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Miss Helen Everly returned to her post in the tavern room. As she tidied up and collected empty beer tankards and plates, her mind dwelled on the possibilities of giving a festive Christmastide to the guests staying at the Brown Hart Inn.
For all her eight and twenty years, she’d lived in Port Isaac. The Cornish way of life was all she’d known, for her father had been a mariner in his heyday. He’d captained various ships, and for all intents and purposes, being on the sea was where he’d found his ultimate happiness, even after his marriage. But when her mother had died, he gave up that life, and had thrown himself in being a landlubber in an effort to make a go of being a father as well as an innkeeper.
Oh, she remembered the stories he used to tell of his adventures on the sea, and they had fired her imagination, for she would never know about such excitement while stuck in a Cornish village where the sea commanded everyone’s attention. The whole of the population lived and died by it, and the sea was both a blessing and a curse.
“How about a kiss, Miss Everly?”
The sound of a male voice wrenched her from her thoughts. She looked at the wizened visage of a regular in the tap room, and she smiled. “Only for you, Mr. Mallard.” With her hands full, she drifted over to his position, stooped, and then bussed his wrinkled cheek. The old man had no one left in his life, and neither did he maintain a cottage in the area, so he resided at the inn, basically waiting for his life to run out of days.
It was all so very sad, and one of the many stories she’d heard over the years. One collected them like sea glass when one ran an inn and a tavern.
“Ah, Miss Everly, you’re certainly a bright spot to this old sea dog’s days.” His grin revealed several missing teeth, but he was no less dear. “You need to find a man, girl. This is no life for such as you.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Mallard.” It was the answer she always gave, for what else could she say? The transient nature of sea-faring men and their livelihoods made it near impossible to make plans for the future, let alone hope to have a family of her own.
And she refused to raise children while their father was out adventuring on the sea, possibly never to return. To say nothing of her unwillingness to become a widow soon after she became a wife.
Once she’d deposited the dirty dishes into the scullery, she climbed the stairs and returned to her place behind the counter. It was good that the inn maintained a full house, for it meant income which would keep her and her father sustained well through the holidays. Some years were better than others in that regard, but it appeared there wouldn’t be famine for this one.
“Helen, girl, are you woolgathering again?” The gruff voice of her father proceeded his appearance.
When she glanced over her shoulder, she stifled the urge to sigh and gave him a smile. Perhaps this was one of his more lucid days. “Good evening, Papa. Come down for dinner?” When the weather was fine, he’d normally walk the shore until night fell. Only then would he amble in to partake of the evening meal.
“Aye, as well as take on Old Dooney in a game of chess. He owes me.” When he reached her side, he peered at the account’s ledger. “Full up for Christmas. Hasn’t been like this since your mother was alive.”
“Perhaps it’s a sign of good things to come.” A trace of sadness washed through her, for Mama died when Helen was a young girl of twelve. Since her father needed to make a living and he couldn’t very well take her onboard his ship, he bought the Brown Hart Inn. Helen helped with the housework, and as she grew older, she took on more of the management tasks, especially when it became evident he was slowly losing his mental faculties.
It was a good life, a happy life, as long as she found something positive in each day to keep the sadness and hopelessness at bay.
“Perhaps indeed.” He patted her shoulder as he passed, and she hid a wince, for along with his mind, he’d lost the ability of perception. A pat to him felt like a rough jostle, but no matter how many times she tried to explain the difference, it wouldn’t sink into his failing brain. “New guest in your old room?”
“Yes. It was the last to let. I couldn’t very well turn down good coin.” If at all possible, she attempted to keep that room open, for it had been the room she’d lived in as a young girl, where she’d dreamed of a different life, one filled with love and adventure, a life more than the drudgery of running an inn.
“Smart girl. See that the guest has water for bathing and clean linens,” he reminded her, as he always did whenever he was lucid.
“The linens are clean, of course, but I had forgotten the water.” Drat. With everything else, it had slipped her notice.
“Best do it, girl, else the guest will grouse.”
Why did he never praise her for the hundreds of things she did right every day? Why focus on the one task she’d forgotten? “I rather doubt Captain Frampton is that sort. He doesn’t have the look.”
“Offer him a complimentary tankard for the oversight.” He put up a hand as he moved into the tavern room. “I won’t have disgruntled guests for Christmastide.”
Helen huffed out a breath of frustration as she wiped her hands on the pinafore apron she wore to protect her dress. “Yes, Papa,” she muttered to herself. When her gaze connected with Janice, one of the other women employed to keep the tavern running, she beckoned her over. “Will you look after things? I need to run up and tend to a guest.”
“Of course.” The blonde laid a gentle hand on Helen’s arm. “We need to post an advertisement for another person. You can’t keep running the inn and doing tavern rounds else you’ll drop from exhaustion.”
“I know.” Tears stung her eyes, for it was nice to have someone understand. “But there’s not enough coin incoming steadily to pay a salary, and Papa is...” She scrubbed at the escaped moisture on her cheek. “Well, you know how he is.”
“It’s difficult when their mind goes.” Janice offered a kind smile. “Me Mam was like that before the end. Drove us all nigh into the boughs with the demands and the carrying on, and it was more of a relief when she passed.”
“I fear that’s where this is headed too.” What would become of her and the inn once that happened? She lifted her chin a notch. “However, today I have no time for fretting over that.”
Janice nodded. “Probably for the best.” A teasing light entered the other woman’s eyes. “If you want male company tonight, my brother’s returned to Port Isaac. Says he’ll stay through Twelfth Night.”
Double drat, and yuck. But aloud, she said, “How nice for you and your family.” Janice’s older brother was a harsh-looking man who made no secret the sea was his mistress. He also made no secret that he enjoyed the company of women a bit too much and wouldn’t take one to wife. “However, I’m not searching for a man with ties to the sea. That’s not the sort of life I want for myself.”
Then what did she want? Especially in a place like this? Port Isaac in Cornwall offered nothing but heartache and a lonely existence. People came and went, constantly ebbing and flowing like the sea. No one put down roots here. Long ago, she’d promised herself she’d never marry a sea-faring man, for waiting and wondering and worrying was no life either.
Not that she’d ever had time for courting or caught the interest of a man intent on more than just a quick roll in the sheets. Until she no longer needed to care for her father, she couldn’t make plans for herself. And it was selfish besides.
“I don’t blame you. John isn’t the best, but he could be nice company if you’re lonely and wanting a bedmate.”
Helen snorted. “I’ll pass, but give him and your family my best.” A tryst with a man like John would only leave her with a disease, crabs, or worse, a babe in her belly, and none of those would help advance her station, regardless of how long she’d already been on the shelf.
Janice made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go. I’ll look after everything down here.”
“Thank you.” Then she whisked herself off to see to take care of her oversight.
Ten minutes later, she knocked on the door to Captain Frampton’s room with one hand. In her free one, she held a pitcher with clean water. “Captain Frampton, it’s Miss Everly. I’ve brought water for...” Her words died away when the door opened, and he stood in front of her in a pair of dark gray breeches and a loose shirt. The placket of which gaped untied and allowed her a peek of delicious skin sprinkled with springy sandy-blond curls. “Oh!” Heat slapped at her cheeks, and she cast her gaze away. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“It’s quite all right.” The pleasant timbre of his voice sent awareness tingling over her person. “I’d thought to refresh myself before going down to dinner, but then I realized the pitcher was empty. I was just on my way to rectify the situation, so I apologize for my state of undress.”
His choice of words as well as his bearing spoke to breeding and culture, yet he had the title of captain. Was that due to the navy or another military branch? Please say you have no affiliation with the sea. She forced a swallow, hoping to alleviate her suddenly dry throat. “I apologize for not realizing what you needed sooner.” Not knowing what to do with herself, she thrust the pitcher into his hands. In the process, her gaze collided with his. Confusion and amusement roiled in those gray-green depths. “If you’ll bring me the empty one, I’ll leave you in peace.”
“Of course.” When he crossed the room, his long-legged stride eating up the space quickly, she couldn’t help but admire his taut backside the tight breeches did nothing to hide. “I’m perfectly capable of fetching my own things. It’s no bother,” he said as he exchanged the pitchers and then brought back the empty one. “I suspect you could use the help.”
Why the devil did she suddenly want to run her fingers through his thick blond hair? It fairly called to her, begged for her touch. With effort, Helen shoved the inappropriate thought away. “That’s beside the point.” Did she refer to her unspoken question or his statement? “But I appreciate your offer.” When she reached for the pitcher, their fingers brushed, and much like it had when she’d given him the key to the room, tingles danced over her skin. She hugged the porcelain vessel to her chest. “I apologize for not having the room completely ready.”
“It’s not a hardship.” When he smiled, lines framed his mouth and the corners of his eyes. As she peered closer, threads of gray glimmered in his hair and at his temples. Here was a man with experience behind him, a man comfortable in his maturity, which meant he’d likely already sowed his wild oats. Was he too much older than she?
“Your understanding is appreciated.” As of yet, he hadn’t berated her or called her vulgar names, which was usually what happened. The width of his shoulders captured her attention. What would it feel like to have such a man wrap his arms around her? Oh, to be able to lean on that strength just once! And, dear heavens, he smelled good, like the woods on a summer’s day. “I, er, is there anything else you need?”
“Besides the company of a charming young woman like yourself?”
The blush renewed in her cheeks, and like the biggest ninny in the world, she stared up at him. He was so tall! Perhaps ten or so inches above her short height. His fingers and hands had callouses, which meant he wasn’t a stranger to hard labor, but there was a gentleness about him that spoke to refinement and intelligence.
“I don’t know about that. No one has ever called me charming before.” The cold porcelain pitcher clutched in her hands reminded her that she hadn’t the time nor the inclination to stand there talking of nothing with this man, a stranger, yet there was something about him that shone like a night on a stormy night. He invited her to share secrets, things she’d never told anyone else, but why?
“Then they haven’t paid close enough attention.” The captain took a look about his room, and she stifled a sigh, for without his intense gaze upon her, she finally remembered how to draw a breath. “I believe I have everything I need for the moment.”
“Good.” Helen nodded as if her head were on a string. Did he think her a rube or a country bumpkin? “Well, I should return downstairs. Papa is in one of his moods, where he thinks he can take on all comers in a game of chess. When he’s like that, he’s incensed if he loses, especially if he’s been drinking.”
“Ah, I do enjoy an intelligent game every now and again.” The captain flashed another grin, and she swore her knees suddenly had the integrity of cooked porridge. Was he aware of how devastatingly handsome he was? He certainly didn’t have the air of one overly concerned with his own looks. “Perhaps I’ll seek him out later.”
“Do so at your own risk,” she warned. The urge to give into a laugh nearly overwhelmed her, but she quelled the reaction lest he think her unhinged. “Papa has spent the leisure hours of his life on the game.”
“That makes it all the more entertaining, for I, too, have had cause to pass many an hour in the pursuit of various gambits on the chessboard.” He made no move to close the door, and she, apparently, had forgotten how to put her feet back on the stairs to return to her duties. “Oh, there is one thing I might require.”
“Yes?” Like the silly goose she was, her heartbeat kicked up a notch.
“I noticed a few books on the table there, and they’ve intrigued me. However, depending on the weather, I shall go through them quite fast. Is there a library within the inn I might browse? Or do you have books stored elsewhere I might partake in?”
Helen was in danger of entering a swoon right there. Imagine falling into a puddle at his feet for the mere fact that he was smart and liked to read. She clutched the pitcher tighter to her chest. It’s cool porcelain a good reminder that she needed to keep her wits about her. “We don’t have a library, per se, but in the common room attached to the tavern, there are a few shelves containing books that might interest you. I can’t speak to the contents, for the collection is always changing. Guests take them and leave others on a whim.”
“It matters not to me. I merely enjoy expanding my mind and keeping it sharp.” Then he did stand back with a hand on the edge of the door. “Well, I shan’t keep you further.”
Cold disappointment slithered through her belly. That brief conversation had gone by all too quickly. She’d enjoyed it more than she’d thought. “Right. My duties.” Which set her apart from the other women he no doubt had known, pretty creatures who probably didn’t toil a day in their lives. Drat her life and her lot in it. Suddenly, she despised those other women. “Don’t tarry too long. I wouldn’t want you to miss your dinner.”
“Me neither.” He patted his stomach when it growled, but the action only served to tug her gaze down the long length of his torso to what was no doubt a flat expanse of abdomen. Did the curly blond hair extend that far or would it taper off...
Good heavens, Helen. Get hold of yourself. Where has this penchant for naughtiness come from?
Another round of heat warmed her cheeks. “Perhaps I’ll see you afterward. If you want company beyond the reading, sometimes guests gather in the common room for cards and conversation following dinner.”
“Thank you. I’ll bear that in mind.”
Before she could make a bigger fool of herself than she already was, Helen fled down the stairs and was all too relieved to put the first door and space between them. What was wrong with her? She’d never acted like a schoolgirl while interacting with any of the other guests before. Perhaps the work of the inn and the upcoming Christmastide season had started to addle her brain.
Just because a man had been nice to her didn’t mean she needed to act the widgeon. It simply wouldn’t do to let herself fall for a man like the captain no matter how handsome or kind he was. She needed someone who’d be steady and attentive, who wouldn’t leave like her uncles had to the sea, who wouldn’t soon expire like her mother and her grandparents had.
And her father soon would.
There is only so much loss a woman can take before she locks herself in the attics.
Still, she couldn’t help her grin, for in the few precious moments she’d chatted with the captain, she’d felt welcome and wanted. If she weren’t careful, she’d let those brief feelings go to her head, for Lord knew she was in desperate need of something different. Christmastide notwithstanding, she would enjoy it for as long as it lasted.