The Substitute Countess

“Very well,” she said, frowning at him. “You look done in. Was it very bad?”

“I’ve seen worse,” he admitted, passing her to reach his cabin door. “At least it blew us in the right direction.” He noted how pale she was. “Were you afraid we would die?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t death I feared. We were taught not to fear it.”

He gave a snort of disbelief. “Well I was taught not to welcome it. So you just thought to meet it face-to-face in the gale instead of taking precaution?” He felt unreasonably angry that she hadn’t been afraid at all and he had been scared out of his bloody mind for her.

She ducked her head as she shook it. “I didn’t want to leave you out there.”

Oh. He blew out the pent-up breath he’d been holding lest he say something else that was mean and uncalled-for. “I’d better change,” he muttered and left her there in the common room.

God, he had wanted to grab her and hold her close, kiss her like a madman and declare how profoundly glad he was that it had not been her bobbing up and down in the sea.

Damn, but being married was a maddening thing, especially to a virgin you couldn’t have yet and to a girl who hadn’t sense enough to get in out of the rain.

The captain’s table was a great deal more formal than the one in the common room they had passed through to go there. Laurel marveled at the china and crystal, even finer than that of the Orencio household. The table linen was spotless and every man there was dressed formally, except Jack and a young lad clad in white.

Everyone stood when they entered. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Worth,” the captain said with a warm smile. He proceeded to introduce them to each of the five men present, all officers of the ship. And then he gestured to the young boy whom she guessed to be about thirteen. “Timothy Bromfield, my godson and cabin lad to Mr. Tomlinson, my second in command. Say your piece, Tim.”

The dark-haired boy turned wide brown eyes to her, bowed and said, “Ma’am.” Then he spoke to Jack. “Sir, I owe you my life and I thank you for your heroic deed. If ever I can repay you in any way, you must call upon me.” He smiled the sweetest smile. “They say in the Orient that if you save a life, it belongs to you.” He shrugged. “Or something equivalent to that.”

Everyone laughed, including the captain. “Well, you can’t take it with you, Mr. Worth, because we should miss this fellow aboard. And may I add my eternal gratitude. He is my brother’s only son. Should I have lost him at sea his first time out, I would have been persona non grata in my family home forever.”

Mr. Tomlinson piped in, “The way you leaped over the side and performed the rescue, one would think you’d had years at sea yourself!”

Jack smiled self-consciously. “Almost twenty years of it, sir. I began as a cabin lad myself aboard the Mosquitobit.”

Laurel paid only half attention. She still couldn’t process the fact that Jack had jumped overboard to save the boy. He had said nothing about it!

All sorts of feelings rushed through her, from hot anger that he would take such a mortal risk to abject pride in the champion he turned out to be.

But she had known already how unselfish he was, hadn’t she? Everything he had done for her proved he was heroic and this feat only seconded that. The men were raising a toast to Jack at that moment. Laurel quickly reached for her glass and joined them.

Later when they were returning to their cabins, she requested that they take a stroll about the deck rather than retire immediately. “I want to see the ocean calm or I shan’t sleep,” she said.

“A good idea,” he agreed, and led her down the gangway and up the steps.

“That was a very brave thing you did, saving young Tim,” she said.

“An impulse, I assure you. Had I stopped to think, I probably would have tossed him a buoy instead.”

Laurel knew better. She smiled up at the stars that were abundant in the clear night sky. Canvas had been unfurled and they were sailing along as if nothing had happened. Several of the other guests were out on deck, ostensibly for the same reason she had wanted to be there.

Suddenly she stopped and looked up at the wooden pole they were passing by. “The spar,” she remarked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“That is a spar, isn’t it?” she asked as she reached over to touch it lightly.

“It is. Have you read of ships then?”

She shook her head and placed her fingertips to her temple as an image occurred. “I remember it from when I sailed before. The word sounded like star to me. I thought a star was falling until someone told me differently.”

She met his puzzled gaze. “There was a flash, of lightning, I think. I suppose that was what I saw. The thing snapped, you see. Someone shouted, “Spar’s falling!” There was a huge crash and everyone began dashing about. I was knocked down.”

Jack frowned and stared at her. “How could you remember that incident if you were only—? How old were you?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” she said with a shake of her head. “Odd that I’ve never thought of it since, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Strange indeed. Tell me, do you recall entering the convent?”

“Not at all,” she replied truthfully.

“Probably another dream,” Jack said. “You know, such as the ones you mentioned having of your mother. It stands to reason a child brought up in a ritualistic environment like a convent would exercise imagination in such a way.”

“You make the convent sound like prison and it wasn’t that at all,” she informed him. “But perhaps you are right about the dreams.”

“I wonder how you knew of the spar, though.”

Laurel wondered, too. The dream seemed so real.

“Shall I point out other parts of the ship?” Jack asked. “I’ve been a seaman for most of my life, so this is a second home to me.”

She took his arm and they continued their stroll around the deck of the brigantine. Laurel found herself searching in memory for other nautical words she might have dreamed of or learned as a child, but nothing else they passed by seemed familiar.

Only the spar and the storm.

Chapter Five

They sailed into Plymouth Harbor four days later on a gray afternoon. Laurel found the town fascinating when they disembarked, so different from the buildings in La Coruña or any others she had seen in Spain. When she began to ask about the differences, Jack did not patronize her. He answered with alacrity and encouraged her to question.

“This Plymouth is the harbor where, two hundred years ago, the famous Mayflower set sail for the new world, isn’t it?” she asked, turning to look back out to sea.

“The very place. You studied about that, eh? A group of dissidents spurned Church of England ways.” He smiled as he hefted his travel trunk onto his shoulder. “They thought the rituals too Catholic.”

She lifted her bag and set off beside him down the cobbled street. “Not all aboard left England due to that,” she said, glad she could show him that she knew a little something of the world. “Saints and strangers, they were called. Whatever their reasons for leaving, weren’t they courageous to set out on such a venture, facing the unknown in a strange land?”

“Precisely what you are doing yourself,” he said with a grin. “Aren’t you the brave one!”

She smiled. “Am I? I hadn’t thought of that. The natives here are welcoming and civilized, I trust.”

“Most of them are, but it pays to watch your purse,” he advised. “In regard to scoundrels, may I offer you a bit of advice?”

“Of course,” she replied.

“Here, and especially in London, there will be very many men everywhere you go, something that will be new to you, having been reared with the sisters. If I’m not by to provide you protection, have a care around them, Laurel, even those who appear to be gentlemen.”

“For they do not always mean well,” she said, mimicking his low, serious tone of voice. “Especially beware of those from Spain with roving eyes and hands,” she added, pointedly reminding him that she had already learned that particular lesson.