Promise Me Forever Read online

  Drew returned at noon and told her they would be leaving with the evening tide. The entire staff was busy stowing the last of his trunks, making certain he left nothing behind, and getting Heather's one trunk tucked in with the others.

  When it was time to leave, Heather said a quick goodbye to the maids she barely knew, and to the housekeeper who still radiated hostility. It was only Jameson she lingered over, giving the older man a warm embrace that clearly moved him.

  "Take care of yourself, Miss Heather,” he whispered, giving her a squeeze. “Don't let that boy push you around any, then."

  "Oh, I won't,” she told him, stepping back and blinking back tears. She would miss the kindly old man.

  "I tease you, my lady. I've known that boy for several years now and his heart is always in the right place. Just take care to watch his temper. It's fierce, but then, most of the passionate ones are. He's a good man, Captain Kennedy is. A good man indeed. He will take care of you. Good care of you, to be sure."

  Heather wasn't certain how to respond to that. She was quite sure the man had no idea how she came to be in Drew's company, and she wasn't about to enlighten him.

  Drew came into the front hall then. Ever the gentleman, he had dressed for the trip to the harbor in black trousers and dove gray shirt, complete with cravat and a sapphire blue frock coat. “Are you ready then, my lady?"

  She nodded. “I am."

  "Let us get moving, then, shall we?” He offered his hand to Jameson. “Take care of yourself, Jamie. Watch out for the ladies. They're nothing but trouble."

  Jameson gave Drew a warm smile. “Of course, sir. Indeed, I might warn you of the same, sir."

  Drew gave Heather a roguish smile. “Don't you always?"

  "Don't worry, sir. Lord Collingsworth will be home soon to keep me in line."

  "Tell Collingsworth I'll catch him on my next trip through."

  "Of course, sir. Safe voyage and Godspeed."

  Drew offered Heather his arm. “Shall we, my lady?"

  She accepted and out they went to meet the waiting carriage. He helped her in, and as she settled back against the cushion, she couldn't help but wonder how soon he planned on returning to England. There was no chance to ask him though, for he settled in beside her and said, “You are certain you have everything?"

  She couldn't help but smile. “I didn't have all that much to begin with."

  "Ah, I forgot to tell you, didn't I? I had Jameson make a trip to Madam Cartwright's this morning, while you were still asleep. There are two chests tucked safely into the captain's cabin of the Aphrodite You will have plenty once we are on board."

  She was touched that he remembered the wardrobe, but surprised that the seamstress could have everything ready so quickly. “How is that possible?"

  He stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. “Gold is a powerful persuader."

  She could only imagine the seamstress's response when confronted with the option of finishing the order within two days, or risk losing it altogether. Mary Cartwright must have spent those sleepless nights toiling away, most likely with several disgruntled employees toiling with her. Heather smiled again, imagining the mutterings that must have taken place. “I can imagine how happy she must have been."

  Drew gave her his most charming grin. “Could you argue with this face?"

  "Am I in the position to argue with you?"

  "I've told you, several times now; that if you wish to disagree with me about something, feel free to do so. I like a woman with spirit. Sometimes, there is nothing quite like a good argument. The making up part is usually most enjoyable."

  She wasn't entirely certain how to respond to that, but assumed the blush climbing into her cheeks was answer enough.

  Drew must have thought so as well, for he threw his head back and laughed. “Ah, we do have to do something about those blushes, love. They give far too much away.” His eyes lingered on hers for a moment. “Then again, perhaps we don't. They are quite adorable."

  Her blush grew hotter still and she wished—not for the first time—she hadn't been blessed with such fair skin. There was simply no hiding any embarrassment she might feel.

  Drew glanced over at her again, a slight smile still twitching his lips. It was a smile that did more to warm her than any other smile she'd ever seen, setting loose a flurry of butterflies to wildly flap their wings. His leg brushed up against her, nearly jolting her clear off her seat. Just that slight touch was enough to create a fresh wave of desire that tightened the pit of her belly and made her mouth go dry at the same time. She was still apprehensive, but found her curiosity was slowly pounding any remaining fear into submission. Now she simply wanted the waiting to end, to learn what else he could make her feel and how she'd enjoy it. Still, he did no more than slip his hand beneath hers, linking his fingers through hers. It wasn't nearly enough, but it would have to do for now.

  They spent the rest of the ride to the docks in comfortable silence. When they arrived, Drew exited the coach and turned to offer her his arm. She slipped her arm through his and allowed him to steer her in the direction of the berths. The air was pungent with the smells of a harbor and her nose wrinkled more than once. This was her first trip to London's docks and though she could barely stomach the smells, the various ships she saw berthed there fascinated her. She'd never seen a ship up close, nearly falling clear into the gutter as she was too busy gawking up to look ahead.

  Drew caught her as she stumbled. “Careful, love."

  "I'm sorry,” she said, still craning her neck to take in the sights. “It's amazing, this place. So much bustle."

  "I imagine a lady, such as yourself, has not spent much time at the wharf."

  "Hardly,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “It wasn't high on my list of places to spend my leisure time."

  Drew moved briskly through the throng of people milling about. Heather held tight to his arm, afraid that if they were separated, she would never be able to find him. She knew that was silly, for he towered over most of the men in the crowd, but the fear plagued her just the same.

  "G'day, love. Buy a drink for a lady?"

  Heather twisted her head to see a heavily rouged blonde strutting towards them. The gown she wore reminded Heather of the one Madam Allison made her wear that first night. More negligee than dress, it was extremely low-cut, in the fashion of an earlier decade, and it appeared that the woman had dampened the worn muslin to make it cling to her bony figure. The woman reminded Heather of the portrait of her grandmother that hung in the drawing room at Waterbury. Helene Spencer had been something of a scandal in her day—when it was all the rage for women to dampen their muslins to make them clingier.

  The woman sidled up to Drew as if Heather was invisible, slipping her arm through his and purring, “Buy a drink for a lady, love?"

  He untangled her arm from his. “Not interested."

  The woman pouted, refusing the let go of him. “It's only a drink..."

  "Take your hand from me for if I have to, trust me, you will sail without a ship."

  The woman frowned at him “No need to be nasty now.” She tossed her stringy blonde hair over one shoulder and sauntered off, calling out, “Buy a drink for a lady?"

  Heather shook her head. “Sad creature."

  Drew scowled. “Annoying creature. They swarm these docks, preying on sailors fresh off of ships and desperate for any sort of female attention, no matter how low."

  She bit the inside of her lower lip, not wanting to remind him of where he'd first met her. It was only twisted luck what saved her from having to troll the docks as a common strumpet. Glancing up, it was to see his eyes still glittered with irritation. “You don't know the reason she is walking these slips, Drew. Perhaps she has no other means to support herself. Or—or perhaps she has children to think of."

  If Drew heard the annoyance in her voice, he showed no reaction to it. Instead, he shrugged broad shoulders, as if wondering why it should trouble her, a guttersn
ipe such as that woman. “Or, perhaps not. You don't know either, my lady."

  "Oh! Men are all alike, aren't they? It's fine for you to leap into bed with whomever catches your eye! But when a woman does it, it must be because there is something wrong with her."

  "I never said that, my lady. This is your first venture into this part of London, but I pass through here on a somewhat regular occurrence. Which of us would know better?"

  She stopped in her tracks. “Is that how you see me, then?” she asked crisply. “After all, I might have been in a fancier setting, but what she is selling is no different, is it?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You know exactly what I am talking about."

  "You are nothing like that woman, Heather. Nothing at all."

  "Oh, is that a fact, then? Need I remind you of where we were when we met?” She stared at him with hard eyes, hands on her hips.

  Drew blushed at that, the color rising in his swarthy cheeks. “No,” he replied with a sigh. “No, I don't suppose you need remind me."

  "So then, is that how you see me?"

  "Do you truly need me to answer that? Do you think I would have asked you to accompany me to America, if I saw you as nothing more than a whore?” He knew he'd gone too far as soon as the words left his mouth and he wanted to kick himself good and hard at her pained expression. She looked as if he'd slapped her across the face. Her cheeks burned scarlet and her eyes were perfectly round, instantly shimmering with tears. “Heather, I didn't mean it that way and you know it."

  "Really? I'm not so certain you didn't mean it that way. How else could you mean it? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, though. It is the truth, isn't it?"

  He sighed. “Heather—"

  She turned away from him to stare straight ahead. “Where is your ship?"

  "Heather—"

  "Your ship, please."

  He swallowed a rising curse as he pointed to a three-masted vessel bobbing in the next slip over. “That is the Aphrodite."

  She gazed up at the ship. Though she knew nothing about them, she couldn't help but think it beautiful. Its hull gleamed proudly, the snowy white sails billowing as the wind swept along the docks. It was alive with activity. Men were swarming on deck as they readied the Aphrodite for the voyage across the Atlantic.

  Drew led her to the gangplank and she set foot on board a ship for the first time in her life. Almost immediately, one of the men came up to them. Smiling broadly, he said, “Afternoon, Captain Kennedy. Beautiful day to take to the sea, don't you think?"

  Drew returned the man's smile. “Couldn't ask for better, Mr. Aldridge. Is everything ready?"

  "Just about, sir. Me and Scottie have the last few crates to batten down, and then she'll be ready to go."

  "Good. Get on with it, then.” He turned to Heather. “Miss Spencer, this is Bobby Aldridge. Bobby, Miss Spencer."

  Bobby's keenly blue eyes lingered on her for a moment. “A pleasure, miss."

  She bobbed her head sharply. “A pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Aldridge."

  Drew didn't like the way Bobby stared at Heather. Didn't like it one bit. His stomach tightened, twisting into a hard knot. He glanced down to find his hand clenching into a fist. He tried to swallow his rising anger as he cleared his throat. “The crates?"

  "Oh, yes. Of course, Captain.” Bobby jerked to attention as he turned back to his captain. “We'll get right on it, sir."

  "Good. Now, fetch Henry and have him escort Miss Spencer to my cabin.” He turned to Heather. “I've a few loose ends to wrap up on shore. I shouldn't be gone more than an hour or so. Make yourself comfortable and let Henry know if there is anything you need.” He turned back to Bobby. “While I am ashore, keep an eye on Henry and make it clear to him that Miss Spencer is to have anything she asks for."

  "Yes, sir.” Bobby dashed off to find Henry, returning several moments later with a tall, rope-thin lad who couldn't have been much older than she was.

  "You wished to see me, Captain Kennedy?"

  "Henry, escort Miss Spencer to my cabin."

  "Aye, Captain."

  Heather shrank beneath Henry's penetrating icy-blue stare. He hardly looked happy with his assignment as he said, “Come with me, my lady."

  Drew caught her arm, leaning close to brush her lips with a quick kiss. “I'll return as soon as I can."

  Before she could reply, he was striding across the deck and disappearing down the gangplank, leaving her with Henry. She wondered if that kiss had been for Henry's benefit, for a smirk rose to his lips and a nasty gleam lit his eyes.

  "So it's like that, is it?” he sneered, all politeness gone now that his captain's eyes were no longer on him. “Well then, let's get you down, shall we?"

  Heather felt a slight twinge of apprehension as she reluctantly followed him through a doorway and down a flight of narrow steps. He led her down another narrow flight and along a shadowy corridor, remaining silent the entire time, not so much as glancing back to make certain she was there.

  Henry finally stopped before a closed door. Taking a brass ring from his belt, he flipped through the numerous keys until he found the one he was looking for. He unlocked the door and, with a flick of his bony wrist, swung it open. “Captain Kennedy's cabin,” he said shortly, giving her a look that was anything other than friendly. “Now, mind you, I know what all he keeps in here, and where he keeps it. So rest assured, I will know if anything disappears."

  She couldn't believe the man's cheek. Lifting her chin slightly, she mustered up as much dignity as she could, saying, “And you can rest assured, sir, that you've nothing to worry about. I will, however, be speaking to Captain Kennedy about your insinuations."

  He didn't look the least bit perturbed as he leaned against the doorframe. “Aye, I'll wager you will. But, I've been with Captain Kennedy for some time now. I also know what type of—shall we say, lady?—would share the cabin of a man she isn't married to."

  "And how is it you know I've not married the captain, then?"

  "For starters, he introduced you as Spencer, not Kennedy. Secondly, the captain isn't a marrying man. Third, you aren't wearing a wedding ring. So, you just watch your step, miss."

  "And I will suggest the same for you,” she retorted, glaring at him. “You have no idea to whom you are speaking or you would surely never adopt this tone with me."

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I ought to know a whore when I see one."

  Heather knew she could not have possibly heard him correctly. “I beg your pardon?” she asked sharply.

  He was nonplussed. “You heard me. Now, I've got work to do.” With that, he turned and stomped away, obviously put out with having to show her to Drew's cabin.

  His taunt still ringing in her ears, Heather stepped into the cabin and slammed the door with as much fury as she could muster. “Of all the nerve!” She could not believe he'd said what he had. Her stomach roiled painfully, tears pricking her eyes. If he looked down on her, convinced she was a strumpet, would the others do so as well? And what about Drew's family? How would he explain her presence to them? Would they, too, take one look at her and know the truth?

  "Is that what everyone will think?” she whispered. “Will everyone treat me as if I were no better than the dirt smudging their shoes?"

  A heavy sigh worked its way free as she glanced around at the luxury surrounding her. Drew might not speak of his wealth, but it was most apparent in this cabin. Though it wasn't large by any means, but very well appointed and tastefully decorated.

  He'd kept it simple. His desk, the dining table, the wardrobe, and the bed—all bolted to the ship somehow—were all a light colored wood she assumed to be oak. Chippendale had obviously inspired the carpenter, for the ornamentation was a perfect replica of the master's with elaborate clawed feet and delicate scrollwork.

  The desk was littered with papers and charts, quills and bottles of ink. She pulled the chair away from it and sat down, sinking deep into the rich leather. It wa
s odd, to be sitting at Drew's desk, touching his things, seeing this other side of him—the responsible sea captain. She hadn't missed the respect he commanded from his crew, hadn't missed how easily he donned the mantle of leadership.

  She sunk back in the chair, running a finger over the beveled edge of the desk. It was a bit disconcerting, really, that he was not entirely as he appeared, though few people were. At first glance, one might think of him as a dandy, a wastrel interested only in drinking and wenching, completely disregarding the true aspect of his nature. He was indeed, a responsible, respected businessman and sea captain.

  Her anger returned as she thought about what Henry had said to her. What nerve that man had! And what the devil did he mean—what sort of woman she was? How dare he insinuate anything! She would see that man sacked, if it was the last thing she did.

  The thought made her feel a bit better, but she knew she had to confront Drew, to find out exactly what he intended to tell his family once they reached Brunswick. After all, he couldn't very well keep her a secret, could he?

  Ten

  It was nearly suppertime before Drew finished up his business and was back on board the Aphrodite. He checked up on Scottie and Bobby, learned the cargo had been secured in the hold, and went in search of Henry.

  "Henry, a word, if you don't mind,” Drew said as he approached the younger man. Henry Donaldson had started out as his cabin boy, until he grew tired of Henry's sour disposition. However, the lad was a decent enough worker and so was allowed to stay on as the bosun's mate. The others often grumbled about him behind his back, but none had the nerve to confront Drew, finding it easier to simply ignore Henry's presence.

  Henry nodded. “Of course, Captain."

  "I understand you saw Miss Spencer to my cabin. Does she have everything she needs?"

  "Of course, Captain. I wouldn't be doing my duty if she didn't."

  "Did she ask you for anything?"

  "Not a thing, sir."

  "Have you at least been down to see that all is well?"

  Henry shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “No, sir. I hadn't realized it was my duty to watch over her."