Chapter Six
Durward did indeed tag along, and it was another glorious day.
Carina glimpsed Papa as he had used to be, working the sails of the Queen Marie, showing her how, and explaining again with patience as he gave the ropes to Durward.
It was a small, strong, manoeuvrable craft, fitted with oars as well as sails, ideal for guiding large vessels into berth.
Papa had enjoyed learning the skills for fun, before shipowners had stopped employing him for voyages and the Marie had become his only means of earning a living.
The sea breeze blew the viscount’s hair over his face, making him more boyish in appearance as he took instruction. Inevitably, formalities dropped. By the end of the afternoon, both men were calling her Carina and addressing each other as Jasper and Durward.
“Don’t you have a Christian name?” Carina asked the latter curiously as they ate sandwiches on the way back into the harbour.
Durward wrinkled his nose. “Yes, of course, but I never use it.”
“Why not? Because you’re too much on your dignity?” Papa mocked.
“No, because it’s Marmaduke.”
Papa chortled. “Fair enough. Then your whole family and all your friends call you by your title?”
“Pretty much. At school, I was Travis—my family name. Some people still call me that.” For an instant, his lips tightened, perhaps because of someone who did.
Or had used to. “Although I share that name with my little brother who is dining out on the fact and using it as an excuse to behave twice as badly as I ever did.”
“Is that even possible?” Papa teased.
“Apparently so.”
“Won’t he miss you when you go abroad?” Carina asked.
Durward gave a rather charming if crooked smile. “Do him the world of good, I should think.”
It lifted Carina’s heart even further to be able to walk home on her father’s arm, for once not trying to hide his state. And if Lord Durward, strolling on her other side, made her heart beat a little faster, well, that was a rather lovely secret to carry.
“Tell you what,” Durward said to Papa as they approached the Black Lion. “I want to exercise my horses at dawn tomorrow before it gets too warm for them, so I can pick you up, if you like, and drop you at the harbour on my way.”
“Would you?” Papa asked, clearly pleased. “Very civil of you, Travis.”
AT DAWN THE FOLLOWING morning, Carina watched from the parlour window as Papa, smart in his captain’s coat and hat, left by the front door and climbed into Durward’s waiting curricle. Then she smiled and danced an impromptu jig all the way to the kitchen and twice around the table.
Had life ever been this good? Not only had Papa stayed at home last night, a little restless perhaps but perfectly sober, he had risen this morning without her reminder, already dressed by the time she scratched at his door.
She only prayed he would find work...
She busied herself with household tasks for a couple of hours, adding a little more water to the vase in the parlour that held Durward’s posy.
Then, realizing her father would be home by now if he hadn’t got work—unless he had gone straight to the alehouse in his disappointment—she took off her apron and walked up to the market for some fresh fish.
She was walking home again when a familiar curricle rattled past her, pulled by two elegant grey horses. It pulled up by the side of the road and Durward tipped his hat, smiling.
“I’ve taken the edge off their energy,” he said cheerfully. “Care for a sedate drive?”
It was an open carriage. She had no reason to refuse. He reached down to help her climb up.
“I think Papa was successful,” she said at once.
“He was. He shouted across to me that he had a few jobs lined up, said to tell you he wouldn’t be home until dinner at the earliest.”
“Oh, thank God.” It was an excessive reaction, of course, but she truly began to believe they had turned an important corner. “I cannot thank you enough for this.”
“I’ll call for him again tomorrow morning, but he has to do it without me, too.”
“I really believe he will. You’ve been so kind to him.”
His gaze shifted back to the road, and a line of pink began to form along his cheekbone.
“Nonsense,” he said, throwing back his head as if to be rid of his discomfort. “And talking of which, there’s a child at the Black Lion with a pet lizard. That is, he did have a pet lizard, but it’s been enjoying scaring the maids so much that I doubt he’ll ever catch it again...”
She laughed as the horses clopped their way out of the town. She saw the flat countryside, the often muddy, changing coastline, and picturesque cottages with different eyes now, almost as if seeing them in his company made them new and exciting.
He pulled the horses up in a shaded copse to rest and crop at the leaves and grass. Climbing down, he looped the reins around a branch to stop them wandering, then helped her down.
“Shall we walk?” he suggested.
She agreed happily, with just a hint of guilt because she was wasting her time in pleasure.
In fact, it was delightful, strolling with nowhere to go, listening to the birds’ song and the timbre of Durward’s voice.
They talked about everything and nothing, laughing as much from happiness as from wit.
So that when he paused to brush some speck of leaf off her face, she smiled trustingly up at him.
His eyes were like a heat haze, misty and full of promise.
He cupped her cheek, stepping closer until she could feel his beguiling warmth.
Her breath caught. There were butterflies gambolling in her stomach again, especially when his caressing hand slid around to her nape and he bent his head.
Her insides melted. It never even entered her head to stop him. There was nothing she wanted, nothing she had ever wanted or ever would, more than his kiss...
She felt the whisper of his breath on her lips. The moment stilled and stretched. She was afraid to move.
And then he straightened. “There. I am a gentleman. Rejoice.”
His voice was light, and yet just a little hoarse. Carina, dazed and unsure whether she was na?ve or simply rejected, let him thread her hand through the crook of his arm and lead her back toward the curricle.
After a moment, he even began to talk, but the delicious intimacy had somehow turned to formality, and she interrupted him without compunction.
“Is something wrong?”
He glanced down at her, a surprised and rueful smile hovering about his eyes. “Not with you. You are wonderful. I, however... You have enough to contend with.”
“Then, we are not friends?”
He muttered something under his breath that she could not catch and for an instant tightened his hold of her arm, drawing her closer again. “Of course we are friends. And that is where you should make sure I stay—a mere friend—until I go.”
She had always known he was leaving, so exactly why the reminder should bring such desolation, she had no idea.
“Don’t look like that,” he said quickly. “I am a bad man, Carina Jasper, and you deserve better. So much, much better.”
“What is better than friendship?” she retorted.
“Never ask a man like me such a question.”
“I have never met a man like you.”
He halted suddenly, swinging around to face her. “Carina—” He broke off, the determination fading from his eyes to leave them oddly helpless. Unexpectedly, he bent his head, touching his forehead to hers. “I should go. With the next tide.”
HE DIDN’T, OF COURSE. For one thing, he had done nothing about booking passage and had no idea which ship left when or for where and was prepared to carry passengers. For another, he had promised Captain Jasper to take him to the harbour in the morning.
So he made do with driving Carina back to her house and bowing politely over her hand in farewell.
He should never see her again, for he had come far too close to kissing her and was well aware she would have let him.
Only quite suddenly his amusing pursuit of the tugboat captain’s intriguing and beautiful daughter had become too real.
He could not call himself her friend, be her friend, and behave like that.
He was not a man much given to self-awareness, let alone to curbing impulses. Foster could testify to that, if he still lived. So could a string of women who had been only too willing to accommodate him. Carina was different.
Thinking about exactly why she was different churned him up too much, so he waited only until she had closed the front door before climbing back into his curricle and driving on to the Black Lion.
From there, he finally went to the harbour to make inquiries about passage abroad.
The West Indies intrigued him. He doubted he would be pursued there, and there was money to be made.
If there really was to be war with the United States, there was no point in going there.
But once across the Atlantic, a whole array of possibilities opened up. ..
He decided to mull it over before booking. Tomorrow would do, after he had kept his promise to Jasper. The trouble was, Jasper’s daughter continued to fill his thoughts, waking and sleeping.
He knew from experience how to get over such obsessions. Take the girl. A few nights of passion and the novelty would wear off.
Only he couldn’t do that to Carina, an unmarried, respectable girl. She was no sophisticated matron looking for excitement, no ladybird looking for a “protector”. And the truth was, his obsession was only partly physical desire. There was a tenderness, an intense liking that was unfamiliar to him.
No, he wouldn’t touch her.
But during the night, he woke in a sweat, his heart thundering, for he had dreamed of Carina with delicious carnality and the alarming knowledge that he had married her. That idea kept him awake until it was time to rise and fetch Jasper.
Having dropped the captain at the harbour once more, he couldn’t yet make himself book his passage. For his dream still haunted him.
He could marry Carina...