Love and Adventure Collection - Part 1 (Love and Adventure Boxed Sets) Read online

  Thus applied to, Captain Thorpe threw a glance tinged with contempt at de Gruys. “There is space enough, yes, but may I remind you that this is not a pleasure outing? The list of things which can go wrong is endless. The existence of Robeaud cannot be a complete secret. If he is recognized in England and picked up by the authorities, everyone with him will also be subject to arrest. Suppose a guard or some official becomes suspicious at Longwood? You will be lucky if arrest is your only danger in that event. And, what if the unthinkable happens and the exchange is discovered? If it occurs while he is aboard the East Indiaman, that will be the end of it. If he is traced to the Sea Jade, then we may be able to elude the British warships, but we will probably be prevented from putting into our port of call, forced to run before constant danger.”

  “You would prefer to make this voyage alone after all, captain?” Julia asked, her chin high as she made the challenge.

  “I would certainly prefer to make it without a woman aboard,” Captain Thorpe countered, his voice as hard as his eyes.

  Julia opened her mouth to reply, but her father fore stalled her. “We are happy to know where you stand, captain,” he said smoothly. “I am sure that if we decide to go we will absolve you of all responsibility for our safety.”

  “I am afraid that will not be possible,” the captain returned. “Once you are on my ship I become accountable for your well-being, whether you wish it or not.”

  “It is good to know you take your duties so seriously,” M’sieu Dupré said, though Julia did not think he looked at all pleased.

  “I, for one, have no wish whatever to risk my comfort on this journey,” M’sieu Fontane said. “However, I fail to see that the presence of M’sieu Dupré and his daughter, or for that matter of M’sieu de Gruys, will affect the outcome of the voyage one way or the other. Le bon Dieu knows the price of the passages will be high enough.”

  It might have been thought that the banker was referring to the cost in anxiety and nervous apprehension for the success of the mission. Those around the table were under no such illusion. They all knew that M’sieu Charles Dupré, using the great wealth gained from his sugar plantation, Beau Bocage, was the heaviest investor in the expedition, with Marcel de Gruys a close second.

  The captain leaned back, a scowl drawing his heavy brows together. The banker’s meaning was not lost on him. If he had not realized before who held the purse strings, he did now. That it went against the grain to allow monetary matters to order his policies was plain, but after a moment, he gave a short nod.

  “Very well, then. Don’t forget you were warned. We sail for England within the week. Anyone not on board the Sea Jade when we weigh anchor will be left behind.”

  Julia wanted to protest. As much as she wanted to go, she had not dreamed they would be leaving so soon. The time was too short. She would not only have to assemble clothing and other belongings for months at sea, but also prepare for a climate vastly different from that of southern Louisiana. Moreover, she would have to oversee her father’s wardrobe, cancel their engagements for the remainder of the season, close the house in the city, and see that the plantation house at Beau Bocage did not suffer from their absence. It could not be done, she thought, until she saw the sardonic expectation in Rudyard Thorpe’s eyes. She forced a smile to her lips. It would be done, she vowed. She would do it all and arrive on board the ship well within the allotted time if it killed her!

  General Montignac was on his feet. “To the emperor!” he cried. “And to those who will sail to set him free!”

  When the chorus of voices had died away, Julia pushed her chair back, rising to join the men, who were already standing. “Forgive me, gentlemen,” she said, “but I must return to my guests or they will think I have deserted them. I trust you will not be long in following?”

  “Certainly not, ma chére,” her father answered. The general and M’sieu Fontane indicated their compliance with a smile. De Gruys lifted his glass as she turned away.

  “Messieurs, I propose a toast to the most beautiful Bonapartist in New Orleans!” he exclaimed.

  Julia laughed, swinging back to drop a curtsy as glasses were raised, enjoying the warmth of the admiration and approval directed toward her. But, as she left them and started back along the rainswept gallery, it was the brilliant blue gaze of Captain Rudyard Thorpe that remained with her. Admiration there might have been in it, but if so it was neither warm nor approving. It was instead cool, and touched with a deliberate appraisal.

  2

  The sedan chair swayed along the muddy street. Rain lashed in windblown sheets at its glass windows, obscuring the forms of street vendors and pedestrians huddled beneath the protection of the overhanging galleries. Though it was still early in the evening, the coffee houses and cafés spilled lamplight into the street, bright, warm beacons to the chilled and damp unfortunates who had to be out in the dismal weather.

  Inside the chair, Julia clung to the velvet hand loop, her lips compressed into a thin line as she peered through the fogged glass. Her father had said that he would meet her at their home on Royal Street before proceeding to board the Sea Jade. He had gone out to the Café des Ameliorations, to bid au revoir to his friends there over an apéritif. Julia had waited nearly three hours for his return, but when he still had not put in an appearance she decided to go down to the levee without him. It would not do to present Captain Thorpe with an excuse to leave without them. True, the Baltimore clipper was not due to sail until the morning, but the Englishman, to the highest degree reluctant to have them on his ship, might seize on any pretext to deny them passage.

  Charles Dupré was not the most punctual of men. Time, whether his own or that of others, meant little to him. Still, it was not like him to delay his coming so long. He treated his daughter as he would any other gently bred female, with a certain reverence and an exaggerated concern for her peace of mind. Something of an unusual nature must have occurred to keep him from at least sending a messenger to explain the delay.

  As Julia craned her neck, peering up and down the street, the front bearer of the sedan chair slipped in the muddy street. The chair lurched forward, throwing Julia from the cushioned seat into the glass. With an unlady-like sound of wrath she picked herself up and flung herself back on the seat. She ached in every muscle from the unaccustomed labor of the past few days. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep and the candle smoke of her midnight toil. These last days had been a nightmare. Though her fingers were permanently stained, she feared, from the ink of the hundreds of missives she had sent flying here and there all over town, she was by no means certain she had accounted for all their obligations. The packed trunks and boxes were following along behind the chair in a wagon, but she could not claim to know what all of them held. Her maid of fifteen years, Minna, a faithful and dependable henchwoman, had been distracted by the tidings, after seven years of marriage to the Dupré butler, that she was to be a mother for the first time. The woman had gone around in a daze, her mind occupied with visions of tiny white garments rather than the clothing of her master and mistress. It was obviously impractical for an expectant mother to set out on an ocean voyage of several months’ duration, another problem. Rather than face the task of training a new maid, a young girl who would no doubt be seasick and unhappy once they reached the chill climate of England, Julia had decided to fend for herself. She would miss her maid, of course, but she had often done her own hair and dressed herself. The main problem would be seeing to her own laundering. No doubt something could be arranged; it would have to be.

  Table linens, cutlery, bed linen, toilet articles, an outfitted writing box, playing cards, visiting cards — these and a dozen other items had been bought and packed, and yet the inescapable feeling that she had forgotten something nagged at the back of Julia’s mind. She was damp and chilled from standing about in the courtyard waiting for the sedan chair to be summoned. If her father had come the carriage would have been put to for the short drive to the levee, but as it w
as, that vehicle had to be left behind in case her father returned after she had set out.

  The chair came to a halt. Gathering up her reticule and scent box and pulling her cloak of blue velvet about her, Julia looked out. The bulk of a ship rose above her. Its sleek hull was painted black, with a white band above the waterline edged in scarlet. Upon the band was set in script the name of the vessel. Beneath the bowsprit, which thrust out over the levee, was the figurehead. It was a surprisingly delicate piece of wood sculpture, the torso of a woman, the flowing mane of her hair masking the generous curves of her nakedness. The face was finely cut, the lips smiled, the eyes invited, and yet there was a coldness in the expression, as though the promise behind the invitation was false.

  Julia averted her face, turning her attention to the rail of the ship. There was no sign of her father, nor indication of any activity, beyond a trio of coatless seamen who appeared to be securing a cargo hatch. A gangplank stretched steeply down from the ship to the levee.

  Drawing back her skirts, she pushed her slippered feet into pattens, then stepped gingerly down into the mud. The rain had slackened somewhat, but she had no faith that it would not begin to pour again at any moment. Head down, she hastened toward the end of the gangplank. As her pattens clattered on the wet and slippery wooden boards they began to sway. Reaching for the rope railing, she looked up. Captain Thorpe, clad in breeches and an open-necked shirt, his uncovered head wet with rain, came toward her. With the ease of long practice he adjusted to the movement of the gangplank, striding as though he trod solid, level ground. As he came abreast, he took her arm without a word, assisting her up the incline.

  The courtesy was unexpected, but welcome. The mud-coated pattens had not made the best of footing for such a climb. The instant she reached the deck she kicked them off, as much to keep from soiling the white holystoned deck as to rid herself of their weight.

  “Thank you, captain,” she said as they paused in the shelter of the entrance to the companionway. Her smile was genuine, and her amber-gold eyes, behind lashes tangled with raindrops, were warm.

  “Not at all. Your cabin is the second door to the left. Watch your step down the companionway.” With a curt bow, he swung away.

  “Captain?” she said, her voice sharper than she had intended.

  “Yes, mademoiselle?” he inquired. There was a frown between his brows as he turned back.

  “Is my father on board?”

  “No, not as yet.”

  “Could I be informed when he arrives? Also, our baggage is coming behind me.”

  Rudyard Thorpe looked past her to where a man in the uniform of a ship’s officer approached. “Here is the man to handle your problems, mademoiselle. May I present First Mate Jeremy Free from the port of Baltimore. Jeremy, this is Mademoiselle Dupré, who will be sailing with us. I leave it to you to see that she has everything she needs.”

  A brief look of surprise registered on the first mate’s face as Captain Thorpe walked away. Then, he smiled down at Julia. “Welcome aboard the Sea Jade,” he said in a pleasant baritone. “In what way may I be of service?”

  Interested and concerned, Jeremy Free did much to soothe Julia’s ruffled sensibilities. Of average height, he seemed with his sandy coloring and hazel eyes to suit the buff-and-blue uniform he wore. His tanned skin carried a sprinkling of freckles. His chin was firm and his mouth strong, though it curved easily into a cheerful grin.

  Promising to send word as soon as her father arrived and to see to the stowing of their baggage, he escorted her along to her cabin. He pushed open the door, stepping back to allow her to enter.

  The cabin was incredibly tiny, little more than a box. The low ceiling seemed to press down, constricting the small space. There was a single bunk against one wall, a washstand holding a basin and stoppered water carafe, with a closed space below for the necessary pot, and a small desk which was fastened to the floor with a chair in front of it. A corner offered the only space to hang a few essential items of clothing, and there might be room for a single small trunk beneath the porthole, but if she had brought her maid, poor Minna would have had to resort to a sailor’s hammock or sleep on a pallet on the floor.

  It occurred to Julia, as she glanced about her, that the cubicle had a masculine air. That was not unusual, perhaps, on a seagoing vessel, where accommodations were utilitarian, but the lack of any concession to a female passenger troubled her. “I hope, Mr. Free,” she said slowly, “that I am not inconveniencing anyone by coming on this voyage?”

  “Why, no, ma’am — that is, not to any great extent.”

  She put the hood of her cloak back before she said wryly, “I take that answer to mean that I am. On the few trips I made to Europe as a young girl, I noticed that the second cabin next to that of the captain is usually occupied by the first officer. Tell me, Mr. Free. This isn’t by chance your cabin?”

  The first mate colored a little. “A clipper isn’t set up for many passengers, ma’am. I don’t mind bunking with the second mate for a spell. I’ll be happy to think of you in here. That is to say—”

  “Never mind. I appreciate your meaning,” Julia said, giving him the smile touted as bewitching by the most accomplished beaux sabres of New Orleans. “I also thank you for the gesture.”

  “It was Captain Thorpe’s idea, ma’am. Your father will be across the hall with Mr. Robeaud, and the other passenger will be in with the ship’s surgeon.”

  “I had no idea it would be so crowded.”

  “The Sea Jade is fitted out to be a cargo ship. That’s about all she has carried since the day she came off the slips, ma’am.”

  “I see.”

  A commotion overhead claimed the attention of the first mate. “That will be your baggage, I expect. Is there anything you would like brought directly here?”

  After carefully memorizing the description of a small hidebound trunk and a pair of matching bandboxes, he took his leave.

  Mercifully, her father put in his appearance directly behind the baggage wagon. “Don’t scold, ma chère,” he said as he greeted his daughter in the companionway outside her cabin. “It was unavoidable. An emergency meeting had to be held to discuss a new development. I will tell you all about it as soon as we are settled.”

  There was no time for more. The small passageway was filled with seamen carrying trunks on their backs or laden with boxes and crates. From all sides came demands to be told where each piece was to be put, and only Julia could sort out the tangle.

  It was perhaps an hour later when Julia, dressed for dinner in a simple gown of white muslin with a red-and-gold paisley shawl draped about her shoulders against the chill left by the rain, went along to the dining saloon. She expected to find her father ensconced there with a before-dinner drink in his hand. Instead, the room appeared empty and silent, dimly lighted by a lantern swinging gently from a hook above the green-baize-covered table. An instant later, Captain

  Thorpe stepped from the shadows at the end of the room. Behind him, through the porthole, could be seen the lights of the town blooming like fire flowers in the deepening dusk.

  “Good evening, Mademoiselle Dupré,” he said formally. “Won’t you sit down?”

  Julia took the chair he held for her. As she settled her skirts and the fringes of her shawl, she touched the golden bee, which held the triangle of paisley in place, a habit, making certain it was safe. In the uncomfortable pause which followed, she gave a fleeting thought to propriety. Seldom in her twenty years had she been alone with a man not related to her by birth. Surrounded as she was going to be by men for the next months, she must put such considerations out of her head. She was no longer an unfledged miss. At her age, most girls were not only married, but mothers. There were many in her circle who, if she had not been quite so obvious an attraction to prospective suitors, would have been ready to call her an old maid, one who no longer needed the protection of a chaperon. Not that she could possibly need protection in any form from Captain Rudyard Thorpe. Fo
r all his awareness of his opportunities, they might as well have been in a crowd — an irritating observation, since she was herself so conscious of his tall presence in the room. He had changed from his wet garments into a dress uniform similar to that worn by the first mate except for additional decoration of gold braiding. Julia wondered if she could congratulate herself that the effort had been made for her sake, but she dismissed the thought for lack of encouragement.

  “Has it stopped raining?” she asked as he moved to take a seat at the far end of the table from where she was sitting.

  “Yes, it’s beginning to clear.”

  “Then, there should be no difficulty in sailing in the morning?”

  “None whatever. I believe your father boarded the ship safely after all?”

  Ignoring the hint that she might have been unduly concerned, Julia agreed. “He was detained at a special meeting. Some emergency, I believe, though I have no idea of its import.”

  Interest narrowed his eyes so that his thick lashes provided a screen for his thoughts, but he did not comment.

  Casting about in her mind for a topic which might interest a seafaring man, she said, “I suppose you will be happy to be putting out to sea again?”

  He leaned back in his chair, his arm lying along the edge of the table. “It has a few advantages.”

  “Oh?” she said encouragingly.

  “At sea, I am master of my ship and everyone on it.”

  “Surely in theory only, captain?” she said, suppressing a smile. It still rankled with Captain Thorpe, then, that she and her father had insisted on a place on his vessel.

  “Not at all,” he corrected. “Beyond the sight of land, my word is law.”

  Julia stared at him, sensing a purpose behind his words, though she could not discern it. She raised her chin a fraction, but before she could demand an explanation, the door opened to admit Marcel de Gruys.