The Captain's Lady (6 page)

“You must forgive us for not waking Lord Bennington. Our main concern was tending your wounds and seeing you rested.”

Moberly shrugged against his pillow. “I doubt he would have been concerned.” The pain ripping across his face appeared more like damaged emotions than an injured body.

Jamie sat on the edge of the bed, hoping to set a mood of
familiarity. Hoping Moberly would not be offended. “My friend, even the tenderest of earthly fathers can disappoint us.”

Moberly snorted, then cried out and grabbed his chest. “What is this? What happened to me?” Teeth gritted, he shoved away the goose down cover and clawed at his nightshirt.

Jamie grasped his hands. “I recommend you leave it alone, sir. You received a nasty knife wound, but Blevins stitched it together very nicely. Let’s don’t break it open.”

Moberly’s eyes widened. He touched the area with his fingertips. “Right over my heart. I might’ve died.” He slumped back and looked vacantly toward the bed’s canopy. “I might have died.”

“God’s mercy was on you,” Jamie said. “No mistaking that.”

“Yes,” Moberly whispered. His gaze returned to Jamie. “Yes.” A stronger tone. “Thank God. And you.” His eyes grew red and moist. “You saved my life.”

Jamie leaned a bit closer. “Perhaps. But I was merely God’s instrument. You’re right to thank Him.”

Moberly gave out a mirthless laugh. “But why would He bother when my own father regards me as a parasite and cares not whether I live or die?”

His words slammed into Jamie’s heart. How could anyone understand why Lord Bennington treated his sons so callously? “My friend, God desires to be a father to you. He longs to save your eternal soul. This is why you didn’t die in the street last night.”

Moberly appeared to consider the idea, and fear filled his face. “No. I have waited too long, done too much—”

“No.” Jamie gripped his arm as he would a drowning man’s. Moberly’s words indicated he comprehended his
own sinfulness. Surely that meant it wasn’t too late for him. “Don’t believe that lie. The blood Jesus Christ shed on the cross covers every sin. God’s grace is offered as a free gift to you right now. All you need to do is accept it.”

Moberly seemed to fold into himself. “No. It cannot be that simple.” His gaze hardened. “There are rules and rituals and
righteousness.
” His lips curled. “All the things I despise about religion and—”

“No!” Jamie prayed Robert wouldn’t take his stern tone as an affront. “Christ’s death and resurrection are sufficient to save the worst sinner. If we were required to do even one small thing other than accept His grace, none of us could be saved. Did He not say to the thief who was crucified beside him ‘Today thou shalt be with me in Paradise’?”

Moberly’s dark eyebrows met in a frown, and his left eye twitched. “I thought perhaps the man received a special dispensation.”

Jamie shook his head. “I believe, in fact I am more than certain, that thief was meant for an example to us. As he was saved, so we can be saved.” He leaned close again. “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, Moberly, and you
will
be saved.”

A long, narrow swath of light shone from beneath the drapes onto the Wilton carpet at the center of the room. The smell of sweat vied with the scents of soap and lavender for preeminence. Moments passed without a sound in the room, not even a rustle. Some hours ago, a maid had started a fire in the hearth, and Ian kept it burning. A barely audible sigh came from across the room, and Jamie guessed both ladies were praying. He wondered how much longer he could sit up without rest.

“I will try,” Moberly whispered.

Jamie’s energies vanished, and his posture drooped. This was useless. The man did not grasp God’s truth at all.
Jamie’s head pounded, and he ached to go to his own chambers, his own bed. He glanced at Lady Marianne. Her eyes reflected the same weariness he felt. But Miss Kendall, who always carried herself with reserve, now sat at the edge of her seat and stared toward Moberly with her jaw set firmly and fire in her eyes. Jamie shook off his lethargy, which he realized was nothing less than the work of eternal darkness. He would, he
must,
continue his struggle for Moberly’s soul.

“Faith is not something you can try, Moberly. Accept God’s gift of eternal life, or reject it. There is no middle ground.”

Moberly blinked. He opened his mouth…and closed it. Another moment passed. “I see. Yes, I think you are right about that.”

“Well, then?”

He chuckled, but winced as if the effort pained him. “A bit pushy, aren’t we?” Another chuckle, then he sobered as a tranquil expression smoothed the premature lines around his eyes. “I feel…there is…
peace
…here.” He touched his chest and spoke in a hushed voice. “Peace such as I have never felt in my life. It floods me, floods my very soul.” His eyes glistened with hope. “I have always known about God. I have seen His goodness in my stepmother and my sister. But now I
believe.
I accept Him. Why, Templeton, I think if I were to die at this moment, God Himself would take me up in His arms.”

Jamie experienced his own flood of emotions—joy, gratitude, tranquility—and he cleared his throat. Before he could offer an affirmation to his new brother in Christ, Lady Marianne appeared at the bedside and kissed Moberly, pressing her cheek against his and blending her sweet tears with her brother’s. Beyond her, Miss Kendall stood with
lifted chin, her tear-filled eyes ablaze with victory. Jamie gave her a nod. When his energies had failed, her prayers had infused him with strength enough to complete his mission.

A sharp thump on the bedchamber door caused them all to jump. Before anyone could respond, Lord Bennington threw open the door and strode into the room, staring about at the occupants. Rage rode on his wrinkled brow, and his lips curled in a snarl.

“
What
is going on in here?”

M
arianne stood like a shield in front of Robert’s bed. Behind her, she heard his quiet groan, the sound of a man wounded deep within his heart. She had no doubt that if Papa had entered the room one minute sooner, her brother’s immortal soul would still be in danger, perhaps lost forever.

“Robert was stabbed and robbed by footpads last night.” She grabbed a quick, quiet breath that she might appear calm. “If not for Captain Templeton, he would have died.”

Papa stared at her as if she were crazy. “Footpads, you say? Common street ruffians dared to assault a son of mine?” He strode toward the bed. “Move aside, daughter.” His eyes blazed as he inspected Robert from head to toe as he would a piece of furniture. “Well, boy, are you going to live?”

Marianne saw a flash of anger on Jamie’s face—fiery eyes and lips clamped shut. But she moved close to Papa and slipped her hand in his, hoping her presence might soften him. Robert’s eyelids drooped with feigned laziness, and his lips formed a smirk, the bored expression he wore when Papa was present.

“I suppose I must live,” her brother muttered. “If only to show my gratitude to Templeton here. ’Twould be deuced bad-mannered of me to pop off after all his trouble.”

Papa looked across the bed at Jamie. “Are you injured?” His eyes blazed.

Jamie shrugged and returned a crooked grin that caused Marianne’s heart to skip. “I believe we did more damage than we received, my lord.”

“Ha!” Papa fisted his free hand and pummeled the air. “That’s the spirit.” He looked at Robert again. “Do plan to survive as best you can. With these despicable wars going on, I do not have time for a funeral.”

Marianne thought she detected a tiny crack in Papa’s voice, but perhaps it was wishful thinking.

“Marianne.” He patted her hand. “You and Miss Kendall are dismissed. I commend your interest in your brother’s welfare, but in the future, leave such ministrations to the servants.”

She bit her bottom lip to keep from responding with anger. This was the closest to scolding her Papa ever came, but it was inconsequential in light of Robert’s tragedy.

“Yes, Papa.” She nudged past him and bent to kiss her brother’s cheek. “I love you, dear one. Please rest until you are healed.” The responding tear in the corner of his eye nearly undid her, and she hurried from the room to hide her own tears.

If Jamie had held the slightest scruple against spying on Lord Bennington, it just vanished. No decent man should treat a son so callously, no matter how that son behaved. But, like their king, these English aristocrats seemed to think their ranks and titles granted them the right to use all other beings in any manner they chose. From everything Jamie
had seen, he could only conclude that, instead of seeing Moberly as a son to nurture and guide, Bennington had let him grow up like a weed and then despised him for it.

“Captain Templeton.” His tone sounding almost jovial, the earl spoke across the bed as if Moberly were not there. “Lady Bennington has asked my permission to give a ball in your honor. She says your dancing master has given his approval for you to participate in some of the less complex dances. What do you say?”

Remember why you are here
. Swallowing his bitterness on behalf of Moberly, Jamie forced a smile and a bow. “I would be honored, my lord.”

“Very good. Now, I am off to Whitehall.” The earl looked at Moberly with a bland expression. “See if you can keep my son from doing further damage to himself.”

“Yes…my lord.”

Bennington clearly did not notice Jamie’s clenched teeth, for he strode from the room with his head held high, wearing his importance like a crown.

Moberly chuckled softly. “Let it go, Templeton. That’s what I have to do. The old man is…what he is.”

Jamie regarded his friend. Weariness once again deepened the premature lines on his face, and his pale, blotchy skin gave evidence of many late nights and much drinking. But a soft new light shone in Moberly’s eyes, encouraging Jamie. He felt a pressing need to examine its cause.

“Before Lord Bennington came in, we were having a discussion—”

“Ah, yes.” Moberly breathed out a lengthy sigh and tugged his covers up to his chin. “About my
new
Father…” He yawned, then winced, perhaps in pain. “We must talk about that soon….” His voice faded, and his eyelids drooped.

The young valet hovered near, so Jamie walked to the door. “I’ll leave him in your good care.”

More than exhausted, he trudged up the staircase to his own chamber, where in spite of his best efforts to keep quiet, he woke Quince.

“Did you learn anything?” Quince jumped up from the trundle bed and inspected Jamie’s head wound, tsking his concern.

“No.” Jamie waved him off and walked to the window to close the heavy velvet drapes. “The Lord seems to have altered my mission for the time being.” He watched his friend, whose clownish smile hinted at some secret. “All right, then, out with it.”

Quince cleared his throat, obviously pleased with himself. “If you want to learn what’s going on with the aristocracy, it pays to fraternize with their servants.”

Jamie threw himself on the four-poster bed, neglecting even to remove his shoes. “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.” He rolled over and burrowed beneath the counterpane. “That’s why you took leave of your considerable properties in Massachusetts and are acting as my valet.” Sleep beckoned, but he could feel Quince tugging off the heavy footwear. This business of having a body servant had its advantages.

“Ah,” Quince said, “but when one discovers where the master keeps his important papers…and the best time to access them—”

Jamie bolted up in the bed, fully awake and fully aware of the lump on the back of his head. He grunted, but shook off the pain and punched Quince’s arm. “Good work, man. Tell me everything. How do we get to them?”

“D
o listen to me, Robert.” Marianne mustered the crossest look she could manage while feeling so happy. “It is far too soon for you to be riding again.” Seated at the smaller of two oak tables in the sunny breakfast room, she turned to Jamie, who stood serving himself at the buffet. His dashing appearance in his newest gray riding clothes pleased her very much. “Captain Templeton, you must speak reason into my brother’s barely healed head.”

“Nonsense.” Across the table from her, Robert waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I have lain about for nearly two weeks while the weather gets warmer, the grass becomes greener and everyone who’s anyone is out and about.” He popped a bite of toast and jam into his mouth.

The twinkle in her brother’s eyes heartened Marianne. He truly did seem to have recovered, as evidenced by his voracious appetite. He would soon regain those few pounds lost during his convalescence.

“Then at least ride in the carriage with Miss Kendall and me.” Marianne tilted her head toward Grace, taking in the scent of her lavender perfume.

“Lady Marianne,” Jamie said, “the surgeon has given Mr. Moberly permission to resume his activities as he wishes. Doubtless he’ll be happy to be out in the fresh air.”

As he took his place beside her, amusement lifted one corner of his lips, and again Marianne was encouraged. And even more in love with him than before. Since Robert’s injury, Jamie had spent hours with her brother every day, discussing Scriptures and other pleasant topics. The result was that, in these recent days, Robert had made every effort to be at the supper table on time, had borne up under Papa’s comments well and had completely stopped drinking spirits—all due to Jamie’s influence. If the good captain thought to dissuade her from her affections for him, he was certainly going about it in the wrong way.

“Very well, then.” She sniffed, still pretending to be cross. “Just remember that I have advised a better course.”

But she felt anything but cross. Today’s early morning sunshine promised a grand April day at Richmond Park, where the four of them would meet with friends and enjoy a picnic. A longing struck her to make the most of the day, for she did not know when Jamie would be returning to East Florida. Although she could never wish him ill, she could not help but be happy that his ship required serious repairs before sailing back across the vast Atlantic. And fortunately, Papa seemed content to continue hosting him here in London.

“But since you insist upon riding,” she said, “I shall ride, too.”

Eyebrows shot upward, and if she was not mistaken, Grace’s soft gasp held a modicum of delight. Marianne guessed she had not ridden in some time, for Mama no longer rode.

“Splendid,” Robert said. “I’ll warrant Templeton here hasn’t ridden since our last foray to the park.”

Jamie’s smile flattened, and Marianne hoped she had not put him in an awkward situation.

“Of course you understand, Templeton,” Robert said with a smirk, “that Miss Kendall will have Bess. We shall have to find another horse for you.”

True alarm filled Marianne. Why had she failed to think this through? Bess was their gentlest horse. In fact, the only one they could depend upon always to be gentle. She noticed Jamie was concentrating on his plate and chewing his boiled eggs with fierce determination.

Without lifting his head, he shot a look of irritation her way. “I shall endeavor not to embarrass you, my lady.”

Heat rushed to her face. These men would ever strive to prove themselves to one another, no matter what the cost.

She glanced across the table at Robert. He looked at Jamie, then back at her, and his eyes widened. One eyebrow lifted with an unspoken question. She could not stop her continuing blush, nor think of a single thing to say or do to divert the all-too-correct deduction written across his face. What would he do with the information? Would he protect her interests, as she had always tried to protect his? Or would he rush to Mama, or even Papa, and betray her, possibly causing Jamie to be banished from the house and Papa’s good graces? Glaring at her brother across the table with her chin lifted and lips a determined line, she dared him to do his worst.

He grinned broadly and shook his head, and the tender look in his eyes washed away all her fears. But if Robert, with all his self-centeredness, could see that she and Jamie loved each other, surely others in the household could, too.

Jamie gripped the prancing gelding with his knees and secured his black riding boots into the stirrups. If he thought
of the horse as a ship on an undulating sea, perhaps it would become easier to stay in the saddle. A lifetime of keeping his balance on rolling vessels had strengthened his leg muscles, a fact that now aided him as he sat on this chestnut horse aptly named Puck. The rascal was as full of mischief as Shakespeare’s impish elf, not unlike Moberly.

Jamie could not fault the man for this choice of horses, for Bennington’s town stable housed only so many mounts. But he felt certain Moberly chose this particular one to test Jamie’s mettle. If that night outside the gaming hall wasn’t sufficient, Jamie would show this coxcomb what he was made of…and enjoy every minute of it as he did. The lump he’d received at the hands of the footpads still ached from time to time, but his thick hair hid it from view. Moberly was thriving under all the attention his injuries attracted, and Jamie wouldn’t diminish that by calling attention to himself.

Leading the group, Moberly rode his bay stallion next to Miss Kendall on Bess. Jamie followed beside Lady Marianne, forcing his attention away from her to the houses and businesses they passed. He’d learned that this part of London had burned to the ground over a hundred years ago, but the past century had erased all signs of the fire. The two-and three-story wooden or stone buildings were packed close together. In the streets, vendors hawked their wares, and dusty little shops hummed with customers. The smells of fish and bread, horses and garbage assaulted the senses.

“Captain Templeton.” Lady Marianne nudged her spirited mare close to him. “Robert said we’ll take a ride through Hyde Park before we go to Richmond Park, where the servants await with our picnic.” Her wine-red woolen riding dress brought a rosy color to her smooth cheeks, and the fresh breeze carried her jasmine perfume his way. “Hyde Park has riding paths, and at this early hour, there will be no crush of riders.”

“Very good, my lady.” He risked a second glance in her direction, and a familiar pang struck inside his chest. His service to the Revolution notwithstanding, he was enjoying this prolonged stay in London because of the beautiful lady beside him. Perhaps it was not too wrong to permit himself the luxury of relaxing a bit in her presence.

They’d fallen into a pleasant companionship, at least when Moberly or Miss Kendall or one of Jamie’s tutors was present. Under Mr. Pellam’s supervision, he’d even managed to practice his dancing with her as his partner without succumbing to an excess of feeling. Of course, at that moment, his attention had been focused on his own two feet. At this moment, however, with the warmth of the April sun shining on their little group, all things seemed possible. And he confessed to himself that he loved her.

“Captain,” Lady Marianne said, “may I speak to you about a matter of some delicacy?”

Had she read his heart?
Lord, please don’t let her speak of it.
Jamie forced a bland expression to his face. “My lady?”

Her eyes sparkled with…playfulness? “Have you noticed that my brother and Miss Kendall seem quite compatible?”

Relief swept through him, and he shrugged. “I try not to concern myself with matters of the heart.” Wrong thing to say. “Of other people’s hearts. I mean—” He clamped his mouth shut, and heat shot up his neck. He rarely suffered a loss for words, except with this lady.

Her delightful laughter seemed to echo around him. “But can you say you have no concerns about your Quince and my Emma?”

He cleared his throat. “It is my understanding Miss Emma has your permission to…
speak
with Quince.” How odd, the way these aristocrats ruled their servants’ every
move. Even if Quince were truly Jamie’s servant, he could love whom he pleased. Nor would Jamie ever concern himself with his crew members’ affections.

“Indeed she does.” She exhaled a long sigh. “They, of all of us, have the least possibility of their hearts being broken.”

“I don’t understand. Why should Moberly and Miss Kendall not form an attachment?”

Marianne glanced sideways at him. “Why, now that you mention it, I cannot think even Papa would mind. But one never knows with him, and without his permission…” Her gaiety vanished into a frown. “I envy their freedom to love whom they will. Emma and Quince, I mean.”

“My lady, please.” Jamie envied that freedom, too, but it would be unwise to confess it to her.

“I would become a lady’s maid if it meant I could marry as I wished.” Her voice took on an edge, maybe even tears.

“Lady Marianne.” He doubted he could withstand her crying. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” A quick look about the street revealed that none of the inhabitants were close enough to hear them. On the other hand, some scruffy fellows stared at Lady Marianne as they rode by, and Jamie’s riding crop burned in his hand at their boldness. If they dared to come near her—

“Here we are,” Moberly called over his shoulder.

At last.
Drawing in a deep breath as the party emerged from the crowded street into the fresh air, Jamie gazed around the park’s wide green expanse edged with blooming trees and blossoming bushes.

With a wave of his riding crop, Moberly directed them to circle their horses. “Shall we walk a bit and smell the flowers?” The fond look he cast at Miss Kendall showed his preference for that activity.

“Hi ho, Moberly.” Young Highbury galloped up on a fine
looking brown gelding. “Imagine meeting up with you here. Lady Marianne. Miss Kendall.” He bowed to each in turn. “Hi ho, Templeton. How’s our favorite American today? You look right well astride old Puck. What do you think of the news of our General Gage being driven out of Boston by your General Washington? I hear Washington generously permitted our troops safe passage to sail to Nova Scotia.”

Jamie’s belly clenched. If Bennington had not spilled this news the night before, Jamie might have given himself away just now with a great huzzah. “Such are the fortunes of war, I suppose. No doubt Gage will not sit idly in Canada for long.”

Highbury laughed in his high-pitched way. “My father says the colonials will send all of our troops packing. What do you think?”

“I say, Highbury.” Moberly reined his horse between Jamie and the pesky youth. “I care nothing for the troubles in America, but do have some respect for His Majesty’s position. At least in front of the ladies.”

“Very well.” Highbury laughed again. “Tell you what. You and Templeton join me in a race around the park. These horses have not had a good run all winter, and my Socrates is eager to show what he’s made of.”

“A grand idea.” Moberly’s face brightened. “A race is precisely what I need.”

“Most certainly not.” Lady Marianne moved her horse beside Jamie. “I will not permit it.”

Jamie ground his teeth. “If you please, my lady, I believe a race is exactly the thing.”

Despite her continued protests, Moberly and Highbury marked out a course by pointing their riding crops.

Jamie’s mouth felt as dry as last year’s dead leaves lit
tering the ground, but he forced down a swallow, forced down his fear. A familiar excitement and sense of competition began to fill him, and he set his feet more firmly in the stirrups. Puck nibbled grass, oblivious to what would soon be expected of him.

“Now,” Moberly said, “since my beloved sister protests, I shall leave it to Miss Kendall to drop the handkerchief.” He drew a silk one from his pocket and handed it to the lady. “When it hits the ground, we’re off.”

Miss Kendall’s face was a mirror of Lady Marianne’s, and both wore their fear like a mourning veil. The few denizens of the sparsely populated park somehow got wind of the event and gathered beside the pathways.

Her hand raised, Miss Kendall cast an apologetic glance toward Lady Marianne and dropped the handkerchief.

With merry cries, Moberly and Highbury dug in their heels, and their horses sprang away. Jamie swatted Puck’s flank, but the gelding merely danced around in a circle. Lady Marianne reined back her own horse, which seemed eager to join the party. She eyed Jamie and shrugged, then swatted Puck across the flank with a cry of “Off you go, you silly nag.”

Puck lurched into a run, knocking Jamie off center. He felt his upper body careening toward the ground, but tightened the grip of his knees and grabbed the opposite edge of the saddle to right himself. Again in the saddle, he crouched low on Puck’s neck. The pain rattling his lower back soon numbed, and he gasped for breath, pulling in the odors of horseflesh with an occasional whiff of the nearby flowers.

Puck now seemed to realize what it was all about, so Jamie trusted the race to him as he would trust his ship to a seasoned helmsman. They galloped after the other two horses and soon gained on them. Cries and cheers met Jamie’s ears as he thundered past a blur of people.

After what felt like an endless chase around the park, Jamie saw Lady Marianne ahead. Throwing up a prayer that Puck would know when to stop, Jamie felt a mad desire to win. He slapped the crop against Puck…to no avail. Highbury’s horse pulled away and soon crossed the line scratched across the dry pathway by some enthusiastic bystanders.

Jamie tugged on the reins and brought Puck to a stop some twenty yards beyond the finish. Energy pulsed through him, almost lifting him from the saddle with the same elation, the same sense of victory he’d felt after a successful whale hunt. He’d done it. He’d conquered his fear and run the entire course. If he’d known riding a horse could be so invigorating, he would have taken up the practice long ago. Excitement, a sense of personal accomplishment and pure joy crowded his mind and heart as Puck trotted back to their waiting group.