Keturah Page 8

  “In so many words,” Philip said, sitting down on his cot, still assessing Gray. This far into their voyage, much of their long-standing formality was slowly eroding away into comfortable familiarity, and that was fine by Gray.

  “May I ask why you did not give the book to Lady Tomlinson yourself?” the man asked.

  “Because Lady Tomlinson wants nothing at all from me,” he said with a sigh. “Or so she believes.” He bent to dip his pen in the inkwell and quickly sketched three more lines on his plans for a new millwork.

  “Not even the loan of a book?”

  “Not from me,” Gray said. He took a compass from a pile of drafting tools on the cot and made an arc to indicate where the edge of the kiln would be, even as it made him think of the circle of the train of Keturah’s bronze gown dragging behind her.

  “I see. But have you two not been friends since childhood? It seems to me that when I arrived at your father’s estate, you were fairly inseparable.”

  Gray stopped and looked up at him. “We were. But once we came of age … that all faded. And her marriage to Lord Tomlinson was less than ideal, souring her to anything that feels like a man’s attempt to guide her again.”

  “I see,” Philip said soberly.

  “I complicated matters when I went to call upon her at Hartwick, right before we departed. A servant allowed me in and then was called away, so I followed the sound of voices to the parlor. She and her cousin Cecil were in an argument.”

  “You eavesdropped?” Philip’s graying brows lifted in surprise.

  “Only for a moment. But long enough to know that Cecil desperately wanted her to allow him to go in her stead—or at the very least, allow a man to accompany her. I foolishly chose that moment to enter, volunteering to do as Cecil wished, to serve as guardian.”

  It was Philip’s turn to sigh. “And the lady did not take it well.”

  “No, she did not.” He set aside the lap desk and ran his fingers through his hair. “Now she sees me as yet another meddling man in her life. Someone who wishes to control her rather than merely come to her aid in any manner necessary. I do not believe one person, aside from her sisters, agreed with her plan to sail to Nevis. Truth be told, I doubt it myself. And there we shall be neighbors.”

  “Better you than a thousand other men,” Philip grumbled, looking troubled.

  “But there is much for her to learn. Do you think she might like to read other volumes from my library?” Gray asked.

  “Oh yes, we already agreed to such an arrangement. As soon as I finish one book, I shall pass it along to her.”

  “Excellent, excellent,” Gray said, his smile returning. His plan was coming along better than he’d hoped. If she indeed read the ten books he’d brought along with him, she’d have at least half the information he’d learned over the last year. “I’ll warn you, she’s an astute learner and a fast reader,” he said to Philip.

  “Then I best light a candle and resume my reading without delay,” his friend said with a wink.

  It was Selah and Verity who convinced Keturah to relent and return to the captain’s dinner table, a week after their grim exchange with the first mate. Mr. Burr had made a brief attempt of apology the day after it happened—clearly only doing so to honor his captain’s command. After that, he seemed intent on ignoring them. So when Captain McKintrick approached and invited them to supper that night, Keturah thought she was ready.

  “You are most kind, Captain,” she said, watching as the big man’s eyes drifted to Verity behind her. “Might I ask another favor of you?”

  “Anything, m’lady,” he said.

  “After supper, might you escort us about the deck? I know you wish for us to remain confined to our quarters come sundown, but with proper escort, might we not be allowed to watch the sunset? See the sea reflecting the stars?”

  Keturah resolutely waited. She knew Captain McKintrick had felt their refusal to return to his table as a sort of chastisement. He was eager to make amends. And to be free of their cabins fairly any time they wished would be a relief. Their quarters were tiny, and a week into their voyage, all three of them were already suffering from taut nerves. She’d imagined watching the sun descend into the sea, leaving the sky stained with the remnants of its path, giving gradual sway to a tapestry of stars. She kept that image fixed in her mind as she awaited the captain’s response. Apparently, it would require some bargaining.

  What did he fear? Surely the crew would be as courteous to them at night as they were during the day.

  “I do not wish to confine ye lasses,” McKintrick finally said, his ruddy cheeks becoming a bit more red as Verity stepped up beside her sister. “’Tis only that the crew is allowed an extra mug of grog after supper, and they tend to be a tad more rowdy come sunset. I dinna wish for any of them to offend any of ye.”

  “What if we employ the aid of two of our male servants to accompany us? That is, if you are not available.”

  That seemed to ease his mind a bit, so Keturah pressed further. “Shortly before we embarked, I read in the Times that daily walks are most edifying for a woman’s state of mind as well as for her physique. Would it not be a credit to you and your ship if we arrived in Nevis in finer health than when we departed?”

  “Oh, we’d be ever so grateful, Captain,” Verity put in.

  “And we’d tell everyone we meet of your kindness,” Selah added, joining them.

  Blushing even more furiously than before, he said, “Very well. But your slaves will not be enough, I fear.” He paused and shook his head. “Some of my crew dinna respect any but a white man as your protector. Enlist Mr. Covington and his man Philip, or the tutor Smith. Even Wood and Callender, if ye can stomach their company.”

  Keturah smiled at that, even as the inference made her angry. They were safer in the gamblers’ company than on their own? But if this was what the captain required to remove the only measure of confinement they faced … “They are rather like rowdy boys more than gentlemen, are they not?”

  “True,” he said with a wink.

  “We shall do as you say. After sundown, if we should wish for a stroll, we shall request the aid of our fellow passengers. Now, thank you kindly for the dinner invitation, Captain, and your attention to our needs,” she added, pausing in the doorframe. “We must prepare to attend you and your other guests this evening. See you shortly?”

  He stood there looking at her as if he already regretted the decision. Before he could change his mind, Keturah gave him a sweet smile, tucked her head, and quietly closed the door.

  Turning to her sisters, the three of them shared excited glances, holding their collective breath until they heard the telltale squeak of a board outside the door, indicating the captain had departed.

  “You did it!” Verity said, squeezing her hand and sinking gratefully onto the cot. “Tonight we can finally be out.”

  “We shall sleep so deeply after an evening stroll,” Selah added dreamily, flopping down onto her bed and putting her wrist across her forehead.

  “I think we three must take time to fix our hair and wear our finest tonight to celebrate,” Keturah said, clapping her hands together. “Make the captain and his crew glad that we have left the confines of our cabins and welcome our company past sundown. Do you not agree?”

  “Oh yes!” Verity said. Then she narrowed her eyes at her sister. “Or is it for Mr. Covington that you wish to dress in your finest?”

  “Verity!” Keturah chastised with a frown. “You know better than that.”

  “Why ever not? Did not learning of his dedication to his studies earn him some respect in your mind?”

  Keturah shook her head and moved toward the door again. “I do not wish to discuss it.”

  “You do not wish to discuss it because you think you might have judged him unfairly.”

  “Sissy …” Selah whined, not wishing for an argument to brew.

  But Verity stared solemnly at Keturah when Ket glanced back at her. Keturah licked her
lips and drew in a deep breath. “It seems I may have been judging Gray by his past rather than his present. Now, might you leave it at that?”

  Verity gave her a barely concealed smug smile and single nod. “Shall I call for Grace to attend us? Help with our hair and our dresses?”

  Keturah pulled a pocket watch from her waistband. “No need to call for her. She should be by to check on us at any moment. I think I shall lie down for a bit before we begin our ministrations. See you soon, sisters.” She didn’t spare them another glance or opportunity to speak. It was enough—Ver’s challenge, her admission.

  As she unlocked her cabin door and slipped inside, then saw the borrowed book on her cot, she felt a pang of regret. And fear. Only partway through the volume, she was well aware of how much she had yet to learn.

  She slumped to her cot and let her head sink into her hands, closing her eyes and thinking of handsome, quick-witted Gray Covington. One of her oldest friends. She knew Verity pressed because she knew that, as a girl, Ket had dreamed of something more with Gray. But once they were of age, he’d never had eyes for her. Always it was the other girls in the room, those prettier, more petite and coquettish. He’d made her feel more like an old fishing mate than a romantic interest. Until …

  She lifted her head and stared at the dancing flame of the lamp hanging in the corner of her cabin. The gentle sway of it, rocked by the massive waves rolling beneath the ship, reminded her of the men and women dancing at that ball in London, when she was the secretly bruised bride of the Earl of Avaline and she’d come face-to-face with her old friend.

  He’d been so frightfully handsome, setting her heart to pattering when she spotted him enter the room. And when he approached her, took both hands in his, and brought them to his lips? Eyes shining as if she were the best thing he’d seen in months? With question after question, earnestly wanting to know much of her new life?

  It had been all she could do not to pull him away to the gardens, confess to him what a nightmare her marriage was, and beg him to secretly escort her back to Hartwick Manor under cover of darkness. In that moment, she had fancied him her rescuer, her longed-for prince, at last awakened from his slumber to discover he was truly in love with her, there to make all that had gone so wrong, right again.

  But that had not been his intent, of course. He was a friend, nothing more. Merely interested in renewing their acquaintance, perhaps calling upon her at Clymore Castle, curious where her advantageous match had landed her. Something to chat about with others at future soirees. Have you heard what has become of our dear Keturah?

  So she had lifted her chin, answered his queries with the briefest of responses, politely asking him some of her own. It was there that she learned he intended to go to Oxford. But in her rush to cover her embarrassment, she had not asked about his goals, only assumed it was to cavort among a new social sector. How rash I was then …

  Keturah sighed heavily, remembering that he’d requested she join him on the dance floor. How she’d glanced Edward’s way, saw he was talking and laughing with two other gentlemen, and agreed, knowing with a sick feeling in her gut that it was a mistake.

  Then Gray had placed a hand on her back to lead her to the floor, and the gesture made her suck in a pained breath.

  “Keturah, what is it?” he asked, those dark blue eyes searching hers in concern as he turned toward her. “Are you hurt?”

  “’Tis nothing,” she’d insisted, urging him with a press of her fingertips to lead her into the allemande dance that everyone else had begun. “I in my clumsiness managed to hit my back on a table corner yesterday,” she said quietly, just over the strings of the musicians.

  “I see,” he said. And yet when she chanced another glance to his face, she felt as if he had seen far more than she intended.

  They finished the dance in silence, each of them taking the steps of the dance—Keturah in rote fashion, too aware of his inquisitive gaze upon her, too aware of the intimacies of the allemande—the stroke of her hair, his hand brushing her lower back, searching for hers as they turned … intimacies that, if Edward were watching, would infuriate him. Even though every other couple on the floor was doing the same. At the end, Gray had bowed, she’d curtsied, then blanched at the sight of Edward hovering behind him, awaiting the next dance.

  Gray had clearly seen her pale and followed her gaze to her husband. But he had no recourse—he could do nothing but nod in deference and leave them.

  And when Edward placed his hand on her back for the next dance, she almost cried out. It was no accident that he dug his fingers into the area he well knew was bruised from hip to rib, because it was where he had kicked her, after he’d thrown her to the floor of their bedroom. Silently, he reminded her that it could well happen again, if she displeased him.

  And that night after he’d found Keturah dancing with Gray—

  A quick knock sounded at her door, startling Keturah out of her reverie. She shook her head, trying to drive away the foul memory. Grace unlaced her day dress and helped her into a royal blue gown, then did her hair, chattering on about how the “boys” had been allowed to climb all the way to the crow’s nest today, more as a game of chance for the sailors and two gentlemen passengers who bet on three of them than as a favor to Cuffee, Edwin, and Absalom. All the while, Keturah fought to keep her mind and heart in the present rather than in the past.

  It is over, she told herself.

  Edward is dead.

  You are free.

  You are healing. You have a vision of a different future now. Hope. Hold that in your heart. Drive away those old, bad memories.

  It is over.

  Over.

  Over.

  Edward and England are behind you.

  And no man will ever hurt you again.

  Chapter Seven

  Grace unpinned her hair, ran an ivory comb through it, and then rapidly pinned it again in a bigger, more dramatic fashion. “Lady Ket,” she said, placing dark hands on her shoulders, “are you feeling quite right?”

  “Me?” Keturah stirred out of her reverie for the tenth time. “Oh yes. Only a mite weary, I suspect.”

  “You need a proper supper with the captain to revive you,” said her kindly maid.

  “Let us hope we fare better than last week.”

  “Ahh, you most surely will. The way I’ve heard tell of it, the captain was most sorry for the way the mate mistreated you.”

  Keturah smiled and rose, liking the swish of crinoline and silk, letting her skirt settle about her. Grace clasped her favorite pearl necklace about her neck, then stepped back. “Lady Ket, you get prettier and prettier. I think this voyage is doing you good, giving you that pink to your cheeks while the rest of us remain a fair shade of green.” She giggled, knowing any such color would be hard to decipher on her dark skin. “Well, you know what I mean.”

  “I do,” Ket said, reaching out to take her hand. “Forgive me, Grace. Have many of you been suffering?”

  “Ah, well, me only once or twice a day. But Gideon? That man can’t seem to get out of his hammock other than to turn and retch.”

  “How awful.” Keturah realized she hadn’t seen the man all week. She felt like a poor mistress indeed for not noticing his absence. And yet with their relative confinement and simple daily itinerary, there had been little use for anyone other than Grace and Primus to attend them. “Do you suppose he shall spend the entire voyage so ill?”

  “Some of the sailors say that if a body doesn’t adjust to the sea in the first few days, that body isn’t likely to do so. But do not fret over him, Lady Ket. We’ll see to him. There’s little else for us to do aboard this ship. Once we get to the islands, Gideon will make a quick recovery. You shall see.”

  “If you’re certain …” Keturah said, allowing her to open the door. “But you will fetch me if he takes a turn for the worse?”

  “Of course, Lady Ket,” said the maid, fairly shooing her along.

  Her sisters’ door opened then t
oo, and the two of them joined Keturah in the passageway.

  ———

  Gray had heard the second mate mention that the Ladies Banning were to join the gentlemen again at supper, and the first mate was sure to be on his best behavior. Pleased with the promise that feminine company would elevate the demeanor of their nightly affair, he allowed Philip to unpack a fresh set of clothes—breeches, shirt, neckcloth, and coat. They’d only packed six sets of clothing for him in the trunk that resided in their room, carefully allotting one change per week.

  It was with some relief that he retired the sweat-stained set from the previous week, bathed as well as he could, and dressed. He felt like a new man. But as he studied his reflection in the tiny black-flecked mirror that hung on the cabin wall and tied his neckcloth, he knew his stomach clenched with anticipation for one reason: to be near Keturah.

  All week he’d studiously avoided her. When he spotted the sisters abovedecks, he sequestered himself below. When they were in their shared passageway, he hid around the corner or in his cabin until he could walk the same route alone. Now, as he entered the captain’s dining room, he was intensely curious if Keturah had even noticed his absence.

  Mr. Wood and Mr. Callender greeted him, eagerly pumping his hand as if they hadn’t seen him just that morn. It did not escape him that just as the ladies entered, Wood edged over to his right, pushing him toward the empty seat on his left, opposite the two empty chairs across the table—the three seats the women would inevitably take. The man seemed to be seizing the opportunity to try to bring Gray and Keturah together.

  While it grated on Gray—he’d much rather have the chair between them—it was too late to do anything about it. And he didn’t object to the opportunity so much that he would allow Callender to slide between them.

  Mr. Burr ended the shenanigans. The first mate pulled out a chair in the center of the table and looked expectantly to Ket. Then he gestured to the two others across from hers for her sisters. Callender and Wood were there to help them bring their chairs forward, and then all the rest took their seats.