Regency Debutantes: The Captain's Lady / Mistaken Mistress

‘Mark my words, Mr Anderson, only trouble will come of this. Trouble and nothing else.’ His wide thin lips compressed. ‘We both know the direction the men’s thoughts will take.’

Lieutenant Anderson said nothing, but turned his attention once more to the log he was writing.

The water lapped warm and luxuriant against Georgiana’s naked skin. She sighed and relaxed back within the captain’s personal hip bath, bending her knees until her soapy head submerged beneath the surface. When the worst of the lather had been removed, she reached for the jug and poured its freshwater contents over her cropped hair. The ebony locks squeaked clean, and Georgiana marvelled at Nathaniel Hawke’s generosity. Freshwater was precious; she did not know how long it would be before they would have an opportunity to replenish the supply. And yet he had not expected her hair to suffer the coarse drying effects of seawater. As she stepped dripping from the tub and wrapped the cloth around her, she looked with curiosity at the small room around her, marked so clearly as belonging to Captain Hawke. Besides the furniture she’d already noticed, there were a case of books, a small table and chair, a heavy sea chest, a basin, shaving accoutrements, a mirror fixed upon the wall…and the cot. A shiver ran down her spine and she dried herself briskly, stepping into the clean clothes that Nathaniel had provided for her.

She folded the cloth and could not resist inspecting her reflection in the mirror. A pale face with short dark hair stared back at her. There was a purple bruise to the side of her right eye and a cut upon her lip. Now that the dirt was gone, she felt naked, exposed, as if anyone who looked at her would know who she really was, what she really was. She arranged the straggle of hair as best she could using only her fingers, then stepped away with deliberate care towards the flimsy connecting door, and paused. He believed that she loved Walter Praxton, that her father had forbidden her marriage to the man. As if anything could have been further from the truth! How could he even think that she would let that rogue so much as touch her? Her gorge rose at the memory of Walter Praxton’s roving hands, his greedy mouth. She swallowed it down, pushed the shame and disgust away, determined never to think of it again.

Nathaniel Hawke was a good man, a man that attracted her in a way she’d never felt before. She’d tried to tell him, wanted to shout the truth when he’d misunderstood. But she couldn’t, not if she wanted to stop him challenging Mr Praxton and her papa. She was nothing to Captain Hawke save a problem, a thorn in his side, turning up at the worst of times, like a bad penny. It was bad enough that he’d already risked drowning to save her. And now here she was, on his ship, in the middle of the sea, alone, and in the guise of a boy! Little wonder that he was angry. Best to remember her place, quell such inappropriate feelings for the man and get on with surviving the consequences of her own foolish actions. With this resolution in mind, she knocked softly upon the wooden panels and passed through from Captain Hawke’s night cabin to the one that he used during the day.

The man himself was sitting at his desk, a glass of brandy held loosely in his hand. Grey winter light from the large windows behind the desk contrasted against the stark outline of his broad shoulders. He appeared to be deep in thought, a distant gaze in his eyes. Georgiana’s resolution wavered at the sight of him. The errant curl still dangled temptingly on his forehead and her fingers itched to smooth it back to its rightful place. She suppressed the urge, blushed that she should have thought such a thing, and sat down in the chair across from Captain Hawke.

‘Thank you, sir, I feel so much better now that I’m clean. And I’ll no longer be a cause of offence to Lieutenant Pensenby.’ She smiled and felt suddenly shy.

Nathaniel could have groaned aloud. How could he have ever thought that the girl before him was anything other? The delicate bone structure, straight little nose and full pink lips. Her eyes twinkled blue washed with shades of grey, and her eyelashes were sooty and long. How could any man fail to see what was right in front of his very eyes? The dirt had camouflaged her well and now that it was gone he wondered if the rest of the crew would see what he did. And that wasn’t all the dirt had hidden. He frowned and, reaching forward, gently clasped his fingers to her chin.

‘How did you come by these marks?’ His voice was gruff, belying the careful touch of his fingers as he tilted her face to view the bruising near her eye. He couldn’t help but notice how white her skin was next to the brown of his hand. And soft…so very, very soft.

Her skin burned beneath his touch, and a strange lightheaded feeling came over her. For some inexplicable reason she found herself unable to reply, unable even to think of anything other than his strong warm fingers that touched like a feather to her face. The pulse leapt to a frenzy in her neck, so that she was sure that he would see it. But still she could not move, frozen by her own response to the man sitting before her.

Nathaniel looked down into Miss Raithwaite’s shimmering eyes and experienced an urge to pull that slender body into his arms and kiss her. And not in the least chaste or polite manner. The kissing that he had in mind was of an extremely thorough nature. He watched as her lips parted, almost as in invitation. His fingers caressed her chin, moving up to capture the smoothness of her cheek. His heart thumped loudly within his chest, he lowered his mouth towards hers and—’

A short sharp knock sounded at the door.

Brandy splashed on to the captain’s desk. Georgiana jumped so high that Nathaniel’s hand brushed against her breast. Even through the depth of her bindings she felt his warmth. She gasped. Blue eyes held brown in confused horror.

‘Quickly, slip into the night cabin and don’t make a sound,’ Nathaniel whispered in her ear. His large hand covered hers, gave one brief squeeze of reassurance and was gone.

She reacted instinctively, moving quickly and quietly to the connecting door.

When Lieutenant Anderson entered, it was to find the captain engrossed in some charts, and no sign of ship’s boy Robertson.

‘First Lieutenant Anderson.’ Nathaniel’s voice was laconic and mellow, betraying nothing of the turbulent emotions simmering so recently in his breast.

‘Captain Hawke, sir. I beg your pardon for the intrusion, but my hourly report is due.’ The young man’s face appeared a trifle flushed.

Nathaniel leaned back in his chair and surveyed his lieutenant. ‘Indeed, it is, Mr Anderson. Please proceed.’

John Anderson cleared his throat and recited his list. ‘All stations have been checked. The first dog watch passed without event and the first watch proper commenced. All is in order. Ernie Dobson’s tooth has been extracted and he’s been allocated an extra quart of grog. There’s no change in the weather and we are continuing on course as per your instructions. That is all I have to report, sir.’

‘Thank you, Mr Anderson. That will be all.’

But the first lieutenant stayed firmly rooted to the spot, an awkward expression plastered across his face.

‘Was there something else, Mr Anderson?’ Nathaniel had a fairly accurate idea of what was causing John Anderson to linger.

‘No, Captain…Well, perhaps …’ Mr Anderson appeared to be finding a spot upon the cabin floor of immense interest.

Nathaniel decided to put the officer out of his misery. ‘Would you care for a brandy, Mr Anderson?’

The first lieutenant looked up in surprise. ‘Yes, thank you, sir.’

‘There’s been talk of my dealings with ship’s boy Robertson.’ It was a statement, not a question. He passed the glass to Anderson.

‘Yes, sir.’ His cheeks were glowing with all the subtlety of two beacons.

Nathaniel’s jaw clenched grimly. That the captain had ordered a private bath for the boy within his own cabin would be known by every man on the Pallas by now. He was under no illusion as to what the common interpretation of his action would be, and that was something that would have to be dispelled as quickly as possibly. Nathaniel was thinking and thinking very fast. John Anderson’s green eyes had raised to his in quiet anticipation. Whatever Nathaniel told him, it could not be the truth. ‘It’s a delicate matter over which discretion is required. I trust that I have your complete confidence in the matter?’

‘Of course, sir!’ Lieutenant Anderson had drawn himself up to his full height and was regarding his captain with more than a little curiosity. He sipped at the brandy.

‘The boy, Robertson, is not who he seems.’

Anderson’s eyes were positively agog. ‘No?’

‘No.’ Nathaniel’s tone was conspiratorial. ‘Indeed, Robertson is a pseudonym he’s used to his own ends.’

John Anderson nodded triumphantly. ‘I knew that all wasn’t as it appeared, sir.’

‘Master Robertson—we’ll continue to call him that for reasons that will soon become apparent—should not be aboard the Pallas or any ship. Mr Anderson, the boy is my nephew.’ He paused for effect. ‘My brother, Viscount Farleigh, has strictly forbidden George a career at sea. The boy, naturally, wants nothing else. He has therefore run away from home to pursue his dream. He didn’t, of course, anticipate a brush with Captain Bodmin’s men. I don’t need to impress on you, Mr Anderson, exactly what my brother’s response would be should any harm come to George while he’s in my care. It’s bad enough that I failed to recognise the wretched boy beneath his disguise of filth and rags and halfwit trickery.’ Nathaniel sighed and took a gulp of brandy. ‘I suppose Henry’s overprotectiveness is understandable, given that George is his oldest son and therefore ultimately heir to the earldom of Porchester.’

‘Dear Lord!’ Mr Anderson exclaimed with feeling.

‘Puts me in a bit of a quandary and no mistake. Until I can deliver the boy back to my brother, I’ll have to keep a very close eye on him. If Henry knew that his son had been sleeping in a hammock squashed amongst those of the midshipmen, he’d have a fit!’

The lieutenant saw an opportunity to solve the captain’s problem. ‘The boy may share my cabin, sir, and I’ll see to it that he’s kept safe.’

The thought of Miss Raithwaite sharing a cabin with the most personable First Lieutenant Anderson brought an uncommonly disgruntled feeling to Nathaniel Hawke. If he had not known better, he would have thought it reminiscent of jealousy. ‘An admirable offer, Lieutenant, but quite unnecessary. I mean to have the boy as my personal servant. He shall sleep within my own cabin.’

Georgiana, whose ear was pressed firmly to the wooden connecting door, almost fell against the supporting structure at Captain Hawke’s words. She had to admit that the story Nathaniel had concocted at such short notice was reasonably believable; in fact, she’d been admiring the gentleman’s quick wits and imagination—up until his last utterance.

Nathaniel continued, blissfully unaware of Georgiana’s rising indignation at the other side of the door. ‘This apparent favouritism is bound to lead to supposition by the men. And it will be all the worse if the true nature of our relationship is not known.’

Mr Anderson’s sharp intake of air at Captain Hawke’s remark led to an inhalation of brandy and a subsequent plethora of coughing and spluttering. ‘Quite so, sir.’

‘Perhaps I could rely on you to see that the men are informed, by covert means, of course. A chance remark in Mr Pensenby’s ear should suffice.’

The first lieutenant smiled. ‘I’ll see to it right away, sir.’ He finished the brandy without coughing. ‘It’ll be all round the ship by lunchtime tomorrow.’

Captain Hawke raised his glass in salute. ‘That will do nicely, Mr Anderson, very nicely indeed.’

By the time First Lieutenant Anderson exited Captain Hawke’s day cabin, Georgiana was adamant that there was no way on earth that she would share a cabin with Nathaniel Hawke. She had even rehearsed a polite refusal of his offer, for undoubtedly he thought it the gentlemanly thing to do. Thank you, Captain Hawke. You are most kind in your offer, but I cannot comply. It would be quite unseemly behaviour for a lady. But then, Georgiana reflected, hadn’t the vast majority of her behaviour of late come under that description? She sat down on the bed, touched her left hand to the lobe of her ear and worried at it as she set about thinking what her best course of action should be. In truth, there were not a great many options available. She was still mulling over various scenarios when Captain Hawke entered. Georgiana jumped up from the bed.

‘You didn’t knock,’ she said, and her voice sounded breathless within the small confines of the cabin.

Nathaniel’s eyebrow lifted and a tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you, Miss Raithwaite—or should I say George? Now that I’ve revealed to Mr Anderson that you are in truth my nephew, Lord George Hawke, it’s advisable that we stay in our respective roles at all times. Just think what he would say if I mistakenly referred to Miss Raithwaite!’ Nathaniel pulled such a comical expression that the ponderous burden of anxiety eased itself from Georgiana’s shoulders and she laughed.

‘Should I then call you Uncle Nathaniel?’ A mischievous light shone in her eyes.

Nathaniel grinned provocatively, as he stepped forward. ‘Only when we’re alone.’