At the Captain's Command

He sent her a reassuring smile. “But this will not do.” His smooth, controlled words held a world of authority. “I have promised to take my sister-in-law to the ball myself.”

“But—” Artemis’s face contorted into a variety of expressions, from anger to confusion to helplessness.

Once again Dinah subdued her desire to laugh. Never before had anyone intervened for her as the captain had done today—twice. Her heart warmed even as she cautioned herself against putting too much into the matter. His words proved clearly that he regarded her as his kinswoman, and his actions were simply in keeping with that relationship. She dismissed the disappointment that tried to creep into her with that thought.

In any case, pleasant and a very good friend though the captain might be, he was in the navy.

Thomas wended his way through the streets back to the transformed Franciscan monastery that now served as military barracks. Billeted there, he and his officers found comfortable accommodations and respite from sea duty. Today, he would be pleased to find respite from his own nagging conscience. Not since his foolish adolescence and those first few years in naval service had he struggled so fiercely with his temper. In fact, his steady disposition was an attribute that had often earned him promotions over his fellow officers—that, and his father’s influence, of course.

A stray thought interrupted his line of thinking. He had often wondered if his eldest brother would maintain Father’s influence for him or if Thomas’s advancements would cease. The uncertainty alone was unsettling, but not enough to cause him to abandon self-control. A captain’s temperament must be dependable, not erratic. Therefore he must ascertain the cause of this odd rage within him.

Perhaps the fine church service had stirred his soul, for he found himself lifting a rare prayer that he might know the cause of this weakness. The hawk-like face of Artemis Hussey came to mind, but Thomas rejected such a simple answer. Yes, of course, the man was irritating. But even if he did not display sufficient generosity toward Dinah, he did permit her to live in his home during these difficult times for all Loyalists on these shores. And what choice did she have but to live with the Husseys?

The answer came in the form of another more confounding question that halted Thomas in his path. Why did the young lady live here in this city with such a disagreeable fellow when she could be safely and amiably housed at Bennington Plantation? Renewed anger surged through Thomas’s chest, and he strode toward his barracks while more questions sprang to mind, all directed toward another man who had never been anything but disagreeable to him. A man who should have seen to Dinah’s care just as he had to his sister’s.

Frederick Moberly, his spoiled younger half-brother.

By the time Thomas reached his apartments and his steward had relieved him of his ceremonial sword and jacket and placed a cooling beverage in his hand, he had a fair understanding of what motivated his rage. He had no wish ever to see little Freddy again, much less to convey news of their father’s death. Had he not promised to escort Dinah and Dr. and Mrs. Wellsey through the wilderness to the plantation, and were he not eager to see dear Marianne and her young son, he would dash off a note to Freddy to accompany their eldest brother’s letter.

A wicked thought crossed his mind and he made no attempt to stop it. Perhaps the trip would not be so bad after all if he could witness Freddy’s distress upon learning their father no longer lived and therefore could not ensure his employment.

Guilt smote him. What had Dinah reminded him of from this morning’s sermon? Every person stood in need of grace from time to time and therefore should be willing to extend it to those who offended him. But then, Dinah did not have a brother like Freddy.

Chapter Seven

Few ladies in St. Augustine matched Dinah in stature, so borrowing a gown for the ball had been out of the question. Dear Elizabeth had saved the situation by donating her second-best overdress, a rose-pink linen, to which Dinah added a ruffled border made of Elizabeth’s leftover fabric. Of course the new material had a brighter sheen, but nothing could be done about that. Underneath, Dinah wore her own plain white linen skirt. Anne praised her ingenuity, and even Artemis gave a nod of approval…accompanied by a frown rather than a smile. Dinah attributed his crossness to Thomas’s insistence on escorting her to the ball in his honor.

In truth, she could barely grasp the idea herself. While everyone in St. Augustine knew who she was and she knew of them, she had never put herself forward for attention. Being at the captain’s side would surely bring much notice, almost like a coming-out ball that launched young ladies into London’s Society. Marianne, the captain’s sister, once told her about these events, but Dinah had thought little more about them. Now she was not certain she wished for such recognition, for it might bring more unwanted suitors. Having looked over the crop of available local men and rejecting each and all, she could hardly find joy in that prospect.

Further, she had expended much energy subduing the elation that arose each time she envisioned walking into the governor’s palace arm-in-arm with the captain. What nonsense that giddy feeling was. Thomas belonged at the top of her inventory of unsuitable gentlemen for all the reasons she repeatedly listed to herself. Why, even Artemis’s latest candidate, Mr. Richland, lived in East Florida and never traveled farther than Jamaica. That made him a more suitable husband than the captain, but she would never consider the man.

Still, when Thomas arrived in a fine black landau complete with four matched grays and a liveried driver, she made no attempt to conceal her delight.

“Really, Captain Moberly,” Artemis said as he, Anne and Dinah emerged from the house. “’Tis a short walk across the city. Why go to the expense of a carriage?”

Dinah noticed he did not seem too put out about the matter. She also noticed he had applied an exceptional amount of his apple-scented hair dressing. Her appetite for apples had diminished considerably since living in the Hussey household.

“But if we walk,” Thomas said, “the ladies’ slippers will be ruined. Many puddles from this afternoon’s rain have failed to evaporate, despite the heat.” He waved a white-gloved hand toward the bright evening sky, which would not become dark for another hour or so, then reached out to Anne. “Mrs. Hussey, you are a vision of loveliness.”

“I thank thee, Captain.” Anne accepted his hand to help her step up into the conveyance. Indeed, in her black damask gown, she presented a picture of modest matronly grace as she settled into her seat.

“Miss Templeton.” Thomas turned to Dinah, and his blue eyes twinkled. “I am overwhelmed by your beauty.” The humor in his voice at once dismayed her and made her laugh. What did he really think of her appearance?

“And of course, you, Captain, are the epitome of perfection.” Her words, conveyed on a chuckle, nevertheless spoke the truth.

His shiny black hat sat on his shiny black hair, which was pulled back into a queue by an equally shiny black ribbon, and not a single hair was out of place. His dark-blue uniform jacket bore not a speck of lint. His white breeches were spotless. The golden threads of his epaulets gleamed. And his sword, polished to a brilliant shine, caught the remaining sunlight with a gold and silver sparkle. But it was his sapphire-blue eyes, leveled squarely on her, that sent her heart into a dizzy spin. She had never seen a more handsome man, not even his brother Frederick, whom he closely resembled. Not even her own brother, Jamie. And the elegant gracefulness with which the captain climbed into the carriage generated admiration…and fear within her. Of course she must dance with him at least once this night, and then he would discover her clumsiness, for in Quaker Nantucket she had never learned that skill. At least in the dim candlelight of the ballroom, he would not notice her patched-together gown, which until this moment had seemed acceptable for a St. Augustine fête.

But never mind. She had no need to capture his interest. As with all things, they would find reasons to laugh together, as good friends did at each other’s short comings. Yet he seemed to have no deficiencies, and she would certainly not seek to find one.

Artemis clambered into the carriage behind the captain and dropped his slender form next to Anne. His long fingers caressed the black leather seat and his wide-eyed stare scanned the gray carpeted flooring. “A fine coach, Captain. I believe this is the finest available to let here in St. Augustine. A fitting conveyance for your entrance into St. Augustine society.”

That entrance was accomplished within twenty minutes. And the only thing that marred Governor Tonyn’s introduction of Thomas and his officers was the way Artemis shouldered his way next to the captain and left Anne and Dinah to be lost amidst the crowd.

While people lined up to be presented, Dinah spied a friendly face and tugged Anne by the hand toward Mrs. Pilot, the wife of a regimental officer. The older matron took special pleasure in organizing balls, and her hand was evident in the decorations around the room.

“Mrs. Pilot,” Anne said, “thee must have scoured the entire city to find so many lovely flowers.”

“Oh, my, yes, Mrs. Hussey.” The plump, cheerful lady chuckled, a deep, throaty sound, and her ruddy apple cheeks glistened in the ballroom’s candlelight. “Roses, gardenias, lavender, honeysuckle. Everyone was eager to help with the preparations for these fine naval officers. Why, even my husband, who admits to enjoying a vigorous competition with his naval counterparts, awoke this morning with extraordinary enthusiasm for this event.” She waved a pink-gloved hand at the middle-aged officer in question, who stood across the room in his red army jacket and white breeches. As he responded in kind, the lady continued to prattle on merrily about the supper she had organized for later in the evening. “And a large pig has been roasting over a pit outside the kitchen house since yesterday. And we have desserts that will delight the most discerning palate.”

“The aromas are enticing,” Dinah said. “How shall we make it until supper?”

Mrs. Pilot chuckled again. “Why, we must dance up an appetite. Which reminds me, Miss Templeton, I am sorry your handsome brother and his lovely wife are not in the city. Captain Templeton dances beautifully and could teach some of our locals a thing or two.”

“Yes, he does.” Dinah felt a pang of loneliness for Jamie. “Marianne made certain he learned the skill in London.”

“Will he be returning to East Florida soon?” Mrs. Pilot tapped her chin. “We must have another ball when he comes to celebrate all the new wares he will bring us. Even if the governor will never countenance such an event, we can meet in another home.”

“I have not heard from Jamie for five months, so surely he will return soon.” Dinah’s old fears resurfaced. “I pray he will not encounter that pirate, Nighthawk, and have his cargo stolen.”

“Now, Dinah,” Anne said, “thou knows that Captain Moberly’s presence will surely put an end to the piracy.”

“Indeed, it shall.” Mrs. Pilot patted Dinah’s hand, then gazed across the room. “Now if you will excuse me, I see we have some newcomers.”

Dinah and Anne curtsied to the English lady, who scurried away to tend to her hostess duties. Mrs. Pilot had long ago made it her duty to see that those who had fled to St. Augustine because of the war found safety and welcome. Every time the watchtower bell rang to announce the arrival of a ship, whether merchant or military, Betsey Pilot could be counted on to ascertain its identity and the needs of its crew.

Anne smiled. “What would we do without her?”

“Endure great boredom, I am certain.” Dinah peered through the crowd to see how Thomas fared and found him looking her way. Following Mrs. Pilot’s example, she gave him a tiny wave, as though the two of them shared a good-humored secret. His wry grin and slight nod assured her that he had understood.

Thomas and Mrs. Pilot led the first dance, and young Mr. Richland claimed Dinah as his partner. She felt some relief, because dancing a country round with someone who was as provincial as she gave her the opportunity to reacquaint herself with her feet, silly appendages that seemed determined to embarrass her by failing to keep time with the music.

At the end of the set, she looked for the captain, hoping for rescue from Mr. Richland. But the senior Mr. Richland moved his son aside, took her hand and led her to the floor. As the next piece ended, Mr. Wayland bumped the older man aside, and after him, another officer sought her as a partner. Perhaps she smiled too generously. Perhaps Mrs. Pilot took pity on her for her pieced-together dress and sent the gentlemen to her rescue. To a man, they heaped praise upon her for her gown, which only caused her more discomfort. Or, more precisely, annoyance. Their effusive compliments seemed to border on insincerity.

At last, after countless rounds, she managed to hide behind a row of tall potted plants to catch her breath and watch the revelers from the shadows. Across the ballroom she saw Elizabeth Markham sipping punch with Mr. Wayland. To her surprise, her friend’s expression held not a hint of her usual coyness, merely modest admiration. Could this young officer, the third son of a baron, have won her heart? Already?

A sudden rustling of the leaves nearby gave Dinah a start, which quickly turned to delight. Thomas stood just beyond the plants, his blue eyes focused on her, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Hiding, are we?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you not enjoying all the merry matchmaking?”

She emerged from her refuge, feigning indignation. “Hmph. This ball was meant to be in your honor, not a matchmaking event.”

Now he laughed out loud. “My dear Miss Templeton, every ball is a matchmaking event.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I suppose.”

He turned to face the room with her. “May I fetch you some lemonade?”

“Gracious, no, but I thank you, sir. This past hour, I have had lemonade enough to drown me.” Nearly every gentleman with whom she had danced insisted on fetching her some refreshment between sets.