directions for fear they’d remember her if questioned later. The next ship was a slow draft steamer, the Zephyr. Her brisk pace quickened to a run as she headed toward the next set of sails.
To her relief she found the Anna St. Claire two blocks north of where the innkeeper had said it would be. The three-masted schooner was weathered and in desperate need of cleaning. Cargo was piled high on the deck and her hull rode low in the water, a sign she was loaded and ready to leave. Her patched sails flapped in the wind.
There were eight men aboard. The sailors who manned this ship were rough, hard-bitten men. Several shouted profanities. One sailor dropped his trousers and urinated over the side of the ship.
Two sailors pointed at her. A redheaded one grabbed his crotch and laughed. “Nay, I can’t see her face. But I can tell by her stiff back that she needs a man to loosen her up. She’s in need of a good poke.”
“Ah, but with a stick like yours, Sebastian,” the shorter sailor said, “she’ll never know she’s been had. She needs a real man, like me.”
The men laughed, each going into detail about what they’d do if given an afternoon alone with her in a cabin.
Such indignities would be a part of her new life. But Rachel would pay any price to be free of Peter and her godless marriage.
She could do this.
From the top deck a man shouting orders to his sailors caught her attention. He wore a bright blue coat, black pants, polished knee-high boots and a wide-brimmed hat. A black beard covered his olive-skinned face. Captain Antoine LaFortune. The innkeeper had said LaFortune would give her passage, no questions asked.
Gathering her courage, she climbed the steep, slippery wooden plank and stepped onto the deck. The captain noticed her instantly, his gaze lean and hungry.
The fine Belgium lace of her veil fluttered in the wind and her black wool skirts rustled as she stepped over the thick coiled rope on deck. The ship smelled of tobacco and lumber.
Each man working on deck stopped to watch her as she walked toward the captain. The redheaded sailor grinned at her and licked his lips.
Captain LaFortune climbed down from the upper deck and tugged at the edges of his cuffs. The former blockade-runner’s belly was round, straining the buttons on his vest. His face was pock-marked under his beard and he wore his thinning black hair tied at the nape of his neck. “Bonjour, madame.”
Through her veil she looked up at him. “Bonjour, monsieur. Captain LaFortune?”
He grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. “Oui. Américaine?”
“Oui.”
“I speak English,” he said proudly. “How may I be of service to you, my lady?”
Her spine was so straight she imagined it would snap. “I need passage.”
He lifted a brow, amused. “I command a freighter, madame. I am an honest businessman who carries lumber, tobacco and wine, not young widows.”
She kept her voice even. From what she’d been told, he did most anything if the price was right. “The innkeeper of the Salty Dog on First Street said you carry special passengers from time to time.”
His eyes reminded her of black buttons. “Perhaps I do.”
Aware that the other sailors could hear, she lowered her voice. “Where are you sailing to on this voyage?”
He leaned a fraction closer. The scent of his unwashed body overpowered her. She wrinkled her nose. “Do I know you, madame?”
Nervously she fingered the lace trimming her reticule. “I don’t think so.”
Peter, as head of Venture Shipping, was quite well known on the East Coast. He’d made his fortune during the war, trading with the South and the North. Her husband had insisted she always travel with him since they’d married. It was very possible she and LaFortune had crossed paths. Most assuredly, he’d heard of Peter. She prayed he didn’t recognize her.
His eyes narrowed. “I think you are wrong, madame. I can’t place you now, but it will come to me. I have a very good memory and your voice is quite unique. It reminds me of the women in the Mediterranean.”
Her heart raced but she kept her voice even. “Your destination, sir?”
He studied her a moment longer, then shrugged. “To the port of St. Thomas. It can be a rough place for a woman alone.”
She was only sorry it wasn’t farther away from Washington. “That will do.”
His gaze glided up and down her petite frame. “Passage is not cheap.”
Rachel had nearly one hundred dollars. Peter rarely had cash in the house but he had set the money aside to buy flowers for their first anniversary party. She’d wedged open his desk with a letter opener and taken the money. “How much?”
As if he read her mind he said, “Two hundred dollars.”
“That’s triple the going rate of the passenger ships!”
He rubbed the thick black stubble on his chin, no hint of apology in his eyes. “Oui, it is.”
Rachel’s heart sank. It was only a matter of time before Peter found her. He’d be returning to the town house tomorrow or the next day at the latest. She had to leave the country.
Her thoughts turned to her wedding band. Encircled with diamonds and rubies, it was worth a small fortune. She tugged off the glove on her left hand and removed her ring. “This should cover my passage.”
The captain took her ring and studied it. He held it up to the light. “It is an exquisite piece of jewelry indeed.”
She’d grown to hate the ring and all that it symbolized. “It’s one of a kind.”
His gaze sharpened with interest. He looked inside the band. “There is an inscription,” he said. “Forever and always.”
“Yes.” On her wedding day when she’d read the words, she’d been touched. Now they haunted her.
He held the ring up so that the sunlight reflected in the gems. “A widow who trades her wedding band must be quite desperate to leave.”
Her knees were shaking, but she held her chin high. “Do you accept my offer or not, Captain?”
LaFortune studied the ring a beat longer.
Rachel held her breath.
“Oui,” he said finally, tucking the ring into his vest pocket. “How could I resist such a generous offer? Welcome aboard the Anna St. Claire.”
His greeting didn’t offer much relief. This journey was the first of many to come. She had enough funds to get her through the next few months, but beyond that she didn’t know what she was going to do. “Thank you.”
The captain glanced around her. “And your bags?”
When she’d left the town house
