The Captain of All Pleasures

Chapter 9

Chancey, will you relax?”

“Don’t want to be here a mite longer,” he grumbled as he threw jerky glances over his shoulder around the sitting room of her grandmother’s palatial town home. Though none of the priceless knickknacks had changed location since he last checked his surroundings, the hunted look on his face deepened.

She shook her head. “As if I do?” They simply didn’t have a choice since Sutherland had started tearing up the dockside looking for them. They couldn’t stay on the quay, much less on their ship. “Glaring at the vases will not stop them if they truly want to charge into your hip and break.”

He scowled at her. She’d never seen another person so uneasy as Chancey appeared now and for the two nights they’d spent here. And he couldn’t stop pulling at his collar, which divided his neck above and below like two cogs from a gear. The dowager, who frightened Chancey more than her home did, had decreed their dress code, but it was next to impossible to find clothes to fit his great bulk. The woman couldn’t be dissuaded. If they were to stay in her home or use any door other than the servants’ entrance, then by God they would dress appropriately.

Abruptly, Chancey stood. “I’m gonna confront him today.”

She exhaled loudly and reached for a small branch of table grapes. “We’ve been over this. The last time someone ‘confronted’ Sutherland, he landed in jail indefinitely!” With effort, she softened her tone. “I can’t risk losing you, too, even if you are miserable. And think about it—we’re safe here. This is the last place Sutherland would ever look.”

“I’m not hidin’ any longer. And he needs to pay for yer hurt honor.”

“My hurt honor?” she cried. She looked around the room and dropped her voice. “One more time—I was not compromised. Even if I were, would you see me leg-shackled to a wastrel forever?”

He bunched his lips together and contemplated the ceiling before answering in a definite tone. “No, ye’ll marry like ye promised yer gram.”

“Exactly.” Would he finally cooperate?

“Still don’t like not tellin’ yer pa….”

They continually fought about the decision not to tell her father what had happened on Sutherland’s ship. She’d ultimately persuaded him that her father would go mad not being able to get at Sutherland. And what if he did catch up with him in the future? They’d kill each other this time.

They had enough problems with that man as it was. He’d already been furious with her before he’d been knocked out, because he presumed she’d not only want to marry him, but would scheme to do so. The arrogance! She wanted to pull his ear to her lips and scream that hell would freeze over before she married him, and that Chancey had only been protecting her. As Chancey said, they’d merely “bonked his head and tweaked his nose.” It wasn’t as if they’d killed him.

Yet because of him, they’d gone to ground in, well, Mayfair. Even visiting her father became a concerted effort, since Sutherland’s crew regularly checked the jail for her.

She was furious with Sutherland. So why did their time together remain constantly in her mind and plague her nights?

In his bumbling way, Chancey had tried to get her to stop dwelling on the man. What he told her chilled her to the core. She’d known Sutherland was a rake, but she’d thought the way he’d kissed and touched her so intimately had been…special.

For him, what they’d shared was a nightly occurrence. She’d been just another notch in a rake’s bedpost….

Her thoughts were interrupted when Chapman knocked on the parlor door. He looked apologetic as he said, “Your grandmother would like to know why you ordered a carriage brought around to the front.”

“I’m about to go see my father.”

Chapman nodded gravely. “If that was your answer, I am to instruct you to order the carriage to the mews instead.”

Nicole crossed her eyes, and Chapman immediately had to cough.

“Tell her I will next time. And thank you,” she called as he exited the room. She began to fuss with the costly veil she wore when she visited her father. None of Sutherland’s hirelings would ever think the regally gowned woman arriving at the jail was Nicole.

“Listen, Chancey—”

“Christina Banning!” her grandmother shouted from the door, her black skirts rustling to a stop. Anger radiated from her, and though she was a small woman, she seemed to fill the doorway.

“My name is Nicole Lassiter.” They’d been through this moniker skirmish a hundred times already. Her grandmother wanted Nicole to use her middle name and her mother’s maiden name, so no one could connect Jason Lassiter’s sailing daughter with Evelyn Banning’s granddaughter until after she was safely married.

The old woman narrowed her eyes; Nicole knew the battle was on. Strangely, she was coming to look forward to these willful contests between them.

“If you can’t abide by my rules, then don’t bother coming back to marry because no one will have you. If they found out who you are, it won’t matter that you’re pretty or dowered—no man of consequence will take a woman with your history to wife.”

“Do you really think I’m pretty?” Nicole simpered with what she knew was an irritating smile.

Her grandmother ignored her. “It simply can’t be known. I’ve worked for two decades to hide your wayward life. Nicole Lassiter is a sailor—in my residence you are Christina Banning.”

They argued back and forth for several minutes, until the dowager said, “Mark my words, child. I’m not doing this for me—I’m doing this for you! You do not want to enter my world with one hand tied behind your back.” With a glare at Chancey, she swept out of the room.

He shook his head, his eyes wide. “Like I always said about ye—ye got more pluck than sense. She’s a terror, that one.”

Chancey was miserable here at Atworth House under the dowager’s constant censure. Between that and his agreement to keep a secret from her father, which he didn’t differentiate much from lying, he appeared near his breaking point. She arrived at her own breaking point that afternoon when they visited her father. It began when he told her he wouldn’t be released in time for the race.

“So the Bella Nicola ’s sitting idle in the greatest race ever?” The thought made her feel like crying. She glanced from one man to the other. She noted Chancey was about to buckle the small stool he covered.

Chancey cast an anxious look at her father before meeting her gaze again. “No, we’ve decided I’m goin’ to sail the race without Jason. Yer father’s worked too hard for this line to have it die for naught. I’ll captain the ship.”

Nicole eyed him. “You don’t have papers.” Chancey was a born seaman, but he wasn’t certified as a captain because he couldn’t read or navigate.

“I’ve got experience with the ship, and I’ll find somebody to help me with my shortcomin’s.”

“Like me.” She spoke arrogantly, as though it were a foregone conclusion.

Lassiter spoke up. “Forget it, Nicole.”

“Then who will navigate?” she asked in exasperation.

Silence from both.

“Who?”

“Chancey and I have thought about it—Dennis will have to do.”

“Dennis!” she exclaimed, picturing the carefree helmsman of their ship. “You can’t be serious. He better have improved since I’ve been away, or the ship’s driftwood. Surely there’s someone else—someone from one of our other crews?”

Lassiter stood and paced. “No, all our ships are at sea. And any navigator worth his salt around here is already engaged.”

“Father, you know I’m better than Dennis.”

“No doubt of it.”

“Then why not me?”

“Because you’re my daughter, and these are the most dangerous seas on earth!”

“But, Father…” Even after her pleading progressed into threatening, neither man could be moved. She was to stay with her grandmother while Chancey and the crew made way.

“You’re absolutely holding firm?”

He pressed his lips together. “I absolutely am.”

She didn’t know whether to cry or howl in her frustration. He could not be swayed. For someone used to getting her own way, it seemed as if the whole world had teamed to thwart her.

“As soon as I get out, I’ll take you somewhere nice,” Lassiter, bless his heart, promised her. “Maybe we could go to Connecticut? Stay in Mystic—check out the old neighborhood?”

“We only lived there for a few months. The Bella Nicola is my old neighborhood.”

He exhaled loudly. “Just be patient, Nic. Only a few more days at your grandmother’s—I promise.”

He didn’t know how right he was about that.

“The solicitor thinks I’ll be out of here in a week,” he said in an optimistic tone.

“Why hasn’t he filed any complaints?”

Again, silence.

“Why, Father?”

“Because the reason for the fight could get out.” He continued over her disbelieving look, “It’s only a week more.”

He was staying in here for her. Oh, Papa .

“It isn’t a big concern, really. And it’s not as though I’m without comforts.” He waved a hand around the space.

The room truly didn’t look bad. Like a bird, she’d feathered it with blankets, pillows, and rugs purloined from Atworth House, browbeating the guard to allow it, until her father’s surroundings looked ridiculously lavish. He had cards, pen and ink, and she’d arranged for her grandmother’s cook to send him food three times a day until he was released. She’d ensured that he’d be fine.

Even after she sailed.

When she said good-bye, she acted as though everything was normal, though her hug was longer than usual. Later in her grandmother’s soft, crested carriage, Nicole reviewed her decision.

After this, she might be able to live on her memories when she was obliged to settle down according to the dowager’s wishes. To marry a man she chose for her. To live a lie. The woman never let an hour go by without reminding Nicole that she had attempted to help her father with bail and had had a solicitor sent around. She would be recompensed .

Her father, of course, would have an apoplectic fit once he found out where she’d gone. Right after her grandmother did. But this was for a good cause. She reminded herself that she did this as much for her father and the crew as for herself. They expected her to stay at Atworth House, a picture of docility, while Dennis—a nice sailor, a great helmsman, but a weak navigator—was in charge of guiding the Bella Nicola?

Which was silly, since she’d never done what was expected of her.

She would tell her grandmother she was going to the Continent to visit friends from school and begin buying her wardrobe for the upcoming season. With work, Nicole believed she could get the dowager to commit to some type of token watch over her father while she was away.

Then there was Chancey….

When she took a carriage from Atworth House the morning of the race, sea chests in tow, she dealt with only a little uncertainty and possibly a tiny bit of guilt for what she planned to do. She’d written a letter telling Lassiter that if he followed her after his release, she would always know he didn’t believe in her—that he didn’t trust her to get the job done. The letter had been true, even if over-wrought. Any time she heard from her conscience, she vowed he would have something to thank her for in the end.

“Good morning, Chancey,” she called out to his squared back as she strolled aboard the Bella Nicola . His shoulders stiffened before he turned around slowly to face her.

“Tell me I’m not seein’ Nicole on this deck.”

“Can’t do that, I’m afraid, because I’m here,” she said, tapping her finger to the tip of her nose and then pointing at him in a cavalier manner. “And I’m staying, so let’s get my trunks on board and make way.”

He looked at her as if horns grew among the curls on her head. “Ye’re touched in the brain if ye think I’m lettin’ ye sail. Now, get ye gone back to yer gram’s.”

She walked closer and raised her face to catch his gaze. “Chancey, if you kick me off this ship, then I’m walking straight over to the Southern Cross and sailing with Sutherland. You know he’ll take me on.” She gave him a sly look.

“Bloody hell! Yer father’ll have a stroke, ye just see if he won’t. And he’ll be comin’ after ye.”

“No, he won’t—I wrote him a letter. He’ll be fine,” she said blithely, though she doubted her pleading letter would in fact keep him idle in London. “One way or another, I’m sailing this race. Since you need me, I might as well sail with you.”

When he still looked unconvinced, she said, “You’re always telling me to follow my gut—listen to my instincts. Well, right now my instinct’s telling me that I need to be a part of this race.”

Chancey looked as though that idea affected him, but then he smirked. “I’ll just stay here till Sutherland sails. Then where will ye be?”

She smirked back. “If you go by his ship, you’ll see that he’s not sailing today, and rumor has it that he’s not going to sail for a couple more days. Who knows, Chancey, he might be waiting to find me,” she said. She didn’t believe that, but this line of argument appeared to be wearing the man down. “I’ll just go let him know where I am.” She turned on her heel, astonishing even herself with how scheming she could be. But this was an exception—shehad to sail.

She’d just made it to the gangway when he reeled off a curse. His voice gruff, he called out, “I hope all those dancin’ lessons didn’t make ye forget yer dead reckonin’ and numbers.”

Several hundred ships upriver from Nicole, Derek sat for a good part of the afternoon nursing a bottle of brandy. The race would be starting soon, so he left his cabin to climb up on deck. He took a deep breath of air, fresher because of the high tide, and scanned the port crowded with the world’s fastest moonrakers, their masts towering into the clouds. He could hear the lively music carrying over the water as an official band played. All along the Thames, shopkeepers filled the quayside with their colorful stalls, and the national flags of all the entries dotted the patchwork scene. It was a huge celebration, one he and his men should be a part of. But he couldn’t think of that now.

He’d expected that the sight of his better rivals with their spotless vessels in full regalia would make him feel like a complete fool for choosing to stay in port. He’d watched and jotted down his customary observations about the ships, but he hadn’t come to regret his decision. For some reason that he didn’t understand, he had to find Nicole before he sailed. An urgency gripped him that he couldn’t explain to himself, much less to his disgusted brother or disgruntled crew.

Remembering the astonished faces of his sailors when he’d told them his decision made his lips twitch. He hadn’t missed the quick exchange of coins as bets were paid. Well, they could laugh all they wanted. The decision to find her was…right.

His semidrunken musings were interrupted when he noticed the Bella Nicola taking her place among the other ships. He knew Lassiter was still in jail, and that he hadn’t even attempted the surely futile search for another captain. So who in the hell was taking the ship on?

Derek raced over the helm to pick up his spyglass. Unsteadily, he trained it on the ship.

With her glinting hair streaming out behind her, Nicole Lassiter stood at the bow of the Bella Nicola and was sailing right past him. Chancey had the bridge.

Derek shook his head, unable to believe it. He ran a hand over his face; then, with an excitement he hadn’t felt in years, he turned toward his crew and bellowed, “Make ready to sail!”