Captain's Bride (38 page)

“Oh, Nicholas.”

He draped it around her neck and fastened the clasp.
“Call it a late Christmas present.”

“It’s beautiful, Nicholas. I love it. Thank you.” She
kissed his cheek. He felt the fullness of her lips, the brush of
her hair as she leaned forward. He only wished she had told him she
loved
him
as well.

His smile a little less wide, Nicholas nestled her
hand in the crook of his arm, and they headed for the stairs.

A line of carriages waited in front of the Whitmore
mansion. Yellow light beckoned through every window, upstairs and
down.

Wrapped in a white satin pelisse lined in the same
blue as the bodice of her gown, Glory accepted Nicholas’s hand and
stepped from the glistening black brougham. His own red satin-lined
cape swung out behind them as they walked. Black-clad servants took
their wraps as they entered the foyer. Crystal chandeliers
flickered overhead, and black and white marble floors glistened
beneath their feet. Nicholas kept Glory’s hand firmly tucked into
the crook of his elbow. He felt a slight tremor in her touch and
wished he could somehow make things easier.

Their host and hostess, Morgan and Celeste Whitmore,
greeted them just inside the ballroom.

“Captain Blackwell.” Morgan extended a hand. “We’re
so happy you could come. You remember my wife, Celeste.”

“Of course.” Nicholas brought her gloved fingers to
his lips. “May I present my wife, Glory?”

Celeste Whitmore barely smiled. Morgan smiled so
knowingly Nicholas wanted to hit him.

“It is an honor to meet the woman who has brought the
elusive Captain Blackwell to heel,” Morgan said.

“We’ve been looking forward to meeting you, my dear,”
Celeste put in. “Quite intrigued, in fact.”

“Thank you for inviting us” was all Glory said.

“Why don’t you go on inside?” Morgan suggested to
Nicholas. “Have some refreshment. I’m sure the others are just as
curious—I mean,
eager
—to meet your new bride as we.”

Nicholas bowed stiffly, determined to ignore the
barbs he knew his wife had not missed. He smiled down at Glory, his
gaze purposely long and warm. “Come on, love. I’m sure my
friends
are going to adore you just as much as I do.” He
caught a glimpse of Celeste Whitmore’s surprised expression as he
led Glory from the room.

The evening moved with agonizing slowness for Glory.
If it hadn’t been for Nicholas’s reassuring presence, she would
have long ago run from the room. He always seemed to be there with
just the right words, just the right look to still people’s tongues
and make them begin to wonder. When he danced with her, he had eyes
only for her. Whenever he could, he led her onto the terrace and
spoke to her in intimate whispers. Once he even kissed her. She was
sure he’d done it to make a point, for she saw several matronly
women watching from behind their plumed fans.

By the time he released her, she’d forgotten the
ladies’ existence, forgotten almost where she was. Breathless and a
little dizzy, she pressed a hand against the front of his stiff
white shirt to steady herself. “Are you certain you should be
kissing me like that?”

Nicholas chuckled, a soft rumble beneath her hand.
“It didn’t turn out exactly as I intended. It was supposed to be a
little more chaste.”

Glory blushed to her toes. “You are such a
rogue.”

“And you, love, are so damned desirable that all I
want to do is take you to bed.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Not just yet. I want to know exactly where we stand.
Will you be all right out here until I get back?”

“I promise I won’t desert.”

He kissed her cheek and headed back into the
ballroom. Lavinia Bond stopped him just a few steps inside the
door.

“Nicholas darling, shame on you. Where on earth have
you been keeping yourself?” She fluttered her thick black lashes
and looked at him over her black lace fan.

“I’m a married man now, Lavinia. Hadn’t you
heard?”

“Everyone’s heard, darling. We all know how you were
forced into it, poor dear.”

“Maybe
everyone
should take a good look at my
wife. I doubt there’s a man here who doesn’t envy me. I hardly
needed to be
forced
. Now if you’ll excuse me, Lavinia.” He
started to leave, then turned. “Isn’t that Victor over there? I’ll
tell him you’re looking for him.” With an inward smile, he walked
away.

Nicholas moved around the room, catching bits of
conversation as he passed.

“Apparently the gossips were wrong,” one
velvet-gowned matron said.

“She certainly doesn’t look like the disreputable
creature they say,” came the voice of a middle-aged man.

“I for one find her charming,” a young dandy said,
staring toward the terrace with a wistful look in his eyes.

As Nicholas awaited his turn at the punch bowl, he
heard Colonel Marcus Wilby, a rotund merchant, and Devon Howard, a
thin-lipped importer with wily eyes, in quiet conversation. Devon
chuckled softly at something the colonel said. All Nicholas caught
was the mention of his wife’s name. The next words pumped a surge
of anger through his veins.

“I’ll say one thing for her, the captain’s tart
is—”

“Good evening, Colonel,” Nicholas said, smiling
falsely, temper barely in check. “Oh, excuse me, I hope I didn’t
interrupt.”

“Not at all,” the colonel said, clearing his throat.
“As I was saying, the captain’s . . . bride is one of the most
enchanting creatures I’ve ever seen.”

This time Nicholas’s smile was genuine. “I couldn’t
agree more. I’m a fortunate man indeed.”

Devon Howard seemed surprised. “Really? Why, we’d
heard . . . that is, we weren’t quite certain of the circumstances
of your marriage.”

“That should be obvious, gentlemen. Her father and I
were friends. The marriage had long been in the planning.”

“I see.”

“We all knew Julian Summerfield,” the colonel put in.
“A fine man.”

“His daughter is a fine young woman,” Nicholas said
softly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better see to my wife before
someone tries to take my place.” Satisfied that he’d accomplished
his mission at last, he smiled and left them staring after him.

He and Glory left the ball a short time later.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad,” he teased as the carriage
rolled over the cobblestone streets.

Glory shuddered in the circle of his arms. “I’m just
glad it’s over.”

“Next time you’ll be able to enjoy yourself.”

“Next time?”

“I never intended to turn you into a recluse, Glory.
There’ll be other parties and balls. Now that people understand the
way I feel about you, they’ll treat you differently. You’ve already
won most of them over; the others will follow as soon as they get
to know you.”

“I did enjoy the dancing,” she told him.

“I have one more dance in mind just as soon as we get
home.”

Glory blushed crimson. Nicholas turned her into his
arms and captured her lips.

The dance had already begun.

Nicholas left her a few hours after sunup. She
won-dered how he could be up and dressed so early after their night
out and the hours they’d spent making love.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I’ll be back
before noon to take you to luncheon.” He headed toward the door,
calling back over his shoulder, “Cook will have breakfast ready
shortly. I can have it sent up, if you prefer.”

“No. That’s all right.” She had to face Elizabeth St.
John Blackwell alone sooner or later. It might as well be today.
“I’ll see you at noon.”

Flashing her a smile, he closed the door behind
him.

Glory rose a few minutes later, called for Cheryl,
who helped her into a day dress of mint green merino with tiny
covered buttons up the front, and headed downstairs. She passed
Bradford in the hallway on his way to the dining room. He smiled
appreciatively when he saw her, and Glory smiled at him in
return.

“My morning’s looking brighter already,” he said,
offering her his arm. They entered the dining room together.
Elizabeth perched at the head of the table, back ramrod straight,
chubby hands settled in her lap. She wore a navy blue serge day
dress; her dark hair, perfectly smooth, hung in ringlets to just
above her shoulders.

“Good morning, Mother,” Brad said, seating Glory,
then stopping to plant a kiss on his mother’s pudgy cheek.

“Good morning, Mrs. Blackwell,” Glory said. Receiving
no immediate reply, she pulled her napkin from its silver ring and
smoothed it across her lap.

“I wondered if you’d have the courage to join us
without my stepson’s overbearing presence to protect you.”

“Mother,” Brad said, “why don’t we give Glory a
chance? Get to know her a little before we pass judgment?”

At Brad’s use of “we,” Glory smiled, admiring his
tact and the way he attempted to manipulate his mother. He was
indeed the most grown-up young man she’d ever met.

“Huh!” Mrs. Blackwell scoffed. “I don’t need to know
her. I’ve already learned far more about her than I need to know.”
She lifted her head, ridding herself of an extra chin. “Just look
at her, sitting there as pious as you please, a rich husband to
smooth over her indiscretions. The woman’s a strumpet. Did you know
she blatantly slept in your stepbrother’s cabin on board his ship?
Right in front of the whole crew! Shameless, that’s what she is. A
shameless hussy!”

Glory’s temper fired. “I was forced to sleep there
against my wishes. Your stepson believed me guilty of deceiving
him, which I did not! He purposely ruined my reputation. It’s only
right he do all he can to repair the damage he caused!”

Elizabeth eyed her coldly. “Maybe you’re right,
Brad,” she said, ignoring Glory and speaking as if she weren’t
there. “I should have known that no-good stepbrother of yours was
behind all this scandal.”

Glory shoved back her chair with such force it caught
in the folds of the carpet and went crashing to the floor. “How
dare you! How dare you talk about my husband like that? Nicholas is
a fine man. He made a mistake, that’s all. He’s been good to you,
cared for you, protected you. If you ever say another word against
him, I’ll . . . I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Nicholas asked from the doorway, his
voice heavy with amusement—and more than a little affection.

Glory flushed beet red. When she turned back to
Elizabeth, she noted Brad’s secret smile along the way. “I’ll
implore my husband to abandon you and to remove you from his house,
which he should have done years ago.” Elizabeth’s bravado withered.
“Why, I never—” She rose from her chair. “If you’ll excuse me,
Brad, I have some menus to plan.” Without a backward glance, she
marched indignantly from the room.

“I’m sorry you were caught up in the middle of this,
Brad,” Glory said a bit contritely. “None of this is your
fault.”

“It’s all right, Glory. Mother has needed that for
some time. Unfortunately, neither my brother nor I have the courage
to speak up to her.”

Glory glanced at Nicholas, who had picked up the
fallen chair and was waiting for her to reclaim her seat. Glory sat
down and returned her attention to Brad. Nicholas took the seat
beside her.

“I wouldn’t really do that,” she said. “Encourage
Nicholas to throw your mother out, I mean. That’s none of my
affair. She just made me so mad I lost my temper.”

“A wife is supposed to defend her husband,” Brad
said, causing Glory to blush a second time.

Nicholas grinned but said nothing.

Servants brought coffee and served platters of eggs
and bacon. The smells mingled, and Glory’s stomach growled. “I
thought you wouldn’t be back till noon,” she said to Nicholas as
she lifted her silver fork.

“I came to see if Brad would substitute for me at
luncheon. Both
Black Witch
and
Black Diamond
are in
port. There are some cargo adjustments I’d like to make.”

“I’d love to take Glory to luncheon, if she can stand
to be away from you that long.” His teasing note made Glory
smile.

“I think I can survive for a few hours.”

“I’m afraid it’s going to be longer than that,”
Nicholas said. “We have a chance to win a contract with an Albany
manufacturer. I want to accompany Max Faulkner to Albany to make
arrangements. Make sure he can handle the negotiations. I’ll come
back as quickly as I can. Then we can return to Tarrytown.”

Glory felt lonely already. “How long will you be
gone?”

“No more than four days, five at most. I wouldn’t go
at all, but the sooner Max takes over, the more time we’ll have
together.”

Glory nodded. They finished the meal in silence; then
Nicholas stood and bussed her on the cheek. “I’ll pack a few things
and be right down.”

He returned with a small carpetbag and Glory walked
him to the front door. “I’ll miss you,” she told him.

“And I you. More than you’ll ever know.” Standing on
the wide brick steps, he watched her, his hand coming up to touch
her cheek. “Tell me you love me.”

She wanted to. How she wanted to. “I . . .” She wet
her lips. It was the final commitment. “I . . .” Nicholas kissed
her until her knees went weak.

“Stay out of trouble till I get back,” he teased, but
she didn’t miss the note of sadness in his voice. Glory watched as
his long strides carried him down the brick path to the street
where a pair of matched bays nickered in front of the waiting
carriage and pawed the cobblestones. Nicholas climbed into the
brougham, and the carriage rolled away.

“How about a walk?” Brad said, seeing her forlorn
expression as he walked up beside her. “The crocuses are beginning
to bloom.”

“Yes. I saw them yesterday. They’re lovely. I’d enjoy
a walk very much.”

Grabbing a light cashmere shawl against the
still-brisk air, Glory accepted Brad’s arm and walked with him into
the garden. Bright sunlight sparkled on the rows of blue and white
crocuses. A red-breasted robin perched atop the garden wall. Glory
thought of the lovely gardens at Black-well Hall and realized with
a start she had come to think of the estate in Tarrytown as her
home.