At the Captain's Command. Louise M. Gouge

well with surprises. As it was, she could just imagine how he would fawn over the captain. She’d best prepare him.

      Hastening toward home, she shoved away her uncharitable thoughts. If Anne could be content in her marriage, Dinah would try not to dislike the man. But in the five years she had lived with them by mutual necessity, he had changed much—and none of it for the better.

      Pausing in front of the bakery, she inhaled the inviting fragrance of fresh-baked bread. Cook would be hurt if Dinah brought home someone else’s baking, but perhaps it would be wise to make a purchase anyway. Cook would have enough to do preparing fish, chicken and pies for Thomas without having to start bread in the middle of the day. And what about vegetables? Dinah had not checked the garden since picking squash three days ago. Would there be enough green beans—?

      She laughed at her own frantic thoughts, for she had no need to impress the captain. Not only had their family connections provided instant and reciprocal friendship, but she was sure he would appreciate whatever meal she served. Long months at sea guaranteed a hearty appetite for fresh fare.

      Continuing toward home without the bread, Dinah felt her emotions settle further. She truly must not permit her feelings for Thomas to go beyond friendship. Their relatives had already teased her about another marriage between their families, but for her it was not even a remote possibility. Her father had died at sea eighteen years ago when she was barely three, leaving her without any memory of him. Her brother was the captain of his own merchant vessel and spent his life away from dear Marianne and their precious son. Would Jamie return from England in time for the birth of their second child in a few weeks? Dinah had no wish to live that way. As disagreeable as Artemis was, at least he lived at home, and Anne need never suffer loneliness. No, Dinah would never marry a seaman of any kind.

      After passing through the gate of her fenced yard, she plucked several long stalks from the rosemary bush along the path to the house. She sniffed the pleasant, woody herb, and her mouth watered. She would give it to Cook to roast with the chickens. Yes, tonight at supper, Thomas would be amply rewarded for his service to His Majesty and the people of St. Augustine.

      When Artemis came home from the government offices for his midday meal, he sat at the head of the table with his brown eyes narrowed and focused on Anne. “Mrs. Hussey, I saw chicken feathers strewn about the yard in front of the kitchen house. If we are to have such an expense in the middle of the week—”

      “If you please, Artemis.” Dinah would not permit him to bully dear Anne.

      “If you please, Miss Templeton.” His harsh glare settled on her. “I am speaking to my wife. If you must sit at table with us, I will not have you interrupt.” His gaunt face lined with tension, he turned back to Anne. “As I was saying, if you must have meat in the middle of the week, could Cook not at least gather and clean the feathers for bed pillows or chair cushions or some useful purpose?”

      Dinah exhaled a quiet sigh, refusing to permit his rudeness to injure her feelings.

      Always placid, Anne gave him a serene smile. “I shall see to it immediately after dinner, my dear.” She pursed her lips and sent Dinah a meaningful look. “Sister, dear, what shall we do with those feathers?”

      “Of all the—” Artemis thumped his fist on the table. “What has she to do with their use?”

      Dinah pressed her lips together. Oh, how she wished she’d not told Anne that Thomas was coming to dinner. How she wished she could give this intolerable man his due.

      “Why, my dear,” Anne said calmly, “Dinah bought the chickens.”

      Artemis’s hawk-like glare darted back to Dinah. What he was thinking, she could not guess. His sinewy jaw muscles clenched with anger, but confusion filled his eyes, as if she’d never before contributed to their food stores. Indeed, she paid half of all the household bills while using only one third of the resources.

      “There. You see.” He waggled a bony finger at her as if she were a naughty child. “This is exactly why you should entrust your paltry fortune to me, Miss Templeton. You will be destitute before you reach three and twenty years if you continue such spending.” He scooped up a spoonful of bean soup and ate, but his glower forbade any response. “In these four years, I have laid before you the names of seven worthy gentlemen willing to marry you and take you off my hands, and you have rejected each and all. If you must be a spinster, give me charge of your money, and I shall make certain it carries you into your dotage.”

      Prickles of anxiety closed Dinah’s throat, and she set down her spoon and stared at her cooling soup. Messrs. Panton and Leslie, managers of a store on Treasury Street, kept her inheritance in safekeeping, as they did the funds of several other citizens. Yet every time Artemis brought up the subject, the same fears assaulted her. Without a husband’s oversight, would the gentlemen truly look out for her interests? Whom could she trust? Certainly not one of Artemis’s political cronies to whom he had tried to manacle her. And Jamie was not in East Florida often enough to provide protection for her. Only by living with Anne and Artemis could Dinah feel safe. And despite Artemis’s insinuations otherwise, he needed her financial contributions to maintain a suitable house for a man of his position.

      Anne coughed softly. “Sister, dear.” The warmth of her gaze and the unwarranted family endearment soothed Dinah’s nerves. Always, in the midst of these unpleasant discussions, she felt certain Anne addressed her as “sister” to gently remind Artemis of the heart bond the two women shared. “Thee must tell Artemis why thee bought the chickens.”

      Forcing herself to recover, Dinah sniffed. “La, I cannot think he would be interested, but if you insist.” She gave Artemis the sweetest smile she could muster…and waited until he’d placed a spoonful of beans in his mouth. “I fear your table will be overcrowded again this evening, for I have invited Captain Thomas Moberly to dine with us.”

      As she’d hoped, he gasped and then fell into a fit of coughing. Anne jumped up and dashed to his end of the table, pounding him on the back while sending Dinah a chiding glance. Dinah bit her lip to keep from laughing, but the hurt in Anne’s eyes soon dispelled her merriment and replaced it with shame.

      “Forgive me, Artemis.” She stood and fanned him with her napkin, taking in a heavy dose of his apple-scented hair dressing. “I did not mean to shock you—” Would God forgive this lie? Would Anne?

      “No, no, not at all, dear sister.” Artemis sputtered. “Captain Moberly, is it? Well, now, I’d heard this morning that a third British frigate had arrived last evening to protect our city, but I had no idea of who the captain was. To think, Lord Bennington’s heroic son quartered here and coming to my humble home.” He waved his hand to dismiss Anne. “Thank you, my dear. I am well. Please be seated.”

      With order restored, Anne signaled Cook to bring dessert. As Artemis dug into his cornmeal pudding, his dark eyes almost twinkled. Dinah imagined he was thinking of ways to turn this night to his political advantage, for that was his practice with every situation. She must brace herself for whatever he might do.

      “Hmm.” Artemis stared at Anne with a stern expression. “Mrs. Hussey, are you certain chicken is the best we can serve? Is there no beef or lamb to roast? Have you spoken to the butcher about a bargain on a good cut of meat? And what of dessert?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “And do have Cook clean up those chicken feathers. What will Moberly think if my yard is strewn with trash?” He turned his stare toward Dinah. “Miss Templeton, this afternoon you must run across the backyard to the Ethertons’ house and hire their eldest daughter to help Cook serve supper tonight.” He stood and tugged at his lapels. “I’ll not have the earl’s son think we cannot afford to serve him properly.” He stepped away from the table and stopped by the door, his lean form casting a thin shadow on the tabby floor. “And make certain the girl wears a clean apron.”

      “Yes, Artemis.” From his authoritative tone, Dinah understood that Thomas was no longer her guest, but Artemis’s. Whatever hopes she’d had for becoming better acquainted with her kinsman and exchanging news about their shared family must now be abandoned in favor of this disagreeable man. Dinah felt her annoyance