Sea of Fire (12 page)

Chapter Eight

Christian lay on his side in his bed, staring at a picture of the pristine tropical shores of Spanish-controlled Florida. The painting depicted the landscape perfectly—sandy mounds, palmettos and blue-green waters foaming into a snowy white beach.

It was imperative he be on board his next ship scheduled for departure for that land by mid-April. The business proposition had practically fallen into his lap. He had merely to show up, shake hands, and load his ship with precious cargo. Would he find his brother in time? Worse yet, could he put off his mother for much longer? She threatened to come to Dublin herself and get the authorities involved, if she didn’t soon learn of Adam’s whereabouts. What was he to do? There was but one week left in March.

Two weeks had passed. Neither of the men he had hired to keep tabs on Elizabeth and Roderick had reported anything unusual apart from what Christian already knew. Elizabeth, for the most part, was herself by day and disguised as a friar by night. Roderick had made several trips to the ship
Aurora,
the same ship Elizabeth had visited, but never with her. Aside from visiting the ship, Roderick had spent most of the two weeks at home or in his silversmith shop.

The most significant event or bit of excitement happened on the Friday evening when Christian had met Walter Bloomfield at Bailey’s Club. His hired man had tailed Elizabeth to the bay. The same time that evening, a group of seamen had gathered on the wharf, trying to control the hysterics of a fellow crewman. The crewman insisted there had been a red glow on the water in the distance that lasted about ten minutes before it disappeared. The crazed man was certain it was an omen. The man repeated over and over he didn’t want to die—until he collapsed, and his friends took him away.

Christian’s hired man had told him from that time forward he could no longer follow Elizabeth if she ventured near the water. He didn’t want to take any chances he might see the red glow. He convinced the man to stay on long enough until he found a replacement. He didn’t insist he travel near the water, but managed to secure another fellow the very next day.

Within that first week, Elizabeth had called at his town house. Fortunately, his manservant had returned to briefly see if he was needed. On Christian’s orders, he advised Elizabeth that Mr. Traynor was not expected for hours. After that, his manservant left to enjoy more time off. As for Elizabeth, she had made no further attempt to see him. No doubt, she assumed he wouldn’t hand her over to the authorities. Still, she couldn’t have been certain what he had planned. He grinned. That would have worried her and probably still did. Small consolation, considering she haunted him with images of her sparkling blue eyes and auburn hair, his mouth on hers, and his hips pressed against hers.

Damn the woman! Contrary to his body having other ideas, he cared little for her. Not to mention her scruples, especially having learned her latest trade as forger. He laughed out loud. How ironic it was, with her father a magistrate, but this was beside the point. How could she be betrothed to Adam one day, and administer the tastiest kiss to him the next?

He rolled to his back. How Adam fit into all of this, he still didn’t know.

Next instant, he heard an impatient knock on his door. Hastily, he donned his breeches and shirt, which he had tossed to the floor the night before, and raced to answer the caller.

He opened the door.

“Here.” A courier shoved a missive at him. “Are ye deaf? I was told not to leave ‘til you get this. Ye may as well have this too.” He handed Christian another missive. “The bloke who delivered it didn’t want to wait.”

Before Christian could respond, the courier left. He closed the door.

One missive was from Walter Bloomfield. The other was from Mary Margaret. He read the second and tossed the message aside. He scolded himself for not having contacted her since she left in a huff over the friar in his bedchamber business. The problem was—he didn’t want to see her. He couldn’t explain anything, and she’d nag at him to do so. Nay, it was better to leave it be. If she found another lover, then so be it. If she called again, he’d decide at the time what to do. He opened Walter’s missive and read:

Traynor,

I desperately need your assistance. I truly hate to take advantage of our most recent friendship, and I know this is short notice, but would you join us for an evening at the William Street Exhibition Hall? I wouldn’t intrude upon you, but I promised Charlotte I’d have a companion for her friend Elizabeth. The gent I asked took ill this morn. I have tried everyone and exhausted all my resources. I can think of no one else who might be available. I understand if you beg off; however, I would be in your debt if you do me this favor. I realize this may present an awkward situation for you and Elizabeth with Adam’s disappearance and you his brother. Charlotte need not know you’re Adam’s brother, and I’m certain Elizabeth would not cause a scene for Charlotte’s sake. I’ll explain to Elizabeth. I doubt she will protest too much. She knows how determined Charlotte can be.

Please send word by courier only if you are unable to attend. Otherwise, be at Charlotte’s at half past eight. Her address is enclosed.

Yours, Bloomfield

He paced the entryway floor in excitement. It took all of a fleeting thought for him to decide whether or not to attend. He had planned to confront Elizabeth when he learned more, but this was an opportunity he couldn’t miss. He tossed the missive on the entryway table and headed for the library.

He’d join Walter for the music and be a most attentive companion. When he got Sister Friar alone ... he’d accelerate those attentions until she decided to be truthful with him. Aye, and she wasn’t so adverse to them. She might not care for him, but his kisses seemed to be another matter.

Suddenly, he was excited about the upcoming evening. If the truth were known, not since Adam’s disappearance had he looked forward to anything. He reasoned that his anticipation was due to the fact he’d have answers soon, as well as the upper hand over Elizabeth. His spirits rose. He laughed out loud. Miss Elizabeth Corry would certainly be surprised. The expression on her face alone would be worth the evening.

* * * *

Elizabeth waved to Alf that it was all right to depart. She leaned against the door to Charlotte’s home in order to gather her thoughts before she faced the evening. The last place she needed to be was at the music hall with some unknown gentleman Charlotte and Walter had coerced like herself to attend. After she had indulged in the steamy bath she had earlier promised herself, Hannah had complimented her on how attractive she was in her royal blue gown with silver trim and shiny silver hair combs that sparkled in her auburn locks. She said the gentleman would be proud to be seen with her. It had been fun to dress for the affair, but because she knew nothing about the man she’d be with, she was apprehensive.

It was too late now, and she couldn’t disappoint Charlotte. She’d enjoy the music and make polite conversation. The gentleman would see that she returned safely home, and the evening would be done. Surely, she could cope with the man for a few hours? Hadn’t she endured more with her father’s abduction? Even with Adam’s awful brother, Christian? Adam was a liar and scoundrel. Christian was ... nothing except the man’s brother who doubted her truthfulness, she admitted. Still, he had no reason to find her dishonest—well, maybe for the one time she said his brother maintained a residence in Howth. Otherwise, she had told him as much as possible. Pompous buffoon. How bold he was to kiss her—to get so close to her that she could feel his breath on her cheek, feel his heart pound as hers did beneath her breast, feel his ... She fanned her warm cheeks with her hand. The night air helped to cool her. She should sound the knocker and go inside, but not yet.

She shifted her feet and held her muff close to her. Why had Christian not called on her? Every day, part of her worried that the authorities might show up on her doorstep. Another part of her rationalized that for whatever reason, Christian had decided to let it rest. Temporarily.

The little she knew about him suggested he had not quite done so altogether.

The one time she had gone to him, he wasn’t at home. She had considered calling on him again, or sending word with a request for him to come to her. Doubtful as to whether it was a good idea, she did nothing. After all, she couldn’t reveal to him how she was forced to partake in illegal activities to keep her father alive, and that Adam was behind it all. Christian would never believe it of Adam, and she’d risk jeopardizing her father.

Her thoughts turned to her father. Where was he? Was he well? Hannah had asked her just this afternoon how long she intended to wait for word about him. When would she determine she needed to get someone to investigate or get the authorities involved? Hannah had been afraid to upset her, but she felt it necessary to suggest that the lowlifes who had her father might never contact her again. Elizabeth didn’t have an answer, and unfortunately, she couldn’t tell the woman that at her last two meetings with Roderick, she had mentioned she wanted proof that her father was well. She would insist at their next meeting.

At last she sounded the lion-head knocker. Surely, it was somewhere between eight and quarter after.

Francie answered. “Good eve, Miss Elizabeth. Charlotte told me to tell ye to make yerself comfortable in the sitting room. She’ll be down shortly.” Francie took her wraps.

“Thank you.” Elizabeth walked around the staircase to the next open doorway and stopped in surprise before she drew back from view. A plain-faced heavy-set man sat totally upright and stiff at the end of the settee.

God in heaven. Charlotte had taken her seriously when she requested the type of gentleman she wanted for the night. No matter. He was probably quite nice, and so would she be. After all, gentleman callers didn’t flock to her doorstep these days.

It was hardly the proper behavior, she knew, but she gathered her composure and strode directly into the room. “Hello, I’m Elizabeth Corry.” She extended her hand and gave the man her brightest smile.

Her brusque entrance startled the man, for he jerked in his seat before he wobbled to his feet. He took her thin hand in his own chubby one, gave a gentle squeeze and released hers. “How do you do, Miss Corry?”

Though he answered, he did not offer his name. Instead, he studied the wall behind her, obviously shy and uncomfortable. Walter’s persuasive way no doubt had convinced him to join them this eve. Clearly, he was not at ease meeting her. She’d help him through it.

“Your name?”

“Thomas. Thomas Feeney,” he said, stumbling over his own name.

Poor man. He needed to relax. “Please. Sit down.”

He did so, and she joined him on the settee. After she adjusted the skirts of her gown, she rested her hand on his forearm. The man mistook her gesture of concern for one of boldness. His eyes grew wide with alarm. It was then that she thought perhaps he was worried because the two of them were alone in the room. She had to reassure him that she was as apprehensive about this situation as he. They should not fret, but simply exchange pleasantries. Charlotte would be along shortly.

“Mr. Feeney. We must try ...”

“What’s this?” Walter Bloomfield entered the room.

She and Mr. Feeney stood at once.

“Walter. We were getting acquainted,” Elizabeth said.

“That’s nice, indeed; however, I’m not so sure Mrs. Feeney would approve.” Walter winked at Thomas.

Before Elizabeth could fully digest the error she had made or apologize to the man, Charlotte entered the room, and at her elbow was Christian Traynor. Barely had she gotten over one shock when she faced another. All she managed to do was gape stupidly at him.

“Elizabeth, Mr. Feeney is my father’s solicitor.” Charlotte turned to the man. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I couldn’t find the papers you requested. I will hunt for them again in the morn and bring them to you directly.”

“That will be fine,” Mr. Feeney said in a froggy voice. “I will see myself out. Enjoy your evening, Miss Corry. Bloomfield,” he shook Walter’s hand, and nodded to Charlotte and Christian as he passed them.

Elizabeth chanced a glance at Christian. Not only was his presence a surprise, but once again his excellent taste in men’s fashion, combined with his overall striking appearance—especially his amber-colored eyes—caused her pulse rate to increase.

“This is the gentleman we would like you to meet.” Charlotte walked over to where Elizabeth stood in front of the settee.

“Aye,” Walter agreed and waved for Christian to come closer. “I’d like you to meet Christian Corbett.” He winked at Elizabeth to play along.

Her stomach knotted. Why had Walter introduced Christian under a fictitious surname? She did not know, but for the moment she’d not mention it. Charlotte certainly had no clue anything was amiss.

“Christian, this is Elizabeth Corry,” Charlotte said.

“It is indeed a pleasure.” An easy smile appeared on his face as he took her hand and held it the proper amount of time.

So the man could be a gentleman.

It was a courteous gesture, nothing more, yet a flush washed over her. In a strange sort of way, she was excited by his arrival, but he would never know.

She flushed more when she noticed the three of them waited for some sort of response from her. “Perhaps you should reserve judgment as to whether our meeting is
indeed a pleasure
until the end of the evening.” Elizabeth raised her chin, intentionally challenging him. He would pay for the grief he had caused her. She would flirt, sinfully encourage him, and leave him to desire her. He would get nothing.

“In any case, I’m sure it will be a memorable evening,” Christian responded with an equally challenging twinkle in his eyes.

Elizabeth smiled in delight. He’d remember her.

“Aye.” Charlotte clapped her hands before her in enthusiasm. “The program this evening is entirely Handel, and it is sure to please.”

“We should be off,” Walter suggested. “That is, if you want to make the first set”