Mr. Thompson nodded.
“It’s…” She trailed off, unable to find words.
“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” He swung to the ground. “Trust me, I’d much prefer to call a ship home.”
Her eyes tried to take it all in. Never had she seen a home like this. Even her distant memories of France held no recollection of something so grand. He cleared his throat and she startled. He’d walked over to her side and stood with his hand outstretched, her satchel slung over his shoulder.
She set her hand in his and stepped down. “I think it’s lovely.”
“Christian, have you brought a guest?”
One of the most beautiful women Josephine had ever seen descended the steps. Red hair flowed behind her like flames, and bright blue eyes sparkled in the sun. She wore a beautiful periwinkle muslin dress, its high waistline and fitted bodice accentuating her curves.
Mr. Thompson’s eyes filled with affection and his face softened as she approached. “Samantha, my dear, I’d like you to meet Miss Montclair, daughter of the governor of Tortuga. She’s going to be staying with us for a short visit.”
“Oh, how lovely. We’re happy to have you.” His wife’s smile flashed wide and welcoming.
Josephine’s throat had gone dry. “Thank you, Mrs. Thompson.”
“Oh goodness. Please, call me Samantha. Mrs. sounds so old. Who’s this?” She reached a slender hand toward Josephine’s shoulder and Lola shuffled over, climbing onto a fair-skinned wrist.
“Lola.” Josephine couldn’t help but smile. “She doesn’t usually like strangers.”
Samantha stroked shiny green feathers and glanced up at herhusband. “Why didn’t I ever think of getting a parrot?”
He harrumphed. “Don’t get any ideas.”
With a grin, she took hold of Josephine’s arm. “Let’s go inside and get you ready for dinner.”
Josephine looked down. “I am ready.”
Samantha laughed. “You just spent days on a ship. At the very least, you should take a bath and change into some fresh clothes.”
“I didn’t bring much else.” The words came out quiet, laced with shame, and Josphine wished more than ever she’d found a way to fit her day dress in her bag.
“Never mind. You can wear something of mine. We’re practically the same size.”
Mr. Thompson chuckled. “I hope you like the color blue.”
Samantha gave him a playful swat on his shoulder and took the satchel from him. “You will find, Miss Montclair, that Americans spend almost as much time socializing as their European counterparts. You best brace yourself for an onslaught of dinners, parties, and house calls. Starting tonight.”
Chapter Seven
“This should begood.”
Isaac glared at Christian over his glass of brandy. “I’d rather not talk about it at all.”
Christian’s laugh echoed through the room. “Well, either you tell me now, or I’ll get the story from Samantha tonight.”
Though his friend was no longer his superior, Isaac couldn’t shake the cold weight of failure that threatened to overcome him if he admitted how Miss Montclair had come aboard his ship. He rubbed a thumb along the rim of his snifter. Not that it mattered. One way or another, Christian would find out. No point in delaying the inevitable.
“She was a stowaway.”
Christian whistled and tipped back his glass. “How the hell did a woman sneak on board theTempest?”
Isaac ground his teeth together. “She dressed as a boy.”
Amusement flashed across his friend’s eyes. “And you were fooled?”
