Becoming Lady Lockwood (8 page)

“I should have never invited you for Christmas,” William said, rolling his eyes. And Amelia laughed again.

As they had all finished their meals, William offered Amelia his arm and led them to the sitting area, where they could visit more comfortably.

“And what of your family, Sidney?” Amelia asked.

Sidney?

“Well, as it happens, I was not bequeathed a sugar plantation in Jamaica, nor did I inherit an earldom. I am merely the third son of a viscount and shall inherit a very small manor in Cheshire. Not far from Lord Lockwood’s earldom, actually.”

“Why did you join the navy?”

“By the time my father inherited the viscountship, the estate had fallen upon hard times. I was enlisted at eight years old as a cabin boy to spare my family the expense of raising another child.” Sidney smiled, but it lacked its usual joviality. “The other factor in the decision was obviously the abundance of delicious sea biscuits,” he said in a half-hearted attempt at humor.

“And when the war ends, what do you intend to do?” Amelia asked.

“If I still have breath in my lungs, I should like to rebuild what was once a grand estate. Neither my father nor my brothers have a head for business, and the viscounty has suffered from their neglect.” Sidney’s smile did not reach his eyes. “But I do not think I shall have that opportunity, as my family is quite dependent upon the living the navy provides.”

“And why did you go to sea, Captain?” Amelia asked, turning toward William. “I assume that your family was not in financial troubles.”

“You speak very boldly, Miss Becket,” William said. “What makes you assume such a thing?”

“I’m sorry; I did not mean to offend you. I only supposed that my father would not go to the trouble of connecting me with your brother if he didn’t think there would be a financial gain as a result. My father does nothing without an economic benefit. I only wondered why you decided to enlist in the navy.”

William wondered if she was merely curious. Did she actually care? Or was she digging for information about his situation? He studied his hands as he spoke. “At the time, my father was a merchant marine, and there was no indication that he ever would be the earl. It was through a series of events that he inherited the estate from a distant cousin. He became Lord Lockwood after I had been at sea for quite some time.” William was silent for a moment. He looked up at Amelia before he continued. “Perhaps I went to sea for the same reason you desired marriage. The life we are born with is not always the life we would choose, and so it is up to us to make of it what we will.”

“Well spoken, sir,” Sidney said. “You each made the best of a difficult situation. Amelia was coerced into marriage, and—”

“And I have my father to thank for my profession in the navy,” William concluded.

“Your father convinced you to go to sea?” Amelia asked quietly. “How old were you?”

“Ten. The same age you were when your mother died. And I think
convinced
is rather a mild term.” For an instant, they shared a look that spoke of years of loneliness and longing for a family, which would be unrecognizable to anyone who had not experienced the same anguish.

“It seems we have much in common, Miss Becket,” William said softly.

Amelia looked away, and when she looked back, her expression was composed. “Not the least of which is the same surname, Captain.” She raised an eyebrow and tipped her head.

“That is still to be determined, miss,” he said with a wry smile.

“I warn you; my father does not concede easily, sir. You shall have quite a fight on your hands. And while the two of you argue in front of the magistrate, Sidney and I will be sitting home drinking a nice glass of guava nectar.”

Sidney laughed. He leaned back in his chair and laid his ankle upon his other knee. “It sounds wonderful, Amelia. However, there are no guava trees in London.”

Amelia’s eyes opened wider. She tapped her finger against her lip, as if contemplating the problem. “I had not considered that. Tea, then?”

“Tea it is.”

Amelia bid the men good night, and after she left, William and Sidney returned to sit in the chairs.

“Well, Captain, it was an interesting evening. And I think we can rightly say that the information we learned has blown an enormous hole in your theory about Amelia and her efforts to pilfer your family’s fortune.”

“And since when do you call Miss Becket by her Christian name?”

Sidney grinned and raised his palms, shrugging. “Since she asked me to. You may not have realized that I have quite a way with the fairer sex.”

William scowled. Why had she not asked
him
to call her Amelia?

“And it turns out you are not alone when it comes to having a harsh father.”

Hadn’t he given her plenty of chances to invite him to call her by her first name? Was she still angry that he had rebuffed the suggestion when they first met?

“We can definitely put to rest any theories about whether or not Amelia looks fetching in colors other than simply black.”

William looked up at Sidney’s grinning face and narrowed his gaze. “You’re dismissed, Mr. Fletcher.”

Amelia finished the seam she
had spent the past hour stitching and unbuckled the sailor’s palm from her hand, noticing the callouses that had developed where the leather rubbed against her skin. It was better than the pain, she decided, though she was a bit sad that her hands weren’t as soft as she would have liked. She also noticed that her arms were becoming quite brown. And even though she took the precaution of wearing a hat, when she had peered at herself in the mirror in her cabin, some freckles had begun to make a most unwelcome appearance on her nose and cheeks.

She stood shivering in the coolness of the evening as the heavy sail slid off her lap. Tobias came to stand next to her, and they watched in a comfortable silence as the sailmaker’s mates folded up the large sheets that had been mended, preparing to return them to the hold for storage.

The bell rang for the first dogwatch, and Amelia bid Tobias good evening as she turned to go to supper.

“If you don’t mind, Miss Amelia, I wanted to speak to you for a moment.”

“Of course, Tobias.”

“Since today’s your natal day, miss, I’ve a small gift. Nothing grand, mind you.” He handed her a folded piece of sail linen.

She looked at him as she took it and then, upon opening it, gasped in delight at the image that had been stitched onto the heavy fabric: A dolphin leaping above blue waves. She was touched by the gift. Not only because Tobias had remembered her birthday but because she realized that it must have taken him hours to create. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Tobias. I had quite forgotten that today is my birthday.”

“I’m glad you like it, Miss Amelia. You’re a right clever girl, and I feel pleased to call you a friend. Many happy returns.” He bowed his head quickly and hurried away.

Amelia walked down the companionway to her room. She lit the lantern and studied the embroidery on the scrap of fabric more closely. It was truly remarkable. To think that Tobias had spent his precious spare time creating this for her stirred tender feelings in her heart. She was indeed fortunate to have made such dear friends aboard the HMS
Venture.

She opened her trunk, laid the gift carefully inside, and retrieved her thin shawl, wrapping it around her shoulders. Her feet were quite chilled, and she donned stockings and slippers, which felt strange and constricting, as she’d not worn anything on her feet for weeks. When she stepped outside, she handed the lantern to Corporal Ashworth. Fire was regulated closely on board the ship, and it was potentially disastrous to leave a candle burning unattended. She made her way to the wardroom with a smile as she thought on the kindness of her friend.

The dinner meal was pleasant. The officers did not seem to feel the chill in the air as keenly as she did, as most of them had taken their regimental coats off and wore only their white cotton shirts.

Sidney sat on one side of her, with Dr. Spinner on the other, and she found herself laughing at their conversation and listening with interest at the stories they and the other officers told.

When the meal ended, Amelia began to stand, but Sidney placed his hand on her arm.

“You’ll not want to leave just yet, Amelia.”

She raised her eyebrows and moved her mouth to inquire as to why, when Slushy entered, limping into the room with a large Jamaican ginger cake. He set it on the table in front of her, and the officers cheered.

One of the midshipmen—Sergeant Fairchild—was admitted into the wardroom. He produced a fiddle and began to play.

“And a happy natal day to ya, miss,” Slushy said as he began cutting slices of the cake, placing them upon wooden dishes, and passing them around the table.

Amelia was astounded. “Thank you,” she said when she had found her voice. She felt a prickling behind her eyes and blinked rapidly. She took a bite of cake. “Delicious, Slushy. Just like home.”

Slushy tipped his hat. The men applauded and called out well-wishes.

When they had finished their cake, Sidney led Amelia to the far side of the room. Officers lifted the large plank of wood that was used for the table, turned it on to its side, and leaned it against one of the bulkheads. The rest of the chairs were lined up around the edges of the room between the cannons.

“What is this, Sidney?” Amelia asked.

“The men and I decided that for your birthday, we would throw a ball. You’d not want to celebrate your natal day without a dance or two, would you?”

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “A ball with only one woman in attendance? I wonder if I should be able to fill my dance card.”

Sidney laughed, and Amelia realized that he was indeed serious about dancing.

“But it would be impossible for me to perform each lady’s position.”

“Never fear, we have devised a way that you should not be required to. Before you arrived, the group of us drew lots, and the winners—”

He was interrupted by some of the men grumbling but raised his voice to speak above their protests. “The
winners
shall pose as ladies, so as to not leave you the lone female in the set.”

Judging by the faces of the officers, it was not difficult to deduce which men had drawn the short straws.

Sidney turned to face her. He extended his leg, pointed his toe, and placed his hand over his heart, bowing with much aplomb. “And now, Miss Amelia Becket, as I outrank every man here, I should like to claim your hand for the first dance. That is with your consent, of course.” He held out his hand, and she took it, following him the few short steps it took to arrive on the “dance floor.”

Amelia watched as another officer bowed and took the hand of a particularly sullen-faced lieutenant. For all his gallantry, the man was shoved to the other side of the room by his partner and returned with fists raised, prepared to repay the favor.

“Now, Mr. Brenton, that is not how a young lady should act,” Sidney chided, and the room rang with laughter.

Dance partners were finally established, and Sergeant Fairchild began to play a familiar country dance. Bitterness at being the “ladies” seemed to be quickly forgotten as the officers smiled and began to enjoy themselves. The men who weren’t dancing clapped their hands to the music.

When the song ended, Sidney declared that it was Amelia’s turn to choose a tune.

“Bonny Charley,” she said, and her hand was quickly claimed by a different partner. Amelia laughed at the men’s good-natured teasing as a different group took their turn as the “ladies.” She couldn’t believe that the officers had conceived such a plan in secret—and all to make her happy. Certainly she had friends in Jamaica but none so thoughtful as these men, who would spend their supper hour dancing about the room because they knew it would please her.

Another dance began, a quadrille this time, and the four couples spread out as well as they were able in the small space. They had danced but for a moment when the music abruptly halted, and every eye turned toward Sergeant Fairchild and then followed his gaze to Captain Drake, who stood in the doorway of the wardroom.

The soldiers immediately stood at attention and saluted.

William’s eyes traveled around the room, taking in the scene before he spoke. His voice was calm, betraying no emotion, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. “The bell for second watch rang a full three minutes ago. And can you imagine my surprise when no officers took up their positions?”

Amelia heard Sidney curse under his breath. She could feel the tension stretching in the room and knew she must do something.

“Captain Drake, if you please, it is my fault that the officers did not hear the bell.”

William’s gaze moved to Amelia as she spoke. He did not take his eyes from her as he dismissed the men. They grabbed their coats and hats, rushing past him out the door.

“Not you, Fairchild,” he said, his eyes still on Amelia’s face.

Sergeant Fairchild stood at attention on one side of the room, clutching his fiddle.

William stepped slowly toward Amelia, and she struggled not to shrink under his scrutiny. “Miss Becket, tardiness at the watch is punishable by lashings.”

“Captain, you see, today is my birthday, and the officers were only doing something nice for me. Please, sir. Do not discipline them.” She felt the prickling behind her eyes return and blinked quickly to dispel any tears that might leak. “You must punish me instead, sir.”

“You claim to be responsible for detaining the men from their duties?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ship’s discipline is very severe, Miss Becket.” He had stepped so close that Amelia had to tip her head back to hold his gaze. “And the penalty for hindering the watch is especially serious.”

Amelia forced herself not to look away. She clenched her jaw to stop her chin from trembling and waited for the captain to hand down her sentence.

“However, I will take into consideration that this is your first offence.” He slowly rubbed his chin, thinking. “And it is, after all, your birthday.”

The heaviness in Amelia’s chest began to lighten.

“In place of your punishment, Miss Becket, I should very much like to dance with you.”

She blinked and opened her eyes wide, examining his expression but finding no indication that he was teasing. If he had ordered her to walk the plank, she could have not been more surprised. “Captain, I do believe you are flirting with me.”

He quirked an eyebrow, and the corner of his lips lifted in a small smile. He turned his head slightly toward the sergeant, who still stood against the wall. “A waltz, if you please, Mr. Fairchild.”

“Captain,” Amelia gasped. “A waltz is so . . . vulgar.”

William looked down at her. “Miss Becket, I happen to know that the prince himself commissioned a waltz at his own ball last year.”

Amelia felt the heat rise to her face at the very idea of waltzing with the captain. “But, I do not know how—”

“I am a very excellent teacher.” He took her hand and bowed over it, then placed her left hand onto his right shoulder before taking her right hand in his. She chided herself for not wearing gloves to supper, feeling self-conscious at the roughness of her palms. Various partners had held her hands at different times during the evening, but the way his hand enfolded hers caused heat to spread over her skin.

William placed his right hand on the small of her back and pulled gently with his left hand, leading her in a simple series of steps, which she quickly mastered. She focused on the captain’s shoulder, where her hand rested tentatively. He moved lightly, but her movements were stiff. She was afraid of relaxing when he was practically holding her in his arms.

After a few turns around the room, Amelia felt her tension ease. The music was beautiful, and Captain Drake had a way of drawing her across the floor as if she were floating. When she finally braved a glance at his face, she met his eyes, and her nervousness returned.

“And is your punishment so dreadful, Miss Becket?” he asked. “I have yet to see you smile.”

Amelia allowed herself a small smile. “It is a very nice punishment indeed, sir. Is it one you utilize regularly?”

“Perhaps I shall, if you believe it will keep the men in line.”

Amelia laughed. “I do not know what they would think if you waltzed with each sailor who failed in his duty.”

“I imagine it should be quite effective at discouraging rule breaking, don’t you?” William looked thoughtful, as if considering the idea.

“Perhaps. Until some of the men develop a taste for waltzing. You might begin to worry when the same men continually require discipline.”

William laughed. Amelia had only heard his laugh a very few times and found she quite liked it. Especially knowing she was the one who had inspired it. She also realized that the sound had caused her heart to trip ever so slightly, and to her dismay, she found that she quite liked that as well. She lowered her eyes, suddenly finding the gold buttons on the captain’s coat fascinating. She was extremely aware of the captain’s arm, the way it wrapped around her, and his hand resting on her lower back. The hand that held hers was strong, and she felt each movement of his fingers and the subtle tightening around her own hand. And had he always had such a pleasant smell?

“How do you find the waltz, Miss Becket? Is it as scandalous as you had supposed?”

Amelia prayed that the captain could not read her thoughts and attempted to school her expression into one of polite disinterestedness that she thought a genteel lady of London might wear. “No. It is very agreeable, sir. And you are a fine dancer.”

“As are you, when you loosen up a bit.” His lips quirked, and he lowered his voice, although Sergeant Fairchild was the only other person within hearing distance and Amelia didn’t think he could hear much of anything with the fiddle so near his face. “Your expression does not fool me, miss. It is not in your nature to feel dispassionate about learning new things. And besides, your cheeks are quite flushed.”

“Perhaps, sir, I have danced too much this evening.” Amelia’s mind reeled as she attempted to understand her feelings or, more accurately, to explain them away. Undoubtedly, it was the excitement of trying something new, of her birthday, of her dear friends who had surprised her that caused her skin to heat and flustered her thoughts.

The captain stepped back, and Lieutenant Fairchild brought the song to an end.

Amelia felt the loss of William’s heat immediately. He bowed overhand, and she automatically curtsied.

“You are dismissed, Mr. Fairchild.” William offered his arm to Amelia. “It’s been nearly two years since I’ve had the pleasure of a dance, Miss Becket, and I thank you for indulging me.”

“Thank you, sir.” She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, and he led her out of the room. Corporal Hurst presented arms and snapped to attention when they exited the wardroom; then he followed them to Amelia’s cabin.

As they walked, she searched her mind for something to say to return the mood to its easy friendliness but came up with nothing.

They arrived at her quarters, and Corporal Hurst handed Amelia her lantern and then took his position next to the door.