ship under my command,” he felt compelled to explain, “and I had the responsibility for her safety and well-being, I would be most concerned."
"You are exactly right, Captain. She suffered terribly from sea-sickness on the voyage from England. Fortunately my brothers and I were immune, and I was able to look after her.” She turned away from the portrait, and led him back to the hall that ran out to a foyer between the parlor and dining room. “I meant to ask you, sir, should I address you as ‘Captain’ or ‘Commander'? My grandmother says that every man who commands a ship may be properly called Captain."
"I appreciate your grandmother's compliment,” he said, “but it is only the men who serve under my command who must address me in that way. You may call me anything you like, though I should be most pleased if you would use my given name."
"Paul,” she said, as though testing the sound. “I should like that—and I would be very pleased if you would call me Cynthia—but I fear my father would become apoplectic if we were to be so familiar on such short acquaintance. He and my mother addressed one another as Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster all their married life."
"Miss Lancaster, then,” he said. “If you wish to call me Captain, Commander, or Jolly Jack Tar, I would be equally honored."
"Jolly Jack Tar?” Her eyes sparkled. “I might, you know!"
He made a comic bow. “May this humble sailor accompany you to the market, Milady? Your grandmother said you might be in need of an escort."
"Thank you, kind sir. I shall be ready in a few minutes."
He was admiring how gracefully she ascended the stairs when Mrs. Leggett popped out of the kitchen with a tea-tray in her hands. “Captain, here is a fresh pot of tea. Do you have a moment to spare an old lady?"
He took the burden from her. “The question should be whether you have a moment for me,” he said. “I am at your service, ma'am."
"My compliments to your mother."
"How so?” He followed her to the parlor, set the tray down where she indicated, and took the cup she filled for him.
Mrs. Leggett sat, and indicated that he take the chair nearest hers. “It's not easy to turn a rascally boy into a well-spoken gentleman,” she said. “I know, I've raised half a dozen, one way and another."
Paul did the sums. “All of your own children were sons, then?"
"Yes—the only girl-child in the bunch was Cynthia, and I will admit to you that she's my favorite of them all. Now, sir, our circumstances make things very difficult for both of you, but if we wait for that misguided son of mine to see which way the wind's blowing, you may miss your chance. Someone has to ask the proper questions, and that someone is myself. With regards to my granddaughter—are your intentions honorable?"
He nearly spilled the tea onto his breeches. “By God, ma'am, if you were a man you'd be Fleet Admiral. That was worthy of Sir Francis Drake!"
"Thank you, sir. The child is dear to me, as I said, and my guess is that you could change her life or break her heart. I'll not sit idly by if I've misjudged you, so speak up, if you please. Is it your intention to court Cynthia? Have you any other attachments back in England?"
Paul might have taken offense at the interrogation, but it occurred to him that answering her questions would serve as a sort of gunnery practice—for he would have to go through this with Cynthia's father before many days had passed. Besides, if he could win Mrs. Leggett's approval, he would have a redoubtable ally. “I have not. An honest courtship is my intention, ma'am. It is most irregular on such brief acquaintance, and I regret the peculiar circumstances—but not the opportunity."
He considered what she might wish to know, and summarized. “To answer your second question fully, I have no other attachments, and my life is such that I seldom have the opportunity to meet eligible ladies. My father is a Viscount; I am his second son and have no