music to be excellent, but it far exceeded his taste. The mixed voices of his crew singing hymns on Sunday mornings—from the soprano of the young boys to the deep bass of the saltiest of old seamen—with hearts and voices lifted to God in praise and thanksgiving was the most beautiful music of all.
He rose to stretch his legs and be introduced by Admiral Witherington to several other men of the navy, standing where he could see Julia from the corner of his eye. Lady Pembroke swept her son away to introduce him among her circle, leaving her niece seated alone on the bench.
Julia raised her hands and rubbed her temples, eyes closed, her brows drawn together in a pained expression.
“Gentlemen, please excuse me for a moment.” Admiral Witherington bowed away and returned to his daughter. She immediately dropped her hands to her lap when her father sat beside her. A whispered conversation ensued, the admiral’s brow furrowed in concern. His daughter sat straighter and shook her head several times at what he said to her. William couldn’t see her expression or make out her words, but after a moment of the admiral’s listening to her, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.
Never, since the few months following his own father’s death, had William missed him as much as he did now, witnessing the tender gesture from daughter to father.
“She is a lovely young woman, is she not?” A female voice whispered to starboard.
William turned. “Good evening, Mrs. Hinds.”
“Captain, may I take your arm to my husband across the room?” She rested her hand on the arm he immediately offered, and they walked at her sedate pace through the crowded hall.
“I have heard the rumors of an engagement expected between you and Miss Witherington when you were younger that never came about.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “I am a great crusader for people marrying for love rather than for duty or money. Since you did not marry, I assume there was no love between you.”
A bit taken aback by the lady’s blunt comment, William searched for an appropriate answer. “I respect Miss Witherington and have no wish to further any rumors—”
“Nor am I insinuating either of you have done anything to bring about this gossip—other than just being who you are. As the daughter of a prominent and popular officer, she was bound to be thrust into the fore of the rumor mill for which the naval community is famous. As the favorite of said prominent officer, it is only natural your name should be linked with hers.”
William strolled along beside her in silence, not sure where her thoughts led.
Mrs. Hinds stopped and turned to face him, her hand still grasping his arm. “All I am suggesting, Captain Ransome, is that you do not let the murmurings of the gossipmongers lead you to an action—or an inaction—that will make both you and Miss Witherington unhappy in the future.”
Before he could answer, she left him, breaking her way through the crowd like HMS Victory through the French line at Trafalgar. He made his way back to the concert room, speaking only when spoken to, pondering Mrs. Hinds’s words. Action or inaction that would make both of them unhappy? Leave it to a woman to be cryptic rather than straightforward.
The second set continued much as the first. The warmth in the room increased, and Julia attempted to cool herself with a fan that had some design painted in shades of green. She kept it flying fast, so William could not make out the image.
At the next intermission, she rose from her seat almost before the final note finished. “Please excuse me,” she said to Pembroke, who stood beside her. She dipped her knees slightly before fleeing the room. And William could not blame her. The increasing warmth in the room served only to intensify the strength of Pembroke’s cologne. William returned the baronet’s brief nod and escaped to the hall himself
Though accustomed to living aboard a ship carrying more than seven
He rose to stretch his legs and be introduced by Admiral Witherington to several other men of the navy, standing where he could see Julia from the corner of his eye. Lady Pembroke swept her son away to introduce him among her circle, leaving her niece seated alone on the bench.
Julia raised her hands and rubbed her temples, eyes closed, her brows drawn together in a pained expression.
“Gentlemen, please excuse me for a moment.” Admiral Witherington bowed away and returned to his daughter. She immediately dropped her hands to her lap when her father sat beside her. A whispered conversation ensued, the admiral’s brow furrowed in concern. His daughter sat straighter and shook her head several times at what he said to her. William couldn’t see her expression or make out her words, but after a moment of the admiral’s listening to her, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.
Never, since the few months following his own father’s death, had William missed him as much as he did now, witnessing the tender gesture from daughter to father.
“She is a lovely young woman, is she not?” A female voice whispered to starboard.
William turned. “Good evening, Mrs. Hinds.”
“Captain, may I take your arm to my husband across the room?” She rested her hand on the arm he immediately offered, and they walked at her sedate pace through the crowded hall.
“I have heard the rumors of an engagement expected between you and Miss Witherington when you were younger that never came about.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “I am a great crusader for people marrying for love rather than for duty or money. Since you did not marry, I assume there was no love between you.”
A bit taken aback by the lady’s blunt comment, William searched for an appropriate answer. “I respect Miss Witherington and have no wish to further any rumors—”
“Nor am I insinuating either of you have done anything to bring about this gossip—other than just being who you are. As the daughter of a prominent and popular officer, she was bound to be thrust into the fore of the rumor mill for which the naval community is famous. As the favorite of said prominent officer, it is only natural your name should be linked with hers.”
William strolled along beside her in silence, not sure where her thoughts led.
Mrs. Hinds stopped and turned to face him, her hand still grasping his arm. “All I am suggesting, Captain Ransome, is that you do not let the murmurings of the gossipmongers lead you to an action—or an inaction—that will make both you and Miss Witherington unhappy in the future.”
Before he could answer, she left him, breaking her way through the crowd like HMS Victory through the French line at Trafalgar. He made his way back to the concert room, speaking only when spoken to, pondering Mrs. Hinds’s words. Action or inaction that would make both of them unhappy? Leave it to a woman to be cryptic rather than straightforward.
The second set continued much as the first. The warmth in the room increased, and Julia attempted to cool herself with a fan that had some design painted in shades of green. She kept it flying fast, so William could not make out the image.
At the next intermission, she rose from her seat almost before the final note finished. “Please excuse me,” she said to Pembroke, who stood beside her. She dipped her knees slightly before fleeing the room. And William could not blame her. The increasing warmth in the room served only to intensify the strength of Pembroke’s cologne. William returned the baronet’s brief nod and escaped to the hall himself
Though accustomed to living aboard a ship carrying more than seven
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