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    Regency Christmas Wishes
    Regency Christmas Wishes
    Regency Christmas Wishes
    Ebook335 pages5 hours

    Regency Christmas Wishes

    By Carla Kelly, Christine Merrill and Janice Preston

    3.5/5

    ()

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    • Christmas

    • Love & Relationships

    • Family

    • Family Dynamics

    • Romance

    • Love Triangle

    • Fish Out of Water

    • Forbidden Love

    • Marriage of Convenience

    • Forced Proximity

    • Enemies to Lovers

    • Star-Crossed Lovers

    • Class Differences

    • Secret Engagement

    • Unrequited Love

    • Marriage

    • Love & Romance

    • Personal Growth

    • Love

    • Self-Discovery

    About this ebook

    Three Regency romance tales of festive wishes come true.

    Captain Grey’s Christmas Proposal by Carla Kelly

    Captain Grey had been fighting malarial fever in Savannah when he met Theodora Winnings. He proposed by letter—but it’s taken ten years to receive her reply. The answer was “yes!”—but is she still free to become his Christmas bride?

    Her Christmas Temptation by Christine Merrill

    Faith Strickland’s plan to marry to save her family backfires when notorious rake James Leggett sets out to break her unhappy engagement. He’ll storm her Twelfth Night celebrations and scorch her into surrender!

    Awakening His Sleeping Beauty by Janice Preston

    Lonely Diana Fleming knows handsome knights don’t really exist. But can a festive kiss from the man she loves reawaken her frozen heart?
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOpen Road Integrated Media
    Release dateNov 1, 2017
    ISBN9781488021817
    Regency Christmas Wishes
    Author

    Carla Kelly

    Carla has always said that she only writes the books that she wants to read, which has made this whole writing business extra fun. She wrote her first book at age six. It was called The Old Mill, and she wrote it on her mother's Olivetti-Underwood typewriter. It had a cover (she spent more time on the cover than the narrative), and consisted of two sentences. But Carla said it had a plot. Carla was always writing something. She admits to going through that awkward, poetry-writing phase. Luckily, it passed. In high school (A.C. Jones High School, Beeville, Texas), she got involved in journalism, which was a great thing, since JHS had an exemplary journalism teacher, Jean Dugat (Miss D), the meanest teacher alive. To show how mean, she insisted that her students learn A LOT. She was the only teacher Carla ever knew who never needed a substitute when she was gone. "We wouldn't have dared not complete what she had assigned us," Carla said. Miss D was a wicked hard taskmaster, but it occurred to Carla that if she did what Miss D said, and paid attention, she'd be a writer someday. Brigham Young University was a great place to go to college. Papers were a breeze (refer to Miss D in the above paragraph), and Carla graduated with a degree in Latin American history. She was married by her senior year, and eventually Martin and Carla had five interesting children. Martin, retired now, was a university professor, teaching theatre courses, English courses and speech, plus directing plays. Carla says she began writing in earnest (i.e. selling stuff) when she lived in Ogden, Utah. She started out with short stories about the Indian Wars, reflecting academic interest, plus several years as a National Park Service ranger at Fort Laramie NHS. Great job. Carla said they paid her every two weeks for what she would have done for free… The result of those short stories were two Spur Awards from Western Writers of America and eventually the anthology Here's to the Ladies: Stories of the Frontier Army, which remains her personal favorite book of those she has written. In 1983 or 1984, Carla wrote her first novel, Daughter of Fortune (she called it Saintmaker), inspired by an incident in New Mexico history. After that, her then-agent suggested she might want to try her hand at Regency romance, which turned out to be a nice fit. Carla had written mainly for Signet and now Harlequin, with occasional academic works and state and Park Service–funded history projects thrown in to keep life interesting. She has two RITA® Awards for regencies, plus a Lifetime Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews. She doesn't belong to any writing groups because they take up too much time, and she's too cheap to pay dues. Carla likes to write, but she does other stuff, too. More years in the Park Service meant a greater understanding of the American fur trade and Indians on the Northern Plains. She likes to read, focusing on police procedurals for her escape reading (John Harvey is her favorite such author) and whatever academic history interests her. She is currently researching coal mine history in Utah, because the Kellys moved to Wellington, Utah, in 2009, after Martin retired. Wellington is in Carbon County, well-known for coal mines. She has plans for a history of one 1900 mine disaster, and probably a novel on the same subject (she's a great one for using research many times—re: the Channel Fleet). Also in the works is a biography of Guy V. Henry, a well-known cavalry officer of the Indian Wars, Carla's primary history field. She's been known to present academic papers here and there, and never misses the Indian Wars Symposia at Fort Robinson, Nebraska. There will always be time for fiction, though. Carla recently sold a novel that reflects her years in southeast Wyoming and her Mormon background to a Utah publishing company. She anticipates more books in this vein, partly because she has always been a bit squeamish about bodice ripping, and she's always up for new ventures. Other than reading, Carla's only bona fide hobby is crocheting baby afghans. She does it while she watches television or rides shotgun in cars, and she's well on her way to making a gazillion. Years ago, one of Carla's friends and fellow authors made the perceptive observation that Carla is only writing herself in her books: someone practical, down-to-earth, not Too Stupid To Live, who solves her own problems. And she writes about stalwart, caring men and women because she personally knows a lot of stalwart, caring people. She was also told by a friend, a certified graphologist (handwriting analyst), that her handwriting indicates she hasn't a creative bone in her whole body. Sigh. So it goes.  

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    Reviews for Regency Christmas Wishes

    3.5/5

    6 ratings2 reviews

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    • 4/5
      Well as snow falls in Ireland Christmas stories are somewhat apt. The first story is one of a Naval Captain who remembers a woman who nursed him when he fell ill. 10 years later he gets the letter he was waiting for, much of it water damaged, but the gist of the letter is that she says yes. So he goes to find her and finds that things are more complicated than they seem. There's a fair bit of miraclous happenings and literal deus ex going on in this but it's not a bad story overall Her Christmas Temptation by Christine Merrill is an entertaining story of a rake who goes to break an engagement for his beloved cousin and finds that maybe his motives aren't so clear. I really enjoyed this one. Awakening his Sleeping Beauty by Janice Preston the Sleeping Beauty metaphor is stretched a little here but the story is good, an opressed heroine finding love and respect is always good. Overall not bad and quite seasonally based, the last two are set during the 12 days of Christmas.
    • 4/5
      CAPTAIN GREY'S CHRISTMAS PROPOSAL by Carla KellyCaptain Grey had been fighting malarial fever in Savannah when he met Theodora Winnings. He proposed by letter--but it's taken ten years to receive her reply. The answer was "yes!"--but is she still free to become his Christmas bride?Good second chance story. Jem is a captain in the Royal Navy who is currently at loose ends with the end of the war. While visiting a tavern that was used as a contact point during his career, he is given a letter that is more than ten years old, from a woman he had met while fighting a bout of malaria. Teddy had been a regular visitor to the hospital and eventually spent most of her time with Jem. After he had returned to his ship, he wrote and proposed to her, but never heard back. He did his best to move on, going on to have a successful career, but he never quite forgot her. He is stunned to receive the letter from her and discover that she had replied in the affirmative. Unfortunately, most of the rest of the letter is illegible due to damage, though she refers to something that she should have told him. Jem must decide if he wants to return to the United States and see if Teddy is still available.Though Jem knows he should just let it go as a pleasant memory from the past, he can't. Something drives him to pursue his quest to see if he can find her. It isn't easy, and there are moments when he is tempted to give up. Eventually, his persistence pays off and he finds her, but there are huge changes from the woman he remembers. When Jem finds out Teddy's secret, it is a shock, but not one that will keep him from his goal.Teddy has never forgotten Jem either. Her life has not been an easy one, and her memories of her time with him have been the bright spot in her existence. She is stunned by his reappearance and even more so when she discovers that he still wants her.I really enjoyed the progress of the story. Jem's persistence in his search made me hope for his success. I loved the assistance that he received from the mysterious newspaper owner. Teddy's arrival was perfectly timed to just as Jem was ready to give up. It was sweet to see that the memories of their feelings for each other gave a boost to the rekindling of their relationship. I loved that Teddy's secret made no difference to Jem's love for her. I loved seeing Jem risk everything to achieve his dream of having Teddy in his life. How it happened had some interesting twists before they reached their happy ending.I thoroughly enjoyed the mysterious Mr. Hollinsworth and his efforts to help Jem and Teddy. His cheerful and positive attitude was just what they needed at some of the darker moments of their quest to be together. I also liked the connection he appeared to have to Jem's longstanding conversations with "Sir". There were a lot of things that came together at the end, and Mr. Hollinsworth seemed to have a part in each of them.HER CHRISTMAS TEMPTATION by Christine MerrillFaith Strickland's plan to marry to save her family backfires when notorious rake James Leggett sets out to break her unhappy engagement. He'll storm her Twelfth Night celebrations and scorch her into surrender!This one was okay. Faith is desperate to marry as a way to save her family and uses questionable methods to gain a fiancé. The man knows he's been manipulated and isn't happy, for he loves another, but is honorable. Cyril is present during the family Christmas party, but obviously unhappy. Faith isn't any happier, but determined to do what she must.Enter James. He is well known as a rake and has even participated in several duels. His cousin Bea is the woman who Cyril truly loves. Though James is willing to marry Bea himself, he'd much rather find a way to untangle Cyril from his present circumstances. As he knows Faith's grandmother, he wangles an invite to the Christmas party, determined to break up the engagement.The development of the relationship between James and Faith is interesting. Neither one comes across as a very nice person. James is a rake and he intends to use that reputation to gain his objective. He fully intends to behave in such a way toward Faith that she will look bad in front of Cyril and others, causing Cyril to break the engagement. He doesn't expect to be attracted and intrigued by Faith. Faith is bothered by James from the moment he arrived. He arouses feelings in her that make her realize just how much will be missing from her marriage to Cyril, but she stubbornly refuses to look at other options. It was fun to see James retain his intention, but also experience some guilt over what the results would likely be. He also unwillingly found himself contemplating the notion of marrying her himself; something that surprised and worried him. Faith did redeem herself somewhat at the end when she found out about Bea. The attraction between James and Faith comes to a head, amazing them both and leaving each in shock. There is some miscommunication that pulls them apart before they finally set things straight and realize that they belong together.AWAKENING HIS SLEEPING BEAUTY by Janice PrestonLonely Diana Fleming knows handsome knights don't really exist. But can a festive kiss from the man she loves reawaken her frozen heart?Good story. Diana's life is pretty dreary, especially around Christmas time. Her younger brother died eight years ago, and since then her father hides out in his study and her mother dwells on her grief. Her mother has Diana bowing to her every demand. Neither Diana nor her mother is happy to hear that her father invited his cousin and her seven children to spend the holidays. Lavenham insists however, because the oldest son, Aaron, is now heir to the estate and it's time for him to become familiar with it.Aaron isn't happy with the change to the usual Fleming family Christmas. He is used to coming home to his family and the same traditions, and doesn't want anyone changing things. Besides, he doesn't have that great an opinion of Diana, who he recalled as a mouse of a girl. But his mother insists, and off they all go. Neither Aaron nor Diana know that Sally and Lavenham plotted the whole visit with an eye to encouraging a match between them.Now I will admit that neither Diana nor Aaron made the best first impression on me or each other. Diana doesn't seem to have any backbone at all when it comes to her mother. Yes, the woman is grieving, but she is sucking all the life out of Diana as well. Aaron just came across as a bit spoiled. He's been out of the army for several years and spends most of his time hanging out with his friends. To complain about his mother's plans seems selfish, especially since he will inherit that estate someday. When the Flemings arrive, Aaron thinks that Diana is still stiff and quiet, and Diana things that Aaron is arrogant and overbearing.I enjoyed both the development of the relationship and the whole visit. Thanks to Diana's mother's excessive mourning, Diana had never experienced the usual Christmas traditions. After a bit of a rough start, Aaron gets into the Christmas spirit along with his brothers and sisters, and drags Diana right along with them. Besides all the fun of the traditions, there are also sparks between Aaron and Diana. I especially enjoyed the protectiveness he showed whenever Diana's mother would start in on her. I also liked the way that Diana started showing more spirit under Aaron's attention and the friendship with her other cousins. There were some sweet scenes as the sparks between them grew brighter. The only dark spot came when first Diana discovered the matchmaking plot and didn't know how to tell Aaron. Then he found out about it and was furious because of an earlier betrayal by a friend. Aaron behaved like a jerk, but fortunately came to his senses pretty quickly. Overall, a good story. I'd like to eventually see stories for Aaron's brothers and sisters too.

    Book preview

    Regency Christmas Wishes - Carla Kelly

    9781488021817.jpg

    Three Regency tales of festive wishes come true...

    CAPTAIN GREY’S CHRISTMAS PROPOSAL by Carla Kelly

    Captain Grey had been fighting malarial fever in Savannah when he met Theodora Winnings. He proposed by letter—but it’s taken ten years to receive her reply. The answer was yes!—but is she still free to become his Christmas bride?

    HER CHRISTMAS TEMPTATION by Christine Merrill

    Faith Strickland’s plan to marry to save her family backfires when notorious rake James Leggett sets out to break her unhappy engagement. He’ll storm her Twelfth Night celebrations and scorch her into surrender!

    AWAKENING HIS SLEEPING BEAUTY by Janice Preston

    Lonely Diana Fleming knows handsome knights don’t really exist. But can a festive kiss from the man she loves reawaken her frozen heart?

    Acclaim for the authors of

    Regency Christmas Wishes

    CARLA KELLY

    Kelly is a master at emotional, uplifting romances.

    —RT Book Reviews on The Wedding Ring Quest

    CHRISTINE MERRILL

    Merrill pens another winner.

    —RT Book Reviews on The Wedding Game

    JANICE PRESTON

    Readers will enjoy this well-written tale packed with authentic characters and a tender lover story.

    —RT Book Reviews on The Governess’s Secret Baby

    Carla Kelly started writing Regency romances because of her interest in the Napoleonic Wars, and she enjoys writing about warfare at sea and the ordinary people of the British Isles rather than lords and ladies. In her spare time she reads British crime fiction and history—particularly books about the American Indian Wars. Carla lives in Utah and is a former park ranger and double RITA® Award and Spur Award winner. She has five children and four grandchildren.

    Christine Merrill lives on a farm in Wisconsin with her husband, two sons and too many pets—all of whom would like her to get off the computer so they can check their email. She has worked by turns in theater costuming and as a librarian. Writing historical romance combines her love of good stories and fancy dress with her ability to stare out the window and make stuff up.

    Janice Preston grew up in Wembley, North London, with a love of reading, writing stories and animals. In the past she has worked as a farmer, a police-call handler and a university administrator. She now lives in the West Midlands with her husband and two cats and has a part-time job with a weight-management counselor—vainly trying to control her own weight despite her love of chocolate!

    Visit the Author Profile pages for these authors

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    Table of Contents

    Captain Grey’s Christmas Proposal by Carla Kelly

    Her Christmas Temptation by Christine Merrill

    Awakening His Sleeping Beauty by Janice Preston

    Excerpt from The Hired Man by Lynna Banning

    Captain Grey’s

    Christmas Proposal

    Carla Kelly

    To all who believe in the magic of Christmas.

    Dear Reader,

    All my life, I’ve noticed that the Christmas season is a time when people everywhere seem to become a little better, perform kindly deeds, think of others more and act upon good promptings. It’s almost as though Christmas gives us permission—as if we needed it—to bring out our better natures and the better natures of those around us.

    We become more susceptible to the possibility that glad tidings of great joy can become a reality. Maybe we’re more willing to believe in impossible things, because at Christmas all things feel possible.

    In that vein, I bring you the whimsical tale of a post captain in the Royal Navy, a careful man swept into an adventure made possible by the receipt of a years-old letter that went astray. The Peace of Amiens (1802–1803) becomes a window of opportunity that takes him from Plymouth, England, to Savannah, Georgia, in the new country of the United States, a place he remembers well from his childhood and never quite forgot.

    There’s a touch of magic, too, or maybe it’s more than magic. Maybe it’s grace that can shower down upon us all, if we’re willing to let the spirit of Christmas and St. Nicholas step in and make things right.

    Reader, whatever your faith or creed, I invite you to consider the possibilities of this season of wonder.

    Carla Kelly

    Contents

    Prologue

    Chapter One

    Chapter Two

    Chapter Three

    Chapter Four

    Chapter Five

    Chapter Six

    Chapter Seven

    Chapter Eight

    Chapter Nine

    Chapter Ten

    Chapter Eleven

    Chapter Twelve

    Chapter Thirteen

    Prologue

    This wasn’t a story shared widely. After some thought and a few laughs, New Bedford shipbuilder James Grey and his wife, Theodora, decided to tell their little ones this odd Christmas tale of how they’d met, or re-met, after years apart. They thought it wise to tell it before those same children reached maturity and no longer set much store by St Nicholas. Later, if more adult scepticism took over—well, that was their worry.

    It was Christmas story to tell around the fireplace, drinking Papa’s wassail and gorging on Mama’s pecans nestled in cream and caramelized sugar she called pralines. None of the children’s New Bedford friends ate pralines at Christmas, even though many of them had seafaring fathers who travelled the world.

    None of their friends had a mother like Mrs Grey, or for that matter, a father like James Grey. If their parents’ origins were shrouded in mystery, everyone in New Bedford appreciated the solidity of Russell and Grey Shipworks, whose yards employed many craftsmen at good wages. More quietly whispered about was the boundless charity of Mrs Grey, who assisted slaves to freedom in Canada, or helped free men and women of colour find work in New England.

    From the first, a deckhand out of Savannah, to the latest, a young couple fleeing Mississippi and a brutal owner named Tullidge, she and her network of volunteers provided food, lodging, employment and hope.

    She was a woman of great beauty, with the soft accent and leisurely sentences heard in the South of the still new United States. James Grey spoke with a curious accent that placed him not quite in Massachusetts, but not quite in England, either. He had a mariner’s wind-wrinkled face, and the ships he and his partner built were sound and true. That James adored his lovely wife was obvious to all. That the feeling was mutual was equally evident.

    Something about the Christmas season seemed to reinforce this tenacious bond even more. Their oldest friends had heard the pleasant story of how they met in a distant Southern city, after years apart. There always seemed to be more to the story than either party let on, but New Englanders were too polite to ask.

    Chapter One

    Plymouth, England—October 1st, 1802

    ‘Captain Grey, please excuse what happened. I found this under a box in my officer’s storeroom.’

    Mrs Fillion held out a letter most tattered and mangled. James Grey set down his soup spoon and picked it up. He squinted to make out some sort of return address. Stoic he may be, but he couldn’t help his involuntary intake of breath to see a single word: Winnings.

    ‘What? How?’ was all he could manage as he held the delicate envelope as though it were a relic from an Etruscan tomb. Mrs Fillion, owner of The Drake, was kind enough to allow her Plymouth hotel to serve as an informal postal and collection station since the beginning of Napoleon’s war. He motioned her to sit down at his solitary table, wishing she didn’t appear so upset.

    ‘What happened was that I set a box with some poor dead officer’s personal effects on top of the letter, which I was saving for you,’ she said, apologising. ‘Unfortunately, I haven’t seen you in years.’

    ‘That’s because I’ve operated on the far side of the world for several voyages,’ he said. ‘Don’t let this trouble you.’ He stared at the envelope. ‘Any idea how long it might have been there?’ He found himself almost afraid to open such a fragile document.

    He couldn’t help wincing when she said, ‘It’s been there since 1791, because the box I set on top of it had 1792 scribbled on the side.’ She sighed. ‘Eleven years, Captain. I hope it wasn’t something terribly important.’

    Likely not. When he never heard from Theodora Winnings after he proposed by way of pen and paper, James Grey, a first lieutenant in 1791, understood a refusal as well as the next man. Since his career seemed to keep him on the far side of the world for much of that decade, he had felt a little foolish for proposing to sweet Teddy Winnings in the first place. Then he dismissed the matter, except when he stood a watch, the perfect time to reflect on so much charm, goodwill and charity in a lovely frame. He stood a lot of watches. Still, Mrs Fillion needed to be jollied.

    ‘I wouldn’t worry, Mrs Fillion,’ he said. ‘I was a brand new first luff and I proposed to a fetching young thing in Charleston, South Carolina. Did it by letter, so you see how callow I was.’ He laughed, and thought it sounded genuine.

    Mrs Fillion smiled, which relieved him. ‘Captain, would you be brave enough to propose in person now, providing the right fetching young thing happens along?’

    ‘Unlikely. I’m a ripe thirty-seven, and serve in a dangerous profession. Why inflict that on a woman?’

    ‘You underrate females, Captain,’ Mrs Fillion said.

    ‘I have long been fortune’s fool.’ He picked up his soup spoon again, giving Mrs Fillion liberty to continue circulating among her other guests.

    The dining room was less busy, mainly because of the Treaty of Amiens, which meant most warships were in port, with officers uncomfortable on half pay and scrimping, and crews dumped on shore to starve. War was almost guaranteed to break out again, but until it did, this meant tight times in ports like Plymouth and Portsmouth.

    Jem waited until she was engaged in conversation with another officer before picking up the mangled letter. Eleven years was a long time to expect a letter to rule in his favour. Whatever the fervour of the moment, it was long past, whether Teddy’s reply had been yea or nay.

    He had already finished reading his newspaper, and there was still soup to be downed. Might as well see what she wrote all those years ago. He slit the letter open carefully, dismayed to see water damage inside.

    ‘Yes!’ The word leaped out at him. My God, Jem thought, she loved me. The rest of the letter was mainly blotched and illegible. He stared hard, and fancied he made out the phrases, ‘...but you need to know...’ and then farther down the ruined page, ‘I should have...’ The box Mrs Fillion set on top of Teddy’s letter must have been damp. He could decipher nothing else.

    His soup forgotten, Jem leaned back in his chair, staring out the window where autumn rain slid down the panes. His first glimpse of Theodora Winnings was through a fever haze, as though he gazed up at her from the bottom of a pond. That was his second relapse from malaria. Since the frigate Bold was peacefully moored in Charleston Harbour, the post surgeon had taken him ashore and left him to the tender mercy of the Sisters of Charity.

    He had recalled nothing of the first week except the stink of his sweat and his desire to die. Toward the end of that week, he vaguely remembered a visit from his captain, who announced the Bold was sailing to Jamaica, but would return in two months, hoping to find him alive. At the time, he had preferred death. Even in his addled state, Jem knew that was nothing to tell his commander.

    By the second week, he could get out of bed for a call of nature, if someone clutched him close around the waist. The Sisters of Charity were tough women who manhandled him so efficiently that any embarrassment quickly vanished.

    By the third week, life’s appeal returned, especially when Miss Theodora Winnings sat beside his bed to wipe his forehead and read to him. He was still too wasted to pay attention to the words, but he enjoyed the slow molasses sound of Miss Winnings’ Southern diction.

    By the next week, he spoke in coherent sentences and silently admired the loveliness of her ivory skin, dark hair and eyes and full lips, not to mention a bountiful bosom.

    ‘Captain, your soup must be cold. Would you like more?’

    ‘Oh, no. I’m done.’ He looked down at the letter with its nine legible words. ‘Mrs Fillion, she said yes eleven years ago.’

    He shouldn’t have told her, she who set the box on his letter in the first place. He knew Mrs Fillion had been through much, with children of her own at sea, and bad news when her lodgers died in the service of king and country. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

    ‘Look here, ma’am, don’t weep on my account,’ he added hastily. ‘As it turned out, once the Bold picked me up and revictualled, we left the Carolinas and never returned. I was a foolish lieutenant. Our paths were destined never to cross again.’

    Mrs Fillion wasn’t buying it. ‘Love doesn’t work like that,’ she argued. She dabbed angrily at her tears. ‘If you had known her answer, you would have found a way.’

    ‘Poppycock and humbug, Mrs Fillion,’ he stated firmly.

    He misjudged the redoubtable owner of the Drake. ‘Listen to me, Captain Grey,’ she demanded.

    Unused to being dressed down, he listened.

    ‘I think you should go to the United States,’ she said, lowering her voice so the other Navy men couldn’t hear. ‘Find Miss Winnings.’

    ‘What is the point, madam?’ he said, exasperated, more with himself than with her.

    ‘She said aye eleven years ago,’ Mrs Fillion replied.

    He knew he was wearing his most sceptical expression, but she touched his sleeve, her hand gentle on his arm. ‘Have a little faith, Captain.’

    He had to laugh. ‘Madam, I am as profane a captain as you will find in the fleet, as are most of my associates. We rely on time and tides, not faith.’

    ‘I don’t believe you.’ She looked around the room. ‘I doubt there is a captain or lieutenant in here who doesn’t rely on faith, too, say what you will.’

    What could he add to that? He wasn’t up to a theological argument with a hardworking woman he had long admired. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he muttered, then leaned over and gave Mrs Fillion a whacking great kiss on her cheek. For both their sakes, he chose not to continue the narrative. He could pretend he had reassured her, and she was kind enough to think so, too. That was how polite society worked.

    He knew it would be wise to leave the dining room then, and spare Mrs Fillion from more discomfort. He looked in the card room, not surprised to see the perpetual whist game about to get underway. He couldn’t remember who had named it that, but during wartime, there was always someone in port to make up a whist table. Some of the officers preferred backgammon, and there was a table for that, too.

    Lieutenant Chardon, his parents French emigrés, was looking for a partner to sit in the empty chair opposite him. The other two partners, good whist players, were already seated.

    ‘Captain Grey, would you partner me?’ the luff asked.

    Jem considered their chances of taking sufficient tricks from the proficient pair looking at him with similar calculation. He knew the state of Chardon’s purse—his parents dead now, and Auguste Chardon living from hand to mouth, thanks to the Treaty of Amiens. Jem knew they could defeat their opponents, who were post captains like himself, with ample prize money to see them through the irritation of peacetime. Chardon needed a big win to support his habit of eating and sleeping under a roof.

    ‘I’d be delighted,’ Jem said, and sat down.

    ‘Our Yankee captain,’ one of the opposing captains said, and not with any real friendship.

    Jem shrugged it off as he always did. There were worse things to be called. Hadn’t his older friend Captain Benjamin Hallowell, also a Massachusetts Yankee, managed to become one of Sir Horatio Nelson’s storied Band of Brothers after the Battle of the Nile?

    ‘Aye, sir,’ he said, broadening his relatively unnoticeable American accent.

    Jem motioned for Lieutenant Chardon to shuffle the deck.Ninety minutes later, he had the satisfaction of watching the captains fork over a substantial sum to Chardon. A note to Mrs Fillion had brought sandwiches and beer to their table. Jem wasn’t hungry, but he suspected Chardon was. How nice to see him eat and play at the same time.

    After the captains left, grumbling, Chardon tried to divide the money. Jem shook his head. When the lieutenant started to protest, Jem put up his hand.

    ‘I have been where you are now,’ he said simply. ‘This discussion is over, Lieutenant Chardon.’

    And it was; that was the beauty of outranking a lieutenant. He invited Chardon to join him down the street at a fearsome pit of a café serving amazing sausages swaddled in thick bread. He ate one to Chardon’s three, bid him goodnight and returned to the Drake, before the lieutenant, not so poor now, could go in anonymity and without embarrassment to his meagre lodgings. In due time if Chardon survived, once war resumed, he would have his own prize money earning further income in Carter and Brustein’s counting house.

    ‘You may prefer me not to say this, Captain Grey,’ Chardon told him as they parted company. ‘You are a man of honour.’

    Jem Grey returned the little bow and made his way back to warm and comfortable quarters at the Drake. He could unbutton his trousers, kick off his shoes, lie down on a bed that did not sway with the current, and contemplate his next step, now that he knew Theodora Winnings had loved him eleven years ago.

    Chapter Two

    After a beastly night worrying how long Teddy Winnings had waited for him to reply to her letter, James scraped away at the whiskers on his face, slouched downstairs to the dining room, and settled for a coffee and a roll, which didn’t please Mrs Fillion.

    ‘I really hope you’re not still troubled over that unfortunate letter,’ she said as she poured him a cup. ‘I worried enough for both of us.’

    ‘No, no,’ he lied, then repented because he knew Mrs Fillion was intelligent. ‘Aye, I did worry some.’

    ‘What are you going to do about it?’

    He looked around the dining room, wishing there were someone seated who had more courage dealing with Mrs Fillion. He saw none, and he knew most of the room’s occupants. Men could be such cowards.

    ‘I don’t know,’ he said frankly.

    Honesty appeared to be the best policy with Mrs Fillion. She declined further comment, to his relief passed on to her next customer, coffee pot in hand.

    He had a headful of things to do, but lying awake nearly all night had pushed one agenda directly to the top of his mind’s disorderly heap. His jaw ached. A man feeling as low as he did could only take the next step, which he did. He drew his boat cloak tight around him and walked to Stonehouse Naval Hospital.

    Unwilling to face the nosy clerks in Admin, Jem walked directly to Building Two, where an orderly met him at the door.

    ‘Where away, captain?’ the man asked, in proper navy fashion.

    ‘Surgeon Owen Brackett,’ he said. ‘Tell him James Grey would like a word, if it’s convenient.’

    The orderly touched his forehead and gestured to a sitting room. It must not have been convenient for Owen, because Jem sat there for at least thirty minutes. Still in a dark mood, he read through the obituaries in the Naval Chronicle, remembering the time he was listed there when his frigate had been declared missing after a typhoon in the Pacific. When the Nautilus finally made port in Plymouth a year later, there had been surprised looks from the harbourmaster. He smiled at the memory.

    ‘Jem, what brings you here?’ he heard from the doorway.

    If Jem had thought he looked tired when he stared into his shaving mirror this morning, he was a bright ray of sunshine compared to Owen Brackett.

    ‘I thought this damned peace treaty would turn you into a man of leisure,’ he said to Owen as they shook hands.

    ‘Hardly. Why is it you deep-water sailors have so many ear infections?’ Owen asked.

    ‘Too many watches on deck in storms,’ Jem replied promptly. ‘If you don’t have time...’

    ‘I do. What’s the matter?’

    Everything, Jem thought. A proposal of marriage I tendered was accepted eleven years ago but I never saw it. ‘My jaw aches,’ he said instead.

    Owen gestured for him to come down the hall to his office. ‘Have a seat and tip your head back,’ the surgeon said. With skilled fingers, he probed, asked a few questions with his hand still in Jem’s mouth, and nodded at Jem’s strangled replies.

    ‘Tense jaw is all. You’ve been gritting your teeth for years,’ he pronounced. ‘It’s a common complaint in the navy.’

    ‘Surely not,’ Jem said. ‘I don’t grit my teeth.’

    ‘Probably every time you sail into battle,’ Owen countered.

    Jem opened his mouth for more denial, then closed it. The surgeon was probably right. ‘What’s the cure?’

    ‘Peace. Maybe a wife,’ Owen replied with a smile. He consulted his timepiece. ‘There is a shepherd’s pie cooling below deck in the galley. Join me for luncheon? The ale is surprisingly good here.’

    They walked downstairs together, the surgeon talking about gonorrhoea with an orderly who stopped him on the stairs with a question. It was more information than Jem wanted or needed, but he couldn’t interrupt a friend with no spare time, peace or war. Good thing Owen already had a patient wife.

    Owen was right about the shepherd’s pie, which had the odd facility of both filling his stomach and loosening his tongue, although that could have been the fault of the ale. A fast eater from years of necessity, he decided to ask Owen’s advice about the letter, while the surgeon served himself another helping.

    ‘Here I am, the proud possessor of a letter in which a young woman I love, or at least loved, accepted my proposal,’ he concluded. ‘I’m curious to know how she has fared through the years.’

    ‘You say she is pretty.’

    ‘Quite, but that’s not the half of it. She was so kind to me.’

    Even now Jem clearly remembered the loveliness of Teddy Winnings’ creamy complexion, and the deep pools of compassion in her eyes at first, followed a few weeks later by lively interest when he was coherent and—he hoped—charming. Young he may have been, but he was a gentleman. He had known he was enjoying the company of a young lady properly raised, and behaved himself.

    ‘Her father ran Winnings Mercantile and Victuallers, a few doors down from the hospital and convent,’ he told Owen Brackett. ‘It was a substantial business, and I imagine she had plenty of young men interested in her.’

    ‘She’s likely long-married,’ Owen said.

    ‘Aye.’ He hesitated to say more so Owen filled in.

    ‘But you’re going to cross the Atlantic and find out, aren’t you?’ the surgeon asked.

    There it was, laid out before him, the very thing Jem wanted to do. Owen knew.

    ‘Better see a tailor right away and get yourself a civilian wardrobe,’ Owen said as he stood up and held out his hand.

    Jem shook his hand. ‘Don’t tell anyone. I’m ashore on half pay, but I’m not certain Admiralty House would be happy.’

    ‘Why not?’ Owen asked as they headed to the main floor again. ‘We’re at peace, and that unpleasantness with the colonies is long over.’ He took a good look at Jem. ‘You want to go back, don’t you, and not just for Miss Winnings.’ It was a statement, not a question.

    ‘I don’t know what I want,’ Jem replied frankly. ‘I liked living in Massachusetts Colony, but when you’re ten years old and your parents pull all the strings...’ He shrugged. ‘Don’t say anything.’

    ‘I’ll be as silent as an abbey of Trappist monks,’ Owen assured him. ‘Bon voyage, friend. Let me know at what longitude your jaw ache ends.’

    James took himself to his tailor in the Barbican, who opened his

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