Shipwrecked with the Captain Page 14

  Breaking windows, cursing, sinking,

  Ever raking, never thinking,

  Live the Rakes of Mallow—

  Ella laughed with delight and he even made Lady Rebecca smile.

  He finished to the end where the Rakes of Mallow married and raked no more. They married and he remembered he was taking Lady Rebecca to be married.

  ‘Now it is your turn,’ he told her, hoping she had not made that same connection.

  She closed her eyes and he feared she would not find one she remembered.

  But she began in a halting but rich contralto that warmed inside him like a good glass of brandy.

  The hours sad I left a maid

  A lingering farewell taking

  Whose sighs and tears my steps delayed

  I thought her heart was breaking...

  ‘I cannot finish it.’ Her eyes glistened.

  With tears? he wondered. Sighs and tears.

  ‘I don’t remember.’ Her voice cracked.

  Ella put an arm around her. ‘But you remembered a little!’

  Ella continued to ask Lady Rebecca questions, but all that resulted in was more distress in her eyes.

  ‘I think we should give Lady Rebecca a rest,’ he told Ella. ‘She’ll have a headache soon enough if we persist.’

  He would not be surprised if her head ached right now.

  ‘But her memory must come back before tomorrow,’ Ella cried. ‘I cannot bear to leave her if it does not.’

  Yes. The closer they came to London, the worse Lucien felt. He would be leaving her adrift without any tether connecting her to her past. He was in her memory longer than anyone else and everything they’d been through since the shipwreck had bound them together even more.

  How was he to leave her?

  Chapter Twelve

  Later in the day the weather turned even colder and rain poured down, making it hard going for the horses. They were forced to stop for the day at the next coaching inn. With luck they could still make London the next day.

  Cullen was soaked to the skin, not having the same coats and hats the coachmen wore. Lucien let Ella tend to him, to see he changed into dry clothes and to care for the wet ones. That left Lucien alone with Lady Rebecca in a private dining room he’d engaged.

  He lowered himself into a chair. His arm ached like the devil.

  ‘You are in pain,’ Lady Rebecca said, approaching him.

  He looked up at her. ‘The last of the ride was a bit rough. It’ll pass.’

  She crouched down. ‘Let me see it.’

  Her face was even with his and their eyes met briefly. Hers were filled with determination and concern. She’d fight him over this.

  ‘Help me off with my coat, then.’

  He turned in the chair and she gingerly pulled his coat over his shoulders and off his arms, taking care to avoid his wound.

  His shirtsleeve was dotted with blood.

  She frowned and drew the sleeve over his shoulder. Her fingers on his bare skin made him flare with desire as she exposed the bandage, red where blood seeped out of the wound.

  ‘It is bleeding,’ she said. ‘I am going to take the bandage off.’

  She untied the knot and unwound the bandage. Although she was gentle, it felt as if she were pounding on his arm instead of barely touching it.

  He much preferred the desire over the pain.

  When the bandage was off, Lucien could see that some of the stitches had been pulled apart, causing the bleeding.

  She looked closely at the wound. She rose and walked over to an ewer and basin on a table in the corner of the room. She poured some water in the basin, put a towel around her arm and brought them both back to Lucien.

  ‘Let me clean it a little so we can see how serious this is.’ She moistened the towel and dabbed at the wound.

  It throbbed. Lucien talked through the pain. ‘I thought ladies became squeamish at the sight of blood.’

  She darted a glance at him. ‘I lost that sensibility when your blood soaked your coat and would not stop flowing.’

  She’d been valiant at that time. ‘That was a lot, I admit.’

  She focused on cleaning his wound. ‘This hardly signifies.’ She leaned back. ‘I think the bleeding is stopping. We should bandage it and you should rest that arm.’

  They had been in such intimate situations these last weeks that this felt entirely normal to him, he in his shirtsleeves, his arm bared, so she could tend to him.

  Tomorrow they would part.

  How would he stand never seeing her morning, noon and night? He’d become so used to her.

  She stood. ‘I am going to find some clean bandages. I am sure the innkeeper has some.’

  She walked out of the room and it seemed devoid of light without her.

  It appeared as if they’d both decided to treat this last night together as if their parting was not imminent. They spent a comfortable dinner with Ella and Cullen. Ella, ever the one to spur everyone on, got Lucien to tell of some of his exploits at sea. He shared the ones fit for ladies to hear. Cullen talked of events on the farm and of coming to Dublin after knowing nothing but the farm. Ella was a gratifying audience and even Lady Rebecca seemed to relax and enjoy herself. But, then, the memories others experienced seemed to comfort her.

  * * *

  In the morning of their last day, the messenger Lucien had sent to Lord Stonecroft knocked at the door of the dining room where Lucien sat with Lady Rebecca, Ella and Cullen.

  ‘I have news for you,’ the man said.

  ‘How did you find me?’ Lucien asked. There must have been dozens of inns along the route he might have stopped in.

  ‘Just stopped at every inn I could see.’ He held out the envelope that Lucien had given him the previous day. ‘Lord Stonecroft is not in London. He is spending the summer in Bath.’

  ‘Bath?’ Lady Rebecca exclaimed.

  Bath was one of those places naval officers retired to after leaving their ships. Once most fashionable to the titled elite, it now had been replaced by Brighton where the Prince Regent preferred to spend his time.

  ‘I thought it best to come back to find you,’ the man said. ‘If you want me to deliver the letter to the gentleman in Bath, I’ll be off straight away.’

  Lucien handed the man some coins. ‘Yes. By all means deliver the letter to Bath.’

  The man looked happily at the money in his hand, bowed and rushed off.

  ‘So we go to Bath, apparently,’ Lucien said.

  ‘No, Lucien,’ Lady Rebecca cried. ‘You cannot go to Bath. You need to be at the Admiralty to be assigned a new ship.’

  ‘I will escort you to Bath,’ he said quietly. ‘I will see you safely to where you must go. What kind of man would I be if I left you now?’

  ‘But what will happen if you do not appear at the Admiralty?’ she asked.

  He did not know what would happen. He’d been absent for weeks. He wished he’d asked the messenger to wait. He’d not even informed the Admiralty that he was alive.

  ‘It will be a longer trip than to London,’ Cullen spoke up. ‘Shall I go speak to the coachmen?’

  ‘Thank you, Cullen. And if they are in agreement to transport us, see if they can be ready in half an hour.’ Lucien would write to the Admiralty from Bath.

  * * *

  Bath echoed in Claire’s mind. Golden buildings. Hills. A towering cathedral.

  She held her breath. Was that a memory?

  She glanced from Lucien to Ella and decided not to say anything. They would only press her and she’d disappoint them again by not remembering as they wished her to.

  And likely she’d wind up with a raging headache, as well.

  When they were on the road again, Claire paid close attention to the scenery outside. Would something look familiar?
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  Nothing did.

  The weather outside was dismal and damp with a steady drizzle. It matched Claire’s mood. She must still say goodbye to Lucien, if not today, tomorrow.

  She tried to think of how she might feel to meet Lord Stonecroft, but her insides twisted with anxiety at that thought. Instead, she pushed herself to remember everything about her time with Lucien, from waking in his arms in the middle of the Irish Sea to tending his wound the night before.

  The coachmen drove the carriage at a daring clip, jostling its passengers as it made good time on the often muddy roads. Claire worried about Lucien’s wound, but he insisted it was fine. Since Cullen rode with them and sat on the backward-facing seat with Ella, Claire, next to Lucien, could not easily see Lucien’s face.

  * * *

  They reached Bath as the sun dipped below the horizon turning everything a sombre grey. They pulled into a coaching inn called the West Gate. A letter for Lucien awaited them. The messenger had delivered Lucien’s letter to Lord Stonecroft and he agreed they could call upon him the next day.

  Too soon, thought Claire. But Lucien had altered his plans more than once for her sake. She must think of him.

  They procured two rooms, and all were so exhausted that they retired for the night without dinner.

  ‘Tomorrow you might meet Lord Stonecroft,’ Ella remarked as she helped Claire ready herself for bed. ‘I wonder what he will be like.’

  Claire’s anxiety about Stonecroft had settled like a hard rock inside her stomach. ‘I wonder, too.’

  ‘Do you think you fell in love with him?’ Her eyes turned starry for a moment. ‘You’d think you would remember someone you fell in love with. I could certainly never forget Cullen.’

  ‘I wish I did remember.’ Then she would know, too. Did she love him?

  Ella helped her into her nightdress. ‘What time will you call upon him?’

  ‘I believe Lucien said eleven, by Lord Stonecroft’s request.’ Perhaps she would have most of the morning with Lucien.

  * * *

  Claire rose early and dressed in the same travelling dress she’d worn the day before, the patterned dark green one. In their fatigue last night, they’d made no plans for breakfast or for the rest of the morning. Claire wanted to spend that time with Lucien. She hoped he would knock on the door and invite her to dine with him.

  Ella was busy straightening the room while Claire paced up and down, waiting to hear more bells marking the hour.

  ‘Shall I go to his room and see what is what?’ Ella asked.

  ‘His room?’ She knew precisely who Ella meant.

  ‘The Captain,’ Ella said.

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘The Captain may have other plans. I will wait until the next bells and then you may see about breakfast for us both.’

  Ella folded Claire’s Kashmir shawl and placed it on a chair by the door. ‘I’m going to see what their plans are.’

  Before Claire could protest, Ella dashed out of the room. Claire paced faster. Now he would feel obliged to spend the morning with her. She walked to the window and looked out over the street.

  The buildings in their golden Bath stone felt comfortable. Familiar.

  Had she been here before?

  A knock sounded at the door. She crossed the room to open it.

  Lucien stood in the doorway. ‘Would you like to have breakfast?’ he asked.

  She peered at him. ‘Did Ella put you up to this?’

  He looked puzzled. ‘Ella? No. I was simply waiting until I knew you were awake.’

  She smiled.

  ‘I am ready.’ She put on her hat and picked up her Kashmir shawl and gloves.

  He glanced at the shawl. ‘Did you not want to eat in the public rooms here?’

  ‘No. I—I—I assumed we would walk around the city first and see what else is here.’ Although why she assumed that, she did not know.

  He bowed. ‘Whatever your pleasure.’

  They walked down the stairs to the hall and out the main door that opened on to the street.

  ‘I have not been in Bath before,’ Lucien said.

  Claire did not know why she knew, but she knew they should turn left. ‘Let us go this way.’

  They crossed the street and walked past the Pump Room. She knew this was where one could drink from a fountain the metallic-tasting waters that made Bath a place where people came to cure whatever ailed them. They turned again when in front of Bath Abbey and crossed another street to an area of shops.

  She stopped in front of one establishment. ‘We could eat here,’ she said.

  ‘You know this place?’ His eyes widened.

  She should have realised he would guess that she had not been simply wandering. ‘It is where they sell Sally Lunn’s buns.’

  They went inside and ordered the sweet spongy rolls that had been served there for decades.

  ‘How much did you remember?’ he asked, tearing off a piece of roll.

  ‘Only the places,’ she responded. ‘I know Bath, but I do not know why. I believe I could walk the whole of it and know each notable place, but I cannot remember ever being here.’

  ‘None the less, it is more than you’ve remembered before.’ His tone was encouraging.

  ‘Why should I have been here, though?’ she added. ‘Did I live here? I cannot close my eyes and picture a place I could call home, but I can close my eyes and see the Crescent.’

  ‘You remember it.’ He took a sip of a mug of coffee.

  ‘I must have been here.’ She nibbled on her bun.

  He leaned forward. ‘Perhaps you also remembered a school in Bristol. Bristol is not far from here. It would make sense that you might have had many opportunities to visit Bath.’

  How she would love to travel to Bristol and find that school. Maybe someone there could help fill in some of the blanks in her mind.

  How she wished she could travel there with Lucien.

  * * *

  After they finished breakfast, they stepped outside again into a day that was chilly and grey, but at least not raining. Claire wrapped her Kashmir shawl around her, closing her eyes for a moment and remembering the shop where Lucien had purchased it for her. She remembered the display of all the colourful shawls and the clerk who seemed to know who she was, the scent of the fabric, the expression of approval on Lucien’s face when she selected this shawl.

  She still felt it was too extravagant.

  But, then, it had also helped save Lucien’s life.

  She made herself remember that terrible day, as well. All memories, even that horrible one, were precious to her.

  And it seemed all her memories involved Lucien.

  If today was to be the last chance to build memories with him, she was determined to do so.

  ‘Would you like to see the Royal Crescent and the Circus?’ she asked him.

  He looked directly into her eyes before answering. ‘Yes. Certainly.’

  She smiled, so glad he was willing to spend more time together. ‘Then, come! I know the way there.’

  She led him back to Westgate Street, walking to the end and turning to walk past the Theatre Royal to Queen Square. Claire was able to name each notable spot they passed.

  She paused before the square, staring at the obelisk in its centre. ‘The square is different,’ she said. ‘The obelisk—I think it used to be surrounded by a pool of water.’

  Lucien touched her hand. ‘You are remembering things in more and more detail.’

  But what use was it if she could not put herself in those memories?

  They continued to the Circus, a circle of terrace houses built in the Palladian style fifty years before and one of the most admired sites in Bath.

  They walked the entire circle.

  ‘Is it not beautiful?’ she asked Lucien.

  ‘Qui
te grand,’ he admitted.

  An older gentleman approached them. ‘Roper? Is that you? As I live and breathe.’

  Lucien’s face lit with pleasure. ‘Sir Richard!’

  The two men shook hands, holding on longer than was typical.

  ‘What the devil?’ his friend asked. ‘I’d heard that you’d drowned. But here you are in Bath.’

  ‘I am indeed alive.’ Lucien glanced at Claire. ‘Let me present you to Lady Rebecca Pierce. My lady, this is Admiral Sir Richard Bickerton. I served on his ship in my younger days.’

  ‘And a fine young midshipman he was.’ Sir Richard grinned. He turned to Claire and bowed. ‘Lady Rebecca.’

  Bowing to her never felt right.

  She curtsied. ‘A pleasure, sir.’

  Lucien and the Admiral must be full of memories of their days together.

  The Admiral gave Lucien an approving look. ‘Will you be in Bath long?’

  Claire was eager to hear that answer.

  ‘I am uncertain at this time,’ Lucien responded.

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Sir Richard persisted. ‘Would you call upon me tomorrow?’ He pointed to one of the terrace houses in the Circus. ‘I reside at Number Fifteen.’

  ‘I will come, sir,’ Lucien said.

  The two men arranged a time and shook hands again. Sir Richard turned and bowed to Claire. ‘You must come, too, my lady.’

  ‘I—I may not be at liberty, sir, but thank you.’ She did not know what tomorrow would bring.

  He bowed again and went on his way.

  Claire and Lucien walked on to the Royal Crescent.

  ‘This is also very grand,’ Lucien said as the buildings came into view.

  ‘It is one of Bath’s greatest attractions,’ she said, although her enthusiasm had waned.

  They walked on to the lawn in front of the Crescent and took in the whole expanse of terrace houses with identical front façades, built on a curve.

  ‘My lady,’ Lucien said quietly.

  She turned her attention to him.

  ‘The direction I was given to Lord Stonecroft’s residence was Number Five Royal Crescent.’