Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (8 page)

Five months passed. As each autumn day lengthened, Bethlyn waited for word from her husband. Would he fulfill his marital duties by her, or would he opt for an annulment? Bethlyn didn’t care either way. She only wanted to end her Limbo-like existence and continue with her life. Perhaps find a man she could love and who’d love her, and hang Ian Briston!

The night of Lord and Lady Stanhope’s annual ball had arrived, and Bethlyn found she didn’t wish to go. The whirl of parties, soirees, and teas no longer filled her with pleasure. She found the people to be shallow, frittering away their time. Her only consolation was Jeremy, who’d have adored her no matter her looks. The dutiful Jeremy would soon arrive to escort her, to keep the wolves at bay, so to speak. A sad smile played around the edges of Bethlyn’s lips as she surveyed her reflection in the gold frame looking glass, decorated with scarlet eglomise panels. Dear Jeremy truly believed she needed his protection, and she allowed him to think so, but her anger towards Briston had toughened her. For all the pranks they’d played together, for all the many men who had whispered fervent words of love in her ear, only to be cast aside by her like last year’s gown, Bethlyn found no real happiness.

At any time she supposed she could seriously consider bedding one of the men who sought her favor. Everyone knew she was married, but the marriage was more or less ignored by the men who wished to court her, to win a night of love with her. She, however, took her marriage vows quite seriously though no one would have guessed it. Granted, she purposely acted the coquette when it suited her needs, behaved outrageously, and forced dear Aunt Penny to write letters of complaint to Ian Briston, complaints which pleased Bethlyn immensely. She’d hoped that the man would be so riled by her behavior that he’d come for her, beg her to be his wife, or be so scandalized he’d free her from the marriage. None of this happened.

He still must view her as the homely child who was wretchedly sick on her wedding day. No doubt Penny had enlightened him that she was now the rage of London, touted as a great beauty-something which had surprised Bethlyn as well as everyone else who’d seen her when she first came to live with Penelope. It was after she’d arrived in London, eager to do her best by behaving scandalously, that she took more of an interest in her appearance with Mavis’s help and stopped eating so many sweetmeats. Somehow nature lent her a helping hand and smiled kindly upon her in the guise of Jeremy, Penelope’s grandson. They rode together every day in St. James’s Park, and within six months the plump, homely girl was gone and a beautiful young woman emerged. Briston, the oaf, didn’t even have the good sense to answer Aunt Penny’s letters, to wonder or care at how much his wife spent on clothes and frivolities. All the bills were paid by the man’s secretary, and on each of Bethlyn’s birthdays and wedding anniversaries, she received a lovely gift, no doubt sent by the secretary. Briston’s silence spoke more eloquently than hundreds of letters. The man hoped to forget she ever existed, that he’d married and deserted her, and he expected that she’d be content to remain in such a stupid and silly arrangement.

“I won’t be ignored!” Bethlyn cried, startling Mavis, who entered the room carrying a rose silk gown over her arm. “The horrid man won’t ignore me any longer. I’ll force him to take note of me.”

“Mr. Eversley may hear from your husband within a few days. Please don’t do anything rash, Bethlyn. Forget about the man and dress for the ball. Sir Jeremy is in the drawing room with your aunt and ready to leave.” Mavis’s face had turned white with apprehension that Bethlyn would soon engage in another foolhardy escapade to gain the attention of her absent husband.

Bethlyn threw down a ruby necklace, one of her anniversary presents, like it was a piece of rubbish. “Look at this!” she cried and turned from her dressing table in a huff, the blue satin of her robe swishing in her wake. “Another one of ‘my husband’s gifts’ to me, but where is the wretched man? This trinket can’t keep me warm on cold nights or give me the children I long for. He bought me and placed me on a shelf, having found no use for me. I’ve done practically everything but parade in the buff along the Thames. If I thought that would gain my husband’s attentions, I’d gladly disrobe. But I must finally admit that Ian Briston has denied my existence. Well, not any longer, Mavis, do you hear! Not a moment longer.”

With her mind made up on that score, Bethlyn rushed from the room and down the white oak staircase and into the drawing room, very much aware of Penny’s shocked intake of breath and Jeremy’s gale of amused laughter at her state of dishabille.

“Young lady, you’re disgraceful!” Penelope rebuked.

“Hurry upstairs and dress. Jeremy doesn’t wish to see you like this.”

“I do, Grandmama,” Jeremy said. ‘‘I’d wager that I’m the only gentleman in London to see Bethlyn in her robe, and damn if I don’t like it!” A suspicious gleam danced in his eyes and he tapped Penelope on the shoulder. “She’s up to something.”

“Oh, no!” proclaimed Penelope. “What now? I do so dread having to write my nephew another letter.”

“Rest assured that this time I shall spare you your letter writing chore, Aunt Penny,” Bethlyn spoke and managed a tight smile. “Since my husband has shown an appalling lack of good manners by ignoring your letters and the letter from Thomas Eversley, I find I have no other choice but to sail to the Colonies and face the man in person. Before this year is over, I shall discover if I’m to be his true wife. The time has arrived for a face-to-face confrontation.”

Penelope placed a frail hand on her heart. “Don’t do this, child. Accept things for what they are. I fear you’ll regret this trip. What if he doesn’t want you?”

Bethlyn lifted a silk clad shoulder in a shrug. “I shall order him to release me from the marriage. I believe that when he realizes my situation, he’ll agree to an annulment because I’ll specify that he can keep control of his company. Fear of losing it might be the reason he hasn’t answered any letters. He loves Briston Shipping more than any woman, I think. He married me to retain it. And I feel he is a kind man, considering.” Bethlyn remembered how solicitous he’d been when she became ill, that he was the only one to help her. Still, that one kindness didn’t make up for years of neglect.

“You’d do well to consider this some more,” Jeremy advised her. “With the American privateers preying on English ships, you might find yourself in a great deal of danger.” His caution surprised her. Usually they agreed on everything, and Jeremy could always be counted upon not to put a damper on her plans. How could he not see she was desperate? She’d told him often enough of her desire for a real home, a husband and children, that she wasn’t growing any younger. She thought he’d understand.

“I agree.” Penelope nodded sagely.

“Well, I don’t! I’ve wasted six years of my life, years when I could have been a wife, a mother. Does the man think he can deny me children? Must I bed someone else and pass the children off as his? Do you think he’d accept them and support them? I sincerely doubt he’d be amenable to such folly.” Bethlyn’s face flushed, and she turned her impassioned gaze upon Jeremy. “I thought you were my friend. Whether I have your support or not in this makes no difference to me. I am going to the Colonies.”

~ ~ ~

Two hours later Bethlyn and Jeremy danced in the mirrored ballroom, supped with the Stanhopes and the other guests, and she listened to a litany of reasons from Jeremy why she shouldn’t make the trip. However, her mind was made up that her future must be settled in a direct confrontation with her husband. “I’m going,” she said over and over.

By the time the ball had ended she’d danced with every eligible, handsome man in the room, and some who weren’t so eligible or so handsome, fended off at least ten indecent proposals, and convinced Jeremy that if he was worried about her, he should come with her. “You can act as my bodyguard and protect me from those nasty American pirates,” she playfully teased him.

‘‘I’ll come with you,” Jeremy said, and kissed her cheek in a brotherly fashion. “But I don’t want to be gone for too long. You know I can’t refuse you anything, Bethlyn, but I’m getting older, too, and I think it’s time I settled down a bit and looked around for a wife.”

“Ah, I knew it. I saw you watching Lady Madeline Stanhope all evening. She’ll make you a perfect wife. I promise you, Jeremy, that we’ll be home before the spring. But if you don’t wish to go, I’ll understand.”

“I’m going with you. If anything happened to you, I’d never be able to forgive myself. Since your husband doesn’t feel the need to protect you, I will, until he either takes you to wife or annuls the marriage and you find a man worthy of you.”

Bethlyn couldn’t stop the tears which welled within her eyes. Jeremy was such a dear, sweet man. She’d known him for so long, trusted him, depended upon him, but there was nothing but a deep and abiding friendship between them. Sometimes she thought that if things had been different, they’d have made a perfectly good marriage. However, that would never come to be and she knew now that Jeremy’s sights, as well they should be, were centered on Madeline Stanhope. There was no hope for herself as long as Ian Briston kept her trapped in this marriage. She wasn’t free to love anyone, not even her own husband.

“I should like to sail as soon as possible,” she told Jeremy. “Please contact Thomas Eversley for me. We can sail on one of my father’s ships.” She smiled ruefully. “One of my ships actually, one of my husband’s, since all of them are owned by Briston Shipping.”

When she climbed into bed later that night, no thoughts of revenge against Ian Briston filled her mind. She felt that soon everything would be settled one way or another. Soon after she closed her eyes, she fell asleep, not dreaming that all would be decided, but in a way she hadn’t fathomed.

4

 “My lady, please reconsider; Mr. Eversley will be quite displeased. He specifically ordered that you and Sir Jeremy Smithers travel to the Colonies on
Venture
not
Nightingale
. I can’t insist, of course, but no one goes against an order of Thomas Eversley.” Harold Dempster wiped his perspiring brow with a fine linen kerchief and threw an imploring glance in Jeremy’s direction, having already decided that Bethlyn wasn’t about to be pacified by such an unusual request. Dempster had been in the employ of Briston Shipping as Thomas’s secretary long enough to recognize a stubborn streak a mile away. From the forward thrust of her chin and the nail-hard line of her mouth, Dempster quickly ascertained that he’d lost the battle. And probably his position as well, once Thomas Eversley returned from Woodsley to discover that this stubborn chit of a girl had sailed on
Nightingale
instead of
Venture
. If only young Smithers could dissuade her.

Jeremy, however, appeared to be taking a devilish delight in the war of wills between Bethlyn and Dempster. He offered not a word to persuade her to heed reason and sail on
Venture
. Standing with his arms folded across his frock-coated chest, he leaned against the back of a large, cushioned chair upon which Bethlyn was seated. An amused grin which turned up the corners of his mouth grew larger the more Dempster perspired. But a warning bell went off in Jeremy’s head as he realized that something wasn’t right about this situation, but he couldn’t decide what the problem might be and doubted he’d get a straight answer from Dempster.

Instead of speaking, he remained silent and allowed Bethlyn to have her head. He found he loved watching when Bethlyn was riled. No one possessed more blazing brown eyes than she or had the endearing habit of tilting her head to the side like an inquisitive puppy. To see her rear herself upward, as she did now, her back arching in a suggestive but unwitting way always provoked a naughty laugh from him. She turned and glanced at him for a moment, quelling any further sound with that dazzling and fiery gaze.

“I see no difference as to which ship I choose, Mr. Dempster. I’m certain Thomas had my best interests in mind when he chose
Venture
, but I am eager to sail on the evening tide. The problem with
Venture
’s hull isn’t my concern at the moment. Repair it. As I understand,
Nightingale
is set to sail today. Sir Jeremy and I shall be on that ship, sir.” Bethlyn’s voice was low and steady, but the curtness of her tone left no doubt that she had already made up her mind. No one would dissuade her.

“Your ladyship, allow me to send to Woodsley for Mr. Eversley. I’m certain when he explains the situation to you, you’ll be quite amenable to waiting an extra week while
Venture
is repaired.
Nightingale
hasn’t the niceties of
Venture
, and for such a lady as yourself…”