Becoming Lady Lockwood (9 page)

William took her hand from his arm and turned it over in the light of the lantern, studying her palm. “I see you followed my orders, miss. You are applying the salve regularly then?”

“Yes, every night.”

He shook his head and made a soft tut-tut sound. “It is a pity. I should have very much liked to discipline you again.”

Her heart tripped, and she gasped as the captain pressed a soft kiss on her hand and bid her good night.

Amelia shut the door behind her; her pulse was pounding. She could still feel his kiss on the back of her hand. What nerve the captain had. Such impertinence, such cheek to—her mental ranting was interrupted when she spied a parcel upon her hammock. She set the lantern down upon her small washstand and brought the parcel closer. It was wrapped simply in a piece of sail and tied with a length of rope.

Moving the lantern to the deck, she settled next to it and untied the rope. She pulled away the canvas and discovered a cream-colored blanket knitted from thick, soft yarn. The blanket was beautiful and warm, and as she unfolded it, an envelope fell to the floor. Amelia picked it up and opened it, sliding out a note.

Miss Amelia Becket,

As we near Europe, the air becomes increasingly cold, which I imagine should prove most uncomfortable for a lady accustomed to the warm sun of Jamaica. I shall set Riley to the task of procuring for you an oilskin coat in a small size from the purser’s stores so that we will not be denied your company upon the upper decks as the weather changes.

This blanket was made for me with love by my younger sister, though I have rarely felt the need for it. I think that you might make good use of it.

I apologize for the practicality of this birthday gift, but as there is no shop aboard where I would have found a trinket to dangle from your wrist or a bouquet of wild flowers, I hope this will do.

Many Happy Returns,

Captain Sir William Drake

Amelia read and reread the short note until she had it committed to memory. As she wrapped herself in the warm blanket in her hammock that night, her mind was filled with the heart-fluttering memory of her first waltz, the gentle kiss on her hand, and the thick blanket that she found smelled deliciously, like the gift giver himself.

She realized that if she wasn’t careful, she was in danger of falling very much in love with Captain William Drake. And if her father was to prove that she was indeed the widow of his brother, William was the one man on earth that it would be completely inexcusable for her to develop such feelings for.

William walked slowly up the
gangway to the quarterdeck, his hands clasped behind his back. He kept his posture, though it was a challenge. His shoulders would have preferred to slump. The typical pall hung over the men after ship’s discipline. They went about their duties quietly, almost afraid of looking at each other. All aboard were affected by the punishments. None wished to appear unsympathetic by returning to their regular temperaments too quickly. It was one of his least favorite duties as captain. But his heartbeat gained speed as he neared his quarters, where he knew Amelia would be sitting in her usual spot upon the window bench.

He imagined how it would be when he opened the door. She would turn her head, and upon seeing him, her face would light up in her enchanting smile. He looked forward to her smile as much as any beautiful vista he’d seen. And he’d had his share of spectacular views in his eighteen years at sea.

Once they had exchanged pleasantries, she would ask about the discipline. She worried about the men, cared about them, but she also worried about him and how heavily he carried the weight of his responsibilities. Just being near her would lift his mood, and he began to step more quickly. He acknowledged Corporal Ashworth, who stood at attention outside the captain’s quarters, but paused before opening his door.

William suddenly realized he was behaving like a prat. It was unnatural for a man in his position to seek comfort in such a way. He was turning to Amelia to mend his spirits, the same way a child ran for comfort to his mother, or a husband to a—He shook his head and cut the thought short, angry with himself for how quickly it came to mind and how often it had of late.

Amelia was out of his reach. If the admiral’s suit won out in front of the magistrate, she would legally be his sister-in-law, which, in the sight of the law, was the same as being his sister. And his sister was the last thing he wanted Amelia to be. It was becoming even more imperative to discredit his brother’s marriage.

Turning from the door, he paced back toward the rail overlooking the main deck. He needed a firmer control over his emotions before he entered his quarters.

In the week and a half that had passed since their waltz, he had thought of little else. He wondered if Amelia had noticed how perfectly she had fit into his arms. The candlelight had created golden highlights on her dark curls, the light had flickered in her eyes, and her cheeks had glowed. He shook his head. This train of thought wasn’t helping.

He had wondered if their relationship would suffer after dancing together. But he should have realized that Amelia was not like a typical young lady who made too much of things. Or who would think one thing and say another. The time they’d spent together since her birthday was as friendly and comfortable as before. Perhaps too comfortable, he thought. They had seemed to gravitate toward each other whenever on deck, and somehow, he knew, without looking, the moment she stepped out of the companionway from below.

The cold in the air had done little to diminish Amelia’s spirit, though he noticed that she regularly wore her heaviest dress—not that it was much heavier than any of her other gowns—and layered on her shawl and coat when she was on deck. While she had watched the gun drill the day before, she’d stood hugging her arms around herself in her usual spot, her hair escaping its binding and whipping around her face. The frigid sea wind had been bitter, but she had held her post as any sailor aboard was expected to do.

Finally, William decided that the more he attempted to distract himself from the young woman awaiting him in his quarters, the more anxious he became to join her. It was a hopeless case. Saluting once again to the corporal, William knocked gently on the door to announce himself and then entered. A warm glow spread from somewhere around his diaphragm when he saw her wrapped up in her blanket, sitting upon the window bench. It thrilled him to see her using his gift.

It was just as he knew it would be. Her smile lit up the room. “Captain, I was beginning to wonder if you had decided to remain on deck today.” When she stood, she pulled the blanket tighter around herself and joined him in the sitting area. “And how are you, sir?”

An image of Amelia and her smile greeting him at the door of his townhouse at the end of a long day in Parliament slipped into his mind, but with some effort, he pushed it out again. “I am well, Miss Becket, due mostly to the fact that at the conclusion of the ship’s punishment, such pleasant company awaits me in my cabin.”

He had the pleasure of seeing her cheeks grow pink. “I look forward to Friday mornings as well, sir.”

“And are you ready for your charting lesson, then?”

“Whenever you are, Captain.”

He stood aside and indicated for her to precede him, and they adjourned to the table. “Today your assignment is to plot our current location. We shall be using the sighting determined by the quartermaster’s sextant this morning at dawn. I shall give you our assumed latitude, and here is the chronometer for reference.” He stood and watched as she pulled the instruments closer.

Amelia drew her brows together as she studied the chart, the listing on the chronometer, and the sextant reading. William could see her mind working as she wrote the calculations carefully, set the compass, and used the dividers to measure.

It was nearly a half hour later when she pressed her finger at a spot on the chart, wrote down its latitude and longitude upon a slip of paper, and handed the slip to William. He looked at it, studied her calculations—he had long ago figured out the answer in his head—and finally handed it back to her. “Miss Becket, I believe we shall have to change your title to ‘ship’s navigator.’ This is precisely correct.”

She gasped and looked at him for a moment. Disbelief was evident in her wide eyes. “I cannot believe I did it.”

“I do not know why you should be surprised. I did not assume that you were a person who failed at anything once you set your mind upon it.”

Her face broke into a wide grin that shone with pride. And then without any warning, she stepped close, placed her hand upon his chest, and stood upon her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

William stood frozen to the spot. His mind temporarily emptied, and his heart felt as though it would explode from his ribs. If he could have predicted that those words would have caused such a reaction in Amelia, he would have uttered them endlessly each time he saw her.

Amelia had turned back and bent over the chart again, and it was a moment before the captain realized she had asked him a question.

“I beg your pardon?” he said, tipping his head and forcing a look of attentiveness onto his face.

She furrowed her brow. “I was merely wondering what the reasoning is behind this choice of course. It seems as though it would be much safer to travel northeast.” She trailed her finger in a line from Jamaica to England. “But we are much farther south.” Her finger tapped on the location that she had pinpointed a moment earlier. “Does this course not bring us too near Spain and France?”

“The admiralty sets our course, miss. Our mission orders us to follow this route, taking the current into the Bay of Biscay, where we are to appraise matters pertaining to ships patrolling the area, note the position of the blockade, and return any reconnaissance to London.”

“But your orders were issued months ago, sir. Surely there is a more effective method for the admiralty to determine the state of its ships so close to England.”

“Our duty is not to question, miss,” the captain said quietly.

“But the French . . . Moving into their territory in such a manner is only asking for trouble.” Amelia’s voice was rising.

William remained silent. She was expressing the same fears that he and Sidney had discussed from every possible angle since their voyage began.

“What shall we do about it, Captain?”

“There is nothing to do but prepare as well as we are able for the possibility of battle.”

“Possibility? It is an inevitability.” Amelia’s eyes were flashing. She understood the situation too well for her own good. She turned her gaze back to the chart. She was breathing heavily, and he could see that she was trying to school her features. Her finger reached to brush at her cheek. Was she crying?

William stepped toward her and placed a hand on her shoulder. With the other, he lifted her chin and saw moisture pooling in her eyes. Amelia blinked and a tear escaped. He used his handkerchief to capture it before pulling her to him and wrapping his arms around her.

She laid her head against his chest and pulled the handkerchief out of his hand to wipe at her face.

“I will do all in my power to keep you safe, Miss Becket.”

Amelia pulled back until she could look up into his face. “You mistake me, sir. It is not for myself I fear. I worry for the men at the cannons and the marines with their muskets and the officers who will not leave their stations; for Tobias and Slushy and Riley and the corporals; and for Sidney and all my friends and shipmates.” Reaching up, she laid her hand upon his cheek. “But mostly, I fear for the captain, who must stand upon the deck, carrying the weight of his men’s lives on his shoulders, his uniform making him a mark for every French bullet.”

The tears streamed unstopped down Amelia’s face now, and William again found himself completely speechless. She was worried about
him
? He pressed her head against his chest and pulled her blanket more snuggly around her shaking shoulders. Then it was really only a matter of bending his neck down slightly to press a kiss to her hair—convenient, really. He was reminded again just how perfectly she fit into his arms. As her shaking calmed and her breathing slowed, he realized that while he had entered his cabin intending to be the one comforted, the awareness that he possessed the ability to do the same for her was infinitely more satisfying.

A knock sounded at the open door, and Sidney stepped inside. When he took in the scene, his ridiculous grin was enormous. “My apologies, Captain. The quartermaster sends his compliments, and asks . . . but I shall tell him you are otherwise occupied. And quite agreeably, I might add.”

“Mr. Fletcher.” William sighed, knowing that Sidney was finding a polite way to tell him he was late in his required calculations to determine local noon. “I would ask you to please escort Miss Becket to the wardroom for the midday meal.”

Amelia had stepped away from the captain, which annoyed him terribly.

Sidney looked toward her, his eyes narrowed in concern, and his smile diminished. Even with his miniscule brain, he was apparently able to see that the lady had been weeping.

“But Amelia, are you unwell?” Sidney’s brows were drawn.

“No, I . . .” She attempted to smile. “I am well, thank you.” She looked down, concentrating on folding William’s handkerchief.

Sidney continued to study Amelia. “Of course, Captain. It would be my pleasure.” He stepped closer and offered his arm, his irritating grin beginning to grow on his face once again. “And Amelia, I see that you are distributing embraces. I should like to be next in the queue if you don’t mind.”

William’s eyes darted to Amelia. How would she respond? Sidney was undoubtedly teasing in his tactless manner as usual. But for him to even mention such a thing was gauche, to say the least. Not to mention, the image of Amelia embracing his first lieutenant gave William a most sudden desire to plant his fist into Sidney’s idiotic face.

Amelia’s eyes darted briefly to William’s and then back to Sidney’s, and the captain was relieved to see her expression had regained a semblance of its typical cheerfulness. “Oh no, Sidney. It is the captain who is distributing embraces, but I am sure he will oblige you happily.”

Sidney laughed heartily at this, and Amelia joined him, though a bit less enthusiastically.

“Perhaps if Mr. Fletcher proves himself to be as adept at navigational equations as you, miss, he shall escape punishment for his ill-timed arrival.” William inclined his head toward Amelia. “Farewell, Miss Becket. I do hope you shall not be troubled further.”

“Thank you, Captain, for the lesson. And for . . .” Her face colored again, and she curtsied quickly then took Sidney’s arm, following him out the door. It closed behind her only to open a moment later, just enough for her to step back through the doorway.

“Captain, I would very much like for you to call me Amelia.” She set his handkerchief on the sideboard table, turned without waiting for a reply, and swept out the door.

William stepped toward the table, pausing for a small moment as he held the handkerchief before heading above deck.