At the Captain's Command. Louise Gouge M.

      Dinah huffed out a breath to express her indignation. “I am certain Jamie did all he could to protect your precious cargo…short of being shot or losing any of his crew.”

      Thomas’s wide-eyed gaze darted between her and Artemis, and she wished she’d tempered her cross tone. “I agree, Miss Templeton. In fact, I know how fiercely he would defend the wares entrusted to his care. To reassure you, let me say that I had the privilege of advising him in regard to refitting the Fair Winds to provide support for increasing his firepower. She now sports twenty-four guns and a crew trained to use them. That is a defense equal to many smaller British frigates. Should a pirate show an inclination for carnage, Jamie will have the wit, will and resources to engage him in battle.”

      Artemis continued to grumble, but Dinah’s heart overflowed with happiness for all this good captain had done for her brother. “You must know how grateful Jamie is for your help. He has told us of your father’s involvement in preventing impressments of the Fair Winds’ crew. The earl’s patronage has no doubt been the single most important element in Jamie’s success as a merchant captain.” Dinah also did not doubt for a moment that the earl’s patronage had ensured Jamie’s loyalty to England and the Crown, despite his former support for the rebellion. “When you next write to Lord Bennington, please convey to him a sister’s gratitude.”

      Pain ripped across his eyes but disappeared so quickly Dinah wondered if she’d been mistaken.

      “Yes, dear lady. I shall be pleased to convey your thanks to Lord Bennington.”

      “Ah, such a grand thing to be the son of an earl,” Artemis said. “I’ve had the privilege of becoming acquainted with your brother Frederick, and I am deeply impressed by his management of Bennington Plantation. Your father must be proud of his four sons.”

      Again, Dinah saw a shadow flit across Thomas’s face. Instead of responding, he lifted his coffee cup and sipped, focusing on his plate.

      “Just think—” Artemis prattled on “—to have one’s future all arranged and not to have to work one’s way to success.” He expelled a lengthy sigh. “Tell me, Captain Moberly, what is it like never to have doubts about one’s future?”

      The man’s face was a mask as he turned a dead stare upon Artemis. “I serve at the king’s pleasure, sir, but only the Almighty holds the future.”

      Artemis’s animated countenance went blank. “Yes. Of course.”

      Thomas had long ago perfected the art of ending a discussion he did not wish to continue. Hussey was clearly ambitious, and his puffed-up demeanor did not invite confidences. A man had to be careful what he said to this sort, lest he take the bit and run with it. Thomas would not discuss family matters when there seemed to be some tension between Hussey and Dinah. Did the man treat her with honor, with respect? If not, Thomas would see things set to right.

      Still, these St. Augustine Loyalists had decent manners, and Mrs. Hussey appeared to be the soul of Christian gentility. But for the husband, Thomas might request the ladies’ prayers regarding the tasks before him, for he would catch this Nighthawk chap, whom he must call a pirate merely because he was the enemy. But in truth, Thomas regarded him much like British privateers who gained wealth by raiding the cargoes of their foes. Still, the challenge to catch him was enticing, and success in the endeavor would ensure another feather in Thomas’s cap.

      As it was, he must find some way to speak with Miss Templeton alone without offending Mr. and Mrs. Hussey. A gentleman simply did not request a private conversation with a young lady unless he meant to court her. But the grief weighing down his soul clamored to be relieved, and his kinswoman’s warm gaze invited his confidence…as well as some strange yet pleasant sentiments he could only attribute to their familial connections. That very morning, Dr. Wellsey had spoken of her good deeds among the sick and wounded soldiers from Fort St. Marks, citing her sympathetic disposition and natural kindness. Thomas had also noted her good humor, strangely subdued in Hussey’s presence.

      “Anne.” Dinah’s cheerfulness had returned, and her lively brown eyes shone. “Since the sun has not set, do you suppose it would be acceptable for me to show Captain Moberly our garden?”

      Thomas wondered if she’d read his thoughts.

      “Ah, yes.” Hussey tossed his napkin on the table and stood. “A trip to the garden is just the thing after such a filling meal.”

      “Artemis, dear,” Mrs. Hussey said, “I have need of thy help, if thee will, please.” She rose from the table. “Dinah, do show Captain Moberly the garden. Perhaps he would like to take some of our abundance of squash to his ship’s cook.”

      While Hussey blustered a bit before acquiescing to his wife’s request, a riot of thoughts swept into Thomas’s mind. Like most married women, Mrs. Hussey no doubt felt a duty to serve as a matchmaker for her unmarried friends. Still, if it worked to his advantage in this case, he would not complain. Dinah seemed to be a sensible girl, not likely to fawn over him or use artifice to gain his interest. But her cheerful countenance caused him to reconsider confiding in her for fear of ruining her merry mood.

      As they stepped out the side door, a rich, sweet fragrance swept over Thomas. He quickly identified the source: a broad, lush, six-foot-tall bush filled with white, roselike blossoms. He breathed in the heady smell. “Gardenia, if I am not mistaken.”

      “Yes.” Dinah moved close to the bush to sniff a bloom. “My favorite.” She waved a hand toward a low wooden fence. “This way to the garden.”

      Just when they reached the gate, a gray-and-white cat pounced from behind a shrub and grabbed at the ribbons trailing from the waist of the young lady’s flowered gown. The creature’s claws snagged the back hem of the skirt, stopping her.

      “Oh, Macy, hold still.” She tried to twist around and grab the cat, but it tugged away from her.

      “Hold still,” Thomas echoed. He bent down and detached the claws, then lifted the cat into his arms. Its loud purr made him chuckle. “Yours?” It nestled into his neck, sending a familiar comfort through him. How long had it been since Wiggins died? Thomas’s cabin on the Dauntless had been lonely since his little mouser had met its end.

      “Yes, he’s mine, the little nuisance.” She reached for her pet.

      Thomas tightened his grip. “Do let me hold him. My men would laugh to see me thus, and my steward will protest this hair on my coat. But I confess a weakness for cats.” He stared into Macy’s green eyes, and the car lightly nipped his nose. He patted his muzzle with a gentle rebuke, then looked down to see the bemused expression on Dinah’s face. They both laughed.

      “A man so fond of cats is a rarity.” She resumed walking into the garden, and Thomas fell into step beside her.

      “I suppose.” He shrugged and was rewarded by Macy’s discovery of his epaulet tassels. The cat batted the moving woven strands and caught a claw on one. Thomas grimaced to see some gold threads pulled loose. “Uh-oh.”

      “Oh, now, that is the end.” Dinah reached up to remove her pet, taking care with his entangled claws. “You must let me mend those braids. How will you explain to your steward that you were in a brawl with a fellow no bigger than your forearm?” She set the cat on the ground and tried to shoo him away, but Macy followed them down a row of squash plants until he spied a lizard and gave chase. Dinah’s laughter resonated pleasantly around the garden. Not too high. Not too low. Not in the least giddy. Thomas would happily listen to that merry sound often.

      “Do not trouble yourself. I shall tell Hinton I was attacked by a panther.” Thomas inhaled the fresh fragrance of the varied plants. Beyond the vegetable garden grew a small field of lavender, casting a pleasant atmosphere about the place. A fig tree, several citrus trees and a grapevine-covered arbor graced sections of the landscape. An ancient oak tree stood sentinel in one corner of the green yard, its long branches reaching wide to cast shadows over a cast-iron bench that seemed to beckon them.

      Orange and violet tinted the western sky, and