She knew an apology was in order.
“What time will Captain Kincaid be back?” If the memory of his naked torso was destined to make sleep impossible, she might as well wait up until he got home to get it over and done with. “I need to speak to him.”
“Those fancy balls tend to go on way past midnight,” said Mrs. Rigsby, stirring her customary pot of bedtime cocoa for all the servants to enjoy before they turned in for the night. “So I don’t suppose he’ll be home till one.”
“He won’t be back till morning,” said Simpkins over the top ofhis newspaper. Then, with a saucy wink, added, “He’s onshore leavetonight, Georgie, for the first time in forever, so he might not even turn up till the afternoon if he’s lucky.”
“How can he be on shore leave when he hasn’t gone away to sea?”
At Georgie’s baffled response and the butler’s subsequent chuckle, Mrs. Rigsby gave him a clip around the ear and a glare so potent it made Simpkins laugh all the harder behind his well-thumbed copy of theLondon Gazette. “He’s… um… indisposed, Georgie, that’s what Simpkins means.” The cook’s cheeks reddened as she tried to answer and then reddened some more at Georgie’s still-baffled face. “Doing the sort of things that sailors areinfamousfor doing when they get to port.”
“Oh,” said Georgie, none the wiser until Simpkins threw his head back and roared at her naivety and Mrs. Rigsby’s entire face blushed scarlet and suddenly it all made sense. “Oh!Well…” Her own cheeks burned hot, but not as hot as the instant flash of outrage and jealousy. “I suppose I shall have to speak to him tomorrow, then.” Although how she was supposed to look him in the eye when she’d likely spend the rest of tonight picturing him entwined with a horrid, light-skirted but doubtless stunning temptress, she did not know.
Blushing herself, Georgie raced out of the kitchen and slammed straight into the captain’s chest. Instinctively, her flattened palms braced against that solid wall of maleness and felt those intriguing muscles over his ribcage. Felt the heat emanating from his skin even through his clothes. Even felt the drum of his heartbeat beneath, which seemed to speed up and race at the same unnerving canter as hers did.
She risked glancing up and lost herself in his stormy gaze. She was so entranced, she would have likely remained staring doltishlyinto his dark eyes for all eternity but, to her utter horror, he held her out at arm’s length with a startled frown. Then every bit of her pale and insipid redhead’s skin instantly combusted, and she burned so pink she knew that she would put a beetroot to shame. “My apologies, Captain Kincaid. I wasn’t expecting you to be here… um… so early.”
“I wasn’t expecting to be here myself either, but alas, here I am.” He attempted a smile, which quickly wavered as his eyes drifted to her horrid hair, and then gave up to address Simpkins over her shoulder as if she wasn’t there anymore. Which was just as well because it gave Georgie a well-needed moment to return her scrambled wits to some order. “Sorry to disturb you at the end of your day, Simpkins, but I’m afraid I need a quick word… in my study.”
Everything from the tone of that statement to its delivery suggested that the quick word wasn’t going to be good. The way he stalked off afterward confirmed it.
“Of course.” With an odd glance at Mrs. Rigsby, Simpkins followed his master down the hallway, leaving a still-blushing Georgie all alone with Mrs. Rigsby and a maelstrom of improper thoughts and sensations that did nothing to calm her racing heart.
“It appears hisshore leavewas either curtailed or canceled.” And she wasn’t entirely sure what she felt about that beyond relieved. “PoorCaptain Kincaid.”
“Poor Captain Kincaid, indeed.” Oblivious to her sarcasm, and thankfully Georgie’s seething but irrational jealousy, Mrs. Rigsby stared down the empty hallway, thoughtful. “Did he just seem off to you?”
“As he’s always off with me, it’s hard to tell.” Although she sincerely doubted his paramour shared that problem. He wouldn’t be off with her. He’d beon. “I am naught but a disappointment to that man.” By the disgusted expression on his face as he had peeled heroff him, he would certainly never be caught dead even contemplating some shore leave with her. Not that she wanted that, of course.
Not rationally, at least. Because why on earth would she harbor romantic thoughts for a man like the colonel?
Except the captain wasn’t like the colonel in the slightest. He might be a bit stiff and pompous and a dreadful stickler, but he was also kind and charming, noble and so handsome he made her all aquiver, so irrationally, she had started to harbor them anyway. Pathetic, shallow fool that she was.
“By off, I mean… bothered.” The cook removed the steaming cocoa from the range and poured some into three cups. “Not himself. Upset, even.”
As Georgie took the proffered cup, annoyed at herself for her ridiculous reaction and futile attraction, she shrugged. “Again, as I have a habit of upsetting him, I really couldn’t say.” Except she also sensed he wasn’t himself for some reason—and that bothered her. “He always seems to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, but they did look a bit more… burdened perhaps than usual, yes.” Had she become so enamored of the man—or his dratted shoulders—that she now misguidedly thought that she could read him too? What fanciful nonsense was that?
A lost cause, that was what. Because she was clearly an idiot. The biggest, daftest, and most masochistic ninny to ever live if she was seriously harboring a tender for him!CaptainKincaid. A man who wore a uniform! A man who lived for his uniform! And a man who hated her horrid hair so much he could barely stand to look at it for longer than he had to!
Georgie was so staggered by her own stupidity it was a wonder she wasn’t currently spitting actual feathers! While she completely understood why he disliked her hair, because nobody could dislikeit more than she did, he didn’t have to be quite so obvious about it. That was just plain rude. And he liked to go onshore leavewith a seductress who likely had compliant and elegant hair of an acceptable and attractive shade. And that was all crowned by the inescapable and inexcusable fact that the wretch wore a uniform and she could tolerate that least of all!
“He’s not usually so easily unsettled.” Mrs. Rigsby sipped her cocoa. “I wonder what’s happened?”
“Nothing good, that’s for certain.” How Georgie knew that when she barely knew him, she wasn’t sure, but it set her on edge regardless. A very different sort of edge than the news of hisshore leavehad.
Whatever it was, it obviously put Mrs. Rigsby on edge, too, as she was uncharacteristically quiet while they both waited for Simpkins to return. When he did, though, he was smiling. “The captain has been promoted and it’s a hefty one, to boot. They’ve given him a flagship, although it’s still being built, and they’ve also dangled the commodore’s carrot, so he’ll shortly be receiving all the bells and whistles that go with that lofty rank. I’m chuffed for him.” Simpkins grabbed his mug of cocoa and toasted the air with it. “He deserves it.”
“Oh, thank goodness!” Mrs. Rigsby clutched her ample bosom, laughing. “His return was so subdued I was sure he had received bad news!”
“Thankfully, it was the exact opposite.” Simpkins’s smile stretched even wider. “He’s just a bit overwhelmed by it, that’s all. He’s also got a lot to do before he leaves, so I dare say he doesn’t know quite where to start with it yet either.”
“He’s leaving?” Against her better judgment, Georgie found little to celebrate in that. “Why, when the ship isn’t even finished?”
“Somebody has to oversee the finishing of it and who better thanthe man who will take the helm?” Simpkins settled into his chair to drink his beverage. “He has to report to Plymouth next week.”
“For how long?”
“For the foreseeable. He might venture back to town on the odd occasion while he recruits the right crew, as he’ll need a good eight hundred of the best sailors, but he’s been stationed to the Plymouth dock until August when theBoadiceahas got to be finished. Who knows where they’ll send him after? That all depends on where the worst trouble is.”
