The Trouble With Misbehaving. Victoria Hanlen

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       Chapter 7

      C.C. breathed in the clean fragrance of beeswax and inwardly sighed as the innkeeper led them to their rooms. They’d finally made it halfway to London. She rubbed her aching temple. Sharing her new, well-appointed coach with the wily captain had been anything but comfortable.

      The crafty-tongued rascal had presented a fine show of nonchalance, but clearly he felt threatened. All day he treaded the edges of propriety, alternately making her laugh and irritating her. Initially, she’d been embarrassed by her dog’s bad behavior. After the day she’d endured, she was now glad Fosco had the sense to bite him.

      This could not go on. Somehow she had to find a middle ground. They’d a long journey ahead, and she suspected his annoying insinuations would escalate until he’d worked off some of his vexation.

      “Will you join me for dinner, perhaps in half an hour?” she asked, right before the proprietor showed the captain to his room.

      “Of course,” Beau said blandly.

      She almost asked if he’d prefer a tray sent up. But they needed to build some sort of esprit de corps. It tired her to even think about parrying his sly verbal swordplay all the way to North Carolina.

      Within half an hour she’d arranged for her servant’s meals, scraps for the dogs, a hasty cleanup and now sat at a quiet table in the corner of the dining room. Dark wood paneling, small vases of flowers and candlelight gave the room an ambiance made for intimate liaisons.

      Even with the room’s warmth, a cold draft seemed to thread around her ankles. She’d never had an intimate meal with a man and certainly not at an inn. She peered around the half-filled room. Thank goodness no one looked familiar. A supper alone here with Captain Tollier would certainly set tongues wagging.

      She clasped her hands in front of her, prayer-like. Perhaps a prayer or two might help. A possibility still existed that he might refuse to take her through the blockade. Hopefully, a supper alone would allow them more freedom to talk. Given his sly remarks today, the very thought of a private conversation with him sent butterflies flitting around her growling stomach.

      By the time he entered the dining room her knuckles had turned white. He’d changed his shirt and raked his hair into place with what appeared to be fingers and water. Her jaw went slack. Few men could wear disheveled with so much appeal.

      “Good evening, Captain,” she finally managed. “Please join me. I trust you found everything you needed in your room.”

      “Yes, thank you.” He made an abbreviated bow and sat.

      An uncomfortable silence ensued. Since they’d arrived at the inn his mood had made a radical change from banter and barbs to taciturn contemplation.

      After ordering, C.C. searched for an innocuous subject of conversation. The butterflies now seemed to have grown mallets for wings. “Did you ride much as a child?” She picked up a lemon wedge and squeezed it into her glass of water, then tasted the mixture.

      The captain’s long brows drew into mismatched furrows. He sipped his ale, slowly washed it around his mouth and licked the foam from his lips. Without preamble, he drawled, “What did you do that was so unforgivable they exiled you from New York City?”

      Water caught in her throat and she nearly choked. “You don’t shy away from sensitive subjects, do you, Captain?” She coughed.

      “I am merely following your lead of this morning. It’s been on the tip of my tongue all day. I gathered you might not want your maid overhearing. Since you seem to know so much about me, it would only be fair I know something of you.”

      Pulling her kerchief from the wrist of her sleeve, she dabbed her lips. “And you go straight to the most disagreeable, darkest part. Must we start with such uncivil questions?”

      “My apologies,” he said, although he didn’t look or sound all that apologetic. He ran his finger around the rim of his tankard. “I presume you did something more than dash down Broadway at high noon in nothing but your bonnet.”

      Before she could jam her kerchief to her lips, a startled squeak escaped. She quickly glanced around the room. “I’m not proud of my actions at that time and never discuss them.”

      One side of his mouth quirked; an evil twinkle flashed. “Never?”

      She clenched her teeth to keep from laughing. The man’s shocking, devilish way of asking questions tickled when it should have stung.

      He leaned forward, his voice ironic. “Do you think I’m in any position to judge you?”

      She drew in an uneasy breath. He spoke the truth. As painful and embarrassing as her mistakes had been, from what she knew of Captain Tollier and his lengthy résumé of misconduct, her list of folly might not give him even a twitch of discomfort.

      He leaned back placidly, awaiting her answer.

      For ten years she’d kept those secrets locked away. She didn’t need to tell him. It probably wasn’t even wise. Staying in her old room at Grancliffe reminded her how long it had been. One-third of her life had passed since. But if revealing one or two misdeeds would establish some common ground with him and help her family, then so be it.

      She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. Clearly her mind and body disagreed. “Let’s discuss something else. It’s old history and not pertinent to the voyage ahead of us.”

      He leaned in, his jaw hardening. “I disagree. It is highly relevant to our journey.” His voice took on a tone of implacable determination, and his bright aqua-blue eyes intensified like they had in the long gallery. She had no doubt he’d used similar intimidation on stubborn crewmembers to great effect.

      Though he’d not said it aloud, the implication was clear. If she didn’t tell him what he wanted to know, he might not take her through the blockade. Time was running out. If he backed out now she didn’t know what she’d do.

      Her butterflies flew into a hammering frenzy.

      She took a big gulp of water, gazed at her kerchief and began working it into knots. “At nineteen I was one of the most sought-after debutantes in New York City. She cut a quick glance his direction. “I was also a very spoiled, privileged only child, and extremely sheltered from the ways of the world. Back then I had an unrealistic optimism and naïveté that I could have anything I wanted. My blunders ruined my reputation and that of my parents.”

      The knotted kerchief bit into her hand. Untying it, she checked his expression. The captain had eased back into his chair, but his jaw hadn’t softened. The slight pursing of his lips and intense gaze indicated he was waiting for her to continue.

      She took another big gulp of water. “In those days I was the perfect hostess and lady. My mother was a stickler for propriety and respectability, you see. When gentlemen called, I made polite conversation, tried to put them at ease, patiently listened to them, and always took СКАЧАТЬ