The Captain of All Pleasures (27 page)

How easy Bigsby made it sound. But he didn't know about deathbed promises and family secrets better left buried. Derek had done Nicole a favor.

Because he loved her.

A sharp, agonized roar burst from his chest as he flung the jewels into the sea.

 

Their ship hadn't even docked at the Cape when Nicole spotted her father and his crew among the waiting crowds at the docks. The first line was barely secure before she ran across the gangway, pushing around people in her haste.

“Father, I'm so sorry about the ship,” she whispered as he drew her into a hug. “I never meant for this to happen.” Tears trailed down her face.

“Hush, Nicole,” he said, his voice thick. “I don't care about anything as long as you're safe.”

“You weren't supposed to come after me,” she admonished, then added in a derisive voice, “I'd planned to save the day for everyone.”

“It's past, now. We're going to be fine.” He gave her another crushing hug before he turned her to his crew. “They worried about you.”

When she saw them all fit and safe, she broke into a watery smile. “Everybody's well?” Several nodded smiles in return, some as watery as her own. Then her father turned her again.
Maria!
She stood beside her father with her arms open. Nicole's face crumpled despite all her best efforts, but it didn't matter as she ran to her.

Inside her motherly embrace, Nicole shook in what felt like a great unburdening. Maria understood unrequited love. Hadn't Maria loved her unwitting father for so long, even now loved him? She'd been through this hurt before, too.

Nicole could feel Maria sharply waving away the crew, a couple of whom patted Nicole's head as they departed. Nicole was glad. She didn't know if she could stop crying.

But even over the sound of Maria's soft Portuguese endearments, she heard her father mutter to Chancey, “He's a dead man.”

“No, Father!” Nicole said, turning from Maria. “If you go after him, then I'm not finished with him. I want this finished! I want him out of my life forever.” Her tears stopped as anger drummed through her. “I've decided to claim my birthright and keep my promise to Grandmother to find a husband.”

Father shook his head. “You don't have to do that. Not anymore.”

“I want to,” Nicole said, more certain of her future than she'd been in months. “I'm going to wed. I'm going to bask in security and never be cold or scared.” She gently pushed away from Maria and ran a sleeve over her eyes. “I refuse to be weak or vulnerable again.”

 

“Well, Captain?” Bigsby asked when they'd docked in London and finished unloading the cargo. “What will you do?” The doctor didn't need to specify about what. Nicole was the only subject they'd talked about the entire voyage back.

Activity on the deck stopped. Everything fell silent. The entire crew—sailors in the rigging, men sweeping the decks—paused, waiting for his answer. Their animosity had dimmed throughout the voyage. Probably because they saw he was wearing down. He looked around at all of them, saw Jeb nodding….

The last three months had introduced Derek to a new level of loathing his life. He was never without the regret that ate at him. As soon as he'd left, he'd doubted his decision. But for once, he'd wanted to do the right thing, the best thing for Nicole. Chancey was right about him. She could do better.

Then, halfway back to London, Bigsby had brought up the killing blow to his resistance: “She could do better, but could any man love her more than you do?”

No
. It wasn't possible.

He resented everything that kept him and Nicole apart. That resentment had grown into a poisonous rancor so strong, it could no longer be contained.

He would divorce his wife.

And break his deathbed promise to his father. A divorce would devastate his mother and embarrass the family even more, but that couldn't be helped. He refused to imagine a life without Nicole, and she deserved to be married.

“I'm going…to find her.” He walked away to the sound of cheers and clinking coins as bets were paid.

During the hackney ride to his London home, he wondered if she would even have him. Then the memory of their last night together flashed into his mind. He'd loved her, holding nothing back because he'd known it would be their last time together. And she'd given him everything….

He looked up when the cab stopped in front of his town house and ran a hand down his face to pull himself together. As soon as he stepped down, his mother and brother greeted him from the front door with welcoming smiles.

“Derek, you're finally home!” Amanda called in surprise, then added, “You look like hell.” He smiled wryly before looking up to see his brother jogging over.

“Welcome home, Derek. We read about the win. Congratulations.” He offered him a hearty handshake.

“I never thought I'd say this, but it's good to be home.”

When his mother had them settled in the sitting room with tea and a light repast, Derek recounted the highlights of the race, purposely omitting Nicole from the story. But throughout the telling, his mother looked edgy, as if she couldn't stay still in her seat. He could swear Grant cast her quelling glances.

When he cut short his tale, she said in a rush, “We, um, have something to tell you.”

“Mother, don't you think we can discuss this later?” Grant interrupted warningly. “As you said, Derek looks as though he's had a hell of a journey. We can wait until he's settled.”

Amanda pressed her lips together. “Well, I've waited weeks to see this thing resolved, and I'm sure he'll want to know what we're talking about.”

“Indeed,” Derek said with a sigh as he leaned back in his seat. “What's happened now?”

With one last look at Grant, his mother grasped Derek's hand and turned a sympathetic face to him. “Your wife's pregnant,” she revealed abruptly. “I see I don't have to tell you that you can by no stretch of the imagination be the father.”

N
o, you quite do not,” Derek answered, running his palm across the back of his neck.

“She's three months along,” his mother explained.

“Are you certain?” he asked, not wanting to get his hopes up prematurely. They'd been through this before. If she was indeed carrying another man's child, in his family's eyes he would have no choice but to divorce her. “How do you know this?”

“She's showing,” she said, then added in a confessional tone, “and not prettily.”

“Mother, please!” Grant interjected. “I'm sure this information is overwhelming enough as it is. Let's keep to the facts.” He turned back to Derek. “She wants to dissolve the marriage to wed some foreign count. Apparently, it's his child.”

His mother nodded, agreeing happily with what Grant had said. She appeared to be struggling not to clap her hands.

“He has even more money than you do,” she said, as if that explained everything. In Lydia's case, he supposed it did. Now her unprecedented visit to his ship made sense. She'd been shrieking for money, probably because she wanted to impress and snare the rich count. Poor, misbegotten bastard. But better him than Derek.

His mother sighed, “I can't wait for this nightmare to be over. You'll be able to remarry—”

“You wanted me to remarry?” he demanded sharply. In all remonstrances, she'd never said such a thing.

She paused to consider his question. “No. Not necessarily. If you'll remember, I've been ranting about your doing
something
. Anything but simply taking the disappointment and anger you've struggled with for five years. Finally, you'll be able to have those children we know you've wanted.”

Had he always been so transparent? Had they known that it was what bothered him most about marrying Lydia—not having children? He'd always thought they believed it was because she was unfaithful to him. When in fact, he couldn't bring himself to care about that, since he'd never liked his wife, much less loved her.

Now children were no longer important—he wanted them, but he couldn't live his life without Nicole.

He acted calm, but the news made his head pound in time with his heart. He would end this charade so that when he found Nicole, nothing would stand in his way.

Resolved, he patted his mother's hand and slapped his brother on the back. “If you'll excuse me. This can't wait another day.”

Minutes later, facing the elaborate façade of his wife's town home, he was reminded anew of the extreme lavishness of the place. Shortly after they were married, she'd purchased and furnished it using his money, sparing no expense; yet he'd been glad to provide it because he could eliminate one place he might ever run into her. If he did happen to be home from a trip, he avoided the country estates, as well as any of the ton's gilded yet facile amusements. In their five years of marriage, he'd seen his wife on only a handful of occasions.

“Good morning, Lydia,” he said civilly as he was shown to her sitting room. As usual, she looked beautiful, with her blue-black hair and glittering green eyes. As usual, she reminded him of a snake.

“What do you want?” she snapped. The only thing that could mar her perfect face was the expression of hate that continually suffused it. He wondered how others couldn't see the malignity from inside that manifested itself in her eyes, but then, he'd been fooled as well.

In the beginning, he'd wanted to ask what had filled her with such bitterness. Though it wouldn't be a simple answer with her. Was it her family's overweening greed? Or the death of the man she'd really wanted to marry? But he was long past even a token interest in his wife by now.

“No small talk? Good. We'll get right down to it. You're pregnant,” he said with a nod toward her scarcely rounding belly. “I want a divorce.”

She laughed then, a false sound. “You can't divorce me.”

“I can and I will.”

“That's where you're wrong,” she said in an amused tone, shifting her rich brocade morning robe. He'd most likely paid a fortune for it.

Derek forced himself to be calm. He was doing this for his and Nicole's future, and any anger on his part could backfire. “I thought you desired this. You want to marry someone else,” he offered reasonably.

“Actually,” she began, taking a casual sip of tea, “we'll be getting an annulment.”

He kept his face expressionless. With Lydia, any sign of emotion would be seen as a weakness to be exploited. He raised his eyebrows and assumed a disinterested pose. “On what grounds?”

“You are unable to perform your…marital duties.” She looked down at her long nails. “You aren't a man to me.”

“Is that what you've been telling people?”

She looked up with a chilling smile. “Yes,” she hissed, looking very pleased with herself.

He tried not to laugh aloud. He'd never expected such a resolution. “And how do you plan to explain your condition?”

“I'll be gone by the time anyone suspects. My next husband's family is Catholic. He wants his child—but not a divorced mother.”

“I can't believe you would do this,” he said honestly.

“Believe it. It's already been set in motion. I'll be free of you in a matter of days.”

“You've told everyone? There's no way to take it back?”

She gave that same eerie smile. “I've given my oath.”

“Excellent!”

She looked startled.

“Bloody good idea, Lydia. I'll see that my solicitors push it through with all haste.” He left the beautiful Lydia sputtering, her plump red lips gaping like those of a fish.

 

Prepared to be chastised, Nicole walked in to see her grandmother for the first time in more than seven months. Before the voyage, she'd claimed she planned to shop during a relaxing vacation on the Continent. Now that the dowager was aware of everything, Nicole braced herself for a martial demeanor and cutting accusations.

So she was more than surprised to find her grandmother, the Marchioness of Atworth, lovingly rubbing noses with one of her pugs, and chatting to the unmoving animal.

“Are you Mommy's wittle Pixie?” she asked. She answered for the dog with something that sounded suspiciously like “Oh, S…U…R.”

The dog looked as dumbfounded as Nicole felt. Finally, she cleared her throat.

Her grandmother looked up sharply. “Why weren't you announced?” she asked, tucking the dog under her arm.

“I told Chapman I could show myself in—but if I'm disturbing you…” she said in an incredulous voice.

To her amazement, her stern grandmother chuckled. “Well, you caught me doing the pretty to my pug.” Then she held up the object of her affection. “Pixie is such a sweet little girl, isn't she? In the past, I never told her.”

In answer, Nicole only raised her eyebrows. She couldn't seem to erase the startled look she felt settling on her face. It became even more fixed when, after setting down the dog, her grandmother walked over and, with a surprising strength, hugged her for the first time in her life.

Nicole recalled the strange moment when she'd seen Maria on the dock in Cape Town. Chancey, the crew, her father—they were all there. She'd had the oddest thought and almost became embarrassed by it:
The only one missing is Grandmother
.

“Don't look so surprised, gel. I don't hold back feeling any longer. Anytime I want to express emotion, I do it.”

It was then that she noticed her grandmother's collar wasn't buttoned to choking tightness, and she wasn't garbed in black. Steel gray, yes, but at least not her usual dour attire. “What brought about this change?” Nicole asked slowly.

“When your father told me where you were going, I was saddened because it appeared that you would do anything to get away from me.”

Nicole felt a swift pang of guilt and opened her mouth to explain, but her grandmother continued, “I know now how important that race was to you. So like Laurel you are. No, what really changed me was the word that your ship had gone down. I believed you were dead, and all I could do was recall with regret the times you
were
here. Regret because I should have treated you differently. I should have told you how very much you are like my own daughter,” she confessed, her dark eyes shining.

Nicole sat down at the mention of her mother. “We both loved sailing. I remember hearing her laughter.” She met her grandmother's eyes and said, “She was happy in her life.”

Her grandmother took a deep breath and nodded. “I understand now what caused her to run away—though her choice of accomplice remains a mystery,” she added dryly, and Nicole had to smile.

Then the marchioness turned serious. “I won't chase away my granddaughter as well. Circumstances will change around here. I'll never make it like that for you again,” she vowed resolutely.

Nicole must have looked incredulous.

“What? You don't believe me?” Raising an eyebrow, her grandmother boldly challenged, “Invite your father to dinner here tonight.”

“Father?” Nicole asked in a strangled tone. “Here? With you? Are you serious?”

“I am always serious.”

“What about Chancey?” Nicole ventured to ask.

Her grandmother swallowed and allowed in a pained voice, “Very well.” Then amended, “In proper attire…”

Nicole nodded, then dared, “Father also has a…guest with him.”

The dowager frowned before flashing a comprehending look. “Oh, a
guest
. Well, I suppose we should invite her, too.”

That night when Jason Lassiter first encountered the marchioness, he lost the ability to speak. Because she said briskly, “I was confident you'd bring her back safely, Jason.” Then she mumbled, “Thank you.”

When Maria nudged him to speak, he sputtered, “You should thank Chancey. He was the one who watched out for her.”

Chancey didn't think, just pulled at his collar and spoke. “It weren't me that saved her. It were Sutherland.”

“Oh? And who's this Sutherland?”

Nicole affected an unconcerned look while everyone around her fell silent. The dowager glanced from face to face, trying to determine why the room had grown quiet. To break the awkwardness, Maria approached her and curtsied.

The marchioness, out of long habit, looked her over, taking in every detail from the unadorned navy dress of fine fabric to the spectacles. With a decided look on her face, she declared, “You
must
be a governess.”

Needed laughter bubbled up. Nicole had to fold her lips in and stare at the ceiling.

Dinner was initially awkward. But the sumptuous meal of braised duck with shallots served with an unstinting flow of wine made even Chancey stop glaring at his utensils.

By the time the footmen removed their dishes, talk had turned to the shipping company. Nicole had learned on the return voyage that Lassiter and Maria had secured financing to fund the line. Their first step, they'd decided, was to commission the construction of a replacement flagship or to purchase one outright. But they and Chancey were reluctant to leave Nicole.

“I'm fine,” Nicole asserted to the table. “I know you have to take care of business. Please stop hovering over me. I'll try not to marry while you're away,” she teased.

Her father smiled, though clearly unconvinced.

Nicole reassured him. “You know I want what's best for the line. After I marry, I plan to help you as much as possible.” She turned to Maria. “You will make him go?”

Maria's eyes were questioning.

“Please, Maria. I'm twenty years old. We have three footmen, and I'm living in Mayfair. I'm safer than I've ever been in my whole life.”

Grandmother pointed out, “Jason, it might be for the best if you two aren't seen together for a bit. I've stuck to the same story for fifteen years. If we call her by her middle name, no one in the ton should be able to connect her to Nicole Lassiter, the sailor. At least not until after she marries.”

“Are ye sure about this, Nic?” Chancey asked gruffly.

“Yes. I want to be married. I want children, and I'll be twenty-one next month.” She smiled at the marchioness. “Grandmother's giving me no pressure, but I'm ready. Plus, we don't have much time—the season's already begun.”

The others began talking of something else, and Lassiter leaned closer and said in a low voice, “You don't have to do this. I take back all the things I've said before. Soon I'll be better able to provide for you.”

She smiled fondly at him. “With Maria's help…”

His eyes lit up. “I think we're making it official—”

“You're going to marry her?”
she whispered excitedly.