He dropped the tongs back into the serving dish, the metal clattering against the fine china. Attacking his cravat with nervous fingers, he seemed about to descend into his surly glowering once again.
“But not to worry,” she hastened to assure him, “for I’m inordinately hungry. Now, you were about to tell me how you and Mr. Nesbitt met?”
“Was I?”
“Oh, certainly.”
Again that small smile. Lenora stared at the curve of his lips, at the small dimple that appeared on his cheek beneath his short gold beard, at the small lines that radiated from the corners of his eyes. And here she had thought the man couldn’t get any handsomer.
“I’m afraid it’s quite a sordid story,” he said. “When I left for America, I was thirteen, with little money and no prospects. As most boys, I believed that things would work out in my favor, even when the odds were stacked against me.” The small light that filled his face suddenly dimmed, some remembrance clouding his eyes.
An ache settled in Lenora’s chest. What he must have gone through. And at such a young age. She thought of the boy he’d been, alone in the world.
As a distraction from the sudden pall that had fallen between them, Lenora picked a fork from her setting and twirled it above her plate before taking a bite of partridge. As before, Mr. Ashford followed suit, the small act seeming to snap him out of whatever dark thoughts had taken hold of him. She would not question him further on it. Yet it was Mr. Ashford himself who continued their conversation.
“I didn’t go to America immediately. London seemed the hub of everything to me, and I’d meant to make a name for myself there. But some ruffians quickly found an easy mark in me, beating me senseless and relieving me of the rest of my coin. After several days of going cold and hungry, I wandered down to the docks, where I sawThe Persistence.”
Her food forgotten in the drama of his tale, Lenora stared at him. “The Persistence?”
“A merchant ship, from America.” A small smile played about his chiseled lips. “When I saw that glorious ship, its masts reaching for the heavens, its hull gleaming and full like the belly of a fat nobleman, I came up with the most incomprehensible, madcap plan.”
His clear blue eyes focused on her, and a glimmer of almost boyish mischief lightened them. His manner was so completely different from what she was used to that her breath stalled in her chest.
“I would stow aboard, and make my way to America,” he continued, that maddening smile once more drawing out a small indentation in his cheek. “Surely one as small as me—for though I’m a monster now, Miss Hartley, I was quite the scrawny, undernourished thing then—could go undiscovered in the time it took to cross an ocean.”
Her mouth fell open. “You were a stowaway?”
“Indeed I was. Though my confidence in my ability to remain hidden was misplaced. We were barely out of port when I was discovered and brought before Captain Adams. He could have easily thrown me overboard. Instead he kept me on, even gave me a job. And he paired me with his newest crew member.”
He looked at Quincy, a wry smile lifting his lips. “You would not know it, Miss Hartley, but my friend was not always the suave, debonair creature you see before you. At one time he was as gangly and awkward as they come. We quickly bonded. Later, when we might have parted ways in Boston, Captain Adams asked us to continue with him.” He paused, staring at his plate. Then, with a shrug that said such things happened every day, he began work on the mound of food before him.
“You make it seem as if that’s all there is to the story,” she said, incredulous.
“Isn’t it?” he asked around a mouthful of food.
“But what of your business? Surely that deserves mention as well.”
He cast a dubious look her way and swallowed. “I was not aware,” he drawled, “that young English ladies have any interest in such low talk.”
Aggravation reared, that he would doubt her interest merely due to her sex and position. “I assure you,” she said in a low voice, picking at a bit of salmon with the tines of her fork, “I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I didn’t wish to know.”
He stilled beside her. “I’m sorry,” he said, equally low. “You’re being kind and I’ve offended you.”
She stared at him. No one had ever apologized for such a thing before, not in all her time in society. It was on the tip of her tongue to put him at ease so they could go back to being pleasant with one another. At the last moment, she stopped herself. His gaze was earnest, and she found herself wanting to say what was on her mind. “You do not have a good opinion of English ladies,” she said, her voice trembling for daring to speak her thoughts. “I would have you at least do me the honor of getting to know me before coming to conclusions about how I might feel about certain things.”
He looked stunned, and she feared for a moment she’d overstepped. The look quickly passed, however, to be replaced with a grudging respect. “Forgive me,” he said solemnly. “What do you wish to know?”
Pleasure curled through Lenora. It increased exponentially when he proved his words were no mere platitudes, placing his utensils down and turning toward her, waiting patiently for her questions.
The thawing toward him she’d sensed deep inside her chest increased. And for the first time, she welcomed it.
She took a deep breath. “You’re in business with Mr. Nesbitt, correct?”
“Yes. And with Captain Adams and his family as well. After the English and French both made safely crossing the Atlantic an impossibility and the Embargo Act destroyed the rest of Captain Adams’s business, we had to do something to help the family stay afloat.”
“That is so kind of you, to care for them when they might have been ruined.”
A flush stained his cheeks. “It was not kindness,” he said, his voice endearingly gruff. “Anyone would have done the same.”
