“Then where?” Sally blinked, recalling all the carts that had turned up their drive over the years. Goods from far-flung places came at irregular intervals but often enough that she had taken them for granted. “Not from Father, surely?”
“Your father has terrible taste in cloth, and if they were from him, he would have bragged about his generosity to us poor women.” Mama pursed her lips. “I think these little luxuries come from another captain, one who might have made a bargain in exchange for something he valued highly.”
Sally closed her eyes. “Felix should be very rich.”
“But he is not. He does not own very much. I have suspected a share of his prizes has been sent to Newberry for some time, but your grandfather denied it. I have been keeping a close eye on Laurence’s accounts of battles fought and goods taken in his letters to Cecily. This”—she held the fabric up—“undoubtedly is the spoils of Captain Hastings’s success.”
Sally bit her lip. “Grandfather has always given me first choice.”
“Indeed he has. Even myself and Penelope know not to choose anything until you have looked at it all. Your bottom drawer is full of the captain’s wealth. He never took more from you than you gave to him freely, but he continues to give to you indirectly, and I think he always will. Do you understand why?”
Sally put her face in her hands. She had thought she understood him when really she had not known the full extent of his desperation. She could believe he might have made a bargain with her grandfather to advance his career, but to give so much of the spoils of his success smacked of pride too. He must have been mad to agree.
Or desperate to prove he was not the fortune hunter she had accused him of being.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Felix remained in a foul mood and made little attempt to keep it from his face or his tone as he started another wasted day sitting about at Newberry Park. Despite Gabriel’s suggestion that he should try to recapture Sally and their lost love, he could not fathom why she would share what they did together with her future husband.
He had taken her at her word that no one would know about what they’d done together, and he was more disappointed by her behavior than words could say. It was one thing to be unfaithful but quite another to gossip about it. It cheapened her and him.
He had been so cross about it yesterday that he had gotten good and drunk with Jennings, which was unusual for him, in the hope of forgetting the entire affair. He had slept the indulgence off at the inn until the duke’s staff—Morgan and Rodmell plus stablehands—had fetched him home again as the new day started.
The duke cleared his throat. “I understand you kept a woman on board during the summer of 1812.”
A little gasp escaped Sally, and he was pleased. “What of it?”
The duke seemed taken aback by his tone. “You kept her confined to your cabin for three weeks and would not let her even come up on deck for air.”
He folded his arms across his chest. Everything the duke said was true, but none of that had been in his report. “Was that a question?”
The duke pursed his lips. “Young man, keeping prisoners, particularly females of reportedly lovely proportions, in cramped conditions is ungentlemanly conduct. Especially when she is the widow of your enemy.”
“The conditions were not cramped for her. She was particularly small and found my quarters completely charming.” Felix ground his teeth. Someone on board his ship had talked, and if he had to guess, he could only assume that Lieutenant Laurence Ford had been spying on him at the duke’s request. But why? The duke had maintained his support for his career even after Sally had broken with him. What did his love life, or lack of, have to do with his command? “I treated her with the respect and privacy I had hope my own wife would receive if I had one to be taken aboard an enemy vessel.”
The duke stamped his cane on the floor and bellowed, “Forcing her to be your mistress is hardly respectful.”
He was not the least bit intimidated by the duke’s bark since he was innocent of the charge. In fact, he was feeling decidedly reckless about his future. Keeping women on board went against the grain for many captains. However, in this case he had had good reasons for keeping the woman restricted. Reasons he did not wish to share while Sally was in the room. “She would feel that my discussing it with strangers to be a betrayal of the worst sort.” He glanced at Sally. “I gave her my word that I would never speak of her.”
“Was she your mistress, Captain?” the duke pressed. “And how many others have there been that the admiralty would equally disapprove of?”
The duke’s tone was harder than it had ever been, and althoug
h Felix wished to ignore the question, his honor would not allow it. He had worked too hard to rebuild his reputation to let a lie unravel it all.
“I never touched her,” he bit out. “We had been nine months at sea without shore leave, and she was very beautiful and sweet. She kept to my cabin—very happily I might add—to keep out of the path of my lusty crew until circumstances allowed her to disembark. I disapprove of keeping women on board as a rule.”
The duke expelled a huge breath. “Why is that, Captain?”
“Women are a distraction, both to the captain and to the men under his command. A woman has so little to do, and it would be easy to misunderstand a harmless jest as a flirtation in close quarters when tempers often grow short and the comfort of home and sweethearts are far away.”
The duke raised one brow. “I happen to live in a society full of distracting women, so I can assure you their location hardly matters.”
“That is indeed true.” He glanced at Sally briefly. “However, there is also the danger of attack at sea that is another strike against having a woman on board. In battle, all hands must defend the ship and most women are unequal in strength to an enemy intent on harming them. They must find sanctuary within the ship, and if the ship were to fall and they alone were to survive, they would face an eager welcome from unscrupulous men.”
“You mean they would be imposed upon,” Sally said in a sickened voice.
He nodded. “Madame Velay was lucky that the Selfridge captured her husband’s vessel. She was entirely safe from indignity on board my ship, as any woman could expect to be.”