Page 9 of Her Summer Duke

Chapter Four

Captain Halstone chose not to set sail as he had been scheduled to. Not only was the weather against him, but his heart had begun to match the building tempest of the sea. His cargo was all loaded, yet he had allowed his men another few days of shore leave, as he struggled with his emotions. He had thought for days on the difficult issue of how he might manage to explain his having given a false identity to the lovely Lady Margaret Caulfield, but he could not conjure up a single plan which would discharge him of his falsehood in a manner which might make it seem acceptable.

He knew that many a marriage had been laid upon the foundation of a seaman and a noble woman, and his noble birth would give such a thing respectability, even if the ton looked down upon his choices, so that was not the matter which troubled him the most. No, it was his deceit, which left him feeling almost ill, until he was forced to shut himself away in his hotel, not far from Shoreham Harbour and Brighton, to agonise away from the prying eyes of his crew.

His ship, the ‘Brookstone Wanderer’ was moored in the new Shoreham Harbour, and the place he chose to stay was a small but respectable Inn, not far from the dock. It did not provide a view of the fashionable parts of the Brighton shoreline, but it suited his needs. Today, however, he found himself wishing for the sight and sound of the fashionable visitors to the town. He took a hackney cab to the area of the main promenade, and wandered along, watching the people who were out in the summer sun, even though heavy rain clouds could be seen, blowing in from the sea.

He did not, of course, expect to see his dearest Lady Margaret walking arm in arm with anyone on the promenade, for she was, to his knowledge, at her residence in Bath for the summer. Yet he could imagine what it would be like, if she came walking along, came to meet him. He did not even know if he desired to see her there, or dreaded to see her there – for if she was there, then he would have to approach her, and explain himself. It was a terrible conundrum, for which he had no solution.

Adam had never previously been in love. He had dallied with women, yes, including those lightskirts who haunted any port, hoping to profit from lonely sailors, but he had never, until now, found a woman who truly made him wish to be with her, always. He had thought that being in love, when the arrow struck, would be a delightfully pleasant experience, but on the contrary, the feelings which had settled in the pit of his stomach, churning and twisting, left him as uncomfortable as if he had consumed a bad piece of cod. His head felt light and he barely noticed those around him, as he stared out at the sea, whilst his thoughts tumbled together, reliving in his memory every single moment of their one solitary waltz.

The music; her gloved touch on his fingertips; the scent of her; her deep green eyes, that when he stared too deeply into them seemed to turn his heart into a beating drum within his chest; ah, and her delicate tiny waist which swayed beneath his fingertips. Oh, again, to pull her body against his and dance that enchanting waltz, and then to kiss her again, as he had then – but for longer, so much longer - that was his dream of dreams! He could hear her clear voice wherever he went, in the wind, in the treetops, on the wings of birds.

A deep baritone voice broke his reverie.

“Captain Halstone, will we be sailing tomorrow?”

Adam stared at the man with some irritation – yet he supposed that it was a reasonable question for his First Mate to ask – he simply had not expected any of the crew to come to this more fashionable part of the town.

“No. We shall see how that incoming storm goes, and then decide – but tomorrow is most unlikely.”

“Are the men at liberty to stay ashore tonight, Captain? With the exception of the usual watch to guard the ship and cargo, of course.”

“Yes, yes, liberty granted.”

He watched as his mate set off back towards the Harbour. The crew would be happy, and would, almost certainly, overindulge themselves in a multitude of ways, yet he could not find it in himself to worry. The sailors would be off for adventures of their own. Many of them would spend the night womanising, gambling, and drinking. It was to be expected, in every port.

The extra night or two of shore time would ensure that they were happy when he sailed. Happy that is, all but a few of them, who would return in the early morning, starry-eyed and in love with some girl they had met carrying her flour sack along the street, or serving them thin wine or sour ale in some dubious establishment, or standing at a market selling chickens and fruit. Oh yes, they would be smitten and suddenly distraught at having to leave the woman behind. They would be smitten by love, just as he had been smitten when he’d attended that Masquerade Ball.

Of course, he had been readily accepted by the keepers of the gate due to his strong pedigree. He came from a long line of Halstones whose nobility could not be questioned. That his father was a Duke was an entrée into most social circles, even for a man seen as rather the disreputable one of the family. Normally, he was not a bit interested in the beautiful world of fashionable people in London’s high society, but that one night his curiosity had been roused – might they have changed at all, since last he had ventured amongst them, as a gentleman, not a sailor? So he had chanced to attend the Masquerade Ball. He’d worn a mask and donned an Ensign’s uniform as his costume. The Patronesses of Almack’s had given him a voucher, and his fate had been sealed.

The next thing he knew, he was holding Lady Margaret in his arms dancing the scandalous waltz. Adam closed his eyes and let the memory of the night flood him with its warmth… Ah yes, the music seemed to flood his senses and his very soul, embracing him, as if he and the smooth flowing melodies were one, as he held Lady Margaret in his arms. He was at that very moment a young gentleman of leisure, enjoying the pleasure of his lady!

When he had opened his eyes to gaze upon her masked face, he had known, right then, that he loved her dearly. His lips wanted to ravish her mouth and her cheeks. His fingertips demanded that he trace her jawline and entwine them within her curls. He whole-heartedly knew that he must make Lady Margaret his wife for all eternity and yes, even beyond.

He had swept her out onto the terrace, and kissed her – a fleeting touch that sent fire through his veins, then he had, greatly daring declared quite unabashedly, ‘I am in love with you, Lady Margaret’. To his surprise, he watched her lips mouth the words, ‘I am in love with you, Ensign Chester’.

Now, trapped here in Brighton, far from his love, and with his ship due to sail within days, if its cargo was to be delivered on time, he slapped his hands to his thighs in sheer frustration. That had been months ago, that waltz, that wonderful moment. And in that time, he had not called upon her. He had not even written to her. His eyes had not even rested upon her a single time.

But he had discovered, during those months, that she was not free to love him - for she was promised to the Duke of Saltonbury. No matter that he loved her, or that she loved him, that promise stood between them. She was beautiful – it was only to be expected that many men would desire her, as became obvious when he had suffered that terrible conversation with Saltonbury, at the club, before he’d left London. Harrington had declared his interest, and Saltonbury had been, quite rightly, worried that perhaps Lady Margaret did not love him. Adam had no hope, yet he could not stop thinking of her, or loving her.

What was to hold her to their love? Nothing. For she was committed to giving herself to Saltonbury. He should forget her.

Should forget that he had ever met her, should find another woman to love. Yet he could not.

Adam turned to walk further along the promenade, feeling completely out of place, and vowed to himself that, once he returned to his Inn, he must put pen to paper and let her know that his love for her endured. He had to ignite the hope in her heart that they would, indeed, have a life together – he had to cling to the hope that she might cry off from Saltonbury, and turn to him – even once she knew his true identity.