A long moment of silence ensued before he mumbled, “Ah-um sss-orry,” without lifting his head.
“I accept your apology, Drew,” the captain said, his dejected tone leaving Lorena to wonder whether Drew’s punishment of being sent to bed didn’t pain him more than it did the child.
She quickly herded the boy toward the door. “I pray you don’t think us ungracious for leaving, but it truly is past time Drew retired.”
“Allow me to see you to the stairs, Lorena,” her father said, rising himself. “I wish to speak with you a moment.”
Jabez Smith stood. “A good evening to ye, Miss Huntley, and thank ye for the lovely meal.”
Lorena acknowledged the compliment and wished everyone a pleasant evening, but something in Captain Talvis’s manner alerted her that he was none too pleased with this turn of events. He gave her a smile, which she suspected was forced. “Good evening, Miss Huntley. I hope to be seeing you on the morrow.”
Lorena started. She thought she might at least be granted a reprieve from the man on the Sabbath. “I think not, Captain. Tomorrow is Sunday.”
“Sunday, aye. Which reminds me, Mr. Huntley, would you allow me to accompany your family to the Duxboro meetinghouse in the morning? I wish to attend worship services.”
Her father radiated delight. Lorena had the distinct impression he was growing quite fond of Captain Talvis.
“Certainly, Captain. You are more than welcome to join us, and that invitation extends to you also, Mr. Smith. There is room enough for all in the family pew.”
“A generous offer, sir,” Mr. Smith acknowledged. Grinning, he gestured with a nod at the captain. “Though, for all our sakes, I do hope the meetinghouse walls don’t come crashing down when the cap’n walks in.”
“Very amusing, Mr. Smith,” Captain Talvis returned. “It is a pity Moses did not know of your wit. He could have used it to plague Egypt.”
Papa chuckled at their banter, his good humor restored. “Whatever your wishes, gentlemen, just know you are both welcome. Now excuse me while I say good-night to my children. We shall enjoy some cheese and fruit upon my return.”
Brogan reseated himself as Huntley departed with his family. He dipped a corner of his napkin in a tumbler of water and wiped the remaining traces of custard from his face, then began to brush a spot off his lapel. “So, Jabez, what do you think of my son?”
“Looks like an angel, but a wee rascal lurks inside. I agree with Huntley. The lad is spoiled.”
“He needs his father.”
“So he does, Cap’n, but ye hardly seem to be getting off to a healthy start with the youth. Ye heard what the shipbuilder said this morning. Ye have two weeks before the Yankee Heart is ready to sail. Not much time to win a boy’s love. Harder still to win it from such a lovely rival.”
Brogan stared into the flame of a bayberry taper until his pupils lost their focus. He saw a marsh meadowland, where a willowy young beauty sat dozing on a boulder, her plentiful coils of hair bound in a kerchief and a stained muslin apron tied about her waist.
“Miss Huntley is an obstacle I hadn’t anticipated. She has adopted the role of mother. Calling the boy by a name of her choosing, when in truth he is my Benjamin. What game do they play, these Huntleys? What do they hide?”
“Perhaps nothing, Cap’n. Perhaps they’re just good, kind folk who have opened their hearts and home to a child.”
Brogan continued as though Jabez hadn’t spoken. “And she is too inquisitive by far. I noticed her taking my measure more than once this evening. I’ve not been in Duxboro one day and Miss Huntley has managed to intrude upon my most private moments, starting with this morning, when all I wanted was to bask in the accomplishment of becoming master of my own ship.”
Frowning, Jabez Smith lifted a mug of cider to his lips and took a deep swallow. He set the mug down upon the linen-covered table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “This morning? Surely, ye haven’t met the girl before tonight?”
Brogan turned to meet his mate’s gaze and, with the lift of a brow, said, “Surely I have.”
Realization struck. Jabez asked, “Do ye mean Miss Huntley is the skinny scullery maid who knocked ye senseless?”
At Brogan’s nod, Jabez lifted his eyes heavenward. “O Lord, I pray, bestow a blessing of intelligence upon my poor, witless cap’n.”
“You are a fine one to talk, Mr. Smith.”
“I told ye to be careful,” Jabez snapped, his look disapproving. “Ye are deceived. Miss Huntley is a good girl and cares only for the welfare of the child. Ye must gain her confidence if ye ever hope to get close to yer son. Be nice to her. The lad will have no regard for ye until ye do.”
Brogan’s nostrils flared with his annoyance. He’d been waiting three years and had no patience to waste on a mere slip of a girl, tempting distraction that she was. “Nice? And what, pray, do you mean by nice?”