All's Fair in Love and War

Chapter Twenty-Four

Harry woke with a start when Cuthbert licked his nose.

He lifted the warm bundle of fur from his chest and deposited him back on the mattress where he had been forced to allow the puppy to sleep. “Yours is very definitely not the face I want to be waking up to.”

Thanks to Cuthbert’s talent for hogging the bed, and despite confession supposedly being good for the soul, Harry had still slept fitfully. It was impossible not to think of Georgie when she was mere yards away in her own bed, and he still wasn’t convinced that he had done the right thing in telling her how attracted he was to her. There hadn’t been any time to gauge her reaction to his revelation after Ada had interrupted their little tête-à-tête. Once Ada started asking questions, there was no stopping her, and before he knew it, it was bedtime.

He had tried to leave the puppy downstairs to sleep, of course, because he was a man who had to sail away and really couldn’t own a dog. He had even made a comfortable bed for the thing in the sitting room, but Cuthbert was having none of it. He also flatly refused to sleep in with Norbert. Something Harry found out an hour after he had gone to bed at the same moment he learned Norbert knew how to open doors. One minute he had been staring up at the ceiling, yearning to snuggle up with Georgie, and the next, when his door knob turned and he sat bolt upright praying that it was her, it had been the giant, shaggy hound who had stomped in with the gangly Cuthbert dangling from his jaws, clearly irritated that his own slumber had been disturbed. He deposited his needy son on Harry’s mattress, then promptly left. He even managed to pull the bedchamber door firmly shut to ensure that his spawn did not escape to bother him further.

As the puppy had instantly curled up into a ball and closed his eyes as soon as it burrowed against him, Harry felt mean trying to evict him and had reluctantly let him stay.

“Do not get used to this, dog.” Suddenly annoyed at everything, he wagged his finger at Cuthbert as he padded to his washstand and sloshed cold water into the bowl. “You’ve had a whole night to settle in and today you need to choose one of the children to glue yourself to forevermore.”

The animal tilted his head as he watched Harry sluice his upper body in the cold water and soap, clearly fascinated at the strange ritual, then half jumped, half fell off the bed to come sit by his feet, staring up entranced while he shaved.

“It is an important day today.” Why he was compelled to make conversation with a dog was beyond him, but he went with it. It was an important day and it wouldn’t hurt to reaffirm all that he had to do in it. “I’ve got to sail to blasted Plymouth while the cocks are still crowing, I’ve got to meet with the supervisor of the useless layabouts on the bloody Boadicea and then I’ve probably got to dismiss him and find a replacement. Then somehow, in around five blasted weeks, I’ve got to get that ship in a fit state to sail, so wish me luck.”

The list of things that still needed to be done was longer than both Harry’s arms put together. It wouldn’t be so bad if they were small and niggly tasks but some—like fitting the copious numbers of bunks that would be needed for the seven hundred and fifty men who would need to sleep on them—were massive jobs. Massive problems, too, if all the rope and hammocks hadn’t yet been ordered! “Then I’ve got to learn how to sail the damn thing while also teaching the crew how to, so that will be fun. A lot can go wrong on a one-hundred-twenty gunner, so I can’t say that I’m looking forward to July.” It wasn’t just the training maneuvers he was dreading. He was dreading August too as that would also signal the return of Flora and the departure of Georgie and that was something he did not want to have to contemplate regardless of his need to resist her. Somehow, life currently felt better with her near. A problem which would, hopefully, resolve itself once he found his naval feet and enthusiasm for sailing again.

“But as Nelson said, duty is the purpose of an officer and all private considerations, no matter how painful, must give way to that. Or words to that effect, Cuthbert, so I don’t have any other choice.” Harry sighed in resignation and must have sounded so miserable that the puppy gave him a soulful, sympathetic stare before he licked his toes.

“You’re a good dog, Cuthbert—but don’t tell anyone I said so.” In case that gave Cuthbert false hope, he felt obligated to clarify. “But don’t get any ideas of staying with me because His Majesty’s navy might well tolerate a cat on board a ship—but a giant, mad, future Norbert they will not.” He bent to tickle the dog’s ears as he toweled the last of the soap from his face, and that was when he saw his dress breeches. Or to be more precise, what was left of his dress breeches!

Something had tugged them from the chair he had laid them on and ripped them to shreds. Tiny pieces of what had once been the left leg of the supremely comfortable newer breeches Simpkins had had made behind his back were now scattered across his bedchamber floor like confetti on a trail that led back to the bed. Another long but ragged ivory strip, which may or may not have once been part of the waistband, lay atop the patchwork eiderdown where he had allowed the puppy to sleep.

“Cuthbert! What have you done!” Harry picked up what was left of the only pair of dress breeches he possessed that did not strangle his wedding vegetables and then shook the rags at the puppy, incensed. “I take everything I just said back! You are a bad dog, Cuthbert!” And today—the most important day in his career so far—was already a bad day, and it hadn’t even started.

It was safe to say that Georgie hadn’t had the best first official full day as the children’s governess in Cawsand. The change of location and the weeklong break in their routine meant that they had completely forgotten most of it. Worse, she was so distracted by the captain’s confession last night that she was an atrocious and short-tempered teacher. So disorganized, overemotional, and preoccupied, it was as if she had never taught a lesson in her life.

She had tried teaching them outside to begin with, and when that proved near impossible, she had tried to teach them inside. Then, run ragged and so confused by it all, she had decided to write the entire day off and had reasoned some fresh air and some vigorous exercise on the beach was the answer. For the children to let off some well-needed steam and to give herself some space to try to organize all her jumbled thoughts and emotions into something resembling order.

He thought her attractive.

A siren.

The sort of woman he could never sail away from if he allowed himself to fall head over heels in love with her.

Her!

And yet he was still going to sail away.

Because for all his pretty words, he wouldn’t allow it because his military career was, and always would be, his one true love and she couldn’t compete.

She knew that she should really be relieved by that, as being shackled to a military man was her worst nightmare and not something she would ever do after her miserable and nomadic childhood and the way her mother had suffered. But instead, she was upset. Disappointed. In him. In herself. At irony, for tempting her with the most unsuitable man possible. At fate for its impeccably awful timing. That all those things irritated because if she couldn’t be relieved at her lucky escape, then at the very least, she should be angry at him for falling so short of what she deserved.

Except—

He had been trying to be noble. He had been trying to do what he thought was best, for her as well as him. She had seen that as plain as day in his dark, stormy eyes when he had acknowledged that being shackled to a sailor was a miserable existence. Just as she had witnessed the war going on in them because he wanted her but was too much the officer and a gentleman to just have her the once—even if she’d undoubtedly let him.

What a stark difference that was from Lottie’s recent experience with an employer. Her friend had had to physically defend herself from that ignoble libertine’s unwelcome advances and had been dismissed as a result. Both Portia and Kitty had similar experiences, and the flagrant abuse of female employees was so widespread that Miss P taught classes on it to try to keep her protégés protected. She supposed she should be grateful that the captain—Harry—was cut from a different cloth. Despite all the inevitable new awkwardness his honesty had created, she still felt safe under his roof and she still had her job. She had to focus on those positives and put all the rest to one side.

For the sake of her sanity and her foolish heart.

Why couldn’t they have met a year ago, six months ago, before he had been offered a promotion he could not refuse? Then, if what he had claimed was right, he’d have become so besotted with her that he would have become lax in his duties and wouldn’t have got this wretched promotion at all. Wouldn’t that have been wonderful? Even if he stayed with the navy but worked at the Admiralty, that would have worked. His charming house in Hanover Square was a long way from a soulless barracks, and she would have loved the opportunity to make a life there with him. A stupid and fanciful notion which the part of her that had always hankered for hearth and home, love and family, already mourned disproportionately when it had never really been in the cards.

But now, when her temporary position here ended as she had always known it would, she would leave with a hole in her heart and a bittersweet memory of a great love that might have been. All combined with the worry that he could be anywhere in the world, sailing directly into the worst trouble on his flagship. Trouble he might not sail back from.

“I caught a crab!” Grace ran toward her, holding her bucket aloft. “Isn’t he beautiful?” She tried to stop just shy of Georgie, but still ended up crashing into her.

She smiled at the bounty and tried to look impressed despite the dull black crab being smaller than her palm. “He is indeed.” To make the girl smile, Georgie took the bucket and showed the contents to Cuthbert, who hadn’t yet made his mind up about either the sand or the children, so hadn’t left her side since they had arrived at the beach an hour ago. “Isn’t he lovely?” The puppy gave it a tentative sniff and backed away as soon as one of the crab’s pincers snapped out of the water. “Now go return him to the rock pool you found him in, in case his mother is missing him.”

As Grace dutifully did as she was asked, Georgie tried to count her blessings. At least she had a job—her first, thank goodness! And with a decent employer, to boot, with the prospect of good references. She also had the soothing sounds of the ocean and the sun on her face. Two things she had never really experienced before. They might have all had a fractious day, but the children were happy now too. The girls were exploring the shallow rock pools that hugged the granite framing this tiny beach, while the limping Felix and Norbert paddled in the gentle waves rippling up the sand. The setting was idyllic, even if some of the circumstances left a lot to be desired.

“Uncle Harry!”

Felix suddenly began waving at a dot of a sailboat in the distance. He was soon joined by the others at the shoreline, and they all waved at his impending arrival while Georgie tried to quell her quickened heart. It had been inevitable that they would have to collide at some point after last night’s inconceivable conversation, yet she still had no earthly idea how she was supposed to behave around him now.

As the sloop came closer, it was clear he was alone. His impressive naval regalia did not fit with the jolly yellow-and-red-striped boat at all, and yet somehow, the incongruity seemed to suit the man. Suited his contrasting personality which at one extreme was the staid stickler who got things done, and the other, the generous, thoroughly soft-boiled egg who didn’t take himself too seriously. He certainly did not look less manly on the scarlet sloop, even with the big hand-painted daisies blooming on the sails.

He waved at the children as he maneuvered the vessel to the sea wall and secured it to one of the rings, and by the time that was all done, they had all hurried across the sand to greet him.

He swung each child in the air, then petted Norbert before he looked her way. Even with a hundred yards of distance, the potency when their gazes locked was so tangible it made her heart ache. Beside her, even Cuthbert seemed to sense the change in the atmosphere, and for the first time in an hour, ventured a few feet from Georgie. His little tail wagged as the captain hoisted Grace to sit upon his shoulders before he made his way across the beach toward Georgie.

“Not in the classroom again, I see.” His smile was winsome, as, she suspected, was hers.

“There is no classroom at Guillemot House, thank the Lord, so your customary complaint is moot.” Were they now supposed to behave as if nothing seismic had shifted between them? “How was your first official day as the captain of a half-finished flagship?”

Thanks to all of Ada’s incessant prying last night, she now knew that the Admiralty had given him a veritable mountain to climb in a near-impossible time frame, and the strain of that showed on his face. There were slight shadows under his eyes and his whole body sagged with over-burdened weariness.

He lowered Grace to the ground and sent her and her siblings back to the rock pools to play before he answered. “As awful and trying as I expected it to be. I had to dismiss the shipwright in charge along with six of his most troublesome laborers.”

“Why?”

He gingerly seated himself on the sand, close enough for them to have a polite conversation, but not so close that they could accidentally touch. Cuthbert instantly arranged himself between his legs so that he could gaze up adoringly while his already favorite human idly stroked his fur.

“Because it became apparent he had purposefully sabotaged the build. The navy pays them all a day rate rather than a job rate, so to maximize their earnings, once the shell of the bloody Boadicea was finished and all the work went inside and conveniently out of sight, those lazy layabouts were only working four hours a day. If that.” Although he didn’t look particularly surprised by that outrage. “I’ve also had to put the naval officer who supposedly oversees all of them on a charge, as he’s little better than a drunkard marking time until he can claim his pension. He’s so disinterested in the bloody Boadicea, he couldn’t even be bothered to get his flabby backside out of his chair to come and visit me on my first day. I had to go find him. In a disgrace of an office that stunk of rum.”

Clearly, they were going to behave as if nothing seismic had happened at all—but at least they were conversing as friends, for once, rather than an employer and an employee who never quite knew on which level to talk to one another. Apt, she supposed, to scrap those formalities when they had, as he’d quite rightly pointed out, been seconds away from making mad, passionate love.

“But on the one positive note, it does appear that somebody, somewhere, has had some forethought and has ordered most of the equipment the ship needs to make it seaworthy, so that is one less headache. Until we can find a suitably experienced and reliable master shipwright to supervise the rest of the build, Simpkins has stepped into the breach. I left him reading the riot act to the remaining laborers, who are now in no doubt that he expects their day to start at eight sharp and to finish nine hours later. Five minutes shy either way and he’s warned them their pay will be docked by half a day. Hence, I am here alone as he’s decided to spend tonight on the bloody Boadicea to make sure they all arrive on time.”

“The bloody Boadicea?”

He winced. “My apologies for the coarse language. It has been one of those days.”

“My ears aren’t that tender and that wasn’t my point. It was more that you’ve unconsciously said it three times. Is that really what you think of your ship?”

“As that ship has been the bane of my life for the last few months, I suppose calling it that has become habit.” He pulled a face, unaware that he had called it “that ship” rather than “my ship”—which was interesting. “It is difficult to think positively about something which has been nothing but trouble.”

“Then, I suppose, at least we will all know when things have improved, as you’ll have dropped the instinctive ‘bloody’ before the Boadicea, Captain.”

“From your lips to God’s ears, Georgie.” He stared out at the ocean for several moments, frowning. “Is it so hard for you to call me Harry?” When his gaze turned back to hers, all the longing was there again. “Only last night, when I confessed my deepest, darkest secret, I never did get to hear what you thought about it.”

What did he expect her to say to that, exactly, when he had already nipped in the bud any deeper relationship between them in favor of his “bloody” ship? “At this stage, I daresay that doesn’t really matter.”

“It matters to me.” He raked a hand through his hair, staring out to sea again, his expression bleak. “But I suppose you are right… Under the circumstances, it is probably a topic best avoided.” His accepting smile did not touch his eyes. “How was your day?”

“As awful and trying as I expected it to be.” She had intended the mirroring of his words to sound ironic, not wistful. “The children and I are still finding our routine here in Cawsand. They are used to doing things here a certain way and we have fallen out about it repeatedly today.”

“Ah…” he said, gazing at them. “My sympathies. My sister is not one for rules and routines and this place”—he threw his palms out to encompass the village as well as the beach—“has always been synonymous with chaos. At least to my mind.”

“Is that why it makes you twitchy?”

He laughed at that. “Twitchy? Now there is an interesting adjective, but apt, I suppose.” Unconsciously, he flexed his fingers and arms as if releasing the tension from them. “My parents, alas, had more in common with Flora’s approach to life than mine.” As if he had shocked himself by admitting that aloud, he was quick to counter. “They were not bad people, of course. Far from it, in fact. But lived their entire lives without restraint, or often much sense of responsibility, and that can have its challenges.”

A fascinating window into the way he was. “How so?”

“They lived from moment to moment, often in the moment, and gave little or no thought to tomorrow. Or to money. As a result, they had no contingency plans for things like bills and the many calamities that the lack of those things tends to create.”

“But you did.” It wasn’t a question because she knew enough about him to know that Captain Henry Kincaid liked everything to be just so. If his childhood had lacked any order, it made sense that he would value it disproportionately.

He rearranged his long legs with a sigh. “One of us had to, or everything would have gone to complete rack and ruin. Thankfully, the admiral—”

“The admiral?”

“My grandfather—Admiral Gaunt—plucked me from all the chaos early on and gifted me with the unforgiving structure of the navy, which much better suited my character. The salary also gave me the ability to repair some of the holes in the family finances, which helped me sleep better at night.”

Even more fascinating! “Why did you call him the admiral and not Grandfather?” Georgie had a funny feeling they suddenly had something fundamental in common.

“Good question.” He shook his head, flummoxed, as if he had never considered the reasons before. “Everyone called him the admiral, but bizarrely, that title suited him. He was…”

“A rigid, strict, unyielding and unsentimental militarian?”

He chuckled. “I suppose so. How did you know?”

“Because my stepfather—the colonel—was exactly the same.”

“Ah—you had a stepfather. That explains the mystery of why you moved from barracks to—”

“Uncle Harry!” Grace flew across the sand like a gale. Hot on her heels was Marianne and bringing up the rear at a much slower and uneven pace, thanks to his recent gamble with death, came Felix. All three were grinning.

“When can we go to the tea shop in Plymouth again?” Grace hung off his sleeve like a limpet. “You always take us there whenever you are home and you haven’t been home in such a long time, we’ve all forgotten the last time!”

The other two nodded.

“It has been forever,” said Felix.

“Longer than that,” added Marianne.

“And you haven’t taken us anywhere or bought us anything since the last time we went to Gunther’s and that was ages ago. And don’t say that you have to work.” The youngest Pendleton pouted. “Because you always have to work and we are your own flesh and blood and we adore you.”

“Well… I am sure we can squeeze a trip in.” The captain—Harry—was instantly all guilt. “I have a meeting at the Barbican on Monday, so I suppose…”

That was when Georgie realized the children had lied to her. They hadn’t confessed to their uncle about all their blackmail as they had promised faithfully to do almost two whole weeks ago. They had instead taken advantage of the time he had spent at the Admiralty and the suddenness of this trip to Devon to quietly forget about it.

As Grace was currently twisting their obviously guilt-ridden uncle around her manipulative little finger, she directed her focus toward the elder two, who were egging the youngest on with excited claps.

She folded her arms and quirked one unimpressed brow and waited for them to feel the weight of her glare. It was the more intuitive Marianne who noticed first and, with a nudge, brought her brother up short. At least they had the good sense to look contrite and both ceased clapping to stare at their feet. “I believe the children would prefer to have a private but urgent word with you before you make any hard-and-fast plans about a trip to the tea shop on Monday. Isn’t that right, children?”

She took a moment to pin each with her most fearsome schoolmistress’s stare, enjoying how each child withered beneath it. Even Grace, who had initiated this latest blackmail attempt as naturally as she took in air, shriveled with chagrin.

“Yes, Miss Rowe,” muttered three bowed heads in unison.

“Words probably best had this evening, I’ll wager.” After all, there was no time like the present and she did not trust them to do it now unless they were forced into it. “But first, go collect all your things from the beach.”

“No!” Felix’s eyes widened in panic. “You promised us we could play here until six and it’s…” He helped himself to one of Harry’s pocket watches to stare at the dial. “… only a quarter to.” He turned the watch to face her. “Please can’t we have the last fifteen minutes of fun? We have been cooped up in a carriage all week!” And now he was trying to manipulate her!

Before she could give him a stern piece of her mind, his frankly clueless but well-intentioned uncle answered. “Go—enjoy the sea some more.” That was all the reprieve the little rascals needed, and they dashed off, eager to avoid telling him the truth for just a little bit longer.

He waited until they were out of earshot before he turned to her, quizzical. “Firstly, how do you get them to behave with just a raised eyebrow? And secondly, what do they need an urgent word with me about?”

“Well firstly, it comes with practice and a lot of essential groundwork, and secondly…” Georgie folded her arms with a huff. She did not want to break her promise to the children, but as they had broken their promise to her and he had asked, she felt she had no choice. “I know all about the unlimited ice cream at Gunther’s the other week to get them to behave for me. Just as I know about all the shillings and tuppences and toys you shower them with as bribes to do what they should. I also know that, as a result, those little rascals have been fleecing you for years.”

“They have?”

“Of course they have! They know precisely how to make you twitchy—”

“That is the second time you have called me twitchy in as many minutes!” His face was half amusement, half astonishment.

“Perhaps Marianne’s adjective isn’t the correct one to properly describe how uncomfortable and irritable you become when things are a little less than calm. But you should know that they often purposefully misbehave or do whatever they can to make you feel guilty, and then they continue to do it until you surrender to their will.”

“No…” He adored them so much he didn’t want to believe it.

“Yes! They tried the same shallow tactics on me after you left for Portsmouth, which obviously did not wash at all, and that’s how I prized the truth out of them. Why else do you think I interceded when Grace twisted your arm back there? Why I suggested, in the strongest possible terms, that they have a talk with you as soon as was possible and why all three of them are presently so determined to make this visit to the beach last as long as it possibly can? They are all in cahoots and have all been blackmailing you into rewarding them for misbehaving!”

He shook his head, chuckling. “They are just being children and I am a much too worldly wise adult to be daft enough to fall for…” She knew the precise moment he realized she was telling the truth because his mouth went from open and stunned to shut and flattened in an instant. “Why, the little—”

“But please do not tell them that I told you, as the little devils deserve all the pain of confessing it cold. They all swore a solemn pledge to me over a week ago that they would come clean, and they didn’t.”

“They have been fleecing me. Why didn’t I see it sooner? I’ve only known the little Machiavellis all their lives.” He seemed both stunned and impressed by their industry.

“You’re their uncle and not a parent or a teacher. It’s a very different role. It is also lovely that you want to spoil them, but now that they are in your care, you really do need to learn how to control them without paying them, or you will turn them into monsters. That will take a bit of groundwork on your part, but as Nelson rightly said, first gain the victory, then make the best use of it that you can.”

“You are quoting Nelson at me now?” He seemed more amused by that than the children’s skulduggery.

“My labored point is, the time has come for a line to be drawn in the sand and, I am afraid, it is yours to draw.”

“Well… I…” He blinked at her, looking far more handsome than a befuddled man had a right to. “Do you suggest that I punish them when they tell me?”

That he had asked her expert opinion warmed her. That he seemed horrified at the prospect of punishing the three shameless blackmailers warmed her more. Without thinking, she reached out and squeezed his hand, and then regretted it instantly when just that touch sent a ricochet of awareness everywhere and had him staring so longingly at her in return, Georgie wanted to grab him and kiss him. “You are well within your rights to.”

Georgie withdrew her hand and clamped it in the other in case it went wandering again. “But, irrespective of the folly of allowing them to exploit your good nature in the first place, they still adore you. Therefore, I think your heartfelt and wounded disappointment in them would be a much better form of punishment than any punitive sort ever could. That will really bother them.” Like a moth to a flame, Georgie reached for his hand again and allowed herself just the briefest touch, which had as potent an effect. “As much as it pains me to admit it, you are an excellent uncle.”

“Oh, it pains you, does it?” To his credit, he seemed more amused by her candor than incensed by it.

She smiled and meant it. “But, with my schoolmistress’s hat on, I would advise that a punishment is also due. As, I must remind you, is an additional one for Felix, who still has not had any sort of admonishment from you for wandering off and getting himself lost two nights ago.” Was it really only two nights ago? It beggared belief that so much had changed in so short a time. “And by a punishment, I obviously do not expect you to exact any physical one. As I can assure you that those never work.” Every time the colonel hadn’t spared the rod with her, it stoked St. Joan’s rebellious fire further.

He was visibly relieved by that. “All right, Madam Schoolmistress, I bow to your superior knowledge. What do you suggest is fitting punishment for those three scoundrels?” He glanced toward them with love. Disappointed and peeved love, but it was the correct sentiment under the circumstances.

“Hit them where it hurts.”

“I thought we weren’t doing violence?”

She nudged him with her elbow because his chuckle told her he was simply being pedantic. “Earlier bedtimes for all three of them for a month and some unpleasant chores around the house for the girls should do the trick. The more disgusting the better, as neither like to get their hands dirty.”

“Noted. And for Felix?”

“Something mathematical. He loathes it with a burning passion and will do anything to get out of learning it, and he is so far behind his sisters in the subject he needs the extra lessons. Except don’t make them look like lessons, as…” He placed a finger on her lips, then sighed as he pulled it away.

“I might have been an idiot—but I am not always.” He gestured to the winding lane above with the tilt of his head. “Do you know your way back to the house?”

“Of course I do. Because I am not an idiot either.”

“Good.” He buttoned the sleeping Cuthbert into his smart uniform coat and then gingerly stood as if he was in some physical pain before he helped her up. “Leave me with them. As Drake said, I cannot command the winds and the weather—but I can at least try and wrestle back my command of my blasted sister’s manipulative offspring. They will come back repentant and I will have reclaimed my dignity, or we’ll all die trying.”

“I’m pretty sure that was Nelson too—Harry.”