The Trouble With Misbehaving. Victoria Hanlen

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      The captain shifted in his seat and raised the tankard to eye her over its rim. His gaze became an even more intense blue, compelling her to explain, “Making a spectacular match is the goal of any well brought up young lady.”

      “Of course.”

      “It may sound boastful, but back then I could have had first pick of any one of the best young men. Instead, I became embroiled in a very public…love triangle.” Her disgust at the memory and what she’d admitted made her want to crawl under the table.

      “Did the gentlemen kill each other?” he asked blandly.

      Her stays bit into her sides as she squelched a laugh. “Nooo,” she whispered. “He chose the other woman.” Her tense throat muscles strained against attempts to pull in air. When finally able to breathe again, she searched the captain’s face. His expression had turned to polite, courteous indifference, tending toward boredom.

      “Did you kill her?” he asked, deadpan.

      The question so surprised her, a high titter escaped before she could clap a hand over her mouth. While she struggled to curb her laughter, he studied her.

      “You killed him?”

      His question, delivered with such casualness, brought forth an even louder peal. Such ridiculousness seemed to pry open a small door. Years of pent-up secrets and lonely regrets bubbled toward the exit and fought her attempts to curb her amusement. The sudden loss of control nearly sent her off her chair into a heap of hysterics on the dining room floor. She hugged her middle with one hand and covered her mouth with the other. Even so, with each forward rock, mirth escaped through her nose.

      A few diners in the nearly empty room looked up from their meals and began to stare.

      Captain Tollier tipped his tankard to his mouth and gazed at her with dispassionate calm.

      She took another big gulp of water to squelch the giggles. “No, Captain, I did not kill him either.”

      He looked skeptical, but a gleam formed in his eye. “There was blood, though, lots of blood?”

      She bit a knuckle.

      Tsking, he whispered, “No blood at all?”

      “I did not say that.”

      “I’m relieved to hear it. Now tell me the particulars.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Did you use your fists, a knife or a gun?”

      She shook her head. The inner wounds had healed, but as she’d suspected, discussing how they got there threatened their reopening. “Have you ever been in a raging hurricane, and the only thing you could do was find a way to outlast it. More than anything, I now regret how my naïve, ignorant actions harmed more than myself.”

      His aqua-blue gaze deepened to cobalt. “Are you still in love with him?”

      She stifled a groan. “Dear me. It’s been ten years. I’ve no idea what’s become of him. By now he’s probably fat and bald, with a chronic case of gout and a passel of brats.”

      The captain sat in silence, appearing to mull things over. His teeth worked back and forth over one side of his lower lip. “I’m of a mind we can’t choose the ones we love. As cruel as it feels, I think they are put in our path to lay raw the parts of ourselves that could not be changed or understood any other way.”

      “Why, Captain Tollier, I did not realize you were such a sanguine philosopher.”

      A slow smile pulled at his mouth. “You seem surprised. If things had gone as otherwise planned, you might have been sitting here confessing to a man of the cloth. Fortunately, I was forced down a path more suited to my…talents.”

      ***

      Once they’d finished their meal, Beau followed C.C. up the staircase, still thinking about her admission. Doubtless, she’d struggled through the condensed version of a much longer story. Her difficulty discussing her scandal said pain and remorse had buried the details deep. Secrets locked inside for so long tended to rust in place. Sometimes they had to be chipped away bit by bit. Still, her description of events, though scandalous, didn’t sound as bad as he might have expected, and they hardly justified exile. There had to be more to the tale. What wasn’t she telling him?

      He fully believed she’d been the leading debutante in New York and could have chosen any of the best young men. Even acting a nutter, men continued to pursue her. So why did she waste her time in a love triangle with another woman over the same man?

      For her lapse in judgment, she not only didn’t get the man she wanted, she’d also been shipped off to rusticate in another country. Such drastic measures often came with an untimely pregnancy. While his brother advised him against getting mixed up with C.C., he’d not even hinted she’d been with child. Could this have been another delicate situation his family concealed?

      When they reached the second floor, the words slipped out. “Did he get you with child?”

      C.C. gasped and quickly peered around the empty corridor. “Of course not!” she hissed. “That is the most brazen question anyone has ever asked!”

      “Maybe so, but somehow you know of my mistress, my son…and their deaths. Shouldn’t I be equally well informed about you?”

      “So you retaliate with insult, Captain?”

      “More along the lines of establishing a baseline of knowledge about one another.” C.C. probably didn’t know how lucky she’d been. Her lover’s lack of fecundity prevented even more despair. Clearly the scandal still hurt and humiliated. But admitting she regretted deeds that devastated her life and that of others had moved him. It took real courage to own up to one’s mistakes. He knew well that familiar territory.

      No wonder she kept most men at a distance. He’d be willing to bet the man in her love triangle had pursued her until she’d finally weakened. Beau had known men who’d made sport of making certain unattainable women fall in love with them.

      They used them badly and then boasted of their conquest while tossing them aside. For some reason, knowing of her internal scars gave her external perfection more dimension. Life’s knocks had forged a hard center, and he was curious to know how many more layers lay between.

      Tenderness wound through his heart. Admiration for C.C. had taken root in the oddest of places. Places he’d never considered romantic or even desirable between a man and woman. Yet at this moment, he felt a kinship. Like him, she’d endured disastrous, life-changing blunders and mustered the strength to admit her remorse.

      Upon reaching her door, Beau leaned in for a kiss.

      C.C. straightened abruptly. “Good night, Captain.” The curt note in her voice and unyielding body language reined in his amorous advance.

      Somewhat crestfallen, he made a slight bow. “Good night, madam.”

      While unlocking his door, an unmistakable chill strafed Beau’s shoulders. Peering behind him, a rather nondescript fellow climbed the stairs. It was the man from the supper room who’d been scribbling in a journal over dinner. On reaching the top step, the bloke abruptly turned the opposite direction down the СКАЧАТЬ