She welcomed them into the hall, which Brogan could see ran the full length of the house. As she hurried off to fetch her employer, he searched for any sign of Ben—a small chair perhaps, a child’s toy, the echo of boyish laughter from a distant doorway, a voice, a noise . . .
Noise. He heard it at the top of the stairs, the padding of tiny feet, and immediately looked up to see a barefoot child with plump pink toes descend the stairs. The lad’s hair was a shock of curls, as pale and as fine as corn silk, just as Brogan’s had been at that age. His sturdy body was brightly clothed in emerald knee breeches and a striped waistcoat. One chubby hand clutched a sling, the other a carved, painted sailboat.
He bounded down and, in his haste, remained unaware of the visitors below. Brogan preferred to believe it was due to the bond they shared that suddenly the lad realized he was being watched. The boy stopped, as hypnotized by what he saw as Brogan was himself.
The blood rushed to Brogan’s head, leaving him dizzy with excitement, while the moment etched itself in his memory. Staring back at him was an innocent version of Abigail’s eyes, and how vividly he remembered them. They had haunted his dreams these three years. Exotic blue eyes reminiscent of the tropics.
“Ben,” he hailed, his voice no louder than a hoarse rasp. He moved as though to mount the staircase and pronounced more clearly, “How fare you, Ben?”
The boy’s mouth dropped open; his eyes rounded in fright. An iron grip fastened around Brogan’s arm to hold him steady, as the deep, low voice of Jabez Smith cautioned in his ear, “Not now, Cap’n. Ye’ve scared the lad.”
“Ah, Drew, there you are. Come here and meet— Drew? Drew!”
The voice was Nathaniel Huntley’s, and as the shipbuilder strode into the hall, the boy backtracked up the stairs and disappeared around a corner as though the devil himself were hot on his heels. It was then Brogan realized his blunder in using the boy’s true given name and not the one he now answered to.
“Ah, Drew . . .” With a chuckle, Nathaniel Huntley threw up his hands and turned to his guests. “Do forgive the boy’s lack of hospitality, gentlemen. I believe he must have jumped out of bed this morning before his manners had a chance to follow. I often find myself inquiring, ‘Drew, have you left your manners under your pillow?’” Again the man chuckled, tickled by his own humor, and extended a hand to Brogan. “Captain Talvis, I am most pleased to see you again.”
As Brogan gripped Nathaniel Huntley’s hand, the shipbuilder clasped his left palm over the back of Brogan’s own hand to firmly seal the handshake, then pumped with a lively vigor.
His face was full and jolly. Deep laugh lines bracketed a well-defined mouth, and his brown eyes shone with a gentility that seemed to radiate from even the crinkles at their corners. When he laughed, the stripes of his silk waistcoat bounced gently over a protruding belly that strained at the buttonholes. His side whiskers had turned to white; his hair had worn to a soft gray brown and was left a tad longish behind the ears, where it feathered outward like the tips of angels’ wings.
The shipbuilder’s good cheer was infectious, and Brogan’s smile widened in response. “Thank you for your generous welcome, sir. And I return your enthusiasm. In fact, I have thought of nothing but this visit for months. Please allow me to introduce my chief mate, Jabez Smith.”
Huntley offered his hand. “So pleased to meet you, Mr. Smith.”
“Aye, and you, Mr. Huntley.”
“Am I to assume you are as anxious as the captain to proceed with this new venture?”
Brogan noticed a moment’s hesitation before Jabez answered, “Aye, that I am.”
Huntley clasped his hands together, lips firmly pressed as he inhaled and then expelled a deep breath of pleasure. “Well, gentlemen, this brings me great satisfaction. Do excuse my pridefulness when I tell you this merchantman is my finest achievement to date. My daughter, Lorena, is seeing to the arrangements for the launching ceremony. I should very much like to make an introduction this evening. I thought we might discuss the details then. I do hope you gentlemen still plan on joining my family and me for supper?”
Before Brogan could respond, Jabez elbowed him in the ribs, an imperceptible nudge that told Brogan the mate was wondering the same as he. How was it that their plan should unfold so neatly? Too neatly, as though the angel Jabez had spoken of earlier had come to aid and not to thwart. Quickly, lest Huntley think he was having second thoughts, Brogan nodded acceptance of the offer and said, “Thank you for your trouble, sir. You have gone out of your way to please me, for which I am extremely grateful. We accept your invitation and welcome the opportunity to meet your children.”