Pirate of My Heart: A Novel (11 page)

Fear lanced through her at the thought of being alone with her relatives. “Certainly”—she glanced at her aunt— “that is, if I am to stay. Might I stay, Aunt? I won’t be any trouble.”

“Oh, I doubt that, but there seems to be no help for it. Franklin, help the captain there with her trunks.”

The silence was heavy on the way back to the carriage. Dorian and Franklin carried the trunks into the parlor while Kendra stood by the carriage. She wanted more than anything to jump back inside and ride away, but she could not. She must make the best of the cards she had been dealt.

Dorian came back alone. He walked up to her and took her hands into his, giving them a firm squeeze. “If you need me . . . I live a few miles to the north. Go back the way we came and take the other road. Someone would give you directions from there.”

“Thank you.” She slipped her hands from his grasp, thinking that her aunt might be watching them from the window, and took a step backward toward the house. With her best attempt at a confident smile she whispered, “I shall win them over.”

Dorian took a deep breath and looked down at his boots for a moment and then, in a sudden way, with his blue eyes alive and blazing, with his lips pressed together, he nodded agreement. He stared into Kendra’s eyes for a long moment and she felt his faith in her, his belief that she could make something of this situation when everything said there was no hope. A gentle smile lit his eyes and curved his lips. “That, my lady, is a surety.” He placed his hat back on his dark hair and climbed up into the carriage seat. He nodded to her again and said in a steady voice, “Remember the ball. I will see that an invitation is delivered for you in the next few days.”

Kendra waved, fighting the tears in her throat. “Good-bye.” Would she really see him again? His rugged face and tender voice. His teasing and cajoling, his playful banter that made her heart flutter. On the ship—so many emotions she’d seen cross the handsome planes of his cheeks, his forehead, in his eyes. She would miss him so much, she realized as an aching loneliness filled her. Giant-sized tears squeezed from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she watched the carriage roll away.

What now?

Shaking herself, she wiped her wet cheeks with her sleeve, lifted her chin, and turned toward the house.

Be strong and full of faith, for I am with you.
The words made her heart lift as if stones had been plucked from it.
Thank You, Father.
But the tears were still close to overfilling her eyes.

Kendra entered the sitting room to find her aunt and uncle abruptly ending their conversation. They turned and smiled at her as if they’d had a change of heart and were happy she was there. “My dear, you must be tired after your long journey. We have a spare room that we’ve never had much need of as we are childless. Let’s tidy it up for you, shall we?”

Kendra followed her aunt to a small room that held a bed, a broken-down table, and some other odds and ends, while her uncle followed behind with her trunks. Aunt Amelia busied herself fetching blankets for the bed and dusting the furniture while Kendra put away her belongings on the hooks on the wall. “We’ll put a curtain up to make a closet,” Amelia assured her, busy propping up the table leg. With so few belongings, it didn’t take long to have her installed in her new room.

“Why don’t you lie down for a rest, dear. We can get better acquainted at dinner.”

Kendra nodded, already feeling her eyelids grow heavy at the invitation. But as she lay across the crinkling straw ticking and closed her eyes, a feeling of foreboding crept through her tired limbs.

They were being so nice now. Too nice.

Something was not quite right about her relatives.

Chapter Eleven

I
t was good to be home.

Dorian drove up the lush tree-lined drive toward the three-storied, white plantation house with the sun warm on his face and the familiar contentment of home settling over him. The house looked quiet, a fact that his mother despaired over. The few times he had mentioned the idea of getting a house of his own she’d vacillated between stony silences and spoiling him with favorite meals and anything she could think of to make him never want to leave home. He chuckled, thinking of how excited she would be when he walked through the door. The plight of being the baby of the family.

As if thinking of her had conjured her up, his mother flew out the door as Dorian stopped the carriage. She must have heard from Angelene that he was soon to come and had probably been watching for him through the window. She was always so relieved to find him still in one piece.

Dorian sprang down from the carriage while a servant rushed forward to take the horse to the stable.

“You’re finally home!” His mother threw her arms around him, her head coming just to his shoulder.

Dorian laughed and gave her a tight squeeze, kissing the top of her head. “How are you, Mother? You are looking well!”

“Happiness takes years off, you know!” she said back to him, turning him toward the house with her arm around his waist. She had always been an affectionate mother, and Dorian had not realized how rare that was compared to the staid mannerisms of most of his friends’ parents. It was something he had taken for granted as a child but was now thankful for.

As they walked through the door, his sister Faith, the only other sibling still unmarried and living at home, and his father came toward them. Faith laughed with a joyous sparkle in her eyes and gave him a big hug. “I’m so glad you’re home!” His father clapped him several times on the shoulder. “Son, it’s so good to see you. Seems like years instead of months.”

“And it seems longer each time,” his mother added. “Do come into the parlor and let’s get you something to eat. We must hear all about your travels. Angelene tells us you had a passenger and had to escort
her
home! Whatever is that all about?”

At the reminder of Angelene, Dorian looked up at the wide, curving staircase and saw her standing at the railing that overlooked the entrance hall. She hesitated, which made Dorian feel a little sorry for her in the awkward moment, but he didn’t know what to say so he only bowed his head in a miniscule nod and said nothing. She wasn’t his guest and he did not want to encourage her attention.

Faith followed his gaze up and motioned for Angelene to come down, which she did, with a haughty tilt to her chin and an exaggerated sway to her hips.

The five of them settled into the formal drawing room that was decorated in tones of greens and creams. His mother directed the housekeeper to bring in a tea tray and saw that they were all comfortably settled before seating herself.

“So tell us, dear brother, how were you persuaded to take on a passenger? You’ve always said you never would,” his sister asked, picking up the teapot to pour.

“That would be John’s doing. He was distracted by the grandeur of an English aristocrat, and his money. He made the deal without consulting me.” Dorian made a groaning sound and looked toward the ceiling. “I wanted to throttle him to be sure, but aside from abandoning the woman on the docks, there was little I could do.”

Faith laughed. “I doubt that. Is she very beautiful? Angelene says she is an earl’s daughter.”

Dorian sat down his teacup a little too hard. “Her father was the Earl of Arundel, but he died and her uncle, the new earl, wanted to wash his hands of her. She’s come to America to live with her mother’s sister and her husband.”

“What became of her mother?” Hannah asked.

“She died giving birth to Kendra, er, Lady Townsend. She has no siblings and is rather alone in the world.”

“That is so sad.” His mother then belied the words by shooting a speculative but happy glance at his father.

Dorian cleared his throat. “As to her beauty, I will withhold judgment and allow you all to make up your own minds. I’ve promised her an introduction.”

Dorian looked over toward Angelene for the first time and noted that her gaze was dagger drawn. He looked quickly away.

“You should invite her to your father’s birthday party,” his mother interjected with a satisfied smile. “We must introduce her to local society so that she can make some new friends.”

“Oh, yes. I would love to meet her,” Faith agreed.

“She’s nothing special, just because she is English and has a title,” Angelene muttered.

“No, she is special in that she knows no one, dear, and we must be charitable and kind. We must help her find friends in what must seem a new world for her,” his mother corrected in a soft voice.

Dorian’s gaze flew to his mother’s. It was rare that she would correct a guest. Angelene must have overstepped her bounds on more than this occasion to have made an adversary of her.

“I keep telling them to forget this business of a birthday party,” his father turned their attention back to neutral ground. “A man my age doesn’t want a big fuss over it.”

His mother and Faith laughed. “But you’ll be sixty-five, Father! That is such a grand old age. We must celebrate,” Faith teased as their father mock-frowned at her.

“My point exactly, Faith. How’s a man supposed to forget he’s getting old when everyone keeps reminding him of it.”

Dorian chuckled. “You’ll not win against the women united. Might as well decide to enjoy all the attention.”

The conversation turned to other things and it was over an hour later when Dorian excused himself to freshen up before dinner.

Angelene closed the guest bedchamber door with a soft click and surveyed the room with a frown.
Lady Townsend this and Lady Townsend that!
Her brows snapped together so hard she was beginning to feel a headache coming on. “Oh!” She stomped her foot and placed her hands on her hips. Why did that woman have to show up now, just when she had Dorian almost up to scratch? It wasn’t fair!

She walked over to the chair and threw herself into it, staring at the wall. The vision of Lady Kendra crystallized on the white plaster. Her laughing face, those enormous violet eyes that were shocking in such a pale face, and worst of all, the fact that she was so genuine and kind. Why, she might have even liked her had Dorian not obviously liked her so much. It just wasn’t fair at all.

A scratching sound at the door had her standing up and flipping a long, black curl over her shoulder. She rose, hope beating in her heart that it might be Dorian. Taking a breath, she held it in and opened the door. “Yes?”

One of the Colburn maids stood there with a timid trembling on her lips. She clutched something in her hand. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want?” Angelene’s shoulders slumped as she turned away.

“I’ve come to dress your hair, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am,” Angelene snapped. “I’m Miss Monteiro to you.”

“Yes, ma—um . . . Miss Monteiro.”

“Well, don’t just stand there like a ninny. Get in here and help me dress.” Angelene took a step toward her as the maid scurried into the room. Why did the girl have to be so timid? It grated on Angelene’s nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. Her own nanny had been of the fire-breathing sort and it had taken someone like that to keep a handle on her rambunctiousness. With her mother gone and her father rarely home, Angelene had developed a fierce love and respect for her nanny but she had run roughshod over every other servant in her path. “What’s that in your hand?” Angelene eyed the girl’s clenched fist.

The girl looked down at it and gasped. “Oh, I forgot I had that. It’s nothin’, Miss Monteiro.” She swung her hand around to her back and looked up with wide eyes.

Angelene walked over, took her arm in a tight grip, and wrenched it around to the front. “Give it to me.”

The girl’s bottom lip started to quiver as she opened her fist and dropped a short stick into Angelene’s waiting palm.

“What is this?” Angelene’s voice rose in pitch.

“Just a stick. It isn’t anything.”

“It is too something. A short stick.” Angelene sucked in her breath. “You drew the shortest stick, didn’t you! You’ve been gambling with the other servants about who is to wait upon me, haven’t you? Just you wait until Mrs. Colburn hears about this.”

“Oh, please, Miss Monteiro, I beg you! Don’t tell her! It’s j-just that we’re all so, so busy. I’m happy to do your hair, truly I am.”

Angelene narrowed her eyes and leaned in until their noses were only inches away. “We’ll just see about that, won’t we? I expect my hair to be perfect tonight.”

“Oh, yes ma’am—uh, that is, Miss Monteiro. Thank you.” Her head bobbed up and down. “Have you picked out a gown yet? You have so many beautiful gowns.”

Somewhat mollified, Angelene turned to the armoire and flung open the doors. She sighed with a happy smile as she gazed at all the colorful silks and satins. “I do, don’t I? I think the watered silk tonight; it’s turquoise, which looks perfect on my complexion.”

Millie clasped her hands together under her chin, eyes big and round as Angelene pulled out the heavy silk. “Oh, yes, I see. It’ll make your skin fairly glow.” She rushed over to help Angelene out of her day dress and into the gown.

“Don’t forget to tighten my laces first,” Angelene snapped as she stepped out of the dress and kicked it to the side. She turned and waited, her foot tapping with impatience as the maid untied the knot and hauled back on the laces. The breath whooshed out of her at the young woman’s strength but she didn’t care. Her waist lost an inch as the girl pulled and her bosom swelled over the top of the corset in a delightfully fetching manner.

Millie guided the gown over Angelene’s head, buttoned the back, and smoothed down the skirt over the petticoat. Perfect. Angelene sat down at the dressing table and glared at the young maid in the mirror to begin on her hair. If Dorian Colburn could take his eyes off her this night she would eat her hat.

Kendra walked out to the backyard and sank down on the wooden step next to a bowl of potatoes. She spread her apron wide across her simple day dress of sprigged muslin, reached for the peeling knife, and picked up a dusty potato. The scents of flowers wafted with the soft breeze as she turned the small potato round and round in her hands, wondering if she was peeling the last of their winter’s store. She knew from the worried, whispered conversations her aunt and uncle tried to hide from her that their food stores were almost gone and harvesting anything edible was weeks away. Kendra wasn’t sure, but she thought it possible that there was no money to tide them over.

Guilt washed over her and weighed upon her heart like a heavy stone. Her relatives could not afford to care for her. She was only adding to their burden even though she ate as little as possible and helped out as much as she could in the house with Aunt Amelia. She had all but taken over the caring of the vegetable garden, something she had some experience with from the flower gardens back home. But it wasn’t enough. There must be something else she could do. But what?

Kendra turned her head at the sound of the back door opening. Her aunt walked over to a short stool carrying a milking churn. She sat down with a sigh, pushed some straggling gray hair back from her face, and began to churn.

“It’s a beautiful day, is it not, Aunt?”