She looked at it, turning it over in her hands. The moonlight flashed on the dull metal as she peered at it first one way then another. “I cannot tell what the design is.”
“A peacock, I think. Or what is meant to be one.”
“A peacock. Oh yes, I see it, I suppose. Though it’s not very clear.”
No, it wasn’t. And truthfully, it wasn’t even remotely the right piece for her. His angel should be wearing something with a simple structure, but oh so elegant that it took the breath away. Something very much like her.
“I should give you something better,” he said. “I learned something of gems when I was away.” He couldn’t manage to say the words: When I was a slave. Not now when they were speaking so easily. “I could design you something better, I think.”
“I wouldn’t think of it!” she cried. Then she gently set the broach back on the squab right beside his leg. “But I cannot take it. You know I cannot.”
His throat thickened with hurt. Did she not understand how he had fought for this piece? Did she not know the thing’s value? Not only in gems, but in blood? He couldn’t speak, so he turned away, his gaze seeking out something—anything—in the darkness beyond the window.
“Kit . . .” she said softly, her voice soothing him even when he wished her far away. “Anyone who saw it would think me a whore.”
“No one need see it!” he rasped. Didn’t she understand what he was trying to say? That of all the things he valued in this world—all his pirate booty hoarded and counted and prayed over until he could buy his freedom—this was a piece he kept. This was part of the treasure he brought home with him. And this was what he gave to her.
Then the carriage pulled to a slow stop. They had arrived at her home. Her sigh filled the carriage as she gathered her skirts about her.
“Be well, Mr. Frazier,” she said softly as she made to push open the door.
He stopped her. He moved without planning it, grabbing the broach off the squab with one hand while his other caught her wrist and peeled apart her fingers.
“I have nothing else to give you,” he said urgently. “I have no sterling with which to buy you an appropriate gift.” He pressed the broach into her palm.
She didn’t speak. The coachman was pulling open the door for her, but Kit refused to let her go. “Keep it hidden, if you must,” he said softly. “And when I am more settled, I will bring you a better gift and you can return this to me.”
“Then why should I take it at all? You can bring me posies in a few days’ time.”
He shook his head. He didn’t know his own mind from one minute to the next. He couldn’t know what he’d do or even where he’d land after Alex was safely settled with his parents. He would remain in London long enough to speak with Scher. Then he had to find funds to outfit his ship and a cargo. That could take him any number of places beyond London.
“Keep it safe for me,” he said. “So you know that I will come back for it.”
She sighed. He heard it distinctly in the darkness. “Kit—” she began, but he cut her off.
“Please, angel. I trust you to keep it safe.” His words made no sense, even to him. He knew only that he valued the broach, and that it was important that she have it.
He felt more than heard her sigh of acceptance. And then there was no more talk as the coachman opened the carriage door.
Chapter 10
The hansom cab pulled up in front of a modest home in an almost exclusive neighborhood. Unlike the first day when they’d arrived in London, the knocker was on the door and Kit could see movement through the windows. Alex’s family was home.
Kit looked at his companion, recognizing the stark fear on his friend’s face. How did one return to family, home, to
normal
when everything inside you had changed? Kit hadn’t managed it yet. His reunion with Michael had ended in disaster. Last night’s moments with Brandon had been difficult at best. And he just didn’t have the heart to try again with his brothers. It would kill him if Lucas had known. Of all his brothers, if Lucas had known of his enslavement and done nothing, then he would go mad from the pain.
So Kit remained at outs with his family, but he refused to allow fear to keep Alex apart from his. Reaching out, he touched the young man’s arm.
“They are your parents, your brothers, and sister. They love you.”
Alex shook his head. “I’m different now. Everything’s different now.”
Kit shrugged as if it were of no moment. It was a lie, but one he would hold on to. “You are a man now. That is to be expected.”
Alex’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I still have nightmares.”
“Your mother held you during your nightmares as a boy. She is desperate to do so again, I assure you.”
Alex flashed a look of both horror and longing at that. It was so comic that Kit released a sharp bark of laughter. The sound was startling to them both, and soon they were grinning. And then the moment was past as the cabbie rapped sharply on the roof.
“Oy! Come along now!”
With a silent nod, Alex squared his shoulders, pushed open the door, then stepped out into the street. Kit followed, his heart in his throat as he prayed for this to end well. Just this once, for this boy, let the family reunion be good. Let the boy heal.
They never made it up the walk.
A squeal went up from inside the house. Kit saw a flash of a female face in the window, before the girl was gone. Then the front door flew open and another delighted squeal arose.
Thank God for little girls,
Kit thought, as a girl of about thirteen ran down the steps. She’d hitched her skirts up to her knees and her hair streamed behind her in a disordered mess. But she was beyond excited to see her brother.
With a rather impressive leap, she launched herself into Alex’s arms, and he caught her as only a brother could: with strength and love and a groan at her weight.
“God, you’ve gotten heavy,” Alex grumbled, then he buried his face against her neck and hugged her tight.
“And you’ve gotten strong!” she gasped.
Then Kit could hear no more of their words because more squeals and good natured roars came from the door. Mother, father, and two brothers came rushing out of the house, and behind them stood a butler, footman, and a pair of maids. This was no small household, Kit realized, and he found himself mentally upgrading his estimation of Alex’s background.
Meanwhile, he stepped backward outside of the mayhem. It was hard to remain unemotional as Alex’s mother openly sobbed, alternately clutching her son to her and pouring her tears out onto her husband’s shoulder. Alex’s father was similarly affected, though with less noise. He simply touched his son once on the cheek while tears spilled down into his beard. Then the father was pushed aside by two younger sons both in their gangly, awkward years.
It was the girl who finally noticed Kit. She had backed away from the group, letting her mother clutch Alex again. She turned to Kit with bright curious eyes before moving closer. “Are you the one then? Did you rescue my brother?”
It took Kit two attempts to answer, but he finally got the words out. “I tried,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. Then he took a step sideways, purposely emphasizing his limp. “But I only got us part way. In the end, he had to rescue me.”
The girl studied him with a serious expression, her gaze seeing much too clearly for one so young. “I think,” she finally pronounced, “that Alex is very lucky. And that you are a man who creates luck.” Then before Kit could recover from that shock, she spun around, her hair ribbons fluttering behind as if they were trying to catch up. “Papa!” she cried. “Papa!”
Her father turned to her, though it was difficult to manage around both wife and children in a tight clutch. He had to hush everyone before he could finally raise his brow in question.
“Papa,” the girl pronounced. “We must invite this gentleman to dine.”
Maddy was still gripping the broach that evening, but this time it was in her pocket as she argued wearily with her family. Both Uncle Frank and Rose were peering at her with varying degrees of suspicion and annoyance. It was just after dinner, right before they departed for their evening’s entertainments. Why was it so hard for her to beg off for one night?
“It is nothing,” she said for the hundredth time. “I have run myself ragged trying to arrange for your tea, Rose. And with the unexpected guests, there have been chores to do. That’s all.”
“Are you sure you’re not ill then?” pressed Rose.
“Just a headache, sweetheart. You will have much more fun at the party without me, I am sure.”
“But it’s just a quiet gathering. You know Father will be bored chaperoning me. Then he gets short-tempered. Are you sure you can’t come?”
Far from being annoyed by the description, Uncle Frank added his own slow nod. “Perhaps I could escort you there, Rose, and then ask one of the other ladies to chaperone you. I will come back here and care for Maddy.”
It took a moment for Maddy to understand what her uncle was thinking, and longer still for her to believe he was serious. And in that time, Rose had brightened considerably. “Oh yes, Papa, what an excellent suggestion.”
“No, it is not,” Maddy said firmly. Coldly.
Rose turned to her in shock. She doubted she had ever heard Maddy speak in so furious a tone, but Maddy’s eyes were on her uncle. She needed him to comprehend—in no uncertain terms—that she had no interest in beginning a liaison with him tonight. Or any other night.
“You are my uncle,” she said firmly. “I can never see you in any other capacity than that.”
Uncle Frank narrowed his brows, the message clearly understood. Rose, of course, had no knowledge at all and frowned at them both.
“Well, certainly he’s your uncle,” the girl said. “What else would he be?”
Maddy offered her cousin a gentle smile. “A nursemaid, sweeting. He was offering to be my nursemaid,” she lied.
“Perhaps you ought to rethink,” Uncle Frank inserted with hard, crisp syllables. “You have only this Season to catch a husband. Are you sure you wish to miss even one night?”
Maddy heard the underlying message. She had only this Season left under his roof. After that, she would either have to get married or become his mistress. She bit her lip, offering a silent prayer to God that a man find her attractive soon.
“I am positive that I wish to be at home tonight,” she said. “In darkness with a cold cloth over my eyes. Blessedly, silently,
alone
.”
“Well, fine,” said Rose with a sniff. “No need to become a shrew. I didn’t realize we were so
noisy
.”
Maddy sighed. She hadn’t the patience to deal with Rose’s temper right then. She was more concerned with her uncle’s thoughts. But his expression was infinitely bland and wholly devoid of warmth. He took hold of his daughter’s arm and began steering her out the door.
“Come along, Rose. You’ll shine brighter without her sour presence. Besides,” he added as he patted his daughter’s arm, “she has plenty of servant’s work to keep her occupied.”
Maddy watched them go, pain cutting through her heart. Up until now, her uncle had never made her feel small. She had taken up the reins of the household because someone needed to. She had taken on the task of steadying Rose’s flights of fancy because she was older than the girl and could look out for her. And whereas Rose never tired of telling people that Maddy lived on their charity, Uncle Frank had never suggested that she was anything but welcome. He fed her, housed her, and allowed her to have a Season in order to catch a husband. Never before had he even suggested she was a servant, even obliquely.
Obviously, that was over. She had rejected his advances, and his pride was wounded. Every woman knew how delicate a man’s pride was, and an earl was even more prickly. Yet the pain still cut deep. He and Rose were her only family. And now she saw exactly how little he loved her. With a muffled sob, she dashed for her room.
She didn’t cry. She’d thought she had shed all her tears years ago when her father died, but lately she’d been excessively weepy. She wrapped herself around a pillow and buried her face in the linen. One day, she told herself over and over, some man would find her attractive. Some man would marry her. Someone would love her again.
“Angel. Angel, don’t cry.”
Maddy jerked awake as a hand touched her shoulder. The candle still burned, so she had a good view of a man crouched beside her bed.
“Hush, angel. It’s me.”
Kit. In her bedroom. She blinked and rubbed a hand across her face, startled to find her skin wet.
“What are you doing here?” she croaked.
“I came to see you.”
She pushed up from her bed, blinking again to make sure she was not dreaming the bizarre sight of Kit Frazier kneeling beside her bed. She peered over the edge to see more clearly. It was definitely Kit in his shirtsleeves and bare feet.
Bare feet? She had to be dreaming. She scooted backward, frowning when her dress pulled at her shoulders. Had she fallen asleep in her clothing? Of course she had. She’d run upstairs and collapsed on the bed, not even bothering to undress. And then she’d fallen asleep. It was all perfectly logical. Reassured, she adjusted her body then leaned back into the corner. Her bed was pushed against two walls, so she could easily rest there while she got her bearings. He watched her move, his eyes serious, his face dark and forbidding in the flickering light.
“This isn’t real,” she told herself. “It’s a dream.” She spoke the words out loud, hoping they would wake her, but they didn’t. The apparition that was Kit shook his head.
“I am real, angel. I heard you crying.”
“I don’t cry.”
“You were.”
She shook her head, knowing she was lying but needing to keep up the illusion of strength for her own sake. “I haven’t in years.”
“I saw it often on the boat, people who cried when they slept.”
“Doesn’t sound like a very happy boat,” she said. Then she frowned. Of course it wasn’t a very happy boat. It was a slave ship. “I beg your pardon. That was a stupid thing to say.”
“No need to apologize. It was certainly not a very happy boat.” He shrugged, rising up from his crouch to settle on the bed beside her. This close she could see that his shirt was undone at the neck, allowing her a peek of tan skin beneath.
“Did Jeremy cry? In his sleep?” She was acting very bold, she realized, asking questions she should not. But as it was a dream, she wasn’t particularly worried. Except, of course, she knew she was lying to herself. This wasn’t a dream at all.
Mr. Frazier flinched at the question, but he answered it readily enough. “Jeremy died on the
Fortune’s Kiss
. I told him to hide. I didn’t know that the pirates intended to sink it.”
She blinked, the last vestiges of sleep ripped from her. “They sank the ship? With Jeremy on board?”
He nodded. “I was captured the moment I went topside. I’d never seen death like that before. Men gutted, dead but still bleeding. I had no weapon and no real fighting skill. Just as well because any type of resistance meant death. Instant and merciless. Venboer—he was the pirate captain—didn’t have the men to subdue difficult slaves. Anyone who fought back was killed.”
“My God . . .” she whispered.
“I didn’t say anything about Jeremy. It’s ridiculous, looking back at it now, but I kept thinking that a boy his age shouldn’t see death like that. So I held my tongue.”
“Of course you did,” she said. Her hand twitched. She wanted to touch him in some way, comfort the haunting pain in his eyes. But to do that would be to go too far. She would have to admit that this was real, and that he really was in her bedroom. And he was barefoot. For some reason, that fact struck her as the most bizarre. That a man was in her presence barefoot.
“I kept silent. I was herded off the boat and onto the pirate ship. I didn’t know what was happening, didn’t understand anything. Not until they fired their guns.”
“Why would they sink a perfectly good ship?” she asked.
“Venboer didn’t have the men. He could barely control the slaves. He certainly couldn’t spare the men to sail the other ship.”
“So he sank it? With Jeremy hiding on board?”
He nodded. “That is the way of things.”
“What a waste.” And then she realized how ridiculous that statement was. He had been taken by pirates. A boy had died. The captain and a good deal of his crew had died. The loss of one ship was hardly the biggest crime. She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. “I beg your pardon. I am being especially stupid right now.”
She watched his lips quirk in a flash of a smile. “It seems so long ago. I haven’t thought about Jeremy in years.” His expression sobered. “I don’t know why I chose to relive that time last night. I must have seemed like a madman.”
She shrugged. “Perhaps a little, but it’s only to be expected.” She let her head drop back against the walls. “And I suppose you relived that memory because it was the beginning. I expect you have thought about that day a million times, wondering what you could have done differently. I know I would.”
He tilted his head in confusion. “The ship was attacked by pirates. At the time, I was in the galley complaining about the terrible food. There was nothing I could have done to change anything.”
She nodded. “I know. And there is nothing I could do to change my father’s illness either. Or that I eventually came to live here. And yet, I still think and wonder.”