made it very clear that I was to watch over you and Andrew. You both were so dear to him. I promised that I would take the best possible care of you. George was one of my closest friends; my promise to him means a great deal to me,” he said gently.
The loneliness Emily had felt for the past month flooded over her again. Tears stung her eyes and a dull ache settled in the pit of her stomach.
“Excuse me, Captain Brentwood, I am not feeling well. Good night.” She swept past him. Jonathon heard her choke back a sob as she ran back in through the terrace doors. He stood there for a moment staring after her, confused. What should he do with this woman-child?
• • •
Emily peered thoughtfully over her teacup at Michael Dennings as he spoke to her. Many of the matrons in the social circles had already paired them and awaited an impending engagement this season. Michael’s sandy-colored hair matched his eyes. Emily had never noticed his eyes before, and if someone had asked her their color, she would have been at a loss to answer. She did remember, however, the soft brown eyes that had warmly perused her during Captain Brentwood’s visit.
She must stop comparing them. But she knew that would be difficult, for that was all she had done since Michael had arrived for tea. Of average height, he was shorter than Captain Brentwood, and not nearly so broad in the shoulders. He wore a tan longcoat over a tan vest and matching breeches. So close were they to the color of his hair and eyes that Michael just seemed to run together, nothing distinctive, and a passing stranger would take no notice of him.
Emily had known Michael for years, and, though he was amiable enough, rack her brain as she would, she could not think of a single extraordinary thing he had ever said or done. That was Michael, ordinary and predictable, but a good, safe husband who could keep her in England. And that, thought Emily, is what I need to make him see.
“Do you not agree, Emily?” Michael repeated.
“What? I am sorry, Michael, what did you say?” Emily smiled prettily, and Michael was appeased.
“I said it is dreadful what is occurring in the colonies. Why, they are close to open rebellion!” he answered.
“And I am sailing right into it,” Emily murmured.
“I do not like the thought of your traveling over there, Emily. In fact, Mother and I were discussing it just last night. She said it is not proper for a girl of your delicacy and upbringing to be thrust into a savage land. She said it is scandalous for a genteel young lady to go off across the ocean, unescorted, with some sea captain. She said it is a shame you have not been betrothed by now, and if you were not so opinionated, that is …”
Emily ignored the last remark. She had heard it whispered before. She was more educated than was usual for a young lady of her station; consequently, no man wanted a wife who might have ideas and opinions of her own — not to mention a wife who might be smarter than her husband. She attributed this gossip to jealous girls whose mothers would not allow their education to progress any further than French knots and curtsies.
“Michael, Captain Brentwood is my guardian, so I am properly escorted. Andrew will be with me also. And the colonies are not a savage land anymore. Why, there are large towns such as Boston and Philadelphia, and ships arrive from England frequently. I will not be shut off from the world in some remote and distant land.”
What was she saying? This was not at all what she had planned. Why did she suddenly feel defensive about a land she had no desire to see?
“Well, as far as Captain Brentwood is concerned, Mother says he has a reputation with women. She says that having you on his ship is as good as …”
“Captain Brentwood has been a perfect gentleman in my presence,” Emily snapped. Her cheeks flushed as she recalled his silken voice in the garden and the feel of his strong, firm arm around her shoulders.