Breakwater Beach (3 page)

Chapter 3

Edward Barrett had learned long ago that coming between a man and a woman only earned him a punch in the mouth. And standing up to a nobleman, no matter what he was doing wrong, wasn’t likely to be taken well. But that bloodied handkerchief lying on the ground, and watching her struggle, had been impossible to ignore.

This was no washerwoman grabbed off the street by a miscreant. Linen and lace like that only came from the best clothiers. Her skin was untouched by sunlight, her hands too delicate and manicured to have done any hard work. Even after the encounter, Lady Elisabeth’s first reflex was to adjust her hat and reposition hairpins.

When Edward saw the mark on her face where she’d been struck, only clenching his fists kept him from grabbing the bloke by the collar and throttling him.

This was a different world than the one Edward was accustomed to. But the captain had taken Edward under his tutelage, schooling him in the dual arts of social graces and piracy. Discretion and restraint had earned him the privilege of making important deliveries, and gratuities compensated for the travel and inconvenience. But this time he was stuck in mud up to the ankles and might never get it off his boots. Getting embroiled in an altercation would call unwanted attention not only to him, but also to the captain, and possibly betray below deck goings on upon the seas. There was a lot to lose here—and no reason to risk it for a silly flirtation.

He returned the handkerchief and handed
her the package. He had no idea what it was, supposedly a gift for the earl from a business associate, likely opium or some other contraband given the level of attention Captain Percy had lavished upon it. All he had to do was collect his money and flee. So why then were his feet rooted to the ground?

Edward noted the momentary bow of her head. Embarrassment? Perhaps, but Elisabeth didn’t avert her gaze from his as she pushed the soiled linen into her reticule. She clutched the parcel against her chest and turned up her chin. Her eyes blazed with anger.

“Mr. Barrett, I’ve a need to deal with some rather unpleasant matters and would sincerely like to avoid having you involved. I do appreciate your coming to my assistance, and your gallantry. I will deliver this to His Lordship.” White linen skirts swept the stone as she glided into the entryway like an angel—a considerate one, with a bruised cheek.

The footman seemed unsure of what to do and held the door as she passed. The big tip he’d expected didn’t seem likely. But that wasn’t why he lingered.

A booming voice projected from inside. “How many more eligible men are you going to insult?”

“I suppose it is all right with you that Lord Thornlea assaulted me.”

“He wouldn’t have approached without some signal you wanted his attention.”

“If he speaks of this to anyone, consider your reputation.” A shrill, female voice rose above the others.

“Of course he’ll blame the whole thing on me. If it wasn’t for that man who happened by—”

“What man?” The female voice rose to a glass-shattering soprano. “Someone else saw this? My lord . . .”

“A courier delivering this parcel. And a perfect gentleman.” Elisabeth’s voice modulated somewhat.

Edward struggled to keep from smiling. The country boy from Berkshire had convinced her he was a gentleman? The captain would be proud.

Lord Baxter glanced out the door at Edward and handed some notes to the footman. “Davis, compensate the chap for his . . . trouble.”

The footman stepped out, cleared his throat, and handed Edward the money. “An expression of His Lordship’s appreciation for safe delivery of the parcel.”

Edward counted quickly and hesitated. There was far too much here, and no one but he seemed to care about the poor lady who’d been manhandled. He normally stole whatever he could without a second thought. Surely, this incident wasn’t the worst thing he’d been party to. Strange, the grateful expression on Lady Elisabeth’s face seemed enough of a reward.

“The customary gratuity. Please accept the earl’s generousity.” Davis retreated inside, and the door slammed shut.

Edward wandered toward the stable where the groom had tethered the horse, mounted and glanced over his shoulder, intrigued by the pretty lady in white linen and lace with a bruise on her cheek. Her grace, spirit, and defiance interested him even more than her fortune.

Edward had made the one-hour trip each day for seven. Today, the persistence paid off. He waited on his horse behind a hedge of thorn bushes. The tree-lined path to his left wound between two pillars with ‘Apthorp’ chiseled into the stone. An open black iron gate hung ready to receive the returning hunters.

A pack of foxhounds, tongues dangling from the sides of their mouths, panted, drooled, and ambled in front. Horses’ hooves pounded the earth. The big black Edward had hired in order to appear more impressive tossed his head and danced side-to-side, wanting to join them.

“Easy, old boy.” Edward reined in and patted the animal’s neck. “We’re both well out of our element.” Not even the new gentleman’s suit, which the gratuity had paid for, and his best behaviour could disguise his origins. If the earl caught sight of him hiding like a thief there would be no chance to see or speak to Elisabeth again.

Edward watched the group go by, searching for her pretty auburn hair. His legs twitched with impatience. What if she wasn’t riding with them?

A corpulent, red-faced man, a Pink barely buttoned over his middle, led the entourage. His legs were so long they seemed to almost wrap around the dappled grey. Lord Baxter bantered with the ladies and gentlemen around him.

Elisabeth trailed behind on a red chestnut mare. Seated sidesaddle, her black jacket with a red collar was buttoned tight over a frilly blouse, and the red skirt billowed over the animal’s sides.

Edward sighed with relief and nudged his horse out of the brush. Elisabeth’s gaze fell on him, and her startled expression bloomed into a delicious purse-lipped smile. She reined in the horse. Splotches of mud dotted her boots. Perspiration dampened the curls around her face. A red-feathered cap perched fashionably askew atop her upswept burnt cinnamon tresses.

Merely looking at her sent a surge of desire through him, further dampening any mercenary aspirations. “How is the fox?”

“The poor thing,” Elisabeth said. “I just go for an opportunity to ride freely.” Her horse snorted, pranced to one side, and reared before settling. Practised hands, clad in black leather riding gloves, showed the animal who was in charge. This woman appeared delicate, but she was strong-willed and competent.

“There now, Copper. Trying to impress the gentlemen, are you?” Elisabeth rubbed the horse between the ears. The mare appeared to nod.

They both laughed.

“How do you stay in that saddle?”

“Balance and practice, Mr. Barrett.”

“Bravery and determination, Lady Baxter.”

Edward drew near enough that her boot brushed his. A faint aroma of lavender rose above the odour of sweat and leather.

“Are you from London, Mr. Barrett?”

“Berkshire, originally. Now I live wherever my ship is. We’re just back from the Orient and in port for about a month before I sail again.”

A smile spread over her face, and sparks of interest glinted in her eyes. “I’ve traveled on the Continent, but would love to see such exotic places.”

“A sailing vessel is far from comfortable.” He left off the part about smuggling and the coercion of unwitting natives into the cargo hold. There were two ways of looking at everything. Indentured servitude was just another name for slavery.

“Yes, I’m sure. Why do you persist then?”

“I hope to command a ship of my own someday.” Never mind that piracy boosted his take. He’d never shared his aspirations to rise above his farm boy heritage with anyone. Why her?

“No family?” She cocked her head to the side.

“My parents are dead. I’ve one brother, whom I rarely see. Sailors don’t have many ties.” Precisely why he’d been so successful as a mercenary, but talking about it brought a sense of melancholy for what he’d given up. His parents would not have approved, and his brother wanted nothing to do with him because of it.

“Where do you sail to next, Mr. Barrett?”

“In a fortnight we’ll be bound for America, to the city of Boston.”

“I wish I could sail to America.” The longing in her voice sounded like a plea.

“Being on a ship like mine is no life for a woman.” Every pleasure, even one as fleeting as this, was a reminder of the moral compromises he was making.

The unfortunate females who trusted they were escaping to a better life found themselves subject to the whims of drunken seamen and ruthless captains. She had no conception of the struggles of commoners, let alone the realities of life at sea.

“Perhaps, but this isn’t the kind of life I was born to have. I so enjoy being out among people, teaching the children. I want to see new things and have adventures. ‘Tis a pity I’m not a man.”

“A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t deny a poor bloke the pleasure of your company, my lady.”

“How kind of you, Mr. Barrett. I’ve seen you riding past this way much of this week. On business I assume.”

The words tangled his tongue. “Ah, well, I was concerned and wanted to see if you were all right.”

“I’ll be at a gathering in London at Hotel Kensington, Wednesday next.” Elisabeth swallowed hard. Her smile melted into a grimace and her eyes looked toward Apthorp, and the earl galloping toward them. When she looked back at Edward her expression softened, her eyes blinked. Her hands tightened on the reins.

He’d expected a punch in the mouth for interfering, but instead won the favour of a woman the likes of whom he’d never imagined would give him more than a passing glance. Perhaps she just felt sorry for him, or was bored and seeking a way to rebel against her father.

“I’ll pass by.” Edward couldn’t hold back a grin. His heart hammered in his chest. Nothing good could come of this, but yet this is just what he’d wished to happen. She flashed that demure, come-hither smile again and tossed her head back, obviously pleased.

A welcome cool breeze tousled the boughs. A pungent aroma of sap escaped as the horse’s hooves crushed pinecones.

Edward seized the opportunity to fill the subject. “Seems the weather is changing.”

“I, for one, welcome the fresh air, Mr. Barrett. This summer has been far too long.” Elisabeth glanced up as the earl, his face red with anger, thundered toward them. “You should go.”

Edward considered his options but couldn’t leave her to bear the man’s wrath alone. This time on his account. “I’ll stay until I know you’re all right.”

“Good day, Mr. Barrett.” She bowed her head, clucked, and her horse broke into a trot.

“Good day, Lady Elisabeth,” Edward called after her.

“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” Baxter brought his horse up so short the animal squealed with pain.

“Copper was limping a bit, and I stopped to rest her. This gentleman asked if I needed assistance.” Elisabeth lied with such conviction Edward almost believed her.

Something else to admire her for.

Baxter stared at Edward. His chin trembled and eyes narrowed. The Earl recognised him, despite the new clothes.

“Move along now, sir. You’ve been paid well for your trouble. I’ll see to my daughter, and the groom to the horse.” He jabbed his mount in its side and caught up to Elisabeth.

Edward guided his horse behind some bushes and watched the pair ride up the long path to the house. A groom came out, helped Elisabeth dismount first, and took the horses. She paused atop the stone steps and looked toward where he’d concealed itself. He dared not wave, lest the earl see him hidden among the brambles once again.

Elisabeth disappeared into the house. His heart sagged. Indulging this infatuation was creating numerous complications. She’d taken a risk by stopping to speak to him, let alone inviting him to meet her in London. He’d be sailing away soon, but what would happen to her if Lord Baxter found out? This game had to come to an end. He’d only been playing because the idea of that suitor pawing at her—or anyone else for that matter—resulted in a sickness in his gut not even the roughest seas had conjured. He’d see her once more to say goodbye, but there was little more he could do.

Edward directed his horse back toward London.

Teacups tinkled, spoons clanked on china, ladies and gentlemen whispered, chattered, and chortled. Edward sat alone at a table watching Elisabeth amongst a group of young women dressed in summer pastels. The perfume of blooming roses wafted through the air.

Edward caught his breath as he studied Elisabeth’s profile as she stared at a vase of white lilies, her head held high, her neck a graceful curve. Her dress spilled over the chair into a puddle of green silk. The colour of her hair reminded him of the exotic spices he’d sampled in the Far East. A string of pearls around her neck matched a set of mother of pearl combs holding the coiffure.

In the middle of the table sat a tea service, likely worth more than his entire salary for one year. The china and silver were set along with trays of sandwiches. The ladies had barely touched them, the plates without a telltale crust to show they’d been used. Their attention was fixed on a dowager speaking, and as she stood the others collected their things.

Edward tore his gaze off her and considered slipping a spoon and fork into his pocket to pawn for a few extra pounds in his pocket. Thinking better of it, he rubbed his hands against the jacket, glad the wool absorbed the perspiration. The better-bred patrons regarded him with some suspicion. Or perhaps the raised chins and narrowed gazes indicated disdain. He drained his cup, tossed the napkin aside, motioned for the waiter, and settled the bill.