The Notorious Lady Anne: A Loveswept Historical Romance (33 page)

Conscious of standing by herself, Emmaline moved in the direction of a hallway, in search of a ladies’ room. Or a door leading outside. Except, she feared if she reached the outdoors she’d keep walking. But definitely she didn’t want to stay in the stifling ballroom where curious eyes watched her every move. Finding a deserted hallway, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Mrs. Sutherland.” Peter Lansing appeared beside her, and Emmaline silently cursed for allowing herself to be broadsided by a well-timed attack.

“Mr. Lansing.” She deliberately made her voice cool.

She glanced around but there was no one in sight. Lovely.

“You look beautiful tonight.” His eager eyes devoured the low cut of her gown. She had an urge to yank her bodice up.

“Thank you, sir.”

He moved in closer, crowding her against the wall. From far away she heard the butler announce dinner.

“It appears dinner has been called, sir. Mayhap we should make our way into the dining room.” She tried to step around him, but he didn’t move. Short of shoving him out of the way, she was stuck.

“In a moment. If I might have a word with you?”

“Surely we can speak after dinner. I find I am famished.”

“I find this is the most opportune time.” His eyes shone with something that made a shiver of apprehension tingle up her spine. This definitely was a well-aimed attack.

She thought of the stiletto strapped to her thigh, but she may as well have not been wearing a weapon, it was so far out of her reach. Besides, Peter had done nothing to warrant her pulling a weapon on him. Yet.

“What is so pressing, sir, that you keep me from my dinner?” She infused as much frost in her voice as she was able.

“I merely want to warn you of something.”

She stilled. “That sounds ominous.”

He moved closer, so that his leg brushed her skirts. She resisted the urge to twitch them away, unwilling to reveal her unease.

“Very ominous.” His gaze landed on her mouth and his lips parted. Small pants puffed over her skin. His breath smelled of rum, but his eyes didn’t have the glazed look of one who’d imbibed too much. No, Peter Lansing very much had all of his faculties about him.

“Do tell, Mr. Lansing. What is this ominous warning?” Her instincts screamed, but as yet she could not determine exactly what the man was about, only that he was threatening her in some way. Had announcing an engagement between her and Nicholas pushed Peter over the
edge?

A swift jab to his Adam’s apple with the edge of her hand would incapacitate him. Possibly kill him, even. He would never expect such a move.

“I’ve heard a rumor that pirates are on the island,” he said.

She blinked, digesting his words, and her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Is that all? Pirates are always on this island.”

He ran a finger down her arm and she jumped, yanking her arm away. “Mr. Lansing, that is entirely inappropriate.”
A small jab. Don’t kill him
. She resisted the urge.

He smiled, his finger still roaming. Her skin prickled, but she didn’t pull away. His gaze met hers and there was triumph in the dark depths of his eyes.

“There are ships anchored on the leeward side of the island, hiding in a harbor.”

Hell and damnation. He was speaking of
her
ships. Panic seized hold of her, but she forced her expression to remain neutral. Bored even.

“The hidden harbor is close to your home. Have you seen anything out of the ordinary?”

She furled her brows and pretended to consider it, while her mind raced. She had to get word to Phin to move the ships. But where? She’d scouted the entire island and that inlet had been the perfect hiding place. They would have to leave. The ships weren’t ready for battle, but they were ready enough to set sail.

“No,” she said. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

He shifted closer, forcing her to move to the side, still trapped in the small hallway. Muted laughter rang out from the dining room, along with the clink of crystal and cutlery.

Where the hell was Nicholas when she needed him? The damn man hung around all this time, an annoyance to her, a burr in her side, but when she needed him the most, he was mysteriously absent.

“I find it interesting that there is a sudden appearance of pirate ships at the same time a certain lord is visiting the island.”

Her mind went blank, and for a dizzying moment she feared she would pass out. Lansing
suspected
Nicholas
of piracy? This was worse than she thought. She could handle it if he suspected her, but not Nicholas.

She laughed, forcing the sound out. “Surely, you jest.”

“No jest, Mrs. Sutherland. What do we know of him?”

She stopped laughing, anger churning through her, hot and piercing. She would not allow Lansing to besmirch Nicholas Addison’s good name. “What do we know? We know he’s the brother of the Earl of Claybrook.”

Lansing waved his hand in the air, so close to her nose she had to rear back. “A second son, of no consequence, since Claybrook is hale and hearty and searching for a wife.”

This man was ridiculous and a touch mad to suspect Nicholas of such a thing.

“He’s a viscount and a captain in His Majesty’s Royal Navy, sir.”

“Mrs. Sutherland.” He touched her arm again, and she had to keep herself from trembling in fury. One jab. That was all it would take. Hard enough to crush his windpipe and cut off his air supply. They were alone. No one would suspect the Widow Sutherland of such a deed. She would claim she had to retire to the ladies’s room to fix her hem, and when she returned she stumbled upon Lansing’s body.

“All I ask is that you look closely at the man you are so recently betrothed to. Who is he? Why is here on this island, when he has no business to conduct here? Where has he been for the last several years? Word has it he’s been absent from society for a long while.”

She drew in a startled breath.
He was injured, you oaf!
Her hand curled into a fist. Or she could pound him to a bloody pulp. She could do it. For all of his bold talk, Peter Lansing was a weakling, needing padding in his coats to compensate for his lack of muscle. But, no, that wouldn’t do. Noses tended to bleed and she didn’t want to get blood on her gown.

So a strike to the Adam’s apple it was, then.

“And, of course, there is the rumor of Lady Anne.”

“Lady Anne?” Emmaline hoped the struggle to keep her voice normal didn’t show. “That sounds like the name of a ship.”

Lansing chuckled. “Being absent from society as you have, I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of the notorious Lady Anne.”

The need to incapacitate this threat was overwhelming. She could do it and claim she’d stumbled upon the body, but her limbs wouldn’t move. Fear paralyzed the notorious Lady Anne for the first time ever.

“She’s a lady pirate,” he said, his expression avid, flushed, as if lady pirates excited him.

Emmaline forced out another laugh. “Now I know you are playing with me, sir. A lady pirate? No such thing could possibly be true.”

“Oh, but it is, Mrs. Sutherland.” And in his eyes she saw the truth. Saw he was putting too many things together and coming to a conclusion that could result in her death, and the death of everyone close to her.

“I can’t stand here and listen to this nonsense.” She pushed past him, but he grabbed her upper arm in a bruising grip.

She froze and narrowed her eyes on him, dropping all artifice and all pretense. “Unhand me. Now.”

His eyes widened, then lowered in consideration. “My father wants to rid the island of piracy and the trouble the pirates bring. I plan to help him in any way I can.”

“That is very noble of you, Mr. Lansing, but I fear you have been misled. How embarrassing to your father if you were to point your finger in the wrong direction.”

“Is there a problem?” Nicholas suddenly appeared behind Lansing, his gaze jumping from Emmaline to Lansing and Lansing’s hand on her arm. Instantly the hand dropped away and Lansing took a step back but his gaze never wavered, never left her face.

Emmaline smoothed her skirts to hide her trembling. “Mr. Lansing was telling me tales of lady pirates and hidden pirate ships. I fear he was trying to frighten me.”

A muscle in Nicholas’s jaw tightened and his eyes turned a frosty blue. “Bad form, my friend, trying to scare the lady.”

A small smile played around Lansing’s mouth. “ ’Twas merely a warning.” He inclined his head to Emmaline. “Mrs. Sutherland, stay safe.”

She nodded back, her lungs screaming in pain from the breath she’d been holding.

Lansing motioned for her and Nicholas to walk ahead of him to the dining room. She took Nicholas’s arm, the muscles tight beneath the fine cloth of his coat. His shoulders were stiff and she could feel the anger coming off him. Lansing followed, providing no opportunity for her to tell Nicholas what transpired.

They settled into their respective seats, Nicholas close to the governor, Emmaline farther down the table. They exchanged glances, but only once because Lansing kept an eye on them.

She tried to take part in the conversations around her, but her mind swirled with plans of weighing anchor and tide schedules. She needed to get word to Phin, but feared Lansing would offer her no opportunity to escape, even to flag down Shamus. She was always prepared to depart with little notice, but this was different. Her ships were not as ready as she would like, and they certainly weren’t outfitted with provisions, since they’d recently been careened.

Dinner lasted hours, but it seemed like days. She died a thousand deaths in those hours, imagining Lansing’s men at her ships before she was able to get to them. Phin and Cook and Clarence could easily fight them off if they came to the house, but she hoped they’d disappear into the surrounding woods instead and make their way to the ships to sail away. She would catch up somehow.

Finally, dinner ended and everyone returned to the ballroom to begin the dancing. The last thing Emmaline wanted to do was dance, but every time she looked up, Lansing was watching her, smirking, a knowing look in his eyes, and she would turn away, her heart pounding and her hands sweating. She was thoroughly and completely trapped.

Nicholas approached with a smile. If she didn’t know him well, she would have thought the smile genuine. But she was aware of the anxiety in his eyes and the brittleness to his expression.

“Care to dance, my love?”

“I—”

“Dance with me,” he whispered through his smile. “Don’t fall apart on me now.”

Her shoulders went back. Of course she wasn’t going to fall apart. “Certainly, my lord.” She took his arm and together they approached the dance floor with dozens of other couples. She was very conscious of the stares she and Nicholas drew.

Unfortunately, the first dance was an English country dance that allowed no moment to speak. Emmaline felt as if she were going to burst with the need to speak to Nicholas, and the need to escape the stifling ball with the prying eyes of Peter Lansing. They twisted and turned, Emmaline watching the steps of the other ladies. Aunt Dorothy had hired a dance instructor when Emmaline was young, but Emmaline had rarely used her lessons. Not many mamas allowed their eligible sons to dance with her. Mostly she stood against the walls and seethed in fury that she’d been dragged to yet another ball.

The dance ended without Emmaline falling on her face or stepping on too many toes.

Nicholas took her arm and directed her off the dance floor. “Stroll with me.” He took her leisurely through the room, strolling as if they had not a care in the world. As if her world were not falling apart and Nicholas had not been accused of piracy. Her heart raced and she had a difficult time breathing.

“Smile,” he said, smiling himself and nodding at people here and there.

“I’m
trying
.”

“Do not let them know anything is amiss.”

“Nicholas, he’s—”

He squeezed her hand. “Later.” He steered her toward the doors to the balcony and into fresh air.

She breathed deeply as he pulled her into the shadows and down a short flight of steps, his hand firm in hers, comforting.

He slipped down a pathway of pungent flowers and overhanging trees. “This way,” he said, so softly she barely heard.

Soon they were in a small clearing, empty save a statue of a scantily clad handmaiden holding a ewer. In the distance, the soft shush of the waves hit the white beaches. So close. They were so close to escape. Oh, how she longed to be on the water with her ships and crew.

Nicholas gathered her in his arms and she collapsed into him, leaning on his strength and feeling the steady beat of his heart. But she would only allow herself a few moments of comfort before she pushed away and gathered her own strength around her. Now that she was free of the cloying scents of the women’s perfume, the smoky candles and Peter’s constant gaze, she was able to think more clearly.

“He suspects I’m Lady Anne and he also suspects you are involved.”

“Interesting.”

Interesting?
Interesting?
That’s all he had to say?

“Somehow he discovered my ships in the hidden harbor. I’m sorry you’ve been pulled into this.”

Damn it, she’d tried to warn him. She told him the danger of being near her and he hadn’t listened.

“We need to warn the others,” she said. “We need to prepare to set sail as soon as possible.”

Nicholas blew out a breath and looked off into the distance, but he wasn’t admiring the moon. He walked a few feet away, hands on his hips. She had no problem picturing him standing thus on a ship, watching the stars and setting his next course. He was a man born to the sea as she was a woman born to the sea.

He turned back to her. “Running away will only confirm his suspicions. He’s watching us. He wants us to lead him to the ships and provide proof. We will stay.”

“
Stay
? We can’t stay.”

He put his hands on her arms, as if he could hold her in place. “Think, Emmaline. You can’t run off like this.”

“He
suspects
us.”

“I don’t believe so. I think he’s casting lures, hoping to catch a whale. And what happens when he discovers we’re gone? It will confirm everything.”