A Pirate's Ransom (13 page)

Lady Catherine

“Miss, wot do ye be wantin’ to wear to be dinin’ with the Duke tonight?” Mary asked, rummaging through the many beautiful gowns hanging in one of the large chests.

“Honestly, I care little. Please, just select one for me,” I answered with a sigh and turned my gaze back out the window.

“Wot do ye think o’ this one?”

I glanced back at her to see she held a beautiful gown of deep green and a lump rose in my throat as my mind filled with the memory of Edmund’s green eyes.

“No, not that one. Please select a different color,” I said in a strained voice.

“Oh, but miss, this one be lovely. Why won’t ye wear it?”

“Mary, I do not wish to wear the green one tonight or any other night. Now please select another.”

She gave me a quizzical look and muttered unintelligibly under her breath, but she hung the beautiful gown back in the cabinet.

Finally deciding upon a cream-colored gown, she made arrangements for me to have a bath.

The lovely bathing chamber adjacent to my room had been designed in shades of rich cream and taupe to match my quarters. The tub sat in the center of the room and a washstand and basin stood to the side. Drying towels were folded and stored in the shelves of the washstand and they too were the shade of a rich coffee with cream. I surveyed the room, but when I caught sight of the full-length mirror standing behind the tub, a lump formed in my throat and tears threatened. I fought with myself.
Do not allow yourself to shed one more tear over the like of that scoundrel, Edmund Drake. He only sought to make you his mistress, to occupy his time and cool his lusts until he could be rid of you
.
Thank heaven I had not succumbed to his charms and allowed him to steal my virtue. At least I was able to walk away with that intact
.

I was quick in the bath, eager to be out of that room.
Tomorrow I must ask James to have that mirror removed from my bathing chamber.

I grew silent as Mary fixed my hair, and I moved in the slowness of a dream-like state while she helped me into the beautiful gown. I stood before the mirror and had to admit, the way the cream-colored fabric draped across the bodice and drew toward my right hip really cinched my waist and accented my figure. Finally satisfied with my appearance, I was ready to go.

The sleek black coach pulled up before the house, and Mister Smith seemed to appear out of nowhere to assist us.

“Might I be so bold as to say ye look lovely tonight, me Lady,” he said as he lifted me into the coach.

“Thank you, Tobias,” I answered, sounding far more melancholy than I intended.

He smiled when he lifted Mary in next to me.

“You two have a right fine time tonight dinin’ with the Duke.”

“Won’t you be accompanying us, Mister Smith?” I asked.

“Nay, me Lady. The Duke don’t be wantin’ to see an ol’ goat like me. He be lookin’ to meet with his beautiful young bride.”

“Thank you, Mister Smith.”

“You enjoy your dinner, me Lady,” he said, and then his gaze fell to Mary, and he added, “an’ I be seein’ ye later.” He winked, causing color to stain her cheeks.

The coach arrived at the Duke’s residence, only a few streets over. His large and stately home somehow lacked the elegance and grace of his son’s residence. A footman hurried to the coach to assist us, and we were shown to the door, which was opened by a tall butler who, like James, dressed in formal attire.

“Good evening, Lady Catherine, Miss Chadwick. Welcome to Simmons House. Won’t you please come in? The Duke is expecting you.”

Mary and I made our way into the foyer, where the butler took our wraps. A perky maid in a gray uniform appeared and showed us into the dining room. The dark wood floors gleamed in the candlelight, but it was the portrait hanging above the fireplace that immediately drew my attention. I stepped closer to get a better look at it. The woman in the painting was a natural beauty, with dark hair, high cheekbones, and fair skin. The elegant style and rich color of her hair accentuated her beautiful deep-red gown. Her hands were folded in her lap and she wore a lovely bracelet of silver twine with a ruby red heart hanging from it.

Exactly like the one Edmund had given me
, and my hand flew to the bracelet on my wrist. A young boy who completely resembled her stood beside her in the portrait, his hand resting upon the arm of her chair. Both were smiling as if they shared some deep secret. Their smiles lit their faces and their deep green eyes shined with it. My pulse raced at the sight.

“Good evening, Lady Catherine,” a voice sounded behind me. A voice so hoarse and thin it sounded as if it had come through years of burial dust.

I turned to see the elderly Duke sitting in a wooden chair with oversized wheels that was pushed into the room by a young man in a dark gray uniform. The Duke wore a white shirt and black jacket with matching satin lapels, but his legs were covered with a navy blue blanket, and not even the tips of his shoes were visible. I curtseyed. “Your Grace, it is a great pleasure to meet you.” I swallowed hard and tried to force a smile.

I rose and stepped closer to him, offering him my hand. His touch was cold. He brought my hand to his thin, wrinkled lips and placed a kiss, which felt as dry as bone, against my knuckles. He smelled like liniment and camphor. Although I was very young when my mother took ill and died, the smell took me back to standing beside her deathbed, and the entire encounter turned my stomach.

“Come, my dear, and let us get better acquainted over dinner.”

He motioned toward the table. Servants fluttered around like butterflies in a flower garden, ushering me to my seat and making sure all was in order. When the Duke was certain I was comfortable, he motioned for the staff to begin serving.

He’s ancient, I thought.
He is so old, I wonder if he has a servant to feed him. How will I ever be able to tolerate marriage to this man?
A servant placed a steaming bowl of soup before me. My stomach rolled. I lost my appetite just watching the Duke’s gnarled and shaking hand lifting the silver spoon to his cold, dry lips. I prayed my disappointment in his aged appearance would not be revealed upon my face.

“Your Grace, you have quite a beautiful home.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

“I couldn’t help but admire the lovely portrait hanging over your mantle. Who is the beautiful woman and handsome child in the painting?”

“I married very late in life and that lovely vision was my wife, Lady Victoria. She died many years ago. The child is our son.”

Goose bumps rose on my arms when he said the words
Lady Victoria
, and I forced myself to squash down the memories that flooded my mind.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Did they pass from some illness?”

“She died giving birth to our second child, a daughter, who unfortunately, also perished. Our first child is still alive, although until quite recently, he and I have been estranged. I fear for many years he held me a grudge for his mother’s death.”

Just then the Duke took to an uncontrollable fit of coughing, and I feared death would take him right there at the table. Servants rushed to his side and unable to tolerate watching the scene playing out before me, I forced myself to avert my gaze.
How could I bear being married to this man? He was older than my own father and even older than his father before him.
My gaze shifted to Mary, but she kept her eyes upon her plate and remained silent.

I suffered through the strained conversation during the remainder of dinner, after which we retired to the drawing room. My gaze traveled around the elegantly appointed room, yet upon closer inspection I found the furnishings to be old and outdated. Tea was served and again I watched his shaking hand lift the delicate china cup to his lips. I imagined his bone-dry lips on my body and a shudder ran through me. Suddenly I felt as if I couldn’t breathe and it took all the strength I could muster not to rise from my seat and race from the house.

“Tell me, my dear, how was your voyage from the islands?” he asked.

“It seemed I would never arrive, yet it was uneventful.”

“Uneventful! I thought you were captured by pirates. I had hoped you would regale me with tales of a great adventure.”

Oh, yes, I surely could tell him a tale of great adventure, but dared not. I simply replied, “Yes, that is true, but there was no adventure. I was merely held their prisoner and much to my surprise, treated with respect and kindness.”

“I see.”

“I am sorry to disappoint you, Your Grace.”

“You are far from a disappointment, Countess. You are more beautiful than I imagined.”

“Thank you. You are too kind and you flatter me, Your Grace.”

“Please, call me Wentworth.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Tell me of your life on the island, my dear.”

I let my mind run free over the memories of growing up in the heat of the Spice Islands and began to describe it to him in great detail. I told him of the lush vegetation and beautiful exotic flowers, I regaled him with stories of the island children and how I taught them to speak English and how I read to the orphans. I amused him with humorous tales of my discovery of different animals that made the island their home. I made a conscious effort never to mention how I worked the vegetable gardens, cooked the meals, and tended to the stables lest he think ill of me. As I spoke, I cast my eyes to the floor. I could hardly bear the sight of him. Finishing my tale, I asked, “Would you like me to tell you next of the pet parrot I had when I lived there?”

My question was met by silence. Fear took me. I imagined the old Duke to have finally succumbed to death, but relief flooded me I raised my gaze to find he had merely fallen asleep in his chair while listening to my stories.

“Mary,” I whispered to my maid, “perhaps we should take our leave now and quietly so not to wake him.”

“Aye, Miss,” she said and, rising to our feet, we tiptoed toward the door.

That night in the privacy of my room in the stately home of the Marquis, I cried myself to sleep. Yet I could find no relief even there. My dreams were haunted, as they were every night, by soft, warm lips and intense green eyes.

Lady Catherine

The following morning while at breakfast, an invitation to accompany the Duke on an outing in the park later that afternoon had arrived. I imagined myself pushing him along in his wheelchair, more like a nurse rather than a bride. I sighed deeply and shuffled my eggs around on the plate with my fork.

“Don’t be sad, Miss,” Mary said.

“Mary, your wedding day should be one of the happiest days of your life, yet when I think on mine, I believe I would prefer death.”

Mary smiled at me, but sadness filled her eyes.

“When I imagined my wedding day, Mary, I always dreamed I would be marrying a handsome man, strapping and tall. We would be madly in love and he would sweep me up into his arms and carry me away.” I sighed. “Childish fantasies, I suppose.”

“Try to find some happiness in it, me Lady. Perhaps the Good Lord will bless yer union with a child.”

A shiver ran through me at the mere thought of a physical union with the Old Duke. I rose from the table and walked to the window, where I spent most of my time these days, staring aimlessly out at the day.

“Come now, Miss. Let me help ye ready yerself for the outin’.”

No amount of help could ready me to spend time with the Duke, but I forced a smile for Mary’s sake.

For the outing I decided to wear my blue cloak with the fur trim. It had a matching hat that I was told was all the rage these days. I was more excited for the opportunity to wear my new hat than I was about seeing the Duke.

The dreadful outing I had expected turned out to be a delightful carriage ride rather than a walk. Mary accompanied me, as always. She sat beside me and remained silent throughout the entire ride. The Duke sat across from me in the open carriage and despite the warmth of the autumn sun, a heavy green plaid winter blanket covered his lap. He wore a shirt the color of rich cream and his green of his jacket matched the green in the blanket covering his legs. As before, the tips of his shoes were not visible and the thought occurred to me that perhaps he had some sort of amputation. My tongue felt twice the size and stuck to the roof of my mouth at the thought of having to be intimate with him.

“You are a vision of loveliness in that hat, my dear,” he said in a weak voice, barely above a whisper.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Wentworth, please, my dear. You are to be my wife, and it would not do for you to go on calling me ‘Your Grace.’”

“Yes, Your Grace.” I swallowed hard as the question I burned to ask him rose to my lips.

“Your Grace?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“When will we be wed?”

He chuckled. “Anxious, are you? Not nearly as anxious as I, let me assure you.”

A blush stung my cheeks, and I cast my gaze to my lap. Surely he must know it would be a marriage in name only.

“How lovely you are when the color rushes to your cheeks.” He reached for my hand and it took all my resolve not to pull away.

“My dear, rest assured, I may be a bit older than you and in a wheel chair, but I am still quite able to perform my husbandly duties.”

The heat rushed from my neck to my hairline, and I could not raise my gaze from the sight of his gnarled claw of a hand grasping mine. I swallowed hard to force the bile back down when I imagined him exploring my body.

“Speechless, I see. I think we shall wed after the Yuletide season, perhaps upon the New Year. This will allow us ample opportunity to get better acquainted, allowing you time to prepare and to await the arrival of our family members.”

“Family members?” I lifted my gaze from my lap.

“Certainly, my dear. Your father must be present to give away the blushing bride and my son, of course, will come from the colonies to stand up as my groomsman. I have already summoned them.”

The thought of seeing my father again gave no ease to the turmoil dancing in my stomach.

I felt the old Duke’s touch fingering the ruby heart on my bracelet.

“I have noticed you wore this same bracelet last evening. I couldn’t help but notice it, as it resembles one that once belonged to my late wife, Victoria. I understand only two of its kind were ever made. It appears you have found the other.”

“It was a gift, Your Grace, and it is very dear to me.”

“I understand sentiment is attached to objects given by loved ones thus making the object dear to us, yet I cannot help but wonder if it is the object we find dear, or the person who has gifted it.” Light sparkled behind his aged eyes as he looked at me.

Again I cast my gaze to my lap.

“Catherine, my dear, I sense a deep sadness in you. Are you unhappy?”

“No, Your Grace,” I replied, my lie barely above a whisper.

“Is there someone who has captured your heart? Is it perhaps the gentleman who has given you his heart to wear here upon your delicate wrist?”

“No, Your Grace, there is no one.” Pain seared through my chest, and I fought to suppress the tears that threatened to come.

As the carriage approached one of the many entrances to the park, we came upon a group of boys hawking papers.

“Blackbeard captured,” they yelled. “Governor Spotswood and his navy of Privateers to be honored by the Crown.”

“Boy,” the old Duke called.

“Sir?” The lad ran to the carriage.

“Let me have one of those papers, son,” the old man said, and tossed a coin to the newsboy.

“They have been after that pirate for years. Menace to the seas he was. Glad someone finally did him in,” the old Duke said, and he tossed the paper upon the seat beside him.

Strange feelings surged in me. Although he was a notorious pirate and fierce to gaze upon, Blackbeard had never hurt me and, in fact, had actually been kind to me. My heart clenched when I wondered what had become of the Contessa without his protection, and I wondered who the band of men were that had finally tracked down Captain Edward Teach.

My eyes darted toward the newspaper article, but the Duke interrupted with a question.

“Would you honor me by having dinner with me again this evening, my dear?”

“Yes, certainly Your Grace, the honor would be mine.” I answered mindlessly, my eyes darting eagerly to the article.

“No need to have your maid accompany you, my dear,” he said with a twinkle behind his aged eyes.

“I would feel more comfortable having her there, Your Grace, for propriety sake.”

Virginia Governor, Alexander Sportwood formed a group of men loyal to the crown. They posed as pirates and roamed the seas hunting the blackguard, Blackbeard. Fierce fighting upon capture ... Blackbeard cornered ... Robert Maynard ... Edmund Drake ...
My heart skipped a beat and my breath caught in my throat at the sight of his name in print.
Edmund Drake?

The old Duke was talking about the gardens we were passing and naming the late autumn blooms, so he did not noticed my distress. My eyes scanned the paper further
... on their way to London to receive special commendations for service to the Crown.
My heart fluttered as a glimmer of hope rose within it. Edmund was on his way to London.