Page 14 of The Captain of Betrayal
"In all the time, you have been in my employ," Everleigh eventually replied, "I have known you to be a man of honesty and integrity. No one person can claim to have lived their life without hurting another, and there are many men who would not even cast a second thought upon those that they have caused pain to."
James stayed silent, absorbing the Duke's every, weighted word.
"I can't say that what you did to Polly was insignificant," the dark haired man offered shrugging his broad shoulders, "But neither is the fact that you still regret your betrayal. Many men would not think twice, Black, and that is something you must not forget."
"I suppose, there is something in it," James returned, too overcome with gratitude to the Duke for helping to ease the weight of shame from his shoulders, to reply properly. "All I need to do is to try to show Polly how much I regret my actions that day, and that I would do anything in the world for her forgiveness."
"Is that why you're here?" Everleigh asked astutely, his blue eyes more than a little amused.
"I fear that winning Polly's trust may take time, Your Grace," James looked the Duke in the eye as he spoke, "Which means that I will have to resign my post."
The Duke of Everleigh owned one of England's largest merchant shipping fleets, which traded goods from every corner of the world. After the war with Napoleon had ended, James had taken up employ with Everleigh--not out of financial necessity, but rather because it was the only way of life he knew. James had thought that he would always be lured by the siren call of the sea, but now here he was, ready and eager to make the land his home.
"While it is a great pity, and your skills will be much missed, I understand completely," Everleigh answered, as he scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Do you have somewhere to stay?"
"Definitely not the boarding house," James offered with a wry smile —for now, at least.
"Then you must stay in one of my properties," Everleigh's tone brokered no argument, "Timmons, my head steward, will find an empty one for you in the morning."
"Thank you, Your Grace," the Duke's generosity was more than James had expected.
"I'm not entirely motived by altruism," Everleigh gave a bark of laughter, his white teeth flashing against his tanned skin as he smiled. "I'm rather hoping that when you've won Polly's hand, that you'll return to my employ. A good Captain is hard to find."
The Duke spotted the crestfallen look on James' face immediately, and again laughed.
"Though I am, at heart, a realist," Everleigh conceded, taking a thoughtful sip of his brandy, "I myself thought that I would never settle in one place, that is until I married Her Grace. Now I loathe the very thought of being away at sea, for any length of time."
It was a most unfashionable admission, to declare oneself so attached to one's wife, though to see a man such as the Duke of Everleigh, so clearly smitten, was heartening. Love conquers all, James thought, even the most hard of hearts. Polly's heart might be closed to him now, but he was certain that he could penetrate her defences.
Everleigh soon called for the butler, who showed James to a bedchamber on the third floor of the house. As he lay in bed under the heavy, velvet canopy, James began to map out his plan of attack. His first step was to establish himself in the village of St Jarvis, then once he had shown Polly that he intended to stay, he would work on building trust between them. It all seemed perfectly reasonable to his mind, though as he recalled the stab of jealousy that he had felt for the young stable boy, he realised that reason would probably flee his mind when he saw Polly again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A light sea breeze ruffled Polly's hair as she made her way into the village to buy fish for the ladies' tea. The sun was warm, and she relished in the feel of it on her face, even though she knew that she would pay for it later with a smattering of freckles across her nose. She had forgotten to put on her bonnet before she had left, which was most unlike her. Polly prided herself on always being alert and prepared, but since the night that James Black had re-entered her world, she had become most absent minded.
Her thoughts had drifted to him, more than once, in the past three days. Her daily tasks had taken twice as long as they usually did, because she kept pausing to think on how James now looked, how he sounded, how his blue eyes had remained the same as the boy's she had known, but that he had grown into a man.
And what a man...
For the past few days, the ladies of the boarding house had bombarded her with questions about the handsome Captain, whom they had spied on from the drawing room. From their observations about James, Polly realised that it was not her imagination, but that James was exceedingly handsome.
"Such broad shoulders," Poppy had breathed.
"And eyes that twinkled like a thousand stars in the night's sky," Miss Audrey Dunham, the resident poet, had offered.
"Not to mention his thighs in those breeches."
The final observation had come from Mrs Actrol's companion Beatrice, who had flushed bright red as the ladies had all glanced at her with shock. Beatrice was a very quiet woman, who rarely commented on anything, so Captain Black must have made quite the impression to elicit such a remark.
"Well, it's true," she had stuttered indignantly, her round face flushed. "He had very muscular thighs--you can't deny that fact."
Polly could not deny it, but nor could she deny the fact that she wanted nothing to do with James Black--and least of all, to listen to people wax lyrical about how handsome he was. Luckily, Polly had not seen James since the night that she had thrown him out into the rain, so she supposed that he had slithered back under whatever rock it was that he had crawled out from.
"And good riddance," she whispered aloud to herself; she was glad he was gone again, truly she was.
"Alright Poll, how's things?" Jack Beverley called in greeting, as Polly wound her way down to the small pier where the local fishermen were docking after their morning's work.
"Can't complain," Polly replied with a genuine smile, for she liked Jack. He was typical of the type of man found in Cornwall; rugged and weather-beaten, but kind beneath his rough exterior. "Good catch?"
