His gaze slid to the west corner of the overgrown yew hedge where he’d kissed her. And she’d kissed him back.
“Captain Lennox, might that be you?”
A high, reedy voice trailed over the garden wall. He stood and walked toward the sound, envisioning the ancient lady on the other side. “It is I, Mistress Ludwick.”
“Can it be? I’ve not seen you in an age! Mightn’t you humor an old crone and show yourself?”
In moments he was at the iron gate that divided her garden from his. With a sweep of his hat, he bowed and then took in her parchment-paper face, white and lined but much as he remembered.
“How mournful it must be to return to an empty house once so full of life!”
He frowned. “I am wondering whether to sell or occupy.”
“Sell? Your dear mother would resurrect herself if she knew!”
“But a man like myself, living here alone . . .” He looked back at the house, allowing himself a rare glib moment. “It begs a family. Life. Laughter.”
“Indeed.” She pursed her wrinkled lips. “A shame there’s no Mistress Lennox or offspring to settle down here. But should you decide to reside in our fair city, that would follow in the blink of an eye, most assuredly, though I thought York had its hold on you. Indigo Island, rather.”
“’Tis always wise to explore one’s options, aye?” After the debacle at Lady Lightfoot’s, Norfolk held unmistakable appeal.
“Don’t tell me you’re tiring of the sea.” She studied him unblinkingly. “Ah, I do believe you are. I see it in your sun-weathered face, those honest eyes of yours.”
He smiled at her sharp appraisal. “I’m no longer the wee lad you fed kissing comfits to, but you still know me.”
“Of course I do. A man is merely an overgrown boy. You are wanting change. This place suits you. You could raise a family and be a man about town. Here there are no shadows to dodge.”
Shadows. Did she suspect him of being a pirate? Or sense his personal safety was in question on the mainland?
“Fare thee well, Captain Lennox.” She moved away, her gait slow yet graceful. “I do hope to see you again soon.”
CHAPTER
nine
The shop door jangled shut at noon, and finding herself alone, Esmée drifted toward the Dutch door separating the chocolate shop from the coffeehouse. Shipowners and merchants, politicians and literary men gathered in the spacious, beamed room that hummed with hearsay, headlines, and other matters whatever the season. Newspapers and broadsides were scattered about, the Virginia Gazette foremost.
This was how Esmée kept track of the captain after a fashion. Discreetly. Privately. Without involving anyone else. Once the ire of their parting had cooled, she was beset with an insatiable curiosity time could not dim.
How did such a man handle a failed love affair? By wintering in the Caribbean. Intercepting pirate ships preying upon merchant vessels. Testifying at the admiralty court in Boston. Recovering an abandoned Spanish wreck near Madagascar. Trading the aptly named Bachelor’s Delight for the more enigmatic Relentless. If she had a shilling every time she read “Taken by the Relentless, Captain Lennox,” she’d be a wealthy woman.
And now she knew how he handled a loathsome reunion. Stoically. Handsomely. With nary a trace of trepidation. As if he’d forgotten all about her and recovered unscathed from their liaison of old.
While she herself was a tangle of tarred rope.
“Sister! Why on earth are you loitering at the coffeehouse door? Father forbids it!”
Eliza stood behind her, winking in merriment. The truth was, Father did forbid it, but Eliza cared not a whit. It was how she’d kept the attention of Quinn, a regular at Shaw’s coffeehouse back then. Even now he was at his preferred corner table, one of their male indentures replenishing coffee and chocolate as he and his highborn friends talked taxes and tariffs.
“What is it you’re clutching to your chest?” Eliza peered at The Complete Confectioner with a sharp eye.
“Anna found it on the shop steps this morn.” Esmée had hardly set the book down. “The giver is a mystery.”
Eliza’s smile curled expectantly. “A secret admirer, perhaps?”
“Secret, aye. Admirer, nay.”
“A gift from Captain Lennox is my guess. I saw the two of you at supper. Quite cozy after so long a separation.”
“Cozy?” Esmée rolled her eyes. “You’re in need of a pair of spectacles. We were simply thrown together quite unexpectedly and spent an excruciating supper, followed by dancing, trying to be polite while wondering what on earth we ever found attractive about each other in the first place.”
“Ha! He’s still a remarkably gallant devil, you must admit.”
“A tattooed devil.”
“Most mariners are.” Eliza laughed and took the book from her. “I recall you and Mama trying to find this very volume with no success. Till now.”
“’Tis so hard to come by, printed in England. The York and Williamsburg booksellers have not been able to obtain a single copy of it.”
Eliza paged to the flyleaf with gloved hands. “I do wish he’d signed it. But of course, you might have burnt the book if he had.”
“Shush. ’Tis too valuable a tome. I would simply have torn out his signature.”
“Hmm. How long has it been since you two were enamored with each other?”
“It matters not. You’ve already asked me. ’Twas a foolish infatuation.”
“I wonder.” Eliza seemed to reconsider. “In and out of every foreign port as he is, and for so long, I suppose he has a paramour somewhere. Several, perhaps.”
The notion nearly made Esmée squirm. “He made no mention of such.”
“Of course he wouldn’t confess such intimacies to you, his prior sweetheart. Nor would he ask such of you, being a gentleman of rank. Which begs the question . . . what did you two talk about?”
“Really, Eliza. Your interrogation knows no bounds.” Esmée took the book back. “Though he did ask about you.”
“Did he?” Eliza looked flattered. “How are his Norfolk kin?”
A pang shot through Esmée, arrow-sharp. “All have passed.”
Eliza’s face crumpled. “Poor Captain Lennox. I only knew of his father’s death. ’Twas in the papers a few years ago, but Mama hid it from you.”
“What?”
“She knew it might upset you. Unearth the past.” Eliza sighed. “But I had no idea about Mrs. Lennox and Hermione. I do recall Hermione wedding a landowner of some merit.”
The tightness in Esmée’s chest expanded. Might Hermione have died in childbirth? Eliza, for all her fearlessness, had a mortal dread of such. So many failed to survive the ordeal and enjoy motherhood. Esmée’s fervent prayer was that her sister be spared.
“I suppose the captain has returned to Indigo Island and I can breathe again,” Esmée said. The thought was nettling. Sore. A bittersweet mix of things regretted romantically that would never be righted.
“More’s the pity.” Eliza went to the shop window and stared out at the teeming harbor. “Farewell, our masterful, commanding Captain Lennox.”