Kisses from a Captain, page 1
Kisses from a Captain
Samantha Grace
Kisses From a Captain
Copyright © 2022 by Samantha Grace, HOLO Publishing
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Contents
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Kisses From a Captain
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Epilogue
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Books by Samantha Grace
About the Author
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Kisses From a Captain
Captain Gabriel Brazier defied doctors’ predictions and learned to walk again after losing his leg in war. But the damning voice whispering no woman will find him desirable again is hard to ignore, especially when he arrives at Everly Manor to compete for the charming Lady Laurel’s heart.
One
Lady Laurel Everly unearthed the first letter by accident. When she grabbed a book from her bedside table, it slipped from between the pages and landed at her feet. She slanted her head to read the masculine handwriting scrawled across the folded sheet.
For the loveliest lady in Kent.
She rolled her eyes. The road leading to marriage was paved with false flattery, and Laurel had grown tired of the journey after three Seasons. Hopefully, it would be over soon. She still had a handful of interested suitors, and she was resigned to bringing one of the men up to scratch before the end of her parents’ annual Christmas house party.
“Mrs. Shiers told me to pack your warmest clothes.” Her maid retrieved a green wool walking gown from the wardrobe. “Her knees have been aching all afternoon.”
She clicked her tongue in sympathy. The poor cook’s knees had an uncanny knack for predicting the weather, and what a burden it must be.
“I hope it snows on the lot of them.” Laurel’s youngest sister threw a scowl over her shoulder before gaping out the window again. “Especially Octavia.”
Calliope had stormed into her bedchamber moments ago to spy on their sister and their parents’ house party guests as they gathered on the front drive for a jaunt into the village. It was Octavia’s first year to participate in the house party, and Calliope viewed her abandonment as an unforgivable betrayal.
“I hope Mrs. Shiers is not too uncomfortable,” Laurel said, ignoring her sister’s uncharitable comment.
Ruby tucked the walking gown into the trunk. “She won’t allow anything to slow her, not with a houseful of guests. She makes a salve she swears by.”
“I bet it stinks,” Calliope said.
Laurel propped a fist on her hip, her patience wearing thin. “Remind me once more why you are in my bedchamber without an invitation.”
“It was mine before you stole it,” Calliope snapped.
Laurel held up her hands in surrender. “Touché.”
Another time, she might take her sister to task for being surly in a servant’s presence, but she didn’t wish to escalate the situation before her own departure. Her planned stay at her twin’s lake cottage over Christmas was likely another cause for Calliope’s foul mood.
Laurel thought offering the larger bedchamber to her two younger sisters would be a nice gesture, but she should have anticipated Calliope’s negative reaction.
Change had always been difficult for her, and her life had been upended this past year. First their youngest brother left for boarding school. Last month her beloved governess resigned to care for an aging relative last month. And now her closest companion was entering the marriage mart early.
Octavia’s official come out would be announced at a ball held in her honor next Season, and it was all she talked about these days.
With a sigh, Laurel retrieved the letter from the floor and flipped it over to examine the back. It was blank except for a blot of red wax and plain seal.
How odd. She tucked the letter into the book to read later. “Ruby, has anyone entered my bedchamber since you’ve been here?”
“Only you and Lady Calliope. Did the chamber maid forget something? Should I retrieve her?”
“No, the room is perfect.”
Her maid cocked her head, reminding Laurel of her sister’s dog whenever he was puzzled. She debated mentioning the letter and decided against it. She trusted Ruby, but some of the younger servants liked to gossip. It wouldn’t do to have rumors about a strange man stealing into her bedchamber circulating in the servants’ quarters.
“It is nothing,” she said. “Thank you.”
There was no cause for concern. No guest at Everly Manor would dare to venture into the family wing for fear of inciting her mother’s wrath. The Marchioness of Seabrook had a reputation for a sharp tongue and fierce protectiveness when it came to her children.
Laurel suspected one of her brothers was responsible for the letter. Max was known for playing pranks, and he knew how to rile her. Hence, the ridiculous address.
She believed she was pretty, but the loveliest lady in Kent? Did anyone deserve such a title? She thought not. What one person found beautiful, another might label average, and opinions could change once one looked beyond the outer trappings. An ugly heart spoiled everything.
“They are gone.” Calliope turned away from the window with her lower lip protruding. “How will I ever manage the month all on my own? I will perish from boredom.”
“What a tedious demise that would be,” Laurel said, earning a scowl from her sister. “You could seek out Cousin Posey. She was looking for someone to play whist with her earlier.”
“No, thank you. With the way she prattles on, it takes forever to play a hand.”
“Indeed.”
Their cousin was an effervescent girl who hadn’t learned the value of a well-timed pause. Nevertheless, she was kindhearted and as cute as a kitten. She was also stuck in the same situation in which Calliope found herself. At age fourteen, the girls were too young to participate in activities with the adults, but too old to behave like children.
A loud bang shook the wall Laurel shared with her two brothers. Age did not stop Hugh from acting like a wild animal. She suspected Papa sent for the baby of the family before the end of the term to prevent him from engaging in the same misbehavior that had resulted in seven of his peers being expelled from Eton.
Seventeen-year-old William had been called upon to escort him home and keep him out of trouble along the way. They’d arrived to Everly Manor in one piece, so Laurel considered it a success.
A second boom jostled her favorite landscape painting, leaving it hanging off-kilter. She bit her tongue rather than holler at the pests to behave. Why couldn’t William find a less destructive means of entertaining their brother?
“Charge!” A crash came from the other room and the floorboards trembled.
“The heathens are wrestling again,” Calliope said and abandoned her watch at the window. Envy showed in the crinkle of her freckle-dusted nose.
She had been in the thick of their youngest brother’s antics before Hugh left for school. Their sibling relationship underwent a transition during his absence, and he had no time for sisters anymore.
Calliope must have sensed the change coming. For a week after he left for Eton, she’d crawled into bed with Laurel and cried herself to sleep. She’d reacted the same when Laurel’s twin sister was married, even though Ammie lived close enough to see daily.
“I must admit to missing the heathens when they are away,” Laurel said.
“As do I.” Her sister plopped on the edge of the bed, shoulders drooping. The racket continued next door.
Laurel took pity on her. “Someone should remind our brothers we have guests. I would, but I am much too busy.”
Calliope perked up. “I can do it.”
“Are you certain it is no bother?”
“Not in the least. I’ll go now.” Her sister bolted from the bed and headed for the door. “Offer my best to Ammie and Phillip. Oh, and Captain Brazier.”
“I wi—”
Calliope slammed the door. A moment later, her muffled shrieks mingled with Hugh’s calls to seize her.
Laurel’s maid shook her head, laughing under her breath as she closed the trunk. “Are you certain you will not require my services at the lake cottage, my lady?”
“I would smuggle you out in one of my trunks, but I suspect Octavia would notice your absence. Have you considered making yourself less valuable?”
The maid’s blue eyes formed crescent moons when she smiled. “I am pleased with my circumstances, although I always enjoyed dressing you and Lady Ammie for parties.”
It was kind of her to say. Laurel and her twin had never been as interested in the latest fashions as their sister Octavia. Ruby was thrilled every time Octavia shared the latest edition of her favorite fashion magazine and requested help recreating a look.
A brief knock sounded at the door be
“Your brother sent me,” Bess said.
A chuckle bubbled up in Laurel’s chest. “You sound winded. Did you run on the stairs?”
“I must have without realizing.” Her sister-in-law patted her hair and discovered a chunk had fallen from the pins. Apparently, Laurel’s brother and his wife thought no one noticed when they disappeared for a time and returned looking like… Well, like they had been set upon by bandits.
Laurel tossed the book on the bed and waved her over so she could help hide the evidence of their amorous pursuits. “Gads, Bess, it has been a year. When will you and Julius stop behaving like newlyweds?”
“I cannot imagine what you mean”—Bess sent a cheeky wink Laurel’s direction and presented her back—“but I hope never.”
Laurel laughed. “Ruby almost has everything packed. Another half-hour and I will be ready.”
“Your trunks can be delivered later. Where is your pelisse? We must go.”
Her maid stopped packing to retrieve a light blue pelisse from the wardrobe.
“My, you are bossier than usual. Let me guess, my brother is growing impatient.”
“Julius is not one to allow grass to grow beneath his boots.”
“He never has been,” Laurel said.
Her maid approached to help her don her outerwear. Bess snatched the book from the bed to examine the worn spine. The title had been rubbed off from years of frequent handling.
The lady’s maid excused herself to check the laundry hanging on a line below stairs.
“Is this any good?” Bess asked.
“I started it yesterday, so I’ve not read much. Would you like me to pass it to you next?”
“Unless I’ve already read it.” Bess flipped to the title page and discovered the letter. She held it aloft and smiled. “It appears you have an admirer, and you’ve neglected to mention him. Who is he, and why haven’t you opened this yet?”
Laurel shrugged. “I found it a moment ago, and there is no name on the back.”
Bess checked for herself. “There is no address either, and it has not been franked. Was it delivered by messenger?”
“I told you, I found it while packing. I have no idea how it wound up in my bedchamber, but I suspect Max is teasing me.”
Her sister-in-law frowned and thrust the letter toward her. “See if it’s from your brother.”
“I thought you wanted me to hurry.”
“Open it.”
With a huff, Laurel grabbed the letter and retreated to the writing desk to break the seal. Her heartbeat quickened. “It is a riddle.”
Bess came to peer over her shoulder. “What is this? There’s no signature.”
“It is a clue to his identity.”
“I can read, and I don’t like this,” Bess said. “You have an overeager suitor, a blackguard from the sounds of it. You must show this to your father.”
“Oh, I will.” Papa would be as intrigued as Laurel was.
“I am serious, Laurel. No honorable man would sneak into a lady’s bedchamber to leave a letter, much less attempt to correspond with her without an understanding between them. What if he returns with the hope of catching you by surprise?”
Laurel laughed. “The surprise would be on him if he walks in to find Uncle Gunther in half dress.”
Bess puckered her lips, but before she could work up a good fret, Laurel offered reassurance. “I still believe it is a prank, but I will show the letter to Papa before we go.”
If her sister-in-law’s assumptions were correct, it was best to take precautions to protect her younger sisters. Papa could instruct the footmen to keep better watch over the family wing as a precaution.
Even if the letter turned out to be one of Max’s pranks, it would be a fun mystery to solve—a small gift before she chose a husband and left Everly Manor for good.
She circled her palm over her heart as she followed her sister-in-law to Papa’s study.
“Meet us in the foyer after your audience,” Bess said.
Her father answered on the first knock, and Laurel was pleased to find him alone. If Mama learned a guest might have entered the family wing, she would browbeat everyone until the letter writer confessed. Not only would it ruin Laurel’s fun, the house party would be spoiled for everyone. Papa would tell Mama, of course, but perhaps Laurel could persuade him to wait.
“I have something to show you.” She spread the opened letter on her father’s desk and explained how she’d found it. “No signature and no seal.”
She leaned over his shoulder while he read it aloud.
“Egads!” Papa tossed his spectacles on the desk and looked up with a feverish gleam in his eyes. “Your admirer has provided a clue.”
“Indeed, Papa. We have a real mystery to unravel. How pleased will your sleuthhound friends be when we solve it?”
Papa chuckled. “You are not supposed to know about the sleuthhounds, my dear. It is a secret society.”
“Of course.” She mimed locking her lips with a key. Her father’s secret was safe with her and had been since she’d discovered he joined the secret society last summer.
She read the last lines of the letter again.
When you know the answer, leave a note with the Lady at the Well for safekeeping. I eagerly await your response and will attempt not to give myself away by watching for you to visit the conservatory.
The Grecian statue had been a fixture at Everly Manor for as long as she could remember. The bronzed lady stood on the edge of a fountain made to look like a pond, hugging a hollowed out jug to her bosom. Whomever had written the letter knew the house well, which served to strengthened her suspicions. Her brother must be responsible.
“I need to think on it,” she said, “but I will figure it out in a day or two. May I respond when I do?”
“Your mother will not like it.”
Her father’s choice of wording caused an energizing zing to race through her. He hadn’t said no.
“Do I sense you are on the verge of granting permission, Papa?”
He pinched his top lip as he mulled over her request. “I will be in for a row if I allow it.”
“Not if it is Max teasing me, and I am certain it is.”
“The handwriting does not match.”
Laurel picked up the letter. She hadn’t thought about the mismatched handwriting, but Max was clever enough to have enlisted help from one of his friends. Her brother was well-liked and people seemed to gravitate toward him. He’d formed lasting friendships within the first week of boarding school, and he rarely returned for break without his entourage in tow.
Law. What if it was not a prank at all and one of Max’s friends was interested in her? No, it must be.
Max knew better than to encourage one of his friends to court her. The men were too much like family to inspire romantic feelings.
“Max has an accomplice,” she said, “and I will discover his identity as well.”
“Now Laurel, you cannot fabricate explanations to make the situation fit your narrative.”
“I know, but please, Papa.” She pressed her hands together. “I will get on my knees to beg if it helps my cause.”
Eventually, he issued a half groan, half sigh. “Do not make me to regret granting my permission.”
If she were her younger sister Calliope, she would squeal. She refrained.
“You are not to go to the conservatory alone,” he said. “Do you understand and agree to my terms?”
“I promise to take a proper chaperone.”
“And tell him”—Papa wagged a finger at her—“no more letters are to be left in your bedchamber. If this unorthodox courtship progresses and you choose him, he must pass scrutiny and answer for this misstep.”
“It is not a courtship, but I will insist all future correspondence be passed at the statue.” She refolded the letter and tucked it into her reticule. “Will you tell Mama?”
