The Scoundrel and I - Katharine Ashe Page 0,56
the front room.
Jane Park stood there in all her sweet blond loveliness. She wore a yellow gown and a smart new pelisse and bonnet with shiny ribbons, and she carried a reticule made of silk.
Elle considered the disadvantages of becoming ill all over her employer’s floor.
“Good—” she forced over the grotesquely huge prickly ache in her throat. “Good day.”
Jane’s pale eyes blinked like a little startled woodland creature’s. There was no intelligence in those eyes, nothing interesting, nothing to make a naval captain laugh or scowl. The nausea in Elle’s stomach redoubled. She had thrown him into the arms of this woman and she wasn’t at all certain that it had not been an incredibly foolish mistake made at a moment when her emotions were far too agitated with grief and joy and so much love and probably exhaustion.
“You were here the other day when I came to find Captain Masinter, weren’t you?” the pale loveliness said.
“Yes. I—” She cleared her throat. “I work here. Everyone else has gone for lunch.”
“You have such a kind smile, like the captain’s,” Jane Park said sweetly. “You seem like a person who would help a woman in need.”
Tragically true. “How may I assist you?”
“My husband recently perished, leaving me and our children all alone in the world. Since then, the captain has been so generous. I want to give him something special, a gift, now that the wedding is going forward.”
“A—” Remember to breathe. “A gift?”
“Oh, yes. A very special gift that he will cherish. I have an idea for it, but I don’t know if it is a good idea. May I have your opinion on it?”
Apparently Jane understood the gurgling noise that came from Elle’s mouth as assent.
“You see,” Jane continued, “Captain Masinter and my late husband were wonderfully fond, and they spent hours pouring over ship’s logbooks together. I found several pages from one of those books in my late husband’s belongings. I thought I might have a page framed for display, for the captain, to show him my eternal gratitude for what he has done for me and my children.”
Elle nearly sobbed.
“But I don’t know a thing about pages or paper or frames.” Jane offered a bewildered smile. “After he insulted me the other day, Mr. Charles Brittle apologized with such gentlemanly grace that I decided to come here and ask his advice. But I would be grateful for your thoughts instead. You must be very clever with books and paper.”
“A little.” Although vastly un-clever with matters of the heart.
“Also,” Jane added, a twinkle in her eyes, “my fiancé is waiting outside in the carriage with my children. I should not make them wait long.”
Elle’s stomach turned over.
“Your idea is fine,” she said slowly. “But I believe ship’s logbooks are meant to be confidential rather than displayed on the wall.”
“Oh. Yes. I suppose that is true.” A haunted shadow crossed Jane’s face. Guilt. Elle could read it in the woman’s guileless eyes like she could read a page: Jane was remembering her blackmail scheme and hating herself for it.
Elle did not know how much more wringing a human heart could endure. And the notion that if she turned her head and looked out the window, she would see him, made every part of her weak with longing. She must end this immediately.
“I recommend not pursuing this idea,” she said. “Instead”—she snatched up pen and paper—“there is a wonderful map shop at this address. It so happens that the proprietor sells beautiful nautical charts suitable for hanging on the wall. I am certain you will find one that is ideal for the captain.” She proffered the paper.
“What a perfect idea!” The twinkle had returned to Jane’s eyes. “Thank you, Miss—”
“That is not important, of course.” Swiftly she ushered Jane to the door. “What matters is that he is happy. Now, good day to—” Her gaze caught on the wheel of the fine carriage parked before the shop, then swept along its side, then over the three adorable little towheads in the back, then up to the box.
It was not his carriage. It was not his team of matched grays. And the man standing beside it and gazing with besotted eyes at Jane Park was not her captain.
Jane said, “There is my fiancé! Do you see how grateful I am to the captain? He has made possible for me such happiness.” Beaming into the man’s face, she allowed him to hand her up into the carriage.
For a paralyzed moment Elle watched