Chapter One - Excerpt 2
Olivia was taken to the back of the tavern, where the landlady pulled aside a dark velvet curtain to reveal a room clouded in thick smoke. Men were sitting around a table, and by the pile of coins stacked high in the center, it looked like a game of cards had been in full swing for some time.
A dark-haired man, strikingly handsome in countenance, with broad shoulders and a broad chest, with supreme confidence in his actions, laid down his cards and leaned across the table. With the arrogant assurance of a winner, he spread his arms wide, and then giving a loud laugh of satisfaction, he gathered the mountain of coins into a heap, pulling them toward him.
“Thank you, gentlemen. It was my pleasure,” he said.
The man was indeed Luke Crowe.
Even though it had been ten years or more since Olivia had last met Luke at Chamber Manor, her family’s home in Devon, she would have recognized him anywhere. He was decidedly older, but just as good-looking, if not more so. A sudden rush of heat surged through her. His dark chestnut-brown hair was tied back from his face with a black ribbon, and a smattering of grey tufts showed amid his dark tresses, but unlike before, Luke was dressed not in a seafaring uniform, but elegantly in a suit made from a rich, finely woven cloth. Matured, sun-kissed and weathered, he still held a mysterious fascination for her.
Luke raised his eyes from the table and their gazes locked. For a brief moment, a frown of puzzlement marred his brow, and then, with slow deliberation, his hand lifted the thin cheroot he was holding between his fingers to his lips and he inhaled deeply. After exhaling a long, threadlike cloud of tobacco smoke into the air, he stood and bowed low.
“Gentlemen, there’s a lady in our midst,” he said in a deep, commanding voice.
Olivia felt deflated. He hadn’t recognized her.
She had thought he might have remembered her from when she was a child, but he obviously couldn’t recall who she was.
A scraping of chairs on the hardwood of the bare tavern floor could be heard, and the men seated at the card table hurriedly got to their feet to acknowledge her presence.
They were all dressed in the height of fashion.
Wearing fine linen shirts with high pointed collars reaching to just beneath their chins, and kitted out in fancy tailored waistcoats embroidered with fine gold threads, it was apparent that these gentlemen were not of the same social standing as the occupants toward the front of the tavern. But that didn’t mean they had absolutely nothing in common with their fellow patrons. It was clear these men were also inebriated to the point of near senselessness. Most of them were well into their cups and were standing unsteady on their feet.
“A lady friend of yours, is she, Crowe? And a mighty pretty one at that.”
The man who had spoken lifted a glass to his lips. Tilting his head back, he drained the dregs from his goblet. Tottering, he staggered, falling backward onto his chair, and as his head and torso tumbled forward onto the table, the loud snorts and grunts that followed were an unmistakable indication of his level of unconsciousness.
“You must excuse Lord Hepworth, my dear,” Luke said. “The sight of a beautiful woman tends to have that effect upon him.”
Olivia caught her breath at the innuendo behind the backhanded compliment. She was not flattered.
“Captain Crowe, my concern is not for Lord Hepworth and his reaction to the female form. My business happens to be with you, sir. Is there somewhere private where we may speak? I have something I must ask and would feel more at ease if we were alone.”
Luke gave an indifferent shrug, and she began to wonder if he, too, had overindulged in the carafe of wine that was close to his hand. Was he sober enough to hear her out?
“As you can see, there is nowhere private in this place. We are as private as we’re likely to be. Which is perhaps a good thing. I would not wish your reputation to be sullied.”
“Sir, I care not for my reputation. I must speak with you about―”
“Madam, you might not care for your reputation, but I certainly have mine to think of. All too often I’ve been caught off guard, and never again will I trust a woman.”
Several men burst into laughter, but even though she knew it was partially the drink talking, she had difficulty seeing the humor in Luke’s remark. Was his glib insult directed at her, or was there something else behind his harsh words?
Tilting her chin upward, she said, “Please forgive me for wasting your time, Captain. I am at fault. I had thought you could help, but it’s apparent that tonight I’ve made a needless journey. Good night, sir.”
Pulling her cloak securely around her, Olivia turned and left the room. She was defeated. She had braved the perils of the sailors’ watering hole and had pinned all her hopes on persuading Luke to help her, and it had been to no avail.
Making her way back through the crowded tavern, she emerged into the chill of the November night and filled her lungs with clean, sea-scented air. She felt dirty and soiled and crushed. Her encounter with Luke had left her feeling defeated. He was obviously not the gentleman she remembered him to be.
The fog had cleared. Walking to the edge of the quayside, she looked down and saw the bright shadow of the moon reflected as its yellow light rippled across the dark waters of the harbor. Somewhere without family, and lost on the other side of the ocean, was her brother, Joseph.
She had hoped to help him, but tonight she had failed.
Returning to where the carriage was stationed, she looked up at the coachman. He sat with reins in hand, awaiting instructions.
“You may take me home, Barnet. Unfortunately, Captain Crowe is not the man I remembered him to be. He cannot help us.” And with a heavy heart, Olivia made her way home, trying to think of other ways in which she might help her brother.
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Copyright© 2023 Arabella Sheen ISBN: 978-0-3695-0785-3
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer Editor: Jessica Ruth
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or re-produced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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| Arabella Sheen - Author |
