Read Online Her Favoured Captain by Francine Howarth - Free Book Online

dinner this evening.” Was it enjoyment at her
discomfiture that danced in his eyes? Flicker of smile, too. “Lord Welldon’s a
lucky man, a lucky man indeed.”
       With that he turned and strode away toward
the bend in the creek, and although awful sense of loss washed over her she had
no choice but to turn about and walk in the opposite direction. What torture it
would be to have him a guest for dinner, she hanging on his every word and
longing for his touch and he cold in rebuff.
    ~
     
    Dinner turned out as
predicted. Captain Thorne arrived looking extreme smart and handsome in full
naval uniform. His demeanour was that of polite guest and for the most part
conversation had erred military talk throughout, and precious little said of
interest to a lady. The two now ensconced in the library for an hour at least,
and her as befitting mere woman left to her own devices and amusements.
       Peeved best described her agitation at
Captain Thorne’s coolness toward her, and little surprise she had thrice
pricked her thumb with a fine embroidery needle. Although still tender she
continued thrusting needle through linen and drawing silk skein over and
needling under again. What were the men discussing, and why hushed voices?
       About to cast her embroidery aside and take
a late evening stroll the doors of the library swung wide and the men deigned
to show face. “Emerald, I fear we have much neglected you this evening.” Ned
strode forth and prompt in usual stance of elbow to fireplace mantel, he
gestured for their guest to take a seat, which Captain Thorne did, directly
opposite to her. “This matter of my sister’s betrothal . . .”
       “Ned,” she snapped, in best scolding tone.
“I hardly think Captain Thorne has any interest in hearing about such things.”
She could hardly bear the torture of having the man she desired above all
others sitting across from her, his eyes as teasing as ever yet something else
too: what exactly she could not pin to him, and she would not have Ned discuss
private matters with Captain Thorne. “It’s a family matter.”
       Seeming amused by something perhaps said
before their condescending to pay her court, Captain Thorne with a chuckle,
declared, “On the contrary, I have a vested monetary interest in this
betrothal.”
       Aghast at his outburst, and needle poised
below embroidery ready for upward thrust she could not comprehend his
statement. “How, how can you possibly have any interest   . . .” Oh no, this could not be. “Did you
say monetary interest?”
       Ned Laughed. “Enough tease, dear boy. Tell
her, damn you, or I will.”
       Captain Thorne shifted forward in his
chair, elbows to knees in relaxed manner, and no words were needed. She
inadvertently stabbed through the cloth directly into her thumb, and would have
given him a piece of her mind if not for blooded flesh thrust to mouth.
       “Ouch,” exclaimed Ned, on her behalf, eyes
just as rapidly averted to her once buccaneer. “Get it over and done with,
Richard.” With that Ned made to-ward the library. “The sooner the better, dear
chap.” The doors of the library then closed behind him.
       Her buccaneer seemed far away to her now,
replaced by this ice-cold Captain Thorne sitting opposite. She dreaded his
opening of mouth, but whatever his involvement she would hear him out. For he
had begged three weeks grace in order to help her escape Moorby’s clutches, and
quite obviously sailed away in haste on admiralty business of which took longer
than anticipated. Calendar dates alone were proof of seven weeks since he had
set sail. “If you wouldn’t mind, please do as Ned suggested, before I die in
weariness of waiting your explanation.”
       “Lady Penhavean, please accept my sincere
apology for deception a day past.”
       “A day past, deception a day past? But
Captain, you traded in lies, and led me to believe you were a buccaneer when
first we met.”
       He laughed rose