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bsp; Captain Crowley said no more until she had sipped at the still-scalding tea.
“Mr. Thompson tells me you are an English lady.”
Cassie heard the incredulity in his crisp voice and realized that it would be difficult at the very least to convince him to take her aboard.
“Yes, sir. I am the Viscountess Delford, Cassandra Lyndhurst by name.”
The hood of Cassie’s cloak fell back at that moment, and Captain Crowley found himself staring unabashedly at a beautiful young woman.
Cassie felt a dull flush creep over her cheeks, and her eyes flew toward the cabin door. She was suddenly afraid that she had placed herself in the hands of a scoundrel.
“You needn’t be afraid of me, my lady,” Captain Crowley said sharply, her look of panic not lost to him. He flipped up the blue tails of his coat and sat himself opposite her. “Now, my child, you will tell me how I may be of service to you.”
He took on the look of a very stern grandfather, and Cassie eased her tense muscles. All the way to Genoa, she had rehearsed her story, one that sounded so outlandish that she hoped it would be taken as truth. Indeed, she had thought ruefully, there was quite a bit of truth to it.
“My husband, Captain Lyndhurst, is in the colonies, sir, in New York with General Howe. I was on an English ship bound for New York when we were seized for the masts and spars we carried. I was taken by a Genoese nobleman and brought here.” Cassie saw Captain Crowley’s gray eyes narrow in disbelief and hastened to add, “As you know, Captain, most masts that manage to reach English ships usually arrive in sections and must be bound together with iron. This means, of course, that they lack flexibility and many times snap in gale weather. The masts we carried were supposedly secret. They were of the finest seasoned oak from the Baltic. It is obvious to me that there was a traitor aboard, a man who had told the French of our cargo.”
Cassie silently blessed all the books she had devoured, for Captain Crowley was nodding at her in assent. “You are a very knowledgeable young lady, viscountess. Indeed, that is why our frigate is here, in Genoa. It is difficult to make repairs on a rotted mast.”
She heard the undisguised bitterness in his voice, but knowing nothing of the administrative weaknesses of the Royal Navy, she could do nothing more than nod wisely.
Captain Crowley pulled himself from his cogitations. “You said, my lady, that you were brought here by a Genoese nobleman.”
Cassie felt a tightening in her throat at the mention of the earl and for a moment could not reply. It was perhaps just as well, for Captain Crowley saw the pain in her fine eyes and felt a tug of unprecedented emotion.
“Yes, sir. I have been here for several months now. At first I fought him, until it was borne upon me that such behavior would gain me naught. I became docile, subservient, and he was lulled into believing that I was content with my lot.” She suddenly threw back her head and stared at the captain full face. “If you do not take me with you, Captain Crowley, he will find me, and I shall never again see my husband or England.”
Although she did not plan it, Cassie suddenly burst into tears. She buried her face in her hands and her whole body shook with anguished sobs. That she herself was surprised by her tears was not apparent to Captain Crowley.
“My dear viscountess,” he said awkwardly, leaning forward to pat her hand, “there is no need for you to distress yourself further. As an English gentleman, I must assist you. Shall I set my men upon this blackguard who has held you against your will?”
Cassie raised her tear-streaked face and gulped. “Please, sir, I beg of you not to. The Genoese are peculiar, and he is a powerful man. I fear that such an action would be dangerous and could create an incident that could affect England itself. The Genoese are mighty bankers, you know.”
Captain Crowley was beginning to view her as a very well-informed young lady. He nodded sagely. “You need not fear that a Genoese blackguard could lay England low, my lady. But I will do as you wish in the matter.” He rose, dug his large hands into the pockets of his cream-colored breeches, and ruminated aloud. “I am bound for Boston on the morning tide. It is a long journey, and one that is not without danger.”
“I am well aware of that, Captain.”
“Aye, I suppose that you are.”
“This Boston, Captain, is it near New York?”
“It is not too far distant, my lady. I see no reason why I cannot escort you myself to General Howe and your husband. If aught else, the Genoese are apt builders, and our repairs have been completed a week beforetimes.” He stroked his receding chin thoughtfully while Cassie held her breath, fearful that he would change his mind.
To her profound relief, he was but concerned about her quarters. She most happily agreed to the dispossession of Mr. Thompson, adamantly refusing the Captain’s cabin.
“You will, unfortunately, my lady, have to spend most of our journey below-deck. Some of his majesty’s sailors are an unsavory lot and I want no unpleasant incidents on my ship.” He pointed to a neat pile of dusty tomes set on a low shelf. “My library is, of course, at your disposal.”
He beamed at her, the coldness gone from his gray eyes. “If you will excuse me, my lady, I will see that Mr. Thompson settles you in.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
After Captain Crowley had left her, Cassie rose slowly from her chair and walked to the port windows.
Mr. Thompson found her there, staring toward the verdant hills behind the city.
Chapter 23
The Union Jack lay limp against the flagstaff, undisturbed by the ruffling cool breeze from the bay that rippled through the fortified encampment at the Battery. It was another pleasantly warm March day in New York. His majesty’s sailors called out to each other cheerfully as they cleaned their guns and polished their boots, over the noise of scores of black men, naked to the waist, unloading cargo from the merchant ships onto the docks. Their muscles glistened with sweat as they heaved, in a steady rhythm, bales of woolen cloth, crates of candles, every variety of liquor, Bibles, navigators’ instruments, horsewhips, and toothbrushes, over the docks to waiting horse-drawn carts, bound for Broadway.
