Commander of His Heart (Promise of Forever After Book 4) Read online

  Commander of His Heart © 2020 by Arlem Hawks. 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 permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover design by Blue Water Books

  Cover photo by Erica Shifflet

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Arlem Hawks

  https://arlemhawks.com

  First Printing: September 2020

  Created with Vellum

  For Deborah—my sea sister, writing buddy, and dear friend. Thanks for listening to all my Royal Navy geekery. I couldn’t have written this without you.

  Contents

  Glossary of Naval Terms

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Arlem Hawks

  About the Author

  Glossary of Naval Terms

  Admiralty: The governing board of the Royal Navy.

  Aloft: Going up the mast.

  Bosun: The officer in charge of repairs (especially to rigging) and crew aboard a ship. Bosuns would often live on the ship they were in charge of when not in service and were sometimes granted permission to bring their wives on voyages to help with the work. Also spelled boatswain or bos’n.

  Bosun’s call: The whistle a bosun used to give orders to the crew.

  Bosun’s mate: The assistant to the bosun.

  Bow: The front end of a ship.

  Bowsprit: The timber extending forward from the front of the ship.

  Brig: A type of two-masted vessel frequently used by the Royal Navy.

  Chafing gear: Padding or wraps used to prevent ropes wearing against the mast and yards.

  Chain shot: Two small cannon balls (or half cannon balls) connected with a chain. These were used for taking out masts and rigging.

  Commissioned officers: Officers who received a commission to serve the navy—lieutenants, masters and commanders, post-captains, admirals, etc. Generally, these officers were gentlemen in society.

  Footrope: A rope underneath a ship’s yard that sailors would stand on when aloft.

  Forecastle: The raised part of the upper deck at the front of a ship.

  Foremast: The front mast.

  Gasket: A rope used to hold a furled sail in place.

  Great cabin: The captain’s room.

  Gun: A cannon. This was the most common term for naval cannons at the time.

  Gun crew/captain: A group of sailors assigned to man a specific gun, led by a captain.

  Gunner/gun master: The officer in charge of cannons aboard a ship.

  Hatch: The door to the lower decks of a ship.

  Haul home the sheets: One of the maneuvers used to set sails in place by pulling ropes attached to the lower corners of sails.

  Hull: The outer shell of a ship.

  Jackstay: A rope or bar that ran along the top of a yard for support.

  Lieutenant: A junior officer who acts as second-in-command to a captain of a ship. Lieutenants may receive temporary commands of their own on smaller vessels.

  Line: A rope or cord.

  Linstock: A stick used to light the fuse to fire a cannon.

  Mainmast: The tallest mast of a ship. In the case of a brig like the Teaspoon, the mast closest to the stern.

  Master and commander: An officer between the rank of lieutenant and captain who had been granted command of a vessel but had not yet been promoted to the rank of post-captain. He served as both sailing master (in charge of navigation) and commander (in charge of the vessel as a whole). He would be called “Captain,” though he hadn’t officially reached that rank. It was not necessary for an officer to be a master and commander before becoming a captain.

  Messdeck: The deck where the sailors ate and slept.

  Pipe to quarters: The order given for a bosun to call the crew to prepare for battle. On larger ships, this would be done by drummers and the order would be “beat to quarters.”

  Port side: When facing forward, the left side of the ship.

  Post-captain: An officer who has officially been granted the rank of captain.

  Quarterdeck: The raised back portion of the main deck. In general, only officers were allowed on the quarterdeck.

  Rigging: The ropes used to support and move a ship.

  Round shot: Regular cannon balls.

  Sheets: Ropes connected to the bottom corners of sails.

  Shroud: The ropes supporting the masts that attached to the sides of the ship. They were used by sailors to climb aloft.

  Starboard side: When facing forward, the right side of the ship.

  Stern: The back end of a ship.

  Warrant officers: Officers who were hired because of their expertise in a specific area (such as carpentry or artillery). The bosun, carpenter, surgeon, and gunner were among these.

  Yard: The horizontal timbers attached to the mast to which sails are fastened.

  Yardarm: The end of a yard.

  Prologue

  April 1808, Surrey, England

  Marah Talbert sat on a bench in the moonlit gazebo, watching her friend smooth the corners of a blanket over the wooden floor. Thorn-speckled branches of rose bushes poked through the open walls around them, which Isabel avoided as she worked. In a couple of months the branches would burst with fat, crimson roses that perfumed the air. But Marah wouldn’t be here to enjoy them.

  “Marah, you’re shivering,” Isabel said. “Wrap your blanket around your shoulders. Mine will be big enough for the five of us.”

  Marah glanced down at the blanket in her arms. Papa had sneaked it into her trunk when she left for Mrs. Vernal’s Seminary for Distinguished Young Ladies. He hadn’t wanted her to get cold. She slipped it numbly around her shoulders, wishing it still smelled of coffee and nutmeg, like he did.

  Isabel put her hands on her hips. “If Lavinia would have used her good looks to distract that young farmer next door—what was his name?”

  “Mr. Cowley.” How could her friend have forgotten? Isabel and the other girls had sighed over the handsome farmer since he came into the neighborhood. Marah had sighed as well, but she wouldn’t let them know that.

  “We could’ve stolen a pair of his trousers from his wash line for these chilly evenings.” Even in the darkness, Isabel’s eyes flashed impishly. She loved to challenge the ideals of Society.

  “Trousers?” Marah said. “I couldn’t wear trousers.” Not that she hadn’t tried Eliab’s on once or twice, but she never wore them in front of anyone. If Papa had been able to secure a cottage on a farm for Mama as he’d always talked about, perhaps she would have had more opportunity to get away with it. That farm would remain a dream forever now.

  Marah clenched her teeth as the pressure in her throat increased. She would not cry. Not now. She examined a leaf on the nearest rose bush, hoping Isabel would not see her struggle. There would be plenty of time to cry on the long coach ride tomorrow.

  Isabel sat
and patted the blanket for Marah to come closer. “What’s wrong with wearing trousers? You wouldn’t have to worry about your ankles…”

  Marah glanced at her friend, whose usually spirited expression had softened with pity. “Have you heard from anyone since your mother wrote?” Isabel asked.

  “Nothing since the news of Father’s passing.” She’d hoped one of her brothers would write before she left to give her some news on how Mama fared. Perhaps her half-brother Josias hadn’t returned from St. Bartholomew’s yet. Eliab and the younger ones were terrible at writing.

  “Marah, I’m so sorry.”

  Marah nodded and sat beside Isabel. That was what everyone said, and she never knew how to respond. At least it felt sincere from her friends.

  “I know what might help.” Isabel waved her hand toward two figures scurrying toward them across the lawn. “Your best friends with your favorite—”

  “Chelsea buns!” the taller form cried. Phoebe held up a sticky handkerchief, sending a waft of cinnamon and lemon across the gazebo.

  “Phoebe, Daphne,” Marah said. “You didn’t make those, did you?”

  Phoebe snorted. “Can you imagine me covered in flour? We didn’t make them.” A wry smile crept across her lips. “We borrowed them from the kitchen.”

  “Yes, and I do not think they’ll want them back after what Phoebe’s done to them,” Daphne said eagerly, though she glanced over her shoulder. She tried to hide it, but she was always nervous they’d be caught in their nighttime escapades.

  Marah shook her head. So much fuss over her leaving. She’d wanted to slink away without anyone’s notice, but she should have counted on her friends not letting her go quietly. “You shouldn’t have taken them. The last time Phoebe stole from the kitchens, she had to teach the first years how to sip their tea correctly. I don’t want you to—”

  Daphne laid a gentle hand on Marah’s arm. “You’re leaving tomorrow, Marah. You needn’t worry about us.”

  Better to worry about them than about what waited for her at home. Marah swallowed. Papa had been heir to his cousin Mr. Atlee’s estate, but his cousin had made it clear he did not appreciate Eliab’s apprenticeship to a navy carpenter. Upon Papa’s death, Mr. Atlee had taken away the inheritance, along with funding for the other siblings’ schooling, which was one more reason Marah was forced to leave.

  “Where is Lavinia?” Phoebe asked. “It’s not like her to call a meeting and then be the last to show.”

  A stern voice came from behind them. “I won’t begin until everyone is sitting quietly with their hands in their laps and their eyes on me.” Lavinia stepped up onto the gazebo with her nose in the air, hands clasped neatly before her in the spitting image of their least-favorite teacher.

  Marah bit the inside of her cheek at the sight of her. Do not cry. Do not cry. Dear Lavinia, who’d been the mother they all needed while at school. She’d held Marah, sobbing and incoherent, late into the night when Mama’s letter had come.

  “Who invited Mrs. Vernal?” Isabel asked.

  Lavinia laughed, breaking her act and nestling herself in across from Marah. “I’ve a surprise for you. When have you ever known Mrs. Vernal to say that?”

  “Once.” Phoebe made a face. “Before the Latin test.”

  They all settled into place on the blanket, huddling together against the cool April breeze. Lavinia pulled out a small parcel and set it on the blanket between them. “Under normal circumstances, you know I would say we should eat first. But tonight, the food can wait.”

  “Must it, though?” Phoebe asked. “I’m near to starving.”

  “Her stomach was growling all the way here,” Daphne confirmed.

  Phoebe sent her a mock glare, earning laughs from around the circle. Daphne gave a sly grin.

  “Or,” Isabel said, holding up a familiar tome, “better than Chelsea buns, we could discover what happens at the end of The Love of Count Rudolph.”

  Not the romance novel. Marah groaned. If she’d learned anything from her mother’s plight—two husbands dead and a crowd of children still to feed—it was that novels were nothing more than silly fantasies.

  Isabel pointed the corner of the book at her. “But we only have one night left together! Come, Marah, you must be the slightest bit curious to know if the count will save Lady Esmerelda.”

  “That isn’t how life goes, you know. The handsome gentleman doesn’t parade in on his white horse to save the lady from all her troubles.” Even if she secretly wished it could be so.

  “Isn’t it nice to imagine, though?” Daphne said, leaning in. “When the count saved Lady Esmerelda from the evil baron, I practically swooned.”

  Daphne had always been a romantic. They all had. Perhaps it was best to let them believe in such things. Unlike Marah, they were daughters of gentlemen. Her friends had a chance at that happy ending.

  Isabel cut in. “I think she will save herself in the end. We don’t need men to save us from everything.”

  Lavinia made a sound of exasperation. “You girls have the attention span of a…a…” She threw up her hands. “A senile goose. I brought a surprise, remember?”

  The girls exchanged glances, and if not for the weight on her heart, Marah would have laughed at the others’ mischievous grins. But she couldn’t help joining her faint voice with their enthusiastic “Yes, Mrs. Vernal.” Her friends burst into giggles, as though this wasn’t their last night together.

  “Oh, hush.” Lavinia could not stop her own grin. “I’ve been sad about Marah leaving. And Isabel and I only have a few more weeks before we’re done with school. Soon we’ll be separated.”

  The group quieted so that only the rustling of rose bushes filled the gazebo.

  “I was in Marlow’s shop today,” Lavinia went on, her voice softer, “and I saw the absolute most perfect thing that made me think of all of you.” She slipped a red coral bracelet from the packet. “It reminds me of all our good times. I thought we could send it with Marah, so she’ll take a part of us with her.”

  She was giving it to her? Marah quickly shook her head. “No, I couldn’t. It’s far too expensive.” Simple as it was, she’d have no place to wear it. She couldn’t imagine a shop assistant or servant wearing something so fine, and surely she would have to find employment to help the family very soon.

  Phoebe leaned forward, her eyes insistent. “But you are facing hardship at this moment. Why not keep it for now, and perhaps later you might send it to one of us? Should we need comforting. It could bring you luck.”

  Luck? The only luck Marah saw in her future was the bad sort.

  “Yes, I love it.” Lavinia smiled. “We can send it on to one another. It will keep us connected.”

  “Like the locket Count Rudolph gave to Esmerelda, when he promised to always love her,” Daphne said softly.

  Marah snorted. She was the youngest in the group at sixteen, and yet the only one who knew not to lose herself in romantic daydreams.

  Isabel threw an arm around her. Without thinking, Marah leaned into the comfort of the hug. “I will always love you, Marah. And you, Mrs. Vernal.”

  Lavinia laughed, but Phoebe glanced around with a pensive look. “As foolish as we are behaving now,” she said, “it would mean a great deal to me to know each of you finds a love like that. I cannot like the idea of any of you marrying someone who does not treasure you.”

  Thoughtful Phoebe. Marah would miss her carefully crafted plans and insights.

  Lavinia nodded. “We should make a pact. A promise. To marry for love.”

  Marah wanted to wilt into the bushes. Would she even have the opportunity to marry? Not for love, certainly. That would have to stay a faraway dream, like Mama’s farm.

  “To marry only for the truest love,” Daphne said. “A love that withstands every challenge and trial.”

  Isabel’s gaze grew serious. “To men who treat us as equals.”

  “Who can make us laugh even on the worst of days,” Phoebe added.

&nb
sp; “Who would stop at nothing to win our hearts,” came Lavinia’s soft voice.

  Four pairs of eyes settled on Marah. She brushed at a little worn spot near the sole of her slipper. “Love is a luxury some cannot afford,” she whispered.

  Lavinia leaned across and took her hand. “Come, Marah, we are dreaming right now. Tell us what you want in a man.”

  Did it matter what she wanted? Dreaming would only lead to disappointment. She let out a long breath. “If I could have a man who sees me not for my economic value, but simply for me, I think I should be happy.” That wasn’t too much to ask, was it? Hopefully it was enough to satisfy her friends.

  Phoebe looked around the circle of girls, meeting their eyes in turn. “We must promise to try.”

  Lavinia held out the bracelet. One by one the other girls reached out to touch it.

  This was ridiculous. She couldn’t promise anything. What would they do if she broke the promise?

  “All of us,” Daphne said gently.

  Marah sighed, then scooted forward to touch a tentative finger on the bracelet. It wasn’t as though she would get to see these wonderful girls again. And if by some miracle she did, she could pretend to be happy and perfectly in love. If she had learned one thing at school, it was how to pretend to act and feel and be something she wasn’t.