Sexual Hunger (17 page)

Maria skimmed the small, tight penmanship, her pulse lurching into a gallop. If this message were true—if its author weren’t demanding a ransom payment, then it could only mean—

“Well?” the man beside her growled. “You’re not getting this excited over an invoice from the fish market!”

Maria gulped air, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “He’s a
pirate
!” she crowed. “Jason’s alive and well—and he’s the captain of a ship! He’s been plundering the Darington fleet along the coast of North America, sir!”

L
ord Darington’s face froze. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Pirates disappeared from the high seas more than a century ago.”

Maria couldn’t pull her eyes from the tiny, embellished printing—not only to be sure she’d read the message correctly, but because her heart suddenly had wings! The last time she’d been with Jason, pillage and plunder were foremost on his mind. Could anything serious have befallen him, if he recalled his love for playing the swashbuckler?

Although the musicians forged doggedly ahead in their song, everyone else had stopped to stare at them. She longed to read the telegram aloud, at the top of her voice, so all could share this wonderful news: Jason was alive! Jason was
alive!

Not only alive but thriving. The Darington heir was never one to shrink like a violet or bemoan whatever hand Fate had dealt him.

Her heart rose into her throat. Rubio had predicted this when they arrived, and here it was, come to pass! And as though he sensed she might need him, her brother was making his way through the crowd. “What did you say, sweetheart? What’s the news about your Jason?”

“Yes! Yes, we must all hear this!” Dora clapped her hands for silence. “Please, Maria! Keep reading!”

Maria gripped the telegram, caught in the crossfire of Lord and Lady Darington’s gazes…the center of attention because she’d blurted out the news her heart had yearned for.

Jason’s father cleared his throat. “As we can’t unring the bell, my dear,” he murmured tersely, “you might as well keep reading, so we all hear it firsthand. Start at the beginning, if you please.”

She nodded. Even though Lord Darington seemed glad this message had arrived, she might have slipped a rung or two on his ladder of acceptability—

But she’d never been a social climber, had she? Jason Darington had sought
her
out and courted her, for she would never have presumed herself his equal.

Oh no, you much prefer being beneath him…between him and the mattress…

She cleared her throat. Jude now flanked his mother, thank God, in case Dora staged one of her dramas. With the Darington family and Rubio forming a shield between her and the rest of the guests, Maria felt more secure. She also felt Jemma’s glare from across the dance floor: her long-lost brother had taken center stage without even being present. She’d have to find another way to get attention…another audience with whom she could hold court.

“This is from the office of Darington Shipping in Charleston, South Carolina—”

“The American headquarters, yes. Please go on,” Phillip muttered impatiently.

“—and it reads ‘Greetings, Lord Darington, from your shipyards on the southeastern coast of—”

“I know where they are! Get to the point, for God’s sake!”

She glanced up at the intense eyes that focused on her. “Yes, milord…it says ‘a man closely resembling Jason Darington has taken command of the
Sea Witch
, and, after rallying the crew to mutiny against its captain, Terrence Dunner, he has assumed the name of Johnny Conn. To date he has plundered three of our ships as they left port for—’”

“What in bloody hell is that boy thinking? For chrissakes—”

“Phillip! If you’d stop interrupting, we’d hear the message!” Dora stepped forward to snatch the paper from Maria’s hand, but her husband grabbed her by both shoulders. “And what the hell are
you
thinking?” she cried. “Unhand me, damn it! This is my son we’re hearing about!”

“Mother! Father!
Really!
” Jude muttered. “Is this any way to behave in the Galsworthys’ ballroom, with everyone looking on?”

Lord Darington glared at his younger son. “Never forget which side your bread’s buttered on, Jude, nor the fact that your brother holds the knife! Maria, you shall continue with the pertinent details.
Now.
”

Maria held the telegram tightly to keep it from rattling. Phillip’s face alternated between the colors of rare beefsteak and boiled potatoes, and in these few minutes he’d become more agitated than she’d ever seen him. She nodded and returned to the message. “‘It seems Johnny Conn and his brigands have attacked other ships, as well, evading port authorities. It is believed he has hidden lucrative cargoes of sugar, cacao, and other valuables in caches all along the eastern seaboard—”

“Christ Almighty! Have I not paid them enough in tariffs and bribes to—” Lord Darington raked his wavy hair with both hands, looking frantic. “How difficult can it be to follow a rogue ship and capture its crew—”

“If they believe this Johnny Conn to be your
son
, Lord Darington,” Rubio said in a low voice, “the authorities have held their fire. And Jason has taken every advantage of it.”

“We believe he was shanghaied, remember?” Jude watched his father struggle for control, so he chose his words warily. “And often when that occurs, sailors are thrown or dropped onto the ship from trap doors in tavern floors—Amelia Beddow’s brothel, no doubt—and they can suffer blows to the head.”

“Which could explain why, when I locate Jason with my senses and my spirit guides, he does not respond.” Maria’s brother slipped an arm around her shoulder, his dark eyes wide with concern. “If Jason believes he is the pirate Johnny Conn, then he has no idea he’s attacking his own ships!”

A gasp went up around them. Even as Maria pieced together this puzzling picture of her beloved and his adventures, she couldn’t help thinking how
exciting
Miss Crimson’s next column might be! Jude reached around her then, to tug another folded page from the envelope. “What else have they sent us, Maria?”

“And why was I not informed of this earlier?” Phillip rasped. His voice sounded strangled as he tugged at his shirt collar. “This is ridiculous! I pay my partners and the coastal patrol to—utter
nonsense
, that—”

“Hush, Phillip!” Dora focused intently on her younger son as he unfolded the remaining page. “Jason has never disappointed us. He must have a very good
reason
for looting Darington ships—and I suspect some of your seamen have behaved just as corruptly when they might profit from it. Without informing
you!
”

But no one was listening to Lady Darington. The room sucked in a collective breath as Jude unfolded a large
WANTED
poster: Johnny Conn leered proudly at them, wearing a pirate’s bandanna and a gold hoop in one ear. He’d grown a longer mustache, which curved wickedly around his lips and down past his chin.

“Sweet Jesus,” Maria whispered. She covered her mouth, but it was to hide a smile.
He looks so rugged and virile…so damn handsome and indestructible! Just like the last time we made love!

Jude’s eyes widened, yet he appeared skeptical. “If the navy and the authorities can’t catch him, who took this photograph? Unless Jason’s—”

“So cocky and confident, he’s circulating the poster himself, to rub the navy’s nose in it. May I?” Rubio took the
WANTED

poster, to look deeply into the pirate’s eyes…to venture into the depths of Conn’s soul by connecting to it on a more ethereal plane.

A gasp made them all look at Lord Darington. His eyes had grown wide at the sight of the pirate wanted by the law, but he was struggling to remain focused. Pale as a fish’s belly, he was. Getting goggle-eyed, as though he couldn’t breathe.

Rubio grabbed his shoulders. “Doctor! I say, is anyone here a physician?”

The other guests looked at each other but no one stepped forward. Phillip wheezed, clutching his chest, and had Maria’s brother not steadied him he would’ve crumpled to the floor. Maria sensed Jason’s father felt such shock and dismay, he’d lost control of his muscular functions. As Rubio lowered him to the floor with Jude’s help, the steely-haired man began to flop and flounder.

“Phillip! Phillip, for God’s sake, stop it! You’re upsetting everyone!” As Lady Darington raised her foot, presumably to nudge some sense into her husband, Lord Darington’s eyes opened. He focused on his wife with such a venomous scowl that she drew back with a terrified whimper. When his hand clamped around her ankle, Dora screamed and began to kick at him.

Lord Darington then opened his mouth, as though to renounce her, but an ominous gurgling sound came out instead. His eyes rolled back and his body went slack.

“Doctor! Surely there’s a doctor in this crowd!” Maria cried as she knelt to loosen his shirt collar.

“Doctor, my arse! Get him off me! He’s crushing my foot!” Lady Darington’s voice rose to a piercing shrillness and she didn’t stop hollering profanities until Rubio pried Phillip’s large hand from her ankle. “My God, what a beast!” she cried. “And here, in front of all the Galsworthys’ guests!”

“Let’s get you home, Mum,” Jude murmured tersely, while his sister skirted the scene. As Jemma rushed from the ballroom, her wail rose up the stairway behind her.

Maria’s heart thudded. She slapped the sides of his face, but Lord Darington didn’t respond. The man who, moments ago, had been dancing with her and then railing about his absent son’s misdeeds, now appeared—

“He’s gone.” With a sigh, Rubio rose from the floor. His eyes looked as large as chocolate pies and his mane of chestnut hair waved as though an unseen breeze riffled it. “His soul has passed from his body, like a whisper.”

“But I—I was only doing as he told me—” Maria covered her mouth with a trembling hand. “I’ve never seen him so upset—”

“Nor so critical of his firstborn. His…heir.” Jude backed away from a truth he didn’t want to acknowledge, even as he wrapped an arm around his mother’s slender shoulders. “Mum, what are we to do about—”

“Do?” Dora wheezed. “Why are you asking
me,
when obviously your brother and his pirate cohorts have shocked your father so badly he tried to—to—pull me down with him!”

Rubio supported Lady Darington from the other side. “I’m so sorry, dear lady,” he murmured. “No one could’ve anticipated this revelation about Jason, not to mention its effect on your husband. We must get you back to Wildwood, and someone will see to Lord Darington’s proper…disposition.”

“I’ll take her,” Jude said, tightening his hold on his mother’s shoulders. “Come along, Mum. We’ve caused enough excitement for one evening.”

As they turned, Lord and Lady Galsworthy were immediately behind them. Their host gestured at the orchestra. “You lads, proceed downstairs and Cleaver shall pay you. The rest of you—” He waved his hand to encompass his wide-eyed, silent guests. “Out of respect for this sudden tragedy, we ask you to vacate the premises immediately. No need for good-byes or social niceties. Lady Darington, you and your family may remain as long as you care to, and I shall send someone for an undertaker.”

“You can’t mean—Lord Darington has really
died?
” Rowena Galsworthy gawked around Maria, gasping when she saw displeasure that distorted the nobleman’s face. “Oh my God, come along, Dora dear! We must get you away from such a—a malevolent presence! Saints be with us all!”

The guests parted to allow them an unobstructed path. As Maria fell in behind Rubio and Jude, who guided Dora Darington between them, a sense of separation—of distancing herself from the reality of this blow—wrapped around her heart like a dense, dark blanket. All around her, anxious faces bespoke shock and sympathy. It felt wrong to leave Lord Darington lying lifeless on the dance floor, yet what could she do but follow the others? Maria snatched the offending telegram and
WANTED
poster from the floor, and then hurried to catch up with Jude and her brother.

Jemma sat hunched inside the carriage, as though she might faint or vomit. Dora seated herself beside her daughter and then stared straight ahead. Not wanting to be the one Lady Darington’s empty—or accusing—gaze fell upon, Maria crowded in beside her.

“I’ll follow you to Wildwood,” Rubio said as he looked in at them. “Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

As a perplexed Pearson closed the carriage door, Maria sensed they were beyond any help even the most well-meaning medium could provide. Across from them, Jude stared stoically out a window. Jemma’s pathetic sobs echoed inside the otherwise silent coach. Dora sat ramrod straight, her gaze fixed on a point of the vehicle’s upholstered ceiling, inches above her second son’s head.

And where do I fit in now?
Maria fretted. Should she go to the town house and pack, because her benefactor had passed on? When Lady Darington came out of her shock, she would surely blame the one who’d read the message that sent Phillip into his fatal fit. Her beautiful brocaded gown suddenly felt restrictive. She reminded herself to
breathe
and not panic…to remain a few steps ahead of the shock that had already silenced her three fellow passengers.

What would Miss Crimson do?

Ah, therein could be found a solution. At the first lurch of the carriage, Maria braced herself physically and emotionally for what might lie ahead. To collect her thoughts, she composed and revised the opening paragraph of her next column, yet her current reality distracted her.

Jason…Jason, what have you done? And what am I to do, as a result of it?

“I
don’t suppose you want to hear what Miss Crimson reported in today’s
Inquirer
?” Jude sat across from his mother, reading the newspaper by a single dim bulb in the dark parlor because Dora had ordered all the curtains drawn. He sounded tired, but mostly dulled from the deep mourning his mother had declared throughout the house.

Maria sat on the opposite end of the settee from him, hearing the bait in his voice: Jude was using Miss Crimson to get a reaction—anything—from the woman who’d sat absolutely still, for hours on end, since she’d come home from the Galsworthy ball. Maria’s gaze wandered over Dora’s ebony dress and the dark veil she’d not taken off since the mourning warehouse had delivered them yesterday. Phillip’s funeral couldn’t come soon enough.

How could she endure another day of this endless emptiness? These hours of suspended animation with only the ticking of the mantel clock to assure her Time itself hadn’t died. Thank God she’d written that column when she’d returned to the town house for the darkest gowns in her wardrobe—which Lady Darington had scowled at because, after all, the dresses had been intended for her trousseau.

The resounding silence drove Jude to read further. “It says here that Rubio Palladino is partly responsible for locating Jason, and Miss Crimson thanks those readers who sent the information that was so helpful.”

Dora flinched.

“And what do you think of
this
?” he queried, keeping the newspaper between his face and the woman who seemed to ignore him. “Miss Crimson describes the onlookers as ‘shocked’ and ‘aghast’ at the fit Lord Darington pitched, until they realized he had expired in their midst.”

“Why should I give a flying fig?” Dora’s lips barely moved and her emotional state was hard to gauge behind the dark veil. “My husband, lord of this manor, and my son—the light of my life—are both lost to me. My life is…over. Why should I go on?”

“Someday the sun will shine again for you, Dora.” Maria glanced over to where poor Jemma sat by herself, bored to tears yet aware the gloom wouldn’t soon disperse. Trapped by her mother’s sense of propriety. “Jemma will find someone to love, and the wedding arrangements will brighten your—”

“Oh, for Chrissakes, Jude, you might as well read the damn column to me! This is no time to be teasing your poor, grieving mother.”

Maria didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. These were the first lifelike words Dora had uttered, yet once she began to pick apart Miss Crimson’s column, the fur would fly.

Flashing her a subdued grin, Jude folded his
Inquirer
so he could hold it closer to his face in the dim light. “‘Well, Dear Readers, at the Galsworthy ball it was truly the best of times and the worst of times,’” he began in a spirited voice. “‘Lord and Lady Darington received word from his lordship’s American shipping partners that their beloved son, Jason, has been plundering the family’s own ships while posing as a pirate from days of old. The news sent Lord Darington into a fit of—’”

“I swear to God I’ll rip that woman’s head off when I find out who the hell she is!” Dora sat forward, sweeping the veil back from her face to glower at them. Because she wore no kohl or rouge, she looked ten years older than she had at the party. “No sense of decency or civility in our time of trial! Kicking poor Phillip when he was down!”

“Like you tried to, Mumsy?” Jemma breathed. “I’ve never been so humiliated in my life as when you started wailing that he had a death grip on your—”

“Enough of your insolence, missy! Go to your room.”

More relieved than upset, the impertinent blonde strode past them with Willie cradled at her shoulder.

Again Jude ventured a grin, but Maria knew better than to respond. Dora seemed to be emerging from her shock so it was no time to flirt with him. At least he’d broken the icy silence. “Perhaps now’s not the time,” she began hesitantly, “but if we were to go in search of Jason—bring him
home
to familiar surroundings—perhaps he’d regain himself—”

“What an absurd idea! How could
we
capture him if the authorities cannot?”

Maria shrugged, restraining her excitement. She had to propose this idea very carefully, or it would appear she suggested it only for her own needy reasons. Visions of that hoop earring and Johnny Conn’s devilish mustache goaded her on. “But if Jason were here—restored to his right mind—
he
could silence Miss Crimson! As the new Lord Darington, he would not
tolerate
the way his family name and reputation—”

“Begging your pardon for the intrusion, Lady Darington, but you have a caller.” Thomas the butler peered into the dim parlor to be sure he was addressing the correct female.

Dora waved him away. “I’ve told you I do
not
wish to be disturbed until several days after his lordship’s service tomorrow—”

“Yes, milady. And when I mentioned that, the gentleman asked that I give you this.”

Was that a grin flickering at the manservant’s lips? He and Lord Darington were cut from the same bolt of stiff, starchy cloth, so it was difficult to tell if the old fellow had any sense of humor. Yet when Dora’s eyebrows flew up and a little cry escaped her, Thomas stifled a fit of rude laughter.

“Arthur Thomas! How dare you insult me with such a—”

The butler cleared his throat loudly. “Yes, milady. He said you’d say that.”

Lady Darington’s expression changed like a kaleidoscope as Jude watched his mother’s reactions over the top of his newspaper. When Dora noticed their attention, she slipped the card into her skirt pocket. Then she smoothed the black lace veil into place again, tilting her small hat at a slightly jauntier angle. “You may admit him, then—but only because Maria and my son are present to maintain proper decorum.”

“Yes, milady. I shall tell him.”

When the butler stepped from the room, Dora’s neck arched. Even through the veil, her eyes burned more brightly. “Not one word from either of you!” she warned. “You have no defense for your own questionable behavior, and therefore no cross to crucify me upon—unless you plan to hang on either side of me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly, Mother,” Jude murmured—but then he stiffened.

Yosef Polinsky stood in the doorway. He entered the dark parlor and then paused to let his eyes adjust. With his hands clasped before him and his hair smoothed back from his face, he looked the perfect gentleman. And indeed, as she considered it, Maria wondered why Lady Darington felt so…compromised by the medium’s condolence call. In the coming weeks she could expect several of her friends to stop by Wildwood—

And isn’t it INTERESTING that Polinsky is the first?

Jude folded his paper with crisp precision, announcing his irritation with each noisy crackle of the pages. “Mr. Polinsky. What brings you here, sir? Can you not see that my mother—”

“Please accept my sincerest sympathies at the passing of your father, Jude. It must have come as quite a shock to see him enjoying himself one moment, and then lying, expired, on the ballroom floor the next.” The medium stepped forward with his hand extended, which demanded that Jude stand to accept his condolences.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“And do I understand correctly that his passing resulted from news about your brother—and your fiancé, Miss Palladino?” Again this guest spoke with utmost concern as he approached Maria, bowing before her.

She offered her hand and he took it. His eyes were riveted on hers in the dimness, with the intensity her brother employed to plumb the depths of a client’s heart and soul. Because she was observing him, embraced by the warmth of his hands and eyes that sparkled even in the shadows, Maria returned his direct gaze with one of her own. She’d done this to Rubio since they’d been children.

“Yes, Mr. Polinsky, it was with mixed emotions we learned of Jason’s escapades,” she replied. “His father, Lord Darington, was understandably flummoxed when his American partners admitted they’d lost some ships to the pirate Johnny Conn, whom Jason pretends to be. But then, you no doubt got your information from Miss Crimson’s column.”

Polinsky dropped his gaze first, perhaps sensing she was toying with him. “I remain amazed—somewhat appalled—that a society columnist relays more vital information about the case than we’ve received from Scotland Yard. How frustrating that must be for all of you.”

Maria held her expression steady as he released her hand. Was he telling her he
knew
of her secret life as Miss Crimson?

“Oh, pish! As though we take stock in
that
woman’s gossip and lies!” Dora perched on the edge of her chair, watching the medium work the room and tempering her remarks as though Polinsky was saving the best for last; making her wait while he gave lip service to the minor players, whom he would dismiss when he focused on
her
.

But she had settled herself, much like a cat preening when sunlight beams through a window: Dora held her shoulders back, displaying her breasts despite the harsh black dress that buttoned primly at her neck. And when Yosef turned in her direction, her body seemed to lighten: the heaviness of her presence disappeared, now that she had a different audience. Maria found this fascinating even though Jude remained standing, to witness every exchange and nuance between the medium and his mother.

“I could not help but overhear, as I awaited permission to express my sorrow, the suggestion that someone should…pursue your son, to bring him home.” Polinsky took Dora’s hands and lightly rubbed her knuckles with his thumbs. “I was going to suggest that very idea today, if you were capable of discussing it! My spirit guides tell me that while Jason is unaware of the ironic twist of his fate—which has led him to plundering Darington ships—his childlike soul is enjoying the adventure so much he might never come to his senses. Why should he, if he continues to elude the port authorities? On the other hand—”

Polinsky’s dramatic intake of breath…his drawn-out pause that begged to be filled with his answers, had all three of them leaning forward to follow his every suggestion.

“Yes, Mr. Polinsky?” Dora whispered. “Be very careful what you say to me. The foundation of my life has been knocked away, and—like a house left teetering on a chasm after an earthquake—I might drop into the valley of the shadow at any moment. You must assure me, Yosef, that you’ll never lead me astray for your own nefarious purposes.”

The medium straightened slightly. “The fact that you use the word ‘nefarious’ in the same sentence with my name distresses me, Pandora. Why do you doubt my intentions? My integrity?”

His wounded tone made Maria bite back laughter. Lady Darington could play the wilting widow to perfection, but she was in no mood to be duped by a sweet-talker. Would Polinsky play along with her?

“I have heard more than once this past week, Yosef, that your former…
hostesses
are missing some jewelry. These women aren’t flighty or losing their minds, either.”

Jude’s expression was priceless as he watched his mother back the magician into a conversational corner. Maria, too, wondered how the illustrious charmer would talk his way out of this one.

Yet Polinsky gently placed Dora’s hands back on her lap. “Just as you become outraged when you read what Miss Crimson writes about your family,” he said in a guarded voice, “I must deal with women—or clients, who are mostly women—who become distraught when they believe others attain ‘inner circle’ status before they do. Or perhaps they believe they’ll
lose
that status. And indeed, this concept of an inner circle is based on hearsay and faulty logic.”

Polinsky turned slightly, to include Maria and Jude in this conversation. “Much as I hate to say it about the dear ladies I’ve met here, I suspect
envy
, that green-eyed monster, is at the root of these disappointing stories. If I stooped to stealing jewelry, Pandora, how would I ever face myself in the mirror?” he queried softly. “And before you reply, ask yourself if
you
have ever repeated dirty little lies—or even created them—in those moments you felt betrayed or abandoned, or just disappointed in someone you admire. Someone you might possibly…wish for.”

Dora sniffed indignantly. But there was no doubt she was framing her reply as she turned her head…which presented Polinsky with her haughty profile beneath her veil.

Maria knew a dodge when she heard one. But like the Artful Dodger in the Dickens story, the medium had twisted Dora’s insinuation into an invisible noose around her own slender neck.

“You compliment yourself, Mr. Polinsky. Or perhaps you are delusional,” Jude’s mother answered crisply. “I am recently bereaved, a woman who grieves the loss of her husband and possibly her firstborn as well. I do not
wish
for anyone! I pray for the return of my son, so he might take over his father’s estates and title.”

Lady Darington stood then, facing the medium. Even though her face remained veiled, her voice brooked no argument. “And why should I settle for
envy,
when vengeance is so much more effective? It’s time for you to go.”

Maria’s jaw dropped. Had Dora really dismissed the man with whom she’d so eagerly flirted before? And what on earth did she mean:
why should I settle for envy, when vengeance is so much more effective?
It sounded like something Miss Crimson might say. She should write it down so she wouldn’t forget it!

The medium remained silent. He bowed and left the parlor.

Lady Darington watched after him, silent as well. Then she retrieved his calling card from her skirt pocket, to gaze at it as though no one else were in the room.

Maria would’ve given her week’s pay from the
Inquirer
to see Dora’s face without that damn veil! Or to see that calling card. For long, awkward moments she and Jude awaited what his mother might proclaim next.

Finally, she put the card in her pocket again. “I shall retire to my chambers now, and I refuse to be disturbed until I emerge tomorrow, ready for the funeral proceedings. Good afternoon.”