The Shipmaster's Daughter (8 page)

Jack held a hand against his heart. “And leave our guest out? Hardly. No, we will wait. Won’t we, Reed?”

Reed looked at Luciana. His eyes softened for a fraction of a second before returning to their usual hardness. A flutter arose in her chest, but she stamped it down. What was wrong with her today?

“Certainly,” was Reed’s gruff word of response.

“Right then. So, where would you like to stop first?”

After two and a half hours, Luciana decided it was time to give up. She’d visited nearly every establishment on Eastbourne’s main street and heard the same resounding answer. No. It wasn’t even a polite no. It was a door-in-the-face, hand-in-the-air, tight-lipped no. To say that she was discouraged was an understatement. They had all said the same thing. She was too foreign, too Italian. She shouldn’t have assumed it would be easy, that the first place she visited would offer her a job, but in her own naïve way, she had. No, making her own way in the world required much more work than that. She’d been foolish to think otherwise.

She stared at herself in the washroom mirror of a run down pub. She hadn’t started crying, but tears rested on her eyelashes, ready to fall. She rubbed them away with a groan. When leaving the establishment, she would keep her chin erect and her eyes planted firmly on the door. She would not waver. Doing such a thing was easy to say, but putting it into action was much harder than she’d anticipated. When she stepped onto the sidewalk outside, she sucked in a deep breath of air, letting it stretch her lungs to capacity.

“And?” Jack pushed away from the wall he leaned against. He uncrossed his arms, his eyebrows raised. Reed stood from a bench nearby. Esther held his hand tightly, her lower lip clamped beneath her teeth. Luciana could only shake her head for fear of hearing her voice crack.

“Next time,” Jack said.

She released a deep breath and let his infectious smile rub off on her. Her mouth struggled to form a grin at first, but soon melded into what she hoped was a passable smile. “
Si
, next time.”

“Can we show her the pier, Father?” Esther made no attempt to lower her voice, but she cupped her hands over her lips anyway.

Reed looked at Luciana, his shoulders pushed back. “I don’t know, Esther. You’d have to ask her yourself.”

Esther turned her smile to Luciana. “Would you like for us to show you the pier?”

She would gladly take anything to get away from the pubs and shops that had so coldly rejected her. “I would like that very much,” she said.

“Goody.” Esther grabbed Luciana’s hand and tugged her away.

She allowed herself be dragged down the road and around the corner. The brick sidewalk faded away to a wooden walkway and onward to the pier. On the shoreline, people gathered to wade on the edges of the ocean and sit on the sand. Luciana stopped at the beginning of the pier. Laughter out of pure amazement forced its way out of her throat.

The pier was massive. At least three hundred meters long, it seemed to touch the very horizon itself. Buildings and stands rested on the walkway, people milling in and out of them. Noise ricocheted off of the buildings, filling the air with laughter and shouting. Scents of caramel and salt tinged the air.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Esther asked.

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” There seemed to be more and more people every second. Having grown up in the secluded part of town, shut away from the busy nature of Venice, seeing such a mass made her heart skip a beat.

“Today has opened a whole new world for you, hasn’t it?” Jack asked when he reached her side.

Luciana nodded. Words failed her.

“But it doesn’t have to be over yet,” he added. “There’s still much to see. Come on, Esther. Let’s find the ice cream stand.”

Just as quickly as she had taken Luciana’s hand, Esther dropped it, latching onto Jack’s as they headed down the pier. Which left Luciana alone with Reed. Again. She glanced to her left, unsurprised to see him staring blankly at the scene before him. After a moment, he looked down at her, raising an eyebrow. She shifted her gaze ahead, heat flushing her cheeks.

“They do have ice cream in Italy, correct?” he asked. His voice was forced and gruff.

Luciana found herself laughing. “Of course we have ice cream.
Signore
Hargrave, for a man who seems so sure that I am uncultured in the ways of the world, you seem to be quite ignorant yourself.”

His eyes snapped to hers, flashing with a challenge. She should have regretted her words—a proper English lady would—but she didn’t. Not when she was right.

“I suppose we should find the others,” was the only response he could muster.

They began walking. His long legs formed a stride that forced her to walk quickly, but she didn’t mind. A gentle breeze blew around her feet and gulls cawed overhead. It was a beautiful day. A fresh beginning. The disappointment of earlier couldn’t keep her down for long.

“I apologize if I offended you.”

The last thing she needed was an enemy. Even if they didn’t see eye to eye, moving along with her life required connections, friendships. Hargrave seemed like a man with connections, and he might be willing to help her find a position should she stop acting so coarsely.

A smile cracked his face for the first time. It was a brief smile—more of a smirk and sniff—but it held the air of humor all the same. “My pride is not so easily wounded, Miss Renaldi, but your apology is accepted if it makes you feel any better.”

“Oh, Reed, there you are!” From across the pier, a man and woman flagged Reed down.

Reed stopped walking. Luciana followed suit. From where she stood behind him, she saw the muscles in his shoulder bunch and his back straighten. He waited for the man and woman to cross the busy pier despite his visible anger.

The man shook Reed’s hand with three vigorous pumps when he reached him. “I’m glad I found you. I was going to come to the house when June and I got back, but I haven’t been able to find the time.” He continued to pump Reed’s hand up and down. “I wanted to thank you.”

Reed somehow managed to pull his hand from the man’s grasp, his mouth twisted into a smile, though to Luciana it appeared forced. “Thank me, Charles?”

Charles nodded. He put his arm around the woman’s—June’s—waist. “For your advice.”

“I don’t remember giving you any advice.”

Charles sighed, but humor twinkled in his eyes. “‘Never let men dictate your means,’ you said. And it got me thinking about June and my father’s company. Well, long story short, you convinced me to finally propose.”

Reed glanced between the pair, his eyebrows rising. “I meant those words from a business standpoint, but at least you took them to heart.” He softened and offered his hand to Charles again. “Congratulations.”

When Charles released Reed’s hand, he turned to Luciana. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you. I’m Charles Blake. Has Reed finally started looking for another wife again?”

Fire poured into Luciana’s cheeks. Her throat ran dry. Beside her, Reed looked positively enraged. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Before he could say anything,
do
anything he might later regret, Luciana spoke for herself.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “My name is Luciana Renaldi. My ship sunk a few weeks ago.
Signore
Hargrave has been kind enough to let me stay at Yellow Brook until I can get up standing.”

June furrowed her brow. Her lips pinched together into a confused smile. “‘Get up standing?’ Do you mean ‘get back on your feet’?” She laughed, a laugh as pure as church bells. “Oh, that is delightful. Your accent is marvelous. Where are you from?”

Luciana shifted. “Italy.”

“Oh, Italy!” June gushed. “I’ve always wanted to go there. What part? Venice? I’ve heard Venice is absolutely marvelous.”

“Actually, I’m from a small sea-port town—Viareggio.”

June curled her fingers around Charles’ arm. “I’ve never heard of it, but I’m sure it’s divine. You must come by some time and tell me who does your hair. It’s marvelous. I’ve haven’t seen women wear their hair down in years, but you could bring it back.”

Luciana felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Reed nod to Charles. “It was nice to see you both. Congratulations on your wedding.” He pushed Luciana forward before the other two could make their goodbyes. Reed dropped his hand from her shoulder a moment later. Luciana loathed to admit she missed the contact.

“Blake is a…friend of sorts,” he explained.

“
Signora
Blake does seem to think everything is marvelous, doesn’t she?” Though her words were quiet, meant for herself, Reed heard them. He chuckled, but said nothing else. Hands clasped behind his back, he looked on.

June’s comment about her hair burned in the forefront of Luciana’s mind. She reached up, fingering her long waves. It was true no woman who passed had her hair down. It was piled on their heads in large and elegant buns. Some wore pearls, others left it natural. But only young girls wore their hair down, like Esther. Luciana’s skin began to burn, her scalp itch. Ducking her head, she avoided looking. Though the hair-style was stunning, she knew it wouldn’t suit her. She liked her hair free and loose, not tight and constricting. Even so, self-consciousness bloomed in her stomach.

Her eyes drew themselves to Reed. Didn’t he feel the same way? He hardly had the same appearance as any of the men they passed. His hair was long and pulled back, not cut and styled, and his clothes were well-worn and faded. He didn’t appear to feel self-conscious. Every step he took was proud and commanding. He knew where he was going and what he was going to do when he got there, unlike Luciana. She envied his confidence.

They rejoined Jack and Esther at the ice cream stand a few moments later. Luciana indulged and forced herself to forget about the failed jobs, June’s comments, and her hair. She wanted to enjoy her ice cream, enjoy the company, and surge forward. But that was hard when Reed couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her for the rest of the day. She could feel him staring at her and every time she looked at him, he held his stare, unembarrassed.

When they returned home that evening, bellies filled with ice cream and lemonade, Esther asleep in Jack’s arms, Luciana yearned for the comfort and solitude of her room. In the morning, she would begin anew with the help of Mrs. Peters.

“Miss Renaldi, would you wait for a moment?”

Foot on the bottom step, Luciana turned around. Reed strode toward her. His face had returned to its usual blank state, and his hands had once again curled into fists at his sides. When he reached her, his fingers took to twitching.

“I might have a solution for your problem,” he said.
Which one?
she wanted to ask. She held her tongue, though, and waited. “Brigette is a capable girl, but better suited for the kitchens. That being said, I—Esther is in need of a governess. Someone to watch after her during the day, teach her, guide her, if you will.”

Luciana’s brow constricted. “What does this have to do with me?” Her voice sounded more biting than she intended, but it had been a long day and her feet were sore. Listening to Reed prattle was not how she wanted to end the day.

His lips pinched then relaxed. “Would you be willing to consider becoming Esther’s governess?”

Her jaw went slack. Luciana didn’t know the first thing about being a governess. He must have taken this as a good sign because he elaborated on his offer.

“You would be paid well, twenty-six pounds a year. I expect nothing but the best for my daughter.” His eyes searched hers. “What is your answer?”

Twenty-six pounds? Based upon his tone, that was a hefty sum. Still, the thought of waiting by Esther’s side each and every day seemed taxing at the least. But could she afford to say no? She had nothing—no family, no money, no means to make money. She was stranded in a foreign land, afraid and alone, and yet here was Reed, a seemingly despondent and cruel man, offering her a job. She would be a fool to say no.

She at least wanted to consider it. And she didn’t want him thinking she was eager to stay. Because she wasn’t. “May I answer you in the morning?”

He gave a stiff nod. “Of course. Goodnight, then, Miss Renaldi.”

“Goodnight,
Signore
Hargrave.”

Chapter 9

G
ood god, a governess? Reed was in no need of a governess, much less an Italian one. What had possessed him to offer such a position? Hadn’t he wanted her gone just the day before?

He raked his hands through his hair, reassuring himself that his offer had nothing to do with their walk down the pier. Little words had been said, but her quick wit and sharp tongue impressed him—if only slightly. He’d expected her to blush and shudder at Charles’ implication of their...relationship. She’d only lifted her head higher, shooting down his assumptions with a few quick words.

Maybe he had misjudged her. Or maybe not. He couldn’t be sure.

Still, what irked him most was the salary he had promised. Reed was a wealthy man. He had dozens of paying tenants on several plots of land throughout Eastbourne. He had lucrative stock investments. He had money leftover from his inheritance. By no means was he poor. He was merely cautious with his money. The state of his home could attest to that.