale.
April 2, 1837, London
L
ucky grinned as he watched his business partner and good friend, Ian Ross-Mackeever throw a leg over the railing of his ship
Avenger
just minutes after dropping anchor at the harbor in the Thames. The Customs agent had yet to come aboard and give clearance to unload their cargo, so Lucky couldn't leave the ship yet.
"How was it?" Ian asked. "Good winds?"
"Excellent," Lucky replied. "Is there any word from Baltimore?" He hoped his curiosity would be perceived as interest in their two new ships, and not his interest in the yard owner's wife.
"None at all. Which is normal. They wouldn't contact us unless there were problems or unforeseen delays."
Lucky couldn't yet tell his friend the real reason he wanted to hear from the American shipbuilder. No one knew of his brief affair with the old man's wife because he knew what they would think of him, and of her. His friend's voice snapped him back to the present.
"So?" Ian prompted with a grin. "Aren't you going to ask?"
His friend's enormous smile told him that he was forgetting something important, but he just couldn't place what it might be. His blank stare gave him away, for Ian prompted, "About Sarah?"
Lucky could only shake his head, hoping to clear the fog and remind him of something obviously of great importance with regard to his sister.
"I have to say," Ian stated, "I am both surprised and disappointed. Surprised because there is only one thing that could have you so distracted, and knowing you just arrived—"
Ian made for the gangway and the cabin, Lucky behind him. "Unless you have her here on board." He opened the door to Lucky's cabin and went inside. Obviously not finding what he'd suspected, he turned to his friend and jammed his fists onto his hips. "And I am very disappointed because you didn't even remember that Sarah was carrying again when you left."
If the floor of his cabin spontaneously opened a hole and swallowed him, Lucky would deserve it. "Good God, man, I'm so sorry! How is Sarah? Do you have a son, or another daughter? And Maura? Is she happy to be a big sister?"
"We have a son." Ian beamed. "Ian Hamish Ross-Mackeever. Born in February. He's a fine, strapping, healthy lad. And Sarah is fine and beautiful and happily in her element. Though I think she might be frustrated with me hovering around."
"Then you should come with me to Baltimore. I leave as soon as I find a cargo to carry uphill."
"It would be nice to see Watkins again. Especially to thank him for the trust he held all those years. I never knew he was looking for me." He shook his sandy blond head. "My grandfather is dead, so I cannot ask him his reasons for doing the things he did. Besides, what's done is done."
Lucky looked through the porthole and down river, spying a familiar ship on the horizon. Even though he could not make out their company flag with the schooner coming in under topsail and jib, he knew the graceful lines of Ian's
Revenge
as she rounded the bend in the river. He should recognize it, as it was almost twin to his. "There's Cully. I knew he was within hours of my time, I spotted him in my glass when I entered the river."
"Hope all your paperwork is in order, because I see the agent coming out. Oh, and they've increased the fines to thirty pounds if you haven't crossed your T's and dotted your I's."
He grumbled at the thought of spending the next several hours with the Customs agent. "I had a thought about that. We should contract that out. Find a broker or create a brokerage to handle the paperwork. Pay the man or the company a fee for problem-free import and export clearances. We pay the broker, and the brokerage pays any penalties should the paperwork not be done right. They then have to stay current on these constant changes in the laws. And not us."
Ian nodded. "Good idea. Let's discuss that with Michael and Ren."
"I'm tired of coming home to find something has changed and I either don't have the right paperwork or a section that was before unnecessary to fill out is now required and I have to pay another penalty."
The agent boarded and Lucky then had to begin the process of clearance. Truly, if he didn't love sailing so much, he might actually consider starting a brokerage just to help others avoid this trying ordeal of clearing their cargo through customs.
When it was finally done and Lucky managed to depart the ship, he soaked in his tub at the home of his sister and brother-in-law on Upper Brook Street. Nothing in the world felt as good as a hot bath after several long months at sea. Nothing except one.
Having that auburn-haired temptress in his arms. That could compare. No, that would be preferable. Of course, even better would be having her under him while he slaked his desire in her willing, responsive body.
If he kept this up, these thoughts were going to lead to serious discomfort. The type he could do nothing about until he was alone. He had to stop thinking of her in various states of undress, or wearing his shirt as they sat in his cabin. He had to quit imagining doing things to her, and with her, that would cause a grizzled old salt to blush.
He had to remind himself that Mary was so much more than an attractive, willing lover. She was the most intelligent, resilient and brave woman he'd ever met. She cared about people. Her family and friends, even her employees all respected and adored her. Her smile alone lit the room whenever she walked in, and he found himself thinking about her almost the entire day. Every single day.
He wondered what she was doing and how she was feeling. Was she supervising the construction of his clippers as she said she would?
A couple of times during the weekend they'd spent together, he got the impression she fought showing him her true emotions. Or she was keeping him at a distance. Then at other times she clung to him as though he was the only lifeline available to save her from her uncommon life. She was difficult to read at times, but he knew one fact deep in his heart.
She was going to be his one day. Maybe even his wife. He'd been giving her condition some thought, and decided it didn't matter. Just like with Maura, there were so many children that needed parents, and he and Mary would make wonderful parents. If she would have him.
But, marrying her also meant he'd have to reveal his identity as the
Conte di Loretto
, and he wasn't sure how she'd react to the fact he'd kept it from her.
Noises from out in the hallway prompted him along. According to Mrs. Steen, the home was preparing for the arrival of the family for the season, and by the sounds coming from below the stairs and throughout the house, the baggage coaches had arrived. Lucky smiled. That meant Ren's valet would be here and he could get a decent shave.
Mary was funny. She laughed when he told her he couldn't hold a blade steady. Which was true, but also true was the fact he'd never had to because he frequented a barber when Ren's valet Grannon wasn't in Town. He figured it was probably time he learned. That way he could be more presentable when next he saw her. Lucky made a mental note to have a valet on staff when he purchased a home—a process he hoped to start very soon.
He dressed and went in search of Grannon to beg a moment of his time when he had a chance. Once that was done, he made his way to the kitchens to get a bite to eat as he'd missed tea and dinner was hours away yet.
Thirty minutes later, Ren's valet entered, saying he had the shaving implements readied in his room, so Lucky followed him up the stairs. After several minutes under the man's expert skill with a blade, Lucky felt civilized again. "Thank you, Grannon. I thought perhaps it might be time to find a valet of my own now, though he may not want to live aboard a ship."
The valet dabbed an ointment on a tiny cut near Lucky's ear. "Perhaps you have someone already in your employ that might perform that task for you, sir, eliminating the need to hire a man specifically for that position."
Lucky thought about it a moment. "You might be right, Grannon. I'll have to ask among the crew."
Later at the dinner table with his sister Lia and her husband the Duke of Caversham, all the chatter was about his niece Isabel's coming-out in June.
"Uncle Lucky," the young debutante said, "you must be back here by the twenty-fourth of June. I have promised several of my friends that you will be in attendance and that you know how to waltz."
"Have the Lady Patronesses granted you permission yet?" he asked.
"I shall get that in a few weeks." She turned hopeful eyes to her mother. "Right mama?" Glancing back to Lucky, she added through a broad smile, "Monsieur Robillard said I move with the grace of a swan."
"That must have been before he started teaching you," Isabel's older brother Marcus muttered.
Lucky hoped to avoid his brother-in-law having to reprimand his niece and nephew. "I haven't danced in a while, but shall make every effort to return."
Marcus, who was about to finish his second term at Oxford, was home for the week before returning to his studies. "I wish I didn't have classes, or I'd go with you."
His sister chimed in. "Assuming you'd be invited along."
"Uncle wouldn't have a problem with me going, because unlike a girl, I could be useful."
"About as useful as a corset on a sow," Isabel mumbled under her breath, causing Lucky to choke on his pea soup and Marcus's face to turn beet red. Thankfully Ren didn't hear what she'd said and was thus spared reprimand.
Lucky cleared his throat. Normally the children's bickering would not bother him, but he didn't want them getting reprimanded while he was there as he didn't want to get pulled into the middle of Marcus and Isabel's argument.
"As it is," Lucky said, "your Uncle Ian and I will go and check the progress on the new ships. They should be ready for delivery later in the summer. If your parents approve, you can come with us then to pick them up."
Ren supervised his youngest, Christopher, instructing him with proper use of a knife. The lad still wanted to stab the small piece of meat and eat from the knife as he'd seen some of the sons of the staff at Haldenwood do. Lucky wanted to laugh because he'd done the same thing at that age, wanting to be like one of the popular stable lads when he was twelve. The boy could spit with incredible accuracy, and Lucky was all set to file a gap between his two front teeth in order to do the same. Thankfully his sister caught him before he managed to find something with which to do irreparable damage to his smile.
Lia looked as though she wanted to strangle someone. Lucky was grateful it wasn't him these days. She turned to her oldest son. "We'll have to discuss that with your father. Later in the summer you will be preparing for your next term. Going to America to get the new ships would mean missing out on the start of the academic year."