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Jamie bowed.
“I am at your service, my lady.”
Lady Marianne clasped her hands at her waist and laughed softly, but without mirth. “Such a cold tone to match a cold day. Where is the warmth that once graced your every word to me?”
For several moments Jamie stared at the ground, his lips set in a grim line. He seemed to compose himself, for at last he lifted his gaze to meet hers.
“My lady, I beg your forgiveness for my inappropriate conversations with you last summer.”
“But—”
He raised his hand in a silencing gesture. “I will not betray the trust of Lord Bennington by arrogantly presuming an equality that would permit us…permit me…to pursue a lady so far above me.” For an instant a sweet vulnerability crossed his eyes, but then all light disappeared from his face. “You must not ask me to do that which would dishonor you, your family and my faith….”
LOUISE M. GOUGE
has been married to her husband, David, for more than forty years. They have four children and six grandchildren. Louise always had an active imagination, thinking up stories for her friends, classmates and family, but seldom writing them down. At a friend’s insistence, in 1984 she finally began to type up her latest idea. Before trying to find a publisher, Louise returned to college, earning a BA in English/creative writing and a master’s degree in liberal studies. She reworked the novel based on what she had learned and sold it to a major Christian publisher. Louise then worked in television marketing for a short time before becoming a college English/humanities instructor. She has had seven novels published, five of which have earned multiple awards, including the 2006 Inspirational Reader’s Choice Award. Please visit her Web site at www.louisemgouge.com.
The Captain’s Lady
Louise M. Gouge
I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.
—The Song of Solomon 6:3
To my beloved husband, David, who encouraged
me to keep writing these books even as he was enduring radiation and chemotherapy treatments. May our God grant us another forty-five years together.
And to my insightful editor
Melissa Endlich…thanks!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
March 1776
London, England
Lady Marianne peered down through the peephole into the drawing room while her heart raced. Against her back, the heavy woolen tapestry extolling one of her ancestors’ mighty deeds pushed her into the wall of her father’s bedchamber, nearly choking her with its ancient dust. Yet she would endure anything to observe the entrance of Papa’s guest.
Often in her childhood she and her closest brother had evaded the notice of Greyson, Papa’s valet, and crept in here to spy on their parents’ guests, even catching a glimpse of the prime minister once when he called upon Papa, his trusted friend, the earl of Bennington. But no exalted politician captured Marianne’s interest this day.
Her breath caught. Captain James Templeton—Jamie—entered the room with Papa, and warmth filled her heart and flushed her cheeks.
The two men spoke with the enthusiasm of friends reunited after many months of separation and eager to share their news. Unable to hear their words, Marianne forced herself to breathe. Jamie, the Loyalist American captain of a merchant ship. How handsome he was, taller than Papa by several inches. His bronzed complexion and light brown hair—now sun-kissed with golden streaks and pulled back in a queue—gave evidence of long exposure to the sun on his voyages across the Atlantic Ocean. In contrast to Papa’s blue silk jacket and white satin breeches, Jamie wore a plain brown jacket and black breeches. Yet to Marianne, he appeared as elegant and noble as Papa.
Hidden high above the drawing room, she could not clearly see the blue eyes whose intense gaze had pierced her soul and claimed her heart less than a year ago. Jamie, always honest, always forthright. No wonder Papa took an interest in him, even to the extent of calling him his protégé, despite his utter lack of social position and being an American.
Marianne suspected part of Papa’s interest stemmed from wanting to secure the captain’s loyalty now that thirteen of England’s American colonies had rebelled against the Crown. But last year she had seen that the old dear truly liked Jamie, perhaps even more than his own four sons, a fact that stung both her and Mama’s hearts. Yet, despite that affection, the earl’s patronage might not extend to accepting a merchant for a son-in-law.
How she and Jamie would overcome this prejudice, Marianne did not know. At this moment, all she knew was that her own affection for him was unchanged. Last summer, against the better judgment of both of them, their friendship had intensified through shared interests, from reading Shakespeare and Aristotle to spending hours sailing on the Thames. On a short excursion with Papa aboard Jamie’s large sloop, the Fair Winds, Marianne and Jamie had whispered their confessions of undying love. Then he had placed the sweetest, purest kiss on her lips, sealing her heart to his forever. Now her pulse pounded at the sight of him, and her heart felt a settled assurance that no other man could ever win her love.
Wriggling out of her hiding place between tapestry and wall, Marianne brushed dust from her pink day dress and hastened to the door. She escaped the bedchamber undetected and hurried down the hallway to her own quarters.
“Lady Marianne.” Emma emerged from her closet, her hands clasped at her waist. “Why, my lady, your dress.” She took hold of Marianne’s skirt and shook dust from it, then glanced up. “Oh, my, your hair.” Her youthful, cherubic face creased with concern.
“Yes,