Captive Embraces (35 page)

“I doubt it,” Tyler said soberly. “She was very young at the time. Myself, I hadn't the heart to tell her what the family whispered about behind closed doors. There didn't. seem any sense to it Stephan has always doted on his daughter.”

“And Regan? Does he know any of this?”

“No. Who would tell him? This is not something known outside the perimeters of my family. By the way, if it would make you feel any better, Regan finds himself in much the same position as yourself. Camilla's creditors are lined up outside the house on Drury Lane. I saw them on my way here. Fortunately, you are coming out in the clear; you have more than enough to carry you through. But van der Rhys is not in your position. He'll go under.”

Sirena felt pity for Regan. Regardless of how he had hurt her, she had never wished this upon him. “Tyler, I want to thank you for your honesty and for straightening out the matter of the debts. I'll be very wary of Stephan and warn my most trusted servants to keep their eyes open.”

“Sirena, have you looked at your employees since you married Stephan. I know the wedding only took place yesterday, but his own footmen and valet have already joined your staff. And a motley crew they are. It would not surprise me to learn they keep Stephan informed of your every action. Sirena, if he had little compunction about ridding himself of my aunt, a few trusted servants will make little difference. Be careful,” he warned as he prepared to leave the house.

For the first time in her life, Sirena knew true terror. She had fought pirates, suffered at their hands, braved storms at sea and faced death, yet she had never been as terrified as she was at this moment. Her hands trembled as she paced the library, reviewing her situation and desperately trying to find a solution for it.

When Frau Holtz brought Sirena's luncheon tray, she found her mistress before the cold hearth. Sirena explained the situation quietly, her eyes dry as she made a pretense of nibbling at the food. “We must all be careful around Stephan until I find a way out of this mess. Have Jacobus go to the Sea Spirit and bring back Jan and Willem. Tell him they are to apply here for work. They are to ally themselves with Stephan's valet and the new footman. For now, I can think of nothing else.”

“I could go to the Mynheer and tell him. I'll ask him to help you,” Frau Holtz pleaded.

“Regan is in much the same position. No, Frau Holtz, I got myself into this predicament and I will have to get myself out. Just be cautious around the new servants and, whatever you do, don't cross swords with Stephan. Do whatever he says. Frau Holtz, how could I have been such an idiot? How could I have made such a dangerous mistake?”

“You did it because of the Mynheer,” the old woman said dourly.

“Yes, because of Regan,” Sirena said softly. “And now I'm worse off than I was before. If I had my hands on his neck right now, I would choke the life from his body and laugh while I'm doing it.”

Frau Holtz was shocked. “You would do no such thing! You know you love him.”

“Not Regan. I would cheerfully kill Stephan!”

“And I would help you,” the Frau grimaced.

“Instead, I must play his game until I learn what his plans are. When he comes home for dinner, I'll behave as though nothing happened. I'll wait him out. If he mentions it, then I will behave as though it is an everyday occurrence to have bill collectors beating down the door. I'll not give him the satisfaction of knowing what hell he has put me through today. I'll play his game, Frau Holtz, and I'll beat him at it!”

 

Camilla met Stephan near the gangplank of the
Sea
Siren. “Up to your old vices, Father?” she asked sarcastically, lifting a finely arched eyebrow.

“Camilla, child, how much I've missed your voracious appetite at the breakfast table. I haven't been in your company since our weddings. How do you find married life?”

Camilla smiled. “Regan is wonderful, Father. Precisely as you said he would be. He barely allows me . out of his sight.” There was a sour note in her voice, but Stephan preferred not to hear it.

“The man must love you dearly; he can't bear to be separated from you.”

“More that he worries I'll run up my accounts. Father, if you could have seen him the morning after the wedding you would have thought him a madman! He terrified me. I can't imagine that fire-breathing Spaniard you married was in a much better frame of mind!”

“Nonsense, Sirena knows her place. She didn't utter a word. She knows when to keep her mouth shut, that one.”

“Do I hear a note of disenchantment in your voice, Father?” Camilla sent him a piercing look.

“Just call it straining at the bit. Marriage doesn't agree with me, I'm afraid,” he sighed, brushing an imaginary speck from the front of his new brocade frock coat.

Camilla glanced down at his hand and saw that he waited for her to comment on a huge ruby set in diamonds glittering on his finger. Perversely, she clamped her mouth shut.

Camilla wondered if her father had disliked being married to her mother and just how far he had gone to rid himself of the encumbrance.

“Well, we did it, young lady,” Stephan laughed jubilantly. “No more poverty, living off the charity of others, keeping up a front. Our credit has been restored, the riches of the world are open to us.”

“Your credit has been restored, Father. Regan has closed all my accounts. Before I make any purchases, I am to clear it through him. God only knows what he'll say when he learns I purchased new draperies and carpets before the wedding. They should be delivered any day now, along with the new furniture.” Camilla shuddered.

Stephan struck a pose of sympathy. “At the very least, dear daughter, the Dutchman won't allow you to starve. If I remember correctly, that always was your main concern.”

Camilla's nose rose into the air. “It is much more than could be said for my own father,” she retorted.

“You know, Camilla, there are times you remind me of your dear, departed mother. And let me say the resemblance is not flattering. Good-bye, darling, remember me to the Dutchman.” He tapped her on the arm with his walking stick and turned to his carriage.

Caleb stood at the rail and watched Stephan depart, leaving Camilla to climb the gangplank. His heart hammered in his chest and his hand itched to bring her head close so he could run his fingers through her hair. His brown eyes narrowed as he saw her lift her eyes to meet his. This was wrong! Brutally wrong! Technically, Camilla was his stepmother. Over and over since the wedding, Caleb had agonized over the situation. His involvement with Camilla stung his conscience, made him sick with himself. But there was no help for it.

He was falling in love with her. She was so young, so sweet, so tender. Too tender to be at the mercy of Regan's rough hands. Even now, as he looked at her, he could see that something was desperately wrong.

“Caleb, oh Caleb. How glad I am to find you here!” Her voice was on the point of breaking into tears.

“Camilla, what's wrong? Tell me! Come into my cabin; we can talk in privacy there.”

Meekly, Camilla allowed Caleb to lead her into his dim quarters. Tears dribbled down her cheeks and she pushed a fist to her face to wipe them away. The gesture was so like a child's that Caleb's heart turned over in his chest.

“Camilla, love, what's wrong?”

Suddenly, she threw herself into his arms, holding. onto him for dear life. “Oh, Caleb! I'm so miserable! It's Regan! He's a madman!” she sobbed, hiccoughing to punctuate her words.

“What has he done to you?” Caleb demanded, remembering Regan's temper.

“He frightened me. Several merchants came to the house and asked payment on the accounts. Oh, Caleb, I'm such a foolish ninny. I have no head for figures at all. I assumed those bills were paid. In fact, I know they were. When Regan demanded I show him the paid receipts, I couldn't. I never received any.”

Caleb fumed, imagining the scene. She was so sweet, so trusting. He could understand how easy it would be for an unscrupulous merchant to cheat her.

“Regan settled the accounts,” she sobbed, “but now he won't let me out of his sight. He's horrid, I tell you! I didn't even have enough to pay the fare on the hack that brought me here. Thank goodness I met Father and he offered to pay it for me. Otherwise, I would have had to ask you.” Camilla sniffled prettily and dabbed at her eyes while she watched Caleb covertly. She prayed he went for the bait. Although she had exaggerated greatly, Regan did insist, on putting a halt to her spending.

“Little love, here, here, don't cry. Here,” he said, pulling gold guineas out of his pocket and forcing them into her hand. “Keep this aside and use it for the hack fares. And if you need more, you must come to me, I insist. I won't have you being made a prisoner because of my father's penurious nature.”

“No, no, I couldn't,” Camilla protested, already opening her tiny reticule and dropping in the coins, liking the weight they created in the slim beaded bag.

She broke out into a new fit of tears and Caleb felt helpless. He gathered her close, all feelings of guilt dispelled. Camilla was only a child. Regan didn't deserve someone as sweet and innocent as she.

Camilla's arms tightened about him. “Oh, Caleb,” she breathed softly, making the tiny hairs at the back of his neck prickle, “how I wish it was you who took me to wife. I need you, Caleb. I need you.”

She offered him her lips and he took them greedily, feeling her fragile weight in his arms. He was overcome with emotions of love and protectiveness and desire. “Love me, Caleb,” he heard her whisper breathlessly, “love me.” Her mouth was warm against his, her arms twined around his neck, pulling him nearer.

Caleb reached down and swept her into his arms. He carried her to his bunk and she pulled him down beside her. The scent of her skin and the soft swell of her breasts exorcised all the mixed emotions of deception and hatred for his father. Camilla was here now and she needed him.

 

Lord Farrington adjusted his cravat and gave himself one last glance in the mirror. Satisfied he looked the part of a wealthy entrepreneur, he nimbly walked past Caleb's cabin, smiling knowingly because he knew Camilla Langdon was sharing the boy's bunk.

Aubrey nimbly jumped from the gangplank to the ground. His destination was the haberdasher's, to choose a new wardrobe. The tailor, Mathias, would have a fit when he learned Lord Farrington was paying off his account. If things went according to plan, he would be able to have all his debts settled within a short time. “Thank God for young Caleb,” he muttered to himself as he sauntered along Mincing Lane to White Chapel Street.

Aubrey was weary of living by his wits and robbing Peter to pay Paul. No, he corrected himself, cheating Peter to pay Paul. It never paid to lie to oneself. He had really fallen into the cream crock when he met Caleb van der Rhys. From now on, it would be cash for everything and peaceful, sleep-filled nights.

He turned the corner onto Philpot Lane and entered Mathias' haberdashery, a wide smile on his face, his purse in his hand. “Ah, Mathias,” he beamed, “I've come to square my account. Get out your ledger before I change my mind.”

The tailor looked puzzled. “But, my lord, your man settled it days ago. Have you forgotten? Look!” he said as he pulled a thick book from beneath the counter. “See, paid in full!”

“My man? What do you mean, ‘my man'?” Lord Farrington questioned disagreeably. Before meeting Caleb and finding his fortune aboard the Sea Siren, the lord would have been most grateful for just such a misunderstanding. However, his fortunes had changed and he considered himself in control of his own affairs. This news was startling and somehow disquieting. Roughly he pulled the ledger from the man's hands and peered nearsightedly at the awkward script. “Where have you marked me? Show me.”

“Right here, milord,” the tailor said nervously, pointing to Farrington's name with a needle-scarred finger.

“I don't understand,” Aubrey persisted, “I made no provision to settle my bill. Who was this man who said he served me?”

“I've no idea, milord. But a tough-looking thug he was. All crippled up or something. Couldn't seem to move too well. He just marched in here one day last week and said he had come to pay your bill and would I please tally up the debt. I did so, not thinking anything amiss. I'd heard of your successful gaming house—”

“Stop blithering!” Farrington demanded. He was becoming exceedingly nervous about this whole transaction. Beads of perspiration were breaking out on his neck. He'd heard of this kind of thing before. Someone bent on destroying another could buy up all debts and hold that person accountable on demand. Visions of ruination blinded his vision. “Now tell me again. This man, did he tell you his name?”

“Blimey no, milord. I never thought to ask him! Say, you don't suppose someone is planning to put the crush on you . . .” No sooner were the words out of the tailor's mouth than he regretted them. “Crushing,” the popular term applied to such an action, was a fearsome practice and he could see that Lord Farrington was well informed of the ultimate consequences. For a terrible moment, he thought Aubrey Farrington's eyes would bulge out of his head and the nobleman would suffer a stroke.

Lord Farrington felt the first stirrings of panic. “No, no, this is not the case,” he insisted, visibly trying to compose himself. “How could I have forgotten something so important,” he murmured. “Mathias, I've just remembered something I must do. I'll return in a few days' time and make my purchases... now that my account is clear.”

“Anytime, milord,” Mathias answered, looking after Aubrey as he hurried out the door.