Page 62 of Scandalous

The truth was that Martín wasn’t comfortable staying in a house in which he had once been little more than a servant. Besides, several of the maids he’d bedded were still employed at Lessing Hall. He’d encountered one of the women, Susan, just before dinner. She was now married to a groom by the name of Caswell, a man Martín had once pummeled when he’d objected to Martín’s association with Susan.

Susan had obviously been lingering and hoping to have a word with Martín. She was as fetching as ever, her green eyes sparkling and her lush figure enhanced by marriage and a couple of brats.

“Hello, Captain.” She had the same welcoming smile.

“Hello, Mrs. Caswell.” He’d hoped the use of her married name would dampen her ardor. But Susan had ignored his hint, and he’d only been able to escape unmolested due to the appearance of the wooden-faced butler, Gates, a man who hated Martín with a passion.

“Susan, Mrs. Porter is looking for you.” The dour butler’s eyes had been on Martín when he spoke, his expression as haughty as a lord’s.

No, it was much better for Martín to remain on his ship.

He encountered Beauville just outside his cabin.

“Ah, Captain, do you have a moment to spare?”

“Of course, come in.” Once inside, Martín poured them both brandies. “So, what is it, Mr. Beauville?”

“I wanted to tell you this past journey was my last.”

Martín froze in the act of raising his drink. He lowered it, untouched. “What? Why?”

Beauville flushed and looked down at his own glass. “I am going to be married.”

“Married?” Martín repeated, sounding like a startled parrot.

“Yes, married.”

“To whom?”

Beauville’s bemused expression shifted into something hard. “To the young lady at the Pig and Whistle.”

Why did he look so accusing? “What woman?”

“The innkeeper’s daughter, Mary.”

Martín blinked. “The serving wench at the Pig and Whistle?”

Beauville’s eyes narrowed at the word “wench.” “Her name is Mary Simpson. She has agreed to marry me on the condition I give up sailing. Her brother died at sea, and she says she could never be happy always worrying about her husband.” Beauville looked pleased with the idea that a woman cared enough to want to keep him safe.

“Congratulations, Beauville. She is a lovely woman and will make you very happy,” Martín said, still unable to recall the woman in question. He doubted it would be prudent to admit that to the obviously besotted man across from him.

Beauville glowed.

“Will you be marrying immediately or will you accompany me to London to assist with the Blue Bird claim—although I doubt it is worth our time to pursue the matter given Graaf’s connections?”

“We will not marry until after the banns have been read. I would be glad to assist with any other matters just so long as they are on land.”

“So, what will you do? Become an innkeeper?”

Beauville laughed. “No, I do not have the temperament for it. I was hoping you might guide me in purchasing a small farm. I recall you own several properties of your own.”

“I would be glad to help in any way I can.” Martín was flattered Beauville would look to him in such an important matter.

They discussed a few pressing matters that always arose when a ship came into port, and Beauville left a short time later. Martín poured himself another brandy.

Graaf had been very interested in the information that Sarah’s father was Dutch. As if that somehow made a bond between them. Martín snorted at the snobbishness of the man. He realized he was squeezing his coat jacket tightly, as if it were the Dutchman’s neck. As if the fact that Sarah might have Dutch relatives somehow brought Graaf and Sarah closer together and maybe meant she would be more inclined to accept his attentions.

Ridiculous!