"I offered Dirk half of my share in the new foundry," he replied heavily. "I explained to him that your father is putting up the funds "
"As my dowry, out of your—our portion of the profits he's made in his sailing ventures during these past months."
Jeremy smiled down at his bride, certain that she was unaware of the nature of Captain Groliere's "sailing ventures" in the Spanish traffic lanes of the Caribbean. The day might come when he would be forced to explain to her; right now his thoughts were still centered on Dirk. "It stands to reason,'* he said stubbornly, "that a foundry in Boston will be profitable. New England is the richest and fastest-growing region in all of North America. Colonists need cannon, and a man who is willing to work hard is sure to be successful. Dirk was never afraid of hard work before!"
"And he isn't now, dear," Janine replied soothingly. "He and Esther Mary simply prefer Look, Jeremy!"
At the excitement in her tone he roused himself and saw the group on the dock parting to let an elderly couple through. Sir Arthur and Lady Bartlett came straight to Jeremy and Janine, and for a moment the crowd fell silent. The governor general was wearing his uniform, and Lady Bartlett, reflecting the austerity of these new times, was attired in a simple gown devoid of ornamentation. She held out her arms to Janine before the younger woman could curtsy, and Sir Arthur took the gunsmith's hand in a firm grip.
"I thought I'd give you one more chance to reconsider my offer, Master Stone," he said crisply. "It isn't everyone who has a chance to become a captain in the Royal Artillery and chief ordnance officer to a Crown viceroy. Have you realized that you could buy a plantation here as well?"
Hesitating for a brief second only, Jeremy looked the governor general in the eye. "I'm not insensitive to the honors you would show me, Your Excellency, but I'm not really a military man and I know nothing about the operation of a plantation. Maybe I'm foolish to turn my back on being a gentleman, but I've got to do the one thing in this world that I know. If I work long enough and hard enough, I'll make out all right, I'm sure."
Sir Arthur stared long and hard at the young man who only a few months previous had risked so much in order to achieve a place for himself among the gentry. "There are times," he said with a suspicion of huskiness in his voice, "when I long for the sight of snow and the feel of a cold wind too." He paused and his hand gripped Jeremy's shoulder. "I wish," he added abruptly, "that you truly were my nephew, Master Stone."
On the third night out of Jamaica, the Bonnie Maid sailed serenely across a calm sea on her northerly course, her sails filled with a warm, insistent breeze. The officer of the watch yawned on the quarter-deck and was lazily relieved when Captain Groliere himself took over. The helmsman hummed softly to himself, despite the presence of the brig's master, and the bosun's mate on duty laughed aloud at some remembered jest. The brig was heading for New York and Boston, and after so many months in tropical seas the crew was happy at the prospect of visiting more brisk peoples in more invigorating climates.
Janine Groliere Stone was dressing for dinner in the cabin which had been hers on the trip south but which she now shared with her husband. Jeremy, a married man of sufficient accumulated experience to flee from the chamber while his wife applied lotions and creams to her face, stood leaning against the low deck rail, staring down at the greenish-black water as he waited for Janine to join him. A bright moon etched every comer of the ship in light, the sky was filled with stars, and Jeremy was relaxed as he had never been before.
New York was to be the first port of call, but he had no desire to see the town again. It was true that he had learned his trade there, but more recently he had learned principles of living that made him want to avoid the place where he had almost foundered. Briefly he wondered what had ever become of the girl in whom he had been interested the previous winter—what was her name?—Peggy. Someday, he thought, she might enjoy his good fortune and learn that wealth and social position were of no significance and that nothing mattered but the inner convictions that made one strong or weak, wise or foolish. The road he was charting for himself now would be hard but honorable, and his success and happiness would depend on his own mind, his own integrity, his own will to work. It would depend on Janine, too, so he had no doubts about the future. Together they could face anything.
He heard feminine footsteps approaching, and for an instant he though Janine was coming to join him. Then he caught the elusive scent of a well-remembered perfume, and he turned sharply. A handsome young woman was strolling aft, her walk slightly undulating. The moonlight showed every line of a sleek figure under a tight-fitting silk dress of pale green embroidered with gold thread. Her skin was very white and her hair looked like pale gold, but her lips were full and red and inviting. Mocking blue eyes studied him casually.
Involuntarily he made a leg as he stared at her. "Caroline!" he muttered under his breath, then spoke aloud before he could stop the words, "Your Grace!"
She laughed lightly. "Good evening. Master Stone," she said in her sweet, clear voice.
"What—what are you doing aboard the Bonnie Maid?" he asked thickly, stupidly. "I thought you were dead."
Vast amusement showed in her deep eyes. "As you can see, I've never been more alive, sir." Reaching out casually, she plucked a tiny speck of lint from his collar. "As for my presence on this brig, I am—like you—a passenger. I understand you were recently married, so you and your bride must come to my stateroom someday for a glass of sack. You'll have no trouble finding me, as I've engaged the same room I had on the journey south. In fact, I've engaged it as far as France."
"France?" Jeremy felt tongue-tied.
"Of course. I forget you know very little about me, Master Stone. No doubt you've heard of me, however." She drew herself up proudly. "I am Emma Baumholz."
He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Your Gra... Mistress Baumholz."
"How stupid you colonials are! The Baumholz name has been renowned among strolling players in Prussia for generations. And I have the reputation of being the finest dancer and actress in all Europe."
He chuckled. "You're a great actress, and that's the truth," he conceded.
"Thank you, sir." She laughed merrily and patted his arm affectionately. "And you, Master Stone, were one of the most appreciative audiences to whom I ever played." Inclining her head slightly, she swept past him and moved gracefully toward the stern.
Jeremy watched her for a moment, then bolted for the quarter-deck. Captain Groliere watched him approach and smiled amiably. "So you've seen her, Jerry. I thought you or Jan would come bouncing up here soon as you laid eyes on her."
He laughed, coughed, then resumed, "Paid double passage to France. Paid me in gold, too. Showed up at four bells. A stowaway. Damned if I know how she came aboard. And damned if I care. Her money's good. Anything else you want to know.'
"I reckon I can figure out the rest," the young gunsmith declared slowly. "She looks like the Stuarts. Sir Ian MacGregor and Lord Murray probably saw her dancing somewhere, noted the resemblance, and hatched their conspiracy."
"Aye. Smart as sea lawyers, they were. And now she says she's going to try her luck dancing for King Louis and his court. She'll make out fine there," he added, grinning agam. "She'll do fine anywhere. Look at her now."
He waved a big hand toward the aft deck below. Emma Baumholz, once the self-styled Duchess of Glasgow and pretender to a throne, was surrounded by an admiring knot of her former enemies. The colonel and the major who had led Crown troops against her rebellious boucaniers jostled each other and elbowed the wealthy, eligible planter. Emma-Caroline, devoid of scruples, totally lacking in conscience or morality, flirted impartially and outrageously with each in turn. Many men had died because of her, but she was neither disturbed nor penitent.