Chapter Seven
August 21, 1817
It had been two days since he’d seen Elizabeth, but it couldn’t have been avoided. Yesterday, he’d run supplies up the coast to a client after sending her a brief note explaining his absence. Cancelling or postponing the job wasn’t possible, for he desperately needed the coin. Purchasing a whole new wardrobe for her had set him back nearly two hundred pounds. He hadn’t minded the expense, for seeing the gratitude and joy in her eyes had been its own reward. However, it was funding that took away from his savings, which meant that unless he earned more coin or won the wager, the dream of buying a larger ship received a setback.
And he was adamant he wouldn’t write to Drew and ask for an allowance. He’d either take control of his own life, or he’d return to London like a dog with his tail between his legs. If that happened, the freedoms he’d found in Ipswich would vanish like mist in the sun.
Besides, the vision of Elizabeth in that yellow dress wouldn’t leave his mind. By the time they’d left the collection of shops, she’d acquired a matching bonnet and slippers to every dress and gown he’d purchased. To say nothing of undergarments, fans, gloves, stockings, and anything else her neglected heart had desired. It seemed where seduction was concerned, he’d spare no expense, fool that he was.
When he’d taken her for tea in a quaint café on the opposite side of the town square, there’d been a few admiring glances cast her way by men. It both pleased and irritated him. For the moment, she was with him, but for how long? Once he’d bedded her, she’d leave out of righteous indignation or high dudgeon.
Or else he’d send her away, for as he’d said before, he didn’t need attachments, and if he broke the relationship, he’d never have cause to become emotionally connected and thereby hurt.
As he stepped into the public taproom of the hotel, his mates hailed him from a table tucked away in a shadowy corner. Brand raised a hand in greeting and then quickly made his way through the mess of tables, chairs, and patrons. No doubt they’d want an update.
Bastards.Didn’t they realize seduction was an art and couldn’t be rushed? Yes, he’d erroneously believed he could have cajoled her into bed within a week, but she was a special case. Elizabeth was an innocent and skittish. She wouldn’t respond well to overt attention and he drew the line at forcing a woman. She might not be a lady by birth, but she deserved respect and everything good life could offer. Little by little, she was gaining confidence in herself and the world around her. His chest tightened with pride. I did that for her.
John was the first to speak when Brand sat down. “I’ve hardly seen you around the place these last few days.” His inquisitive gaze roved over Brand’s face. “All’s well?”
“More or less.” He accepted a tankard of ale from the buxom barmaid with a nod. To her, he said, “I’d like a cottage pie, if you please.”
“I’d be happy to give you that and more, Captain.” The purr of her voice shivered over his skin and had the hair at his nape quivering. Molly would be a quick conquest true enough, and would rid him of the restlessness and anxiety that kept his muscles bunched and tight. When was the last time that he’d gone so long without relieving the need in his prick?
He flashed what he hoped was a wicked grin and not a desperate expression. “Stick around, love, and I just might take you up on that.” With a swat at her lush backside, he sent her on her way, and when his gaze connected with John’s, he expelled an annoyed breath. “What?”
“I thought you were immersed in seducing Miss Hayhurst?” A note of censure blended with John’s baritone.
“I am, so mind your business.” He sounded like a grump even to his own ears, but he couldn’t help it. Frustration was high in his inability to bed Elizabeth, and now that she’d been completely transformed, doubts had crept in. She deserved much more than a hurried tryst built on a wager as well as a lie; hell, she deserved to find a decent man, marry him, and have a wonderful life together.
Not be thrown away like so much rubbish once his need of her was finished.
George snorted. He scratched a few fingers through his scraggly beard. “Has the great Captain Storme won the wager yet?”
“I have not.” Brand glared at him until his friend returned to eating his hamsteak. “She is proving a challenge I’d not anticipated.”
“Isn’t that what every woman is?” Philip smirked, which earned him a narrowed eye from Brand. “However, she’s become a looker since taking up with you, Captain.” A muscle in Brand’s cheek twitched, but when he didn’t prompt the other man, Philip continued. “I spied her yesterday trailing after her dastardly brother on their way to wharf. Wore a real nice dress that looked like summer. If you weren’t trying to bed her, I might try my luck with her.”
Hot anger stabbed through Brand’s chest like a multitude of fire irons. “If you so much as talk to her without my permission, I will put a ball through your chest.”
Philip’s eyes rounded. He held up a hand, palm outward. “I said ‘if,’ Captain.”
The ire with his friends was misplaced, but frustrated urges were a powerful foe. He took refuge in his tankard of beer, and gladly swallowed three mouthfuls before slamming the crockery onto the table. “I apologize.”
An awkward silence descended among them. Finally, John cleared his throat. “Is your seduction not going well?”
“It’s moving forward but at a glacier’s pace.” Briefly, he told them of his outings so far with Elizabeth. “I’m to meet her this afternoon with a picnic, which we’ll take on one of the hills that overlook Ipswich.” He shrugged. “God only knows how far I’ll get with her today.” Despite the wager he desperately wished to win, the woman interested him beyond having her spread her legs. Her life had been dismal and didn’t look to improve, but she had a lively, intelligent mind and a mouth that would probably go tart if she’d ever forget the rigid rules that bound her. Plus, in clothing that actually fit her frame and showed off her gentle curves, she was quite the temptation. “There is only so much I can endure before I lose control.”
Understanding lit John’s eyes. “You have no idea how to be with a woman unless you’re in bed with them.” A slow grin curved his mouth. “This is a new experience for you, just as it is for her.”
“What of it? I can’t help it.” The longer he sat with his fellows, the more irritable he became. “This is why I don’t dally with virgins.”
“No,” John drew the word out. “You prefer an easier conquest, for if you have to work for it, you might develop an attachment.”
It was insane how well his best friend knew him, and that insight coming hard on the heels of what Elizabeth had noticed in the dress shop picked at his brain like a buzzard with carrion. “I assumed she would have let down her guard by now.”
George cleared his throat. All focus went to him. “I once had a skittish gal who was naïve about life. The trick to it is to share genuine bits of yourself with her so she’ll trust you with her brain and her heart. Flattery only goes so far, as do chaste kisses.” He shrugged and then took up his knife and fork again. “If you want a fast woman, go with the barmaid, but if you want a different sort of experience that means something else beyond pleasures of the flesh, continue with Miss Hayhurst. That five hundred pounds will be all the sweeter because of it.”
John nodded. “And you might gain a friend. Lord knows you need more of them. Especially females who aren’t impressed with your pedigree, title, or your skill at bed sport.”