At the Captain's Command. Louise Gouge M.

      He sent her a reassuring smile. “But this will not do.” His smooth, controlled words held a world of authority. “I have promised to take my sister-in-law to the ball myself.”

      “But—” Artemis’s face contorted into a variety of expressions, from anger to confusion to helplessness.

      Once again Dinah subdued her desire to laugh. Never before had anyone intervened for her as the captain had done today—twice. Her heart warmed even as she cautioned herself against putting too much into the matter. His words proved clearly that he regarded her as his kinswoman, and his actions were simply in keeping with that relationship. She dismissed the disappointment that tried to creep into her with that thought.

      In any case, pleasant and a very good friend though the captain might be, he was in the navy.

      Thomas wended his way through the streets back to the transformed Franciscan monastery that now served as military barracks. Billeted there, he and his officers found comfortable accommodations and respite from sea duty. Today, he would be pleased to find respite from his own nagging conscience. Not since his foolish adolescence and those first few years in naval service had he struggled so fiercely with his temper. In fact, his steady disposition was an attribute that had often earned him promotions over his fellow officers—that, and his father’s influence, of course.

      A stray thought interrupted his line of thinking. He had often wondered if his eldest brother would maintain Father’s influence for him or if Thomas’s advancements would cease. The uncertainty alone was unsettling, but not enough to cause him to abandon self-control. A captain’s temperament must be dependable, not erratic. Therefore he must ascertain the cause of this odd rage within him.

      Perhaps the fine church service had stirred his soul, for he found himself lifting a rare prayer that he might know the cause of this weakness. The hawk-like face of Artemis Hussey came to mind, but Thomas rejected such a simple answer. Yes, of course, the man was irritating. But even if he did not display sufficient generosity toward Dinah, he did permit her to live in his home during these difficult times for all Loyalists on these shores. And what choice did she have but to live with the Husseys?

      The answer came in the form of another more confounding question that halted Thomas in his path. Why did the young lady live here in this city with such a disagreeable fellow when she could be safely and amiably housed at Bennington Plantation? Renewed anger surged through Thomas’s chest, and he strode toward his barracks while more questions sprang to mind, all directed toward another man who had never been anything but disagreeable to him. A man who should have seen to Dinah’s care just as he had to his sister’s.

      Frederick Moberly, his spoiled younger half-brother.

      By the time Thomas reached his apartments and his steward had relieved him of his ceremonial sword and jacket and placed a cooling beverage in his hand, he had a fair understanding of what motivated his rage. He had no wish ever to see little Freddy again, much less to convey news of their father’s death. Had he not promised to escort Dinah and Dr. and Mrs. Wellsey through the wilderness to the plantation, and were he not eager to see dear Marianne and her young son, he would dash off a note to Freddy to accompany their eldest brother’s letter.

      A wicked thought crossed his mind and he made no attempt to stop it. Perhaps the trip would not be so bad after all if he could witness Freddy’s distress upon learning their father no longer lived and therefore could not ensure his employment.

      Guilt smote him. What had Dinah reminded him of from this morning’s sermon? Every person stood in need of grace from time to time and therefore should be willing to extend it to those who offended him. But then, Dinah did not have a brother like Freddy.

      Chapter Seven

      Few ladies in St. Augustine matched Dinah in stature, so borrowing a gown for the ball had been out of the question. Dear Elizabeth had saved the situation by donating her second-best overdress, a rose-pink linen, to which Dinah added a ruffled border made of Elizabeth’s leftover fabric. Of course the new material had a brighter sheen, but nothing could be done about that. Underneath, Dinah wore her own plain white linen skirt. Anne praised her ingenuity, and even Artemis gave a nod of approval…accompanied by a frown rather than a smile. Dinah attributed his crossness to Thomas’s insistence on escorting her to the ball in his honor.

      In truth, she could barely grasp the idea herself. While everyone in St. Augustine knew who she was and she knew of them, she had never put herself forward for attention. Being at the captain’s side would surely bring much notice, almost like a coming-out ball that launched young ladies into London’s Society. Marianne, the captain’s sister, once told her about these events, but Dinah had thought little more about them. Now she was not certain she wished for such recognition, for it might bring more unwanted suitors. Having looked over the crop of available local men and rejecting each and all, she could hardly find joy in that prospect.

      Further, she had expended much energy subduing the elation that arose each time she envisioned walking into the governor’s palace arm-in-arm with the captain. What nonsense that giddy feeling was. Thomas belonged at the top of her inventory of unsuitable gentlemen for all the reasons she repeatedly listed to herself. Why, even Artemis’s latest candidate, Mr. Richland, lived in East Florida and never traveled farther than Jamaica. That made him a more suitable husband than the captain, but she would never consider the man.

      Still, when Thomas arrived in a fine black landau complete with four matched grays and a liveried driver, she made no attempt to conceal her delight.

      “Really, Captain Moberly,” Artemis said as he, Anne and Dinah emerged from the house. “’Tis a short walk across the city. Why go to the expense of a carriage?”

      Dinah noticed he did not seem too put out about the matter. She also noticed he had applied an exceptional amount of his apple-scented hair dressing. Her appetite for apples had diminished considerably since living in the Hussey household.

      “But if we walk,” Thomas said, “the ladies’ slippers will be ruined. Many puddles from this afternoon’s rain have failed to evaporate, despite the heat.” He waved a white-gloved hand toward the bright evening sky, which would not become dark for another hour or so, then reached out to Anne. “Mrs. Hussey, you are a vision of loveliness.”

      “I thank thee, Captain.” Anne accepted his hand to help her step up into the conveyance. Indeed, in her black damask gown, she presented a picture of modest matronly grace as she settled into her seat.

      “Miss Templeton.” Thomas turned to Dinah, and his blue eyes twinkled. “I am overwhelmed by your beauty.” The humor in his voice at once dismayed her and made her laugh. What did he really think of her appearance?

      “And of course, you, Captain, are the epitome of perfection.” Her words, conveyed on a chuckle, nevertheless spoke the truth.

      His shiny black hat sat on his shiny black hair, which was pulled back into a queue by an equally shiny black ribbon, and not a single hair was out of place. His dark-blue uniform jacket bore not a speck of lint. His white breeches were spotless. The golden threads of his epaulets gleamed. And his sword, polished to a brilliant shine, caught the remaining sunlight with a gold and silver sparkle. But it was his sapphire-blue eyes, leveled squarely on her, that sent her heart into a dizzy spin. She had never seen a more handsome man, not even his brother Frederick, whom he closely resembled. Not even her own brother, Jamie. And the elegant gracefulness with which the captain climbed into the carriage generated admiration…and fear within her. Of course she must dance with him at least once this night, and then he would discover her clumsiness, for in Quaker Nantucket she had never learned that skill. At least in the dim candlelight of the ballroom, he would not notice her patched-together gown, which until this moment had seemed acceptable for a St. Augustine fête.

      But never mind. She had no need to capture his interest. As with all things, they would find reasons to laugh together, as good friends did at each other’s short comings. Yet he seemed to have no deficiencies, and she would certainly not seek to find one.

      Artemis clambered into the carriage