Lucky's Lady (The Caversham Chronicles Book 4) (38 page)

During dessert, Lucky stood and toasted Mary-Michael. She blushed to the roots of her red hair, praying he kept the relationship they were sharing secret. He had no reason to cause trouble for her, so she felt relatively certain he would never mention their affair. When he stood and began to speak, she had to set her spoon down because it was becoming clear she was trembling when her silverware made a tinkling sound on her dessert cup. "Mrs. Watkins, your vision, intellect and ability, have all combined to produce the two most beautiful ships I've seen in all my years sailing. The friendship you have given me has meant more to me than you could know. While there may be oceans between us, I will always consider Baltimore my second home, and you a special friend." He turned to Mr. Watkins, and added, "I cannot thank you enough for everything you have done for us. Both Ian and I would thank you as well for running a world-class shipyard and believing in the talents of an extraordinary young lady."

Mary-Michael sighed in relief when Lucky sat back down, thankful that was over. She was never comfortable being the center of attention. Two more toasts, one from Ian and another from Mr. Watkins, continued the excitement throughout their dessert. Afterward Mr. Watkins excused himself to bed, saying he needed his rest before tomorrow's big day. Once he was gone, Father Douglas and George both left saying they, too, had an early morning. Leaving Ian and Lucky with Mary-Michael in the parlor, the gentlemen drinking their port, and Mary sipping a fruity dessert wine.

"I am excited for you both these next two days," she said. "It's amazing that after all these months there is finally this dream come to fruition. An actual ship in place of a set of drawings."

"How do you envision these things?" Lucky asked. "When we met, you asked me questions, saw the list and drawings that Ian and I had come up with, then started sketching. I remember those first scribbles on paper, and now, to see—" He paused, his voice filled with wonder and pride. "It's like seeing a babe for the first time after watching its mother grow with child for all those months."

Ian choked on his wine, his eyes almost popping out of his head. "No, it's not," he said when he had finished sputtering.

Mary-Michael coughed politely to clear the shock from what she was about to say. Taking a sip of her wine, she prayed for the fortifying effect it usually provided. "I... um... don't see how it relates." She kept her gaze focused on her glass as she struggled to say the words before tipping the glass and letting the last of its contents slide down her throat. Perhaps they were similar, but building ships was far easier than the other. While she prayed daily for a child, it seemed getting pregnant was far more difficult than she ever imagined. If she didn't need to be awake so early tomorrow morning, she would ask Lucky to meet her in an hour at the shipyard office.

She considered the idea, and liked it. What she needed wouldn't take long. She also considered the fact that she will have an entire ship to inspect tomorrow—which meant going into dark holds in the belly of the vessel to inspect her workmen's craftsmanship. Lucky would be the perfect scribe for her inspection.

Mary-Michael came out of her reverie to hear Ian apologizing.

"Being unmarried, my friend has no experience with that subject and thus, doesn't know what he's talking about, Mrs. Watkins," Ian said while he shook his sandy blond waves in disbelief over Lucky's words. "We shall bid you a good night, and look forward to seeing you at sunrise." As Ian walked through the door, he tried pulling his friend out with him, but Lucky waved him off. Ian walked down the path to the front gate and waited. This left Mary-Michael with the perfect opportunity to ask him to meet her.

Lowering her voice to a whisper, she said, "Meet me at the office in one hour?"

Lucky gave her a disapproving look, and Mary-Michael thought for sure he was about to reject her proposition. "I don't like the idea of you walking these streets alone in the dark," he said softly. "What if I wait for you around back and we can walk there together? I would bring you home afterward."

She wanted to tell him no, but couldn't. Didn't want to. Because she wanted to feel his skin on hers. Needed to feel him inside her.

"I would be more comfortable escorting you." Mary-Michael acknowledged that Lucky had a superior power of persuasion. At least with her. She didn't know how he'd learned it, but he'd been an expert at it from the moment they met the previous summer.

She thought about the risk they took and agreed, but added, "We cannot walk together, but you can walk nearby. Would that satisfy your worry?" He nodded. "Good," she said. "I will be at the alley entrance to our stable in twenty minutes."

 

E
arly the next morning, and after only three hours of sleep, Lucky watched Ian pour the second cup of coffee and hand it to him. "Do you think the weather will cooperate today?" Ian asked.

"You couldn't have asked for better sailing weather—nice winds and not too much chop on the water."

"I hope you're right."

Lucky just raised a brow in return, then took the spoon from the sugar bowl.

Ian shoved a hand through his hair, something his friend only did when he was truly worried. "Well, what can I say? I'm a little nervous and want everything to go smoothly."

"It will." Lucky stirred his coffee, again pondering the events of the night before. He and Mary never made it to the shipyard office for their planned tryst. Lucky had noticed someone following Mary, so he closed in on her, and walked beside her for a while—long enough to warn her of their observer, and to tell her he was escorting her back home immediately. Something he was still unsure was the best thing to have done. Perhaps by wanting to protect Mary, he'd just called attention to their affair.

"What's wrong?" Ian asked, bringing his attention back.

"What makes you think something is wrong?"

"Aside from the fact that you have an unusually dire look about you, you haven't put any sugar in your coffee."

Lucky stared at the cup and lifted his spoon to his lips and realized that Ian was correct—he'd forgotten to sweeten it. "You're right." After pouring a suitable amount of the granules into his coffee, he continued. "Mary and I were followed last night." He didn't elaborate as he didn't think it important that they'd not had their time together.

"Ah... I see," Ian said. "Did you find out who it was?"

Lucky shook his head. "No. By the time I was sure Mary was safe in the house, the man was gone. Vanished into thin air."

"And you're certain he followed Mary?" Ian asked. "Not just happened to be walking in the same direction as the two of you?"

"We thought that at first, but no," Lucky said. "We tried to lose him, but were unable to. He followed us both to the shipyard—where we never entered because by this point Mary was frightened—then all the way back to the Watkins' home."

A sound from above deck told Lucky that his available crewmen had arrived to help with the day's trial.

Ian looked at the galley door, then back at him. "We'll have to discuss this later. Perhaps give some thought to breaking it off with the lady. She
is
married."

Lucky thought it might be easier to just cut his heart out, because it had become clear to him over the past twelve hours that Mary-Michael Watkins was coming to mean more to him than any woman ever had before. He didn't think he could make a complete break with her. Knowing how fragile her husband was, if he were to return in a year chances were good she would be a widow.

One he would be willing to wait for.

Lucky followed Ian above and when he spied Mr. Watkins next to his wife, he told Ian, "I'm glad Spenser has come."

Watkins' manservant, Victor, helped the older man onto the deck and to a nearby bench. Mary came toward them, carrying a large, heavy basket. Lucky reached out for it. "Let me take this for you." As he removed the load from her arms, he took in her appearance. She was as beautiful as always with her auburn hair pulled behind her and tied at the nape, and wearing the loose trousers she usually wore while working. But Lucky could tell she'd not slept much the night before. Likely she'd slept about as much as he had, both of them having been spooked by the man following them.

Ian greeted Mary, then went up to speak with Spenser.

"Is this what I hope it is?" Lucky asked, keeping his tone light, but eager to ask her how she felt this morning after the fright they'd had.

She nodded. "There are more sweets in that basket than your entire crew can eat."

Lucky leaned toward Mary and whispered, "Please do not let what happened worry you. Whoever it was had no idea that it was
you
with me."

Mary nodded, her wide-brimmed hat slipping down her back as she led the way to the galley. Once they were alone she told him what had her feeling so foolish and careless. "I was desperate to be with you, and I didn't stop to consider that the constable has officers who patrol the village at night. It was reckless of me."

"Then we just need to be more careful," he said, trying to keep his tone light to reassure her that she had nothing to fear. He glanced down at the basket he set on the table.

"I have an idea to make up for last night," Mary said, her eyes glowing with excitement. "Scribe for me today?"

He cocked a brow, curious as to what she had in mind.

"I will need someone to write down notes as I call them out. You see, I must inspect every square inch of this vessel once she is underway, starting with the keel." Lucky started to follow her line of thinking, and grinned. "Unfortunately," Mary continued, "it will be a tedious, very detailed task, that will place us in dark, tight quarters for indeterminate lengths of time."

"When you put it that way, how can I refuse?"

They walked out to the deck and Mary smiled at Spenser. Any other man in a similar situation might feel jealous of the man married to the woman he was having affair with. Lucky felt a number of things, but jealousy was not one of them.

"I'll have a cookie, Mrs. Watkins," Spenser said as he inspected the craftsmanship of his workers that had built the
Lady S.

"Not now, Mr. Watkins. We need to get this ship underway first." She lifted her gaze to the masts, checking the placement of the men on the yards, then back at Spenser. "Where would you like to sit while we are towed out?"

The elder man looked aft and said, "Where I usually sit. Behind the wheel, above the rudder." Addressing Lucky, he said, "Bring me a chair from the galley, lad. And since you're coming from there, a cookie as well." He gave Mary a victorious smirk.

"You are incorrigible, sir," Mary chided.

"Bah." Spenser struggled to stand again, leaning heavily on his cane. "Help me up these steps, Mrs. Watkins."

"Yes, sir." She rolled her eyes behind Spenser's back. Lucky chuckled as he went to get the man a chair and a cookie.

Once they had Spenser seated behind the wheel, Ian returned from consulting with the men in the tow vessels. With the sun just full over the water, the lines were cast from the dock and the tow ropes connecting them to the two ten-oar boats pulling them into the bay began to lift and tighten as the oarsmen bent to their work. From there, they'd raise the
Lady S's
sails to get underway. Lucky and Ian watched as the strongest men from the shipyard rowed in unison. Only one line belayed to the back of each large gig pulled the nine hundred ton, and one-hundred and eighty-four foot long vessel. The lady rocked as she started to lumber through the calm inlet. His friend grinned from ear to ear, and his hazel eyes were aglow with delight once they rounded the jetty. Lucky was envious of Ian right then, but only a little, because he knew he would be doing the same come tomorrow morning.

About eighty yards into the bay, Spenser Watkins said, "Captain, ask your lady to dance."

"Cast the tow lines," Ian shouted. Lines were uncleated from the two gigs, and once the
Lady S
was clear of the lines, Ian called out, "Unfurl the sails, Mr. Currie." For the next few minutes, sailors began to haul in the lines and flake them neatly on deck while the sounds of heavy cotton duck cloth snapping in the wind filled Lucky's heart as the sails were let. Ian guided his lady through the calm waters of Curtis Bay and into the Chesapeake, as sailors were sweating up the spanker gaff.

He looked over at Mary, and smiled to himself. Perhaps he wasn't envious after all. With Ian as captain on this day, it left him free to spend this time watching Mary and accompanying her on her inspection.

She studied everything, from the top of the mast to the keelson in the belly of the hull, from jib boom to the taffrail. She noted each creak and leak, explaining to Lucky what she was looking for, and what was acceptable and what needed minor adjusting. Everything was reported back to Spenser who would nod and smile. The frail old man closed his eyes and listened to the hull move through the waves. Most times he knew of minor issues before Mary noted them herself. He called for adding grease to a section of the steering arrangement when he thought he'd heard grinding, and no sooner was the grease added than the noise stopped. That told Lucky the man was still sharp behind those rheumy eyes.

And it left him feeling guilty, unclean even, that he and this married woman, whose husband he admired, had taken the opportunity for a quick sexual release while they were inspecting the seat of the main mast. The hold had been dark, and they were out of sight of anyone should they pass by the open hatch to the lower chamber. Lucky had needed Mary as much she wanted him, and he wasn't surprised to find her wet and ready. Once he'd slid into her from behind, their climax came quick and within minutes they were moving on to another item on her list.

Not for the first time, Lucky wondered if Spenser knew. If he did, the old man never hinted at it. Which made what they were doing all the more shameful to Lucky. But he could as soon stay away from Mary as the sunrise could stay away from the morning. He just needed to give their relationship time. Because as sad as the thought was, Spenser Watkins was not long for this world.