Nicole crossed her eyes, and Chapman immediately had to cough.
"Tell her I will next time. And thank you," she called as he exited the room. She began to fuss with the costly veil she wore when she visited her father. None of Sutherland's hirelings would ever think the regally gowned woman arriving at the jail was Nicole.
"Listen, Chancey--"
"Christina Banning!" her grandmother shouted from the door, her black skirts rustling to a stop. Anger radiated from her, and though she was a small woman, she seemed to fill the doorway.
"My name is Nicole Lassiter." They'd been through this moniker skirmish a hundred times already. Her grandmother wanted Nicole to use her middle name and her mother's maiden name, so no one could connect Jason Lassiter's sailing daughter with Evelyn Banning's granddaughter until after she was safely married.
The old woman narrowed her eyes; Nicole knew the battle was on. Strangely, she was coming to look forward to these willful contests between them.
"If you can't abide by my rules, then don't bother coming back to marry because no one will have you. If they found out who you are, it won't matter that you're pretty or dowered--no man of consequence will take a woman with your history to wife."
"Do you really think I'm pretty?" Nicole simpered with what she knew was an irritating smile.
Her grandmother ignored her. "It simply can't be known. I've worked for two decades to hide your wayward life. Nicole Lassiter is a sailor--in my residence you are Christina Banning."
They argued back and forth for several minutes, until the dowager said, "Mark my words, child. I'm not doing this for me--I'm doing this for you! You do not want to enter my world with one hand tied behind your back." With a glare at Chancey, she swept out of the room.
He shook his head, his eyes wide. "Like I always said about ye--ye got more pluck than sense. She's a terror, that one."
Chancey was miserable here at Atworth House under the dowager's constant censure. Between that and his agreement to keep a secret from her father, which he didn't differentiate much from lying, he appeared near his breaking point. She arrived at her own breaking point that afternoon when they visited her father. It began when he told her he wouldn't be released in time for the race.
"So the Bella Nicola's sitting idle in the greatest race ever?" The thought made her feel like crying. She glanced from one man to the other. She noted Chancey was about to buckle the small stool he covered.
Chancey cast an anxious look at her father before meeting her gaze again. "No, we've decided I'm goin' to sail the race without Jason. Yer father's worked too hard for this line to have it die for naught. I'll captain the ship."
Nicole eyed him. "You don't have papers." Chancey was a born seaman, but he wasn't certified as a captain because he couldn't read or navigate.
"I've got experience with the ship, and I'll find somebody to help me with my shortcomin's."
"Like me." She spoke arrogantly, as though it were a foregone conclusion.
Lassiter spoke up. "Forget it, Nicole."
"Then who will navigate?" she asked in exasperation.
Silence from both.
"Who?"
"Chancey and I have thought about it--Dennis will have to do."
"Dennis!" she exclaimed, picturing the carefree helmsman of their ship. "You can't be serious. He better have improved since I've been away, or the ship's driftwood. Surely there's someone else--someone from one of our other crews?"
Lassiter stood and paced. "No, all our ships are at sea. And any navigator worth his salt around here is already engaged."
"Father, you know I'm better than Dennis."
"No doubt of it."
"Then why not me?"
"Because you're my daughter, and these are the most dangerous seas on earth!"
"But, Father..." Even after her pleading progressed into threatening, neither man could be moved. She was to stay with her grandmother while Chancey and the crew made way.
"You're absolutely holding firm?"
He pressed his lips together. "I absolutely am."
She didn't know whether to cry or howl in her frustration. He could not be swayed. For someone used to getting her own way, it seemed as if the whole world had teamed to thwart her.
"As soon as I get out, I'll take you somewhere nice," Lassiter, bless his heart, promised her. "Maybe we could go to Connecticut? Stay in Mystic--check out the old neighborhood?"
"We only lived there for a few months. The Bella Nicola is my old neighborhood."
He exhaled loudly. "Just be patient, Nic. Only a few more days at your grandmother's--I promise."
He didn't know how right he was about that.
"The solicitor thinks I'll be out of here in a week," he said in an optimistic tone.
"Why hasn't he filed any complaints?"
Again, silence.
"Why, Father?"
"Because the reason for the fight could get out." He continued over her disbelieving look, "It's only a week more."
He was staying in here for her. Oh, Papa.
"It isn't a big concern, really. And it's not as though I'm without comforts." He waved a hand around the space.
The room truly didn't look bad. Like a bird, she'd feathered it with blankets, pillows, and rugs purloined from Atworth House, browbeating the guard to allow it, until her father's surroundings looked ridiculously lavish. He had cards, pen and ink, and she'd arranged for her grandmother's cook to send him food three times a day until he was released. She'd ensured that he'd be fine.
Even after she sailed.
When she
said good-bye, she acted as though everything was normal, though her hug was longer than usual. Later in her grandmother's soft, crested carriage, Nicole reviewed her decision.
After this, she might be able to live on her memories when she was obliged to settle down according to the dowager's wishes. To marry a man she chose for her. To live a lie. The woman never let an hour go by without reminding Nicole that she had attempted to help her father with bail and had had a solicitor sent around. She would be recompensed.
Her father, of course, would have an apoplectic fit once he found out where she'd gone. Right after her grandmother did. But this was for a good cause. She reminded herself that she did this as much for her father and the crew as for herself. They expected her to stay at Atworth House, a picture of docility, while Dennis--a nice sailor, a great helmsman, but a weak navigator--was in charge of guiding the Bella Nicola?
Which was silly, since she'd never done what was expected of her.
She would tell her grandmother she was going to the Continent to visit friends from school and begin buying her wardrobe for the upcoming season. With work, Nicole believed she could get the dowager to commit to some type of token watch over her father while she was away.
Then there was Chancey....
When she took a carriage from Atworth House the morning of the race, sea chests in tow, she dealt with only a little uncertainty and possibly a tiny bit of guilt for what she planned to do. She'd written a letter telling Lassiter that if he followed her after his release, she would always know he didn't believe in her--that he didn't trust her to get the job done. The letter had been true, even if over-wrought. Any time she heard from her conscience, she vowed he would have something to thank her for in the end.
"Good morning, Chancey," she called out to his squared back as she strolled aboard the Bella Nicola. His shoulders stiffened before he turned around slowly to face her.
"Tell me I'm not seein' Nicole on this deck."
"Can't do that, I'm afraid, because I'm here," she said, tapping her finger to the tip of her nose and then pointing at him in a cavalier manner. "And I'm staying, so let's get my trunks on board and make way."
He looked at her as if horns grew among the curls on her head. "Ye're touched in the brain if ye think I'm lettin' ye sail. Now, get ye gone back to yer gram's."