Her Master and Commander

  “My lord, perhaps you do not understand. We have only one month before the trustees come to inspect you. Stevens has been telling me about Mrs. Thistlewaite and her plans. It might serve well—very well indeed.”

  The entire idea was preposterous. “Engaging Mrs. Thistlewaite as a tutor is—”

  “A tutor! Yes, that would do very well. A capital idea!” Reeves said, nodding, his expression more and more animated. “Mrs. Thistlewaite might indeed be of service, for a small fee, of course. It would serve you well, and free my time so that I may oversee the training of your staff. A man is known by the quality of his servants.”

  Tristan opened his mouth to protest when a small, interesting thought flickered through his mind. If he agreed to set his course just so, then the delectable Prudence would be in his house.

  With him.

  For hours on end.

  He found himself grinning. Perhaps learning to be an earl wouldn’t be so painful a process with such a distracting armful within reach. Thus he was able to say with real feeling, “Reeves, you are indeed a genius.”

  Reeves was already smiling. “Thank you, my lord. I do my best.”

  Prudence put her sewing basket in her lap and began digging for some red thread. One day, she was going to organize her basket. Place all of the threads about cards by color, and tuck all of the scraps into a neat pouch. She might even place the straight pins in one cushion instead of having them stuck in the edges of the trim work left over from last year’s unsuccessful attempt to make a chemise.

  She pulled out a pair of woolen stockings and examined the hole in the toe of one. “Blasted stocking,” she muttered, wondering if perhaps magenta thread would blend well enough to mend it. The red thread seemed to have vanished.

  It was sad to be remending an already mended stocking, but she had little choice. They were reaching the last of their funds. If they did not gain some pupils soon, they’d be reduced to selling some of their precious furnishings.

  Sighing, Prudence bent her head and began mending the stocking as best she could.

  The door opened and Mother scurried in, her hand plopped on her lace cap, holding it in place. Her eyes lit on seeing her daughter. “Prudence! There is a man to see you!”

  The captain. Prudence flew to her feet, her sewing basket falling to the floor. “The captain is here? Now?”

  “No, no! It’s not him. This gentleman is somewhat older. Very distinguished, too.” Mother leaned out the doorway and peeked down the hall, adding in a faux undertone, “I wonder if he’s a member of the peerage. He has such an air, but I don’t remember seeing him before.”

  A member of the peerage? Prudence’s stomach tightened. She remembered all the days when one after another, men who’d invested in Phillip’s program had arrived at the house. Some had been angry. Some sad. But the worst had been desperate. They’d put their entire fortunes in Phillip’s hands and wanted someone—anyone—to tell them they would earn it back.

  At the time, Prudence had still been reeling from Phillip’s illness. She hadn’t known where to turn and the interviews had been painful, though not as painful as Phillip’s eventual death and then the scandal following. She pushed away the unwanted thoughts, smoothing her skirts nervously.

  Mother dashed to stand by the settee across from Prudence’s chair.

  Mrs. Fieldings entered, the gentleman behind her. The housekeeper looked properly impressed. “Mr. Reeves, madam.”

  The gentleman was tall and slender and dressed in an impeccable black coat, his cravat simply tied. He bowed, his blue eyes bright, his black hair tipped with white. “Madam, I am Reeves, butler to the earl of Rochester.”

  Prudence paused in mid-curtsy. “Earl?”

  “Indeed, madam.”

  Prudence didn’t know quite what to say. After a belated moment, she gestured to her mother. “This is my mother, Mrs. Crumpton.”

  Mother curtsied. “Mr. Reeves! From the earl of Rochester’s! How exciting! I didn’t even know there was an earl within distance—”

  “Mother, I believe Mr. Reeves is referring to the captain.”

  Mother’s eyes widened. “The captain? Is an earl? A real live earl?”

  Reeves gave a stately nod. “Indeed, madam. He has but this week inherited the title. Which is why I am here.” The man turned to Prudence, his gaze lingering at her feet. “I trust I am not disturbing your sewing.”

  “My—” Her sewing basket laid at her feet. Oh yes. She’d forgotten about that. “I was just finishing.” She bent and retrieved the basket, scooping the contents into it as quickly as she could.

  As she did so, he bent as well and calmly assisted her. “Madam, I have come on a matter of business.” He sat back on his heels and met her gaze squarely. “The earl is in a quandary. To gain control of his fortune, he must be approved by a set board of trustees. They will expect to see a man of distinction and manner or they will not approve the release of the funds. You have met the captain. While he has the distinction necessary, his manner could use some gentle polishing. I believe that is where we need you.”

  “You want me to tutor that—the captain?”

  He stood, helping her to her feet and placing the basket on a nearby table. “Yes, madam.”

  Mother clapped her hands.

  Prudence sent her a quelling glance. Really, the captain didn’t even like Prudence. Well, he liked to kiss her, that much had been evident. If Prudence was truthful, she’d rather enjoyed it herself. Quite a bit, in fact. Her cheeks heated. Spending time with the captain—the earl, that is—was not a good idea. “Mr. Reeves, I am afraid I cannot do as you request. I am quite busy and—”

  “Nonsense,” Mother said firmly. She looked at the butler. “Prudence would be delighted to assist.”

  “But Mother—”

  “Prudence, the man is an earl, for heaven’s sakes! How can you refuse him?”

  “Easily. Mr. Reeves, I am afraid it is impossible. I don’t think I could—”

  “Of course, there will be a handsome compensation.”

  Mother’s eyes brightened. “How much?”

  “Mother!”

  “You should not sell your services for a pence less than they are worth,” Mother said calmly. She lifted her brows at the butler. “Should she?”

  “Indeed she should not,” he agreed, implacable as ever. “The earl is prepared to be generous.”

  “He knows of this?” Prudence asked suspiciously.

  “It was his idea,” Reeves returned in a gentle voice.

  “Oh.”

  “He is willing to go as high as a hundred pounds for the month.”

  It was a fortune. Prudence cleared her throat. “Well. That is certainly generous. However, there is a small issue of—Reeves, the captain does not like me.” He desired her and any other woman who might tumble into his arms. But he certainly had never expressed any other emotion—like concern or respect. Which was, she thought a bit tartly, a great pity.

  Reeves’s smile turned wry. “I haven’t found many people the captain does hold in affection.”

  “He must hold his crew in some affection; he lets them live with him.”

  “You are right; he does care for them. Deeply, I believe. But he is not affectionate toward them. He is, in fact, rather short tempered. However, they know him and love him and thus everyone seems quite happy with the arrangement.”

  “I wouldn’t be.”

  “No, madam. Fortunately, what I am asking of you has nothing to do with affection. I merely wish to hire you to tutor his lordship.”

  Prudence pressed two fingers to her forehead. Tutor. The captain. The man who, by simply brushing his fingertips over her arms, could send shivers over her bared skin. “I—I am not sure I—”

  “Without your help, he will lose the fortune and his men will suffer greatly,” Reeves said in a quiet, earnest tone.

  Prudence thought of the men she’d seen, many of them battle scarred and unfit to make it on their own. “What e
xactly would I have to do?”

  “Within one month’s time, you will need to teach the new earl the rudiments of polite society.”

  “One month?”

  “Yes. The trustees will come then to make their decision. He will need instruction in dancing, conversation, rules of behavior…” Reeves shrugged. “Just think of the captain as a rather large and gauche debutante.”

  Despite her misgivings, Prudence had to chuckle. “I don’t believe he’d like anyone to think of him in those terms.”

  “No, madam. Which is why we won’t tell him.”

  She looked at the butler for a moment. “You believe secrets are sometimes necessary things?”

  “Indeed, my lady. Don’t you?”

  “Sometimes. But not with the captain. If I think of him as an overgrown debutante, then I will tell him. Personally, I believe his arrogance has caused quite a few of the problems in his life.”

  “Indeed, my lady. It is also one of the things that has kept him alive. His life has not been as easy as he would have you believe.”

  Prudence’s interest flared yet higher. The captain did have a limp, but other than that, he seemed so strong, so capable, so assured.

  Reeves added, “It is also possible that that very arrogance will make his transition to earl all the easier. Members of the peerage are not known for their humble manners.”

  She smiled a little at that. “Reeves, in your experience, have you found all earls to be as arrogant?”

  “Every last one.”

  “Heredity?”

  “And a firm belief they are favored by God. Which is something only they and the Creator truly know.”

  Prudence looked down at her hands, clasped before her. “I don’t know. I just—”

  “He needs your help, madam. Unless I greatly mistake the matter, the men in his employ are all he cares about. Yet there are so many, he cannot keep up with the costs.”

  Mother sighed. “That’s true. Why, the doctor was just telling me how some of those poor men were wounded and had been improperly cared for. He is over there at least once a week and says he should go more often, but dares not as the burden on the captain’s purse would be too much.”

  “That is too kind of the doctor,” Prudence said dryly. She looked at the butler. “You believe the captain will use the money for his men?”

  “I am certain of it.”

  She squeezed her fingers together, mulling this through. She would make a healthy wage, which would ease Mother’s mind a good bit. She would also be assisting those poor sailors who lived with the captain—or rather, the earl. She needed to remember his title, if nothing else.

  Perhaps the best part was that she would have the chance to mold the earl to a more acceptable form, teach him the rudiments of society and have the benefit of watching him bloom under her tutelage.

  For an instant, she had an image of the earl on his knees before her as he thanked her for showing him the error of his ways.

  It was purely imaginary, of course, but still…the scene held a lot of appeal.

  She nodded once. “I will do it.”

  Reeves smiled. “Thank you, madam!”

  “Tell him I will come tomorrow by noon. If the trustees have given us naught but a month, we will have our work cut out for us.”

  Chapter 9

  To remove wine stains from velvet, immerse the garment in cold water softened with a touch of vinegar. Do not fear that the harshness of the vinegar might harm the velvet. Though soft to the touch, there is a sturdiness to the fabric that many do not realize.

  A Compleat Guide for

  Being a Most Proper Butler

  by Richard Robert Reeves

  The next morning, Prudence slowly made her way toward the captain’s cottage. After a fitful night filled with uncomfortable dreams and restless feelings that would not go away despite the teaspoon of laudanum she stirred into her nightly cup of tea, Prudence had awoken heavy-eyed and irritable.

  She’d exchanged halfhearted homilies with Mrs. Fieldings, dressed in her second-best morning gown of pink muslin, and then joined Mother for breakfast. While Prudence was dreading the coming day, Mother was annoyingly cheery. She chattered about how exciting it was to know a real earl until Prudence could stand it no more. She’d abruptly finished her breakfast, made her goodbyes and, wrapped in her blue wool cloak, left home for the captain’s.

  No, she told herself. Not the captain’s. The earl’s. She sighed, her breath frosty white in the chill of the morning. It would take some time adjusting to that.

  She was a bit late and she knew it. Still, she could not seem to hurry. Since late last night, an odd sort of dread had begun to settle in her stomach. She could not forget the captain’s heated kiss, nor her impassioned response. That was what really made her feet drag along the path despite the freezing wind; that she wondered at her reaction to a mere embrace.

  Perhaps it was just the length of time since she’d been with a man. Certainly she’d enjoyed the physical aspects of being with Phillip. He had been a tender and gentle lover, something she now treasured. He’d loved her reactions to him, as well, and had encouraged her in every way.

  Growing close to Phillip had been easy, relaxed; she’d done it almost without thinking. From their first meeting to the day of his death, being with Phillip had been…simple. With the captain, nothing was simple. Every moment quivered with tension and awkward awareness.

  That sort of thing was not love, Prudence told herself firmly. She was not some green girl to confuse tension with true emotion.

  She’d already experienced love, had lived in the warmth of Phillip’s adoration for their brief time together. What she felt for the captain was nothing more than simple physical attraction that would fade all too soon.

  She straightened her shoulders. Enough of that. Time to face forward. Today she would find out what she could about the earl’s abilities and, perhaps, a little of his past history. Reeves’s words from yesterday had piqued her curiosity.

  A blast of icy wind sliced through her cloak and gown. She put her head down and pressed on. The wind was wild and unruly, growing more furious with each step. By the time she reached the cottage she could no longer feel her feet. Blast it, was even nature against her today? She needed all her wits to deal with the captain.

  He was an odd mixture of gruff ill temper and subdued humor. Beneath it all lay a heavy and seductive sensuality that sent her senses humming. Still…little as she knew him, she didn’t fear him at all; for all his harsh talk, the man couldn’t bear to fence his own sheep or turn away a single wounded sailor. She rather suspected the captain’s bluster and brawn hid a heart much softer than he wished.

  She really should think of him as “the earl” or even as “Rochester,” difficult as it was. “The captain” he’d been when she’d first met him, and the captain she’d always secretly think of him.

  Prudence reached the house just as a skittering of wind swirled against it, chilling her to her woolen chemise. “Lud! I am going to mull myself into a block of ice.” Without another thought, she knocked briskly on the door.

  The wind blew again, whistling up the face of the cliff before spilling over the garden and slapping against the house, whipping her skirts forward. Prudence shivered, knocking once more. Where was Stevens? Surely even if he was out, someone would be home—

  The door swung open. But it wasn’t Stephens. Instead, a huge form filled the entire door frame, an oddly light-colored green gaze pinned upon her. “You,” the captain said, his voice more a growl than anything else.

  “Yes, me,” she said, forcing her frozen lips to make the words. “Didn’t Reeves inform you I was to be here?”

  The capt—no, the earl—leaned on his cane, the muscles in his arm bulging slightly. “Reeves said you would be here at noon. It is now”—the earl took a watch from his pocket and flicked it open with his thumb—“twenty minutes past.”

  “I had urgent things to attend to this morning.?
?? Goodness but she was cold. Her lips were numb and her teeth beginning to chatter ever so slightly. “Where is Reeves?”

  “In the barn. He has decided to teach Stevens the manner of a real butler.”

  Prudence thought that humorous, though her attention was fastened on the wind as it whipped harder than ever, almost roaring. It blew Prudence’s skirts forward and made her ankles ache with cold, plastering the earl’s white shirt over his chest.

  He was dressed very inappropriately, she decided, shivering and huddling deeper in her cloak. He wore black breeches and boots, his white shirt open at the neck and revealing the strong column of his throat. He placed a hand on the door frame, and looked down at her, his expression inscrutable.

  Prudence clenched her jaw. “It would be p—polite of you to invite me inside.”

  His brows lifted. “And have you berate me under my own roof?”

  “I didn’t come to b—berate you at all.” She pressed her lips over teeth just beginning to chatter.

  His gaze traced her up and down, disbelief plain upon his face. “No?”

  “Why d—d—don’ t you invite me inside and s—s—see?” she managed to gasp.

  He gave a muffled curse, reached out and unceremoniously plucked her from the stoop and set her inside. “You little fool.” He slammed the door closed.

  “I am n—n—not a f—f—f—” It was too cold to finish the word. She sunk her chin to her chest and tried to grit her clacking teeth.

  He took her by the elbow and led her down the hallway, his cane thunking softly on the hall runner. “So you say, my little ice maiden. Come inside and thaw.”

  It was hardly a hospitable offer. But she knew it was all she was going to get and, frankly, as cold as she felt, she’d have been tempted by an invitation from Beelzebub to warm by the grates of hell. Gritting her teeth against the urge to refuse, she allowed him to guide her into his library.

  To her chagrin, more than her teeth were chattering now. Her whole body trembled with cold.