The Captain's Secret

Signet Traditional Regency
by Jenna Mindel

ISBN: 0451207114
( click on the ISBN to order directly from Amazon.com)

PROLOGUE

Summer 1813,
Sheldrake Hall

Susannah Lacey walked with Captain Jeffries to the shore of the small lake. Her arm rested lightly on his and she was nervous. She feared she would cry, but knew that if she gave into the pain, she would only make matters worse. She had to be brave for his sake. They strolled along in silence until finally Captain Jeffries stopped and turned to her.

"Susannah." He looked into her eyes with a seriousness she had seen only briefly before. "I want you to know that I will carry the memory of our friendship and these past few days together into battle with me. It will keep me safe."

She felt a lump of emotion threaten to close her throat so she swallowed twice before she could trust herself to speak. "My prayers and those of my family go with you, Winston." It was the first time she had called him by his Christian name. "That will keep you safe and bring you back to me."

"Thank you, but, Susannah, you mustn't think like that. You mustn't wait for me. You are young with your whole life ahead of you including many young gentlemen to meet yet. Promise me that you will have your Season, whether it be in Bath or London." He took her hand. "Promise me that you will enjoy yourself and flirt shamelessly with all your suitors and find a rich and worthy man to take care of you for the rest of your life." His voice was soft and full of emotion, like that of a man who expected to die.

Her eyes welled up with tears and one tripped over her lid to run down her cheek. "Do not worry for me," she whispered. She did not care how long it took or how long he was gone, she would wait for him. Despite being only sixteen, she knew her heart; Captain Winston Jeffries was the man for her.

"Promise me," he insisted.

She sniffed and said, "I promise I shall have my Season."

He nodded and seemed satisfied with her answer. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a stickpin, one a gentleman would wear in his cravat. It was a small butterfly encrusted with tiny diamonds and rubies. He offered it to her. "I want you to have this. My brother, who tries to make a proper gentleman out of me, gave it to me but I cannot wear such a feminine thing. Please take it, and think kindly of me when you look upon it."

She cradled the pin in her hands, and then affixed it to her dress, just below the shoulder. "It is beautiful. Thank you, I shall treasure it always."

He shrugged his shoulders as if she made him uncomfortable by treating his gift with such reverence. "A trifle really," he said.

She thought a moment, wondering what she could give him in return, when an idea struck her. "You must have something of mine as well."

"Susannah, you do not have to give me anything."

"But I do." She reached back and snatched a hatpin from her bonnet. It was made entirely of paste jewels, but it sparkled in prisms of blue and gold. "You may feel funny carrying around a lady's hatpin and it is not nearly as grand, but perhaps you might use it as a weapon." She let out a giggle despite her tears.

"A wonderful idea." He smiled broadly, took the hatpin and settled it into the material of his red uniform.

"And think of me when you carry it," she added, gazing into his eyes.

"I will." He looked away and kicked at the grass with his foot. He then looked up at the darkening sky with an air of defeat. "Susannah, I must go."

"I know." Her heart felt like it was ready to break in two. She knew his reluctance to leave had much to do with his fear of returning to war, but she also believed that he did not wish to leave her.

"Do take care," he said as he took her hand and raised it to his lips for the briefest of kisses.

"And you do the same." She had to remind herself to be brave, but her insides quaked and she felt her bottom lip begin to tremble.

He reached up and caressed her cheek and then he quickly walked away. Susannah watched his long strides take him away from her, and then she remembered to remind him. "Do be sure and write to us," she called after him with a strained voice.

He turned and smiled and waved. She forced herself to smile and wave in return, but her heart had never felt so heavy. She stood alone for what seemed like an eternity, her throat dry and tight with the sob that she had been holding down, controlling. She silently begged God to keep him safe.

 

CHAPTER ONE

April 1816,
London

Susannah Lacey sat down at her desk and sighed. The three letters written to her from Captain Winston Jeffries almost three years ago lay before her. She had been only sixteen when they met, but age had not changed what was in her heart. She could not read the letters without experiencing the inevitable pain that lodged itself in her soul. She had clipped a list of the soldiers fallen in battle at Toulouse from the Morning Post two years ago and that list slid out from the pages of the last letter Winston had sent her. He had been on that list among the wounded, but she had never heard from him. She wondered for the hundredth time what had happened to him.

Surely if he had lived, Winston would have written to her. But then perhaps, he simply did not wish to see her again. Perhaps, he did not return the love that she felt still. Was she nursing an impossible hope that he was alive? If so, she had to stop. For whatever reason, Winston had not sought her out. She had to accept that. She had to move on with her life. She hoped for children one day but she would never realize that goal if she continued to pine after a memory. Winston no doubt had viewed her only as the child she had been. Winston made her promise to have a Season when they said goodbye, and finally, she would.

Lady Evelyn Abbott, her dear sister's mother-in-law, sponsored her come-out along with the help of Susannah's Aunt Agatha. She was not about to worry any of them with a show of the dismals.

"Miss Susannah?" Botts, the young maid assigned to her, stepped into her bedchamber.

"Yes?"

"There has been a change in plans. Your aunt and Lady Evelyn have decided that a trip to the theater would be the very thing this evening. Lord and Lady Sheldrake have just arrived."

Susannah smiled. Aunt Agatha simply wanted to be gone from the bustle and noise of a very boisterous three-year-old Jane and her cantankerous infant brother, George. Susannah doted on her niece and nephew but they could be overly loud when introduced to new surroundings. Lord Sheldrake, her brother-in-law, did not wish to leave his family behind when he attended Parliament. And so, he had leased a veritable mansion in Mayfair to house them all for the Season.

She rose to her feet and nearly tripped on her gown. She followed Botts to the armoire. Her bedchamber was large with considerable light and an excellent view of the street below from two tall windows "What should I wear this evening, do you think?" Susannah asked her maid.

Botts whisked through the newly hung gowns before pulling out a celestial blue confection with a silvery net overlay. Botts, though young, had been well trained.

"This I think. Such color is fine for Drury Lane."

Susannah nodded in agreement. Once dressed with her hair coifed into a near perfect halo of riotous golden curls, she was ready. And then she remembered. "My pin." Susannah rushed to the box containing her modest but excellent array of jewels. She pulled out a stickpin with a small butterfly encrusted with rubies and diamonds. She hastened to attach it to her dress, just below her shoulder, right above her heart.

Botts did not approve. "It does not match."

"Yes it does." Susannah stood before the mirror, inwardly cursing herself for her weakness. She had worn this pin everyday for three years. It was time to put it aside. She knew that. How could she look for a husband and give the poor man half of a chance, if she kept holding onto Winston's memory? Her fingers shook as she carefully unfastened the pin and put it back in the box.

"I suppose you are correct."

She followed her maid out with a feeling of emptiness. She knew she must stop nursing hope to see Winston again. Even so, it hurt terribly.

#

Captain Winston Jeffries, toweled and dry from his bath, stood inspecting his newly purchased black evening coat and linens. He had been cooling his heels for days in London, awaiting direction from the Office of Foreign Affairs for his next assignment. After finally receiving those directions, he found himself in a nice kettle of fish. Lord Castlereagh, the Foreign Secretary had described the intricacies of his duty to perfection. He completely understood his goal and his plan of attack, but he did not have to like it.

Playing the gallant admirer to a whey-faced chit in order to find proof that her papa was a traitor was not his style. He would do what he must for king and country and hopefully succeed so that he might receive the post he wanted in India. He rubbed his chin as he stared at his sadly lacking wardrobe. This mission meant the purchase of many things he'd rather not have to spend his blunt upon. He needed clothes befitting his station, an experienced valet, and a fashionable address with a decent stable.

He let out an irritated sigh and tried to think of the positive side of things. He had been given a rather nice sum from the Foreign Office to use, but it was not nearly enough. Some day when he was settled in India and living in peace, it would all be worth it. Either way, after this mission, he wanted out. He was done with finding traitors to the crown.

He applied a modest amount of Honey water and reached for his shirt only to catch a glimpse of his torso in the looking glass. The sight of the long thin scar from a saber wound he received at Toulouse two years ago, still caused his stomach to knot with regret. If only he had gotten out of the way, he might have been left to captain his dragoons. Perhaps then he would never have been approached by the austere Lord Castlereagh to work for the Foreign Office. His gaze rested on his scarred left hand and his frown deepened. No matter how far away he ran, his hand would remain a constant reminder of his sins. Turning away from his image, he shrugged into the shirt.

Lucky for him this contrived courtship for a pretend bride was merely playacting. He had no desire to woo a maid. How could he possibly explain what kept him up at night? What made him tremble and sweat when he did catch those few precious hours of sleep? That madness was reason enough for Winston to keep his distance from the fair sex.

In no time he sauntered down the stairs of Stephen's Hotel on Bond Street, where he had spent his last three nights. He fished out of his pocket the calling card of the man he had been instructed to meet tonight at the Royal Theater on Drury Lane. Winston wore the red rose pinned to his lapel that this Lord Ponsby was to look for. Castlereagh had said that Lord Ponsby would introduce him to polite society and steer him in the direction of his target, Miss Caroline Dunsford.

Whistling under his breath, he walked the few blocks and entered the theater amidst glittering ladies and noblemen. He made his way through the crowd when suddenly a hand grasped his elbow. He looked into a face with shrewd blue eyes belonging to a man of surprisingly young years.

"Captain Jeffries, I presume," the gentleman said.

Winston turned to the man. "Yes, and you sir?"

"Why, Lord Ponsby of course. I have been expecting you. Come, follow me to my box and we can get better acquainted."

Winston followed quietly until they were seated in a lavish box with an excellent view of the stage. He would have expected something far off towards the wall.

"Are you comfortable? May I offer you a pinch of snuff?" Ponsby leaned toward him with a jeweled toned box in his outstretched hand.

"No, I thank you," Winston said. "A bit in the open, wouldn't you say? Are you not concerned about being overheard?"

Ponsby waved his hand in dismissal. "I shall go straight to the matter. I have here of list of parties, routs, dinners and the like to which I will ensure your invitation." He handed it to Winston. "Take care in responding to every single one with acceptance. My sister will put your name about as a well to do Captain back from the wars. Your lineage is respectable, I have already checked. We should have no trouble at all, passing you off as a desirable young man in search of a good match. All doors of Society will be opened to you."

Winston nodded. There was no stopping what he was about to become. His sudden appearance in Society would have to be explained in order to gain such high entrée. He was grateful for someone like Lord Ponsby to smooth his way. "I understand there is a lady that I must court. How shall I seek her out?"

"Leave that to me. I will introduce you to Miss Dunsford at my sister's rout in three days. But we shall meet again before then," Ponsby said.

The theater was now full. The lights had dimmed to announce the start of the play. He leaned back in his chair, eagerly awaiting the curtain's opening and looked around. The faces of high society blurred before his eyes until a blaze of diamonds suddenly caught his attention.

"Hey, Ponsby, who's that over there looking like royalty?"

Ponsby appeared a bit irritated at Winston's informal use of his name, but looked about to see of whom he referred. "I am assuming you mean the young lady wearing the tiara?"

Winston did not for a minute mistake the insolent drawl in the other man's voice. "Yes, that's the one."

"That is Princess Esterhazy, one of the patronesses of Almack's." Lord Ponsby nodded politely towards her, when she caught his gaze. "You would do well to ingratiate yourself with her and Lady Cowper and Lady Jersey. They rule over Almack's."

"All guardians of the hallowed halls eh?"

"Indeed. Have you never attended society functions in London, my boy?"

This time it was Winston's turn to bristle with indignation. At twenty-nine, he was hardly a boy, no more so than the stiff-necked Ponsby. "Quite frankly, it all seems like a bit of fluff and nonsense to me. I have had my schedule rather full fighting a war."

Ponsby had the grace to color slightly. "Indeed. I will ensure that you meet whom you must. It is after all a matter of national security."

"Indeed." Winston copied the other man's term and then with good humor, winked at him to show that he held no hard feelings towards him. Had Winston's elder brother not been maimed in a farming accident, the two might have made more trips to London simply for social visits. But that hadn't been the case and as much as his brother had tried to make a gentleman of fashion out of him, Winston had balked at the effort. Winston was a military man and that had always been good enough.

Tapping his foot with impatience for the play to begin, Winston gazed about the boxes again. The crowd cared more about being seen than the rising of the curtain. He noticed an angel perched upon the edge of her seat as she eagerly awaited the start of the play. She checked a dainty timepiece she wore and then her playbook. Her identity suddenly hit him like canon fire. By all that was holy, it was Susannah Lacey!

Dread, regret, and desire filled him at once and his heart felt like it had fallen into the soles of his feet. Her hair was different. She had cut it and it fell in a riot of curls about her head. She was different - no, she had simply grown up. He sat there, his gaze riveted to the one female he had tried to forget. The woman he thought that he would never see again was sitting five opera boxes away from him.

Surely, she must have married by now, he thought. Panic settled over him. What if she attended the same parties as he? How would he address her if he came face to face with her? The theater was near dark but for the lights from the stage.

The soft light shining on Susannah's face wreaked havoc with his senses. He merely watched her and his mind clouded with memories filled with bittersweet longing. Without thought, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out the hatpin she had given him the day he left her. It was a sweet reminder of more innocent days when he was merely an idealistic soldier. He twirled it between his fingers, and wondered what the deuce he would say to her when she found out he was alive.

"I say, Captain. Are you listening?"

Ponsby's voice intruded and Winston sat up straight. "What's that?"

"I asked if you knew her."

"Knew who?"

"Why, the golden beauty in the box over there. You have been staring at her this age."

Winston felt uncomfortable. "I met her a long time ago," he murmured.

"Perhaps we should pay a visit to their box…"

"No!" Something in Winston's tone must have given Ponsby pause, since he said nothing more.

Winston noticed with irritation that now Ponsby watched her as well. Lord Ponsby was the type of man he supposed most of the young ladies would find agreeable. Handsome and more reserved in manner and dress than the typical London dandy, Ponsby carried himself well. If his tailoring was any indication, he was well to grass, and just the sort of man Susannah's beauty could attract.

Surely she would have married, he thought again, she was nineteen by now. She would not have waited for him, would she have? Winston shifted uncomfortably under that thought and guilt gnawed at his insides. Finally, he tore his gaze away from her and watched the stage.

#

The lights brightened to announce an intermission and Susannah stood to stretch her legs. The play was fine, but being part of audience was more thrilling as she looked around. There was an exhilarating tension in the crowd that was a tangible thing as everyone nearly hummed in anticipation of the Season to commence.

"Are you enjoying this evening's production, dear?" Aunt Agatha asked.

"Completely."

"Charming is it not?" Lady Evelyn added.

"Charming," Susannah agreed. She turned to watch people as they weaved in and out of boxes. She noticed a center box where two finely dressed gentlemen stood, one had his back to her. The other gentlemen caught her looking and tipped his head in acknowledgment. He had the polished good looks of a man about town, sophisticated and all knowing. He was the type of man she should be interested in meeting, but she felt nothing.

With a sigh, she looked away, but not before she caught the profile of the other man. Her heart skittered to a halt and her head pounded. It could not be! Taking a deep breath to lend her courage, she looked again. The gentleman had turned around and he faced her. It was Winston!

Her gaze swept down as much of his body as she could see. It was her very own Captain Winston Jeffries and he appeared to be quite whole! She looked directly into his eyes. He recognized her as well. Her heart beat wildly and she felt light-headed as if she would faint. Her knees gave out and she landed with an ungraceful drop into her chair. She did not know what to do or how to react. She merely stared at him as if he were a ghost. But he was no ghost. Winston Jeffries was alive and quite well.

"Susannah." Her aunt tapped her shoulder. "Susannah, are you all right dear? You have gone completely pale."

"He's alive," she whispered.

"What did you say?"

Susannah shook her head to clear it. "Nothing. Aunt Agatha, I need to take some air."

"It is rather warm in here. Come, I will go with you, but let us tell Lady Evelyn."

Susannah got up from her chair on shaking legs and followed her aunt down the staircase. Once outside, she leaned against the railing and breathed deeply of the cool night air. It gave her some relief from her distress. She stood silent, knowing her aunt was concerned, but grateful that she did not press her with questions.

After a long while, her aunt placed her hand upon Susannah's shoulder and asked with concern. "Better?"

"Completely," Susannah lied. Her heart was breaking all over again. Why had he not written to her?

"Very well. We had best return to our seats before the second half of the play begins."

She took her aunts proffered arm, and together they went back inside. As they climbed the stairs, Winston and the gentleman with him in the box were coming down. She looked up in time to see Winston stop in midstep. He looked like a rabbit ready to dart away if she made any threatening moves. Her breath caught in her throat and she suddenly felt sick, but she forced herself into a modicum of calm. She would not fall to pieces in front of him. She found her voice. "Captain, how good to see you looking so well."

A faint blush of color rose to his cheeks. "Miss Lacey, and Miss Wilts. I am honored to see you both again." He bowed.

Susannah caught her aunt looking from her to Winston and back at her. Aunt Agatha's mouth had fallen slightly open.

"Leaving the theater so soon?" Susannah was surprised at how cool her voice had become.

"Yes."

He was running away, she thought, like he had done years before. But that was not quite true - he had a war to return to. They stood for a moment, staring awkwardly at each other when the sophisticated gentleman cleared his throat.

"I beg your pardon," Winston said. "Lord Ponsby, may I present Miss Susannah Lacey and her aunt, Miss Wilts. Ladies, Lord Ponsby."

"Miss Wilts, Miss Lacey, delighted." Lord Ponsby took Aunt Agatha's hand and bowed over it. Then he captured Susannah's hand and placed a discreet kiss slightly above her gloved fingers.

"We were just heading to Ponsby's club," Winston added hurriedly.

"Please." Susannah stepped aside. "Do not let us keep you."

Winston hurried down the stairs, leaving an offended Lord Ponsby, who appeared hesitant to move, standing uncomfortably alone. "I am sure that we shall meet again. Ladies, your servant." He bowed gracefully then followed Winston.

Susannah gathered her scattered wits and emotions.

Aunt Agatha had finally closed her mouth. "I thought the captain was dead."

"Yes, well, he is obviously very much alive." She could not hide the pain.

Her aunt wrapped her arm around Susannah's shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. "I am sorry, my dear."

"So am I," she said with a sigh. Her reply sounded ridiculous to her ears, almost as if she regretted that the Captain had lived. But that was not it at all. She had prepared herself for the worst, for death.

She followed her aunt up the stairs and into their private box as the curtains on stage rose for the last acts. The play had lost its allure. Susannah sat demurely with her hands gently folded in her lap but her insides waged a private war between heartache and anger. The longer she thought about what had just taken place, how Winston had dashed away with no explanation, the more anger took the upper hand. By the end of the play, she was fairly fuming with bitter rage. She would find out why Winston deemed it appropriate to leave her wondering about him for three long years.

#

Winston climbed into Ponsby's carriage, grateful that Ponsby had agreed to leave the theater and even more grateful that the man stayed silent during the short trip to White's. Winston kept seeing Susannah's pale face when she had recognized him. Although she had remained calm when they met face to face, she was deeply upset. He did not blame her. Seeing her again had upset everything in his carefully controlled world.

Three years ago, she had been a girl just out of the schoolroom and much too young to trifle with her affections. But of course he had trifled with them. She had fallen in love with him. He had loved her in return even though he had never let on to that fact.

"Awfully quiet you are, Captain Jeffries. Are you sure you are up to it?"

"Up to what?"

"White's, man."

"Of course I am. I need to get to know these ton popinjays enough to infiltrate their ranks."

Ponsby visibly took insult to this statement but instead of raising a huff, he narrowed his gaze. "Seeing Miss Lacey has caused you discomfort."

"Yes," Winston answered then thought better of opening up to him. "No. I was merely surprised to see her is all."

"What is she to you?"

Winston did not like the question, nor did he expect such a proper gentleman to ask something so personal. Perhaps, Ponsby was more solid than he had given him credit for. "She is nothing, merely an acquaintance. A friend of a friend," he lied.

Ponsby only nodded his head. "Indeed."

The carriage slowed to a stop as they pulled in front of White's. Ponsby exited first. Winston followed. He looked forward to a bit of male company and a glass of port to wipe away the memory of Susannah's expression of heartbreak.

They entered the club that was quite full of gentleman lounging about, smoking cheroots or indulging in fine spirits. Here, Winston felt at ease. The air smelled slightly of smoke and the remains of cooked roast. As they made their way to a table, Winston nodded to some acquaintances from cavalry days. Port was served. He had come here with Ponsby for a reason. He needed to learn all her could about the ton.

The two men sat near the bowed window with its view overlooking St. James Street and were served immediately. Winston took a sip of port.

Ponsby narrowed his gaze before he said, "You should buy your clothes from Weston's. Although the coat you wear is fine, it looks to be a few Seasons old."

Winston thought his coat completely satisfactory. "I have just purchased this."

"At a discount, I hope." Ponsby smiled.

Winston had much to learn.

"Let that be your first lesson." Ponsby said. "You must dress the part of a rich man, which means the latest style. As to manners…"

Winston cocked an eyebrow. "Are you afraid that I will embarrass you, Ponsby?" Winston was a gentleman after all. He knew how to behave.

"What I was about to say," Ponsby soothed. "Is that you are fine there."

Winston felt chastised. He would give this young lord his attention and learn what he could. He knew little of London's upper ten thousand. The only trips he had made to London were for military matters or Foreign Office assignments. He had never thought the haute monde, was important. Until now.

"You are bad tempered. Castlereagh warned me." Ponsby said.

"Forgive me," Winston said. "Go on, tell me what I need to know."

"Actually, I have just thought of an idea. My sister is having a small dinner party tomorrow night. You shall come with me. It is much easier to get to know some of the major players in society if you can meet them in an intimate setting. You are a handsome fellow. You will be remembered and no doubt talked about for days among the ladies. It is perfect, the perfect introduction."

"Your sister will not mind?" Winston had hoped to have a couple more days to prepare, to buy the things he needed to impress Miss Dunsford.

"Not at all. You will mess up her even number of guests, but that is of no consequence."

"Will this Miss Dunsford be there?"

"No."

"Very well then, I will go." Winston took another sip of port.

 

TLT's Home Page    InHouse Author Index