The Cracksman's Kiss (20 page)

Chapter
Twenty-Six

“Prepare to be boarded!” the cry rang across the water as the fleet of British frigates closed in on them.

Cohen glanced at Auggie and the ship’s captain, decked out in their finest garb. Getting past the French was the easy part, the English ships would be another story altogether. The English frigate HMS Victory slid up alongside. Mooring ropes were thrown across and the boarding planks settled in place.

The vice admiral strolled across and stepped onto the deck, the pleasant smile on his face deceiving no one as he scanned the ship. Cohen plastered a lik
e smile on his face and marched forward to greet the officer. He suspected the Englishman’s eyes missed very little, his relaxed posture a mere facade. This was a man who would be quick to anger, who would find the least excuse to sink them.

“I am Vice Admiral Nelson. Who are you and what is your purpose in English waters?”

Cohen exacted a polite bow. “Vice Admiral Nelson, I have heard your great name brandied about in the highest social circles in London. Your exploits on behalf of England are legendary.” He hoped the flattery would charm the admiral into relaxing his guard.

The admiral eyed him
. “Yes, we all do what we can for our country. You have not answered my question, sir.”

“I am Cohen Ashton, sir, a humble cloth merchant on my way back to safer waters.”

“I see.” The admiral snapped his fingers and a dozen of his men spread out, searching the ship. “Did you run into any trouble from Napoleon’s French swine?”

Cohen took care to keep his voice from betraying his disgust for the admiral’s reference.

“We did not, sir. For we sailed before the war broke out.”

The ad
miral’s eyes narrowed. “If you left before the outbreak, then how is it you are still so far from an English port?”

“We were in Portugal, sir, aground for repairs.” Cohen swallowed.

One of the admiral’s men returned to his side and whispered something in his ear. The admiral dropped his hand to the handle of his sword at his waist. “How is it a cloth merchant has no bolts of material in his hold?”

This is the do or die moment.
Cohen’s hands shook. Either the admiral would accept his explanation, or they would be forced to fight for their lives. He glanced at Auggie and noted the tension in his jaw and the flex of his fingers above his own weapon. “Needless to say, sir, we were anxious to get back to London and did not complete our trade.”

The admiral’s hand tightened on
his weapon and the look in his eyes grew shrewd. “I see. I assume you have documentation to prove that you and your crew are English?”

A nervous sweat broke out on Cohen’s forehead. Stealing artifacts was less risky than this venture was turning out to be. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of papers and handed them over.

The admiral scanned the documents with careful deliberation before looking up. “These appear to be in order, what about that of your crew?”

Auggie stepped forward with the handful of forged documents they obtained for the crew.

The admiral looked him over with interest and took the papers.

Sweat trickled down the back of Cohen’s neck, but he stood unmoving as he waited. The tension stretched taut between his crew and the admiral’s. He watched out of the corner of
his eye as his men shifted and glanced back and forth between each other.

The papers rustled in the breeze as the admiral shuffled through them. He looked up and fixed his gaze on Auggie. “You, there. Where is your documentation?”

Auggie handed over his paperwork.

The admiral glanced at it and rai
sed a brow. “Scottish? Why are you on an English trading vessel?”

“Me ship was sunk by them French bastards. I and a few of me crew survived. We hopped a ride on this ship to get home to Scotland.”

The admiral leaned forward and mumbled something in his officer’s ear. The young man turned and waved to the crew on the frigate.

This cannot be good.
Cohen took a step back as men began to file onto the ship. Every muscle in his body went on alert.

The admiral scanned the crew. “You there, come forward.”

Cohen resisted the urge to look behind him and see who the admiral had singled out. If it was Alex, they would be all right. Alex spoke English so well now it was hard to detect even a hint of French accent. Cohen groaned as Jean Guiyesse stepped forward. If the admiral asked the sailor a question the man’s thick accent would be sure to give him away.

Vice Admiral Nelson grinned, the lethal twinkle in his eyes telling Cohen he was calling their bluff. “What is your name?”

Jean glanced at Cohen, and then back at the admiral. “Ju-ohn Smith, zir.”

The admiral sneered, and then snapped his fingers. In an instant, thirty or more swords and pistols were pointed at them. “Tell your crew to drop their weapons, Ashton. You are under arrest for consorting with the enemy and treason to the crown.”

Cohen signaled for the crew to drop their weapons, knowing it was useless to fight. The other two frigates in the vicinity made the chance of a victory against the British officer obsolete.

His plan to get to Kassie had failed.
He did not offer any resistance when his hands were shackled in front of him, and he was led from the ship ahead of his French crew. As they crossed the narrow plank onto the English frigate, Cohen looked down at the sparkling water as it lapped against the side of the ship. Kassie’s eyes were the color of the waves. He stepped down onto the opposite deck.

“Take the crew and the captain to the hold. Escort the Scotsman to my cabin and Ashton to the storeroom.” Admiral Nelson turned on his heel and marched off down the deck.

Cohen grimaced at Auggie before he was elbowed ahead by an English sailor, across the deck and down a narrow set of steps to a storeroom. He was shoved into a cramped room and the door slammed shut. A key scraped in the lock, leaving him alone in the dark musty room.

Would they execute him or would they take him to Newgate to await trial? Would he have a chance to plead his case to the King? After all, he was still an English citizen. He sat down on the dirty floor. He would just have to wait and see.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kassie sympathized with the old horse hitched to the little cart as she
lifted the last of their possessions out. The poor nag was long past her prime, but the best they could afford to get them to their new home.

Her mother waved from the doorway of the neat little farm cottage. “Kassandr
a, William says something is coming down the road through the orchard. I wonder if it is more livestock from Bernard?”

Kassie shaded her eyes and looked down the road. A small cloud of dust rose over the hill. With a sigh she handed the carpet bag to her little sister and grasped hold of the horse’s bridle.
“Come on, old nag. I’ll turn you out in the orchard to graze.” She patted the sway backed mare and unbuckled her from the harness. The mare rubbed her head on Kassie’s shoulder and snuffled in her ear. Kassie rubbed her between the eyes and led her down the road to the paddock.

A lone coach materialized out of the cl
oud of dust. She wondered who it could be as she flipped the latch open on the gate and led the horse into the paddock. She turned her back to the drive and slipped the bridle off the mare’s head. After a final pat the mare wandered away, pawing away the thick carpet of leaves, nibbling here and there as she pleased on rare patches of still green grass. Kassie slung the bridle over her shoulder and turned around as the coach drew up beside her. She exited the gate, shut and latched it behind her, and shaded her eyes. The door to the coach was flung open, and a familiar face peered out at her.

“Sally? What are you doing here?” She dropped the bridle and ran to the coach as Sally climbed down. Kassie threw her arms around her old friend. They hugged each other close for a moment. Then Kassie stepped back.

Sally smiled. “I have a position as a ladies maid with Dowager Countess of Salisbury, who lives on the other side of town. Her young nice has come to stay with her, and her grace is looking for a companion of sorts to keep the girl company.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “I heard you moved here and suggested you might be interested in the position.”

Kassie gave her another quick hug. “You are a gem, Sally, and yes, I could really use the position. Mama has the farm, but she does not need an extra mouth to feed.” She took the maid’s hand and squeezed it. “Come on up to the house and meet Mama, and we can tell her about it.”

“Only if you promise to tell me all that has happened since I last saw you. The earl was fit to be tied. He thought I had something to do with your disappearance and threatened to send me to Newgate until he found the grappling hook and his tablet missing.”

They walked hand-in-hand to the house. “You would not believe it, Sally.”

“I cannot wait to see the baby, he must be so big by now.”

Kassie’s breath caught in her throat and she struggled to say the words she must. “The baby died, Sally. He went down with Cohen and the ship.”

Sally’s eyes grew wide with disbelief, and then clouded with sympathy. “I did not know. I am so sorry, Kassie.”

“Come on, we have a lot of catching up to do.”

* * * *

Later that evening Kassie was finishing up the last of the washing when her mother approached her. “Are you to go to the Dowager’s on the morrow then?”

Kassie wiped her hands on her apron and nodded. “Oh, Mama. I am not sure I should. I never really fit in as a lady. People will whisper and gossip about the earl dying and leaving everything to the butler. They will think the worst of me.”

Her mother patted her hand. “They mig
ht, but a true lady is the woman who holds her head up high and does what she must to survive.”

“Yes, Mama.” Kassie removed the apron and hung it on the peg by the fire.

Her mother smiled. “Perhaps you will meet a handsome young man who will ask for your hand. Then you will not have to stay here and look after your old mother for the rest of your life.”

Kassie shook her head. “I do not want to ever marry again. I am happy here, looking after you.”

“You are not happy, Kassandra. A mother knows when her child is heart sore. If I could but go back and undo all that has been done, I would.” Her mother gave her a sad smile.

She hugged her mother close. “I know, mama, I know. It was my sin that caused my troubles, mine and mine alone. If I have to spend the rest of my life atoning for those sins, then so be it.”

Her mother pulled away and took Kassie’s face in her hands. “Kassandra, I grew to love your father with all my heart, but I do not love the Bible as he did.”

“What do you mean?” Kassie tilted her head. She always thought her mother was as pious as her father.

“I do not believe God is punishing you, just as I do not believe a soul is doomed to walk the coals in hell if they commit a wrong. I understand your love for the comté, even though your father did not, for I too once loved a man and lost him. My father, like yours, pledged my hand to a man I did not know. Soon after our marriage, I met a man who made my heart stir and my body sing. I was going to run away with my lover, but your father found out. My lover disappeared, I never saw him again and have no idea what happened. Nine months later, you were born.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “You deserve to be happy, Kassandra. One day you will find your true happiness again.”

“Oh, Mama,” Kassie cried flinging her arms around her. “How did you ever overcome the disgrace?”

Her mother’s sigh ruffled Kassie's hair. “I devoted myself to your father, the church, and doing good. Soon people forgot all about it. Just as people will forget you were ever married to the earl. You will see, in time.”

* * * *

Later that night, as Kassie lay down to sleep she pondered the story her mother told her.
Perhaps life is not just good and evil, light and dark.
Mayhap Cohen was right, she was not wrong to crave love and fulfillment. It was the earl’s mistake for not wanting to love her. The sinking of the ship was not her punishment, but the earl’s way of crushing a love he could not understand. Hell was not the place for someone like her, it was for someone like the earl, who was bitter and hate-filled. She rolled over and peered out the window at the stars twinkling in the heavens. Somewhere up there, Cohen cradled their son in his arms. She would see them again, one day. Until then, she had to take life in her hand and make of it what she could. Closing her eyes, she pictured Cohen cuddling their son and let sleep claim her.

“Cass, I am coming for you.” Cohen smiled.

Her feet skipped across the deck of the ship. She had to get to him. He was her happily ever after. The deck seemed to melt beneath her feet, and then she was falling, down, down, down.

Cohen floated above her with Lucca in his arms. “I am coming for you, wait for me.”

Kassie bolted up in bed, cold sweat trickling down between her breasts and scanned her surroundings. She was in her room, her trunks packed and waiting by the door for the coach to come and take her to the Dowager’s. It was the same dream as every other night.

A movement out of the corner o
f her eye drew her attention. “Cohen?”

The curtains fluttered
in the light breeze from the half open window. She climbed from the bed and padded barefoot to it and peered out into the dark. All was quiet. Nothing stirred. Grasping the shutters, she pulled them shut and latched them.

* * * *

Kassie curtsied to the Dowager Countess. “Lady Salisbury, I am pleased to meet you.”

The dowager put her quizzing glass to her eye and scrutinized her. “So, you are the former Countess Everton.” She gave a muted
‘hrump’, and then dropped the glass back into her lap. “You, of course, will need to update your wardrobe.”

A flush of heat crept up Kassie’s neck and she looked down at her black bombazine dress to hide her mortification. “Yes, Lady Salisbury. I have not had a chance to leave off my mourning as of yet, since I have been busy helping my mama.”

The dowager nodded and gave her an approving look. “A good and pious girl observes the rules of polite society. After a trip to the modiste for some brighter half mourning clothes, I think you will do nicely. My niece, Charlotte, will be making her coming out in London this spring. However, since she has only her father and a nursemaid to instruct her, I thought it best she spend the winter here with me. It seems she has been her father’s pet and has some rather … coltish ways about her needing to be tamed. You are, I trust, a very refined young lady since you were married to the late Earl Everton. Granted, he was a bit peculiar, I mean, really, hosting all male dinner parties? However, I suppose there is no accounting for taste.”

Kassie bit
her lip. “Yes, Lady Salisbury.”

“Now, on the subject of pay—
you will receive a generous allowance, and I suppose you will need a maid?” She did not wait for Kassie to reply but continued on. “You may have my girl, Sally. I have found a more mature maid I prefer. Sally is just much too young and silly for my tastes, mind you will have to share her with Charlotte.”

Kassie nodded, trying to hold back her delighted smile.

“My butler will show you to your rooms. Dinner is at seven and my niece shall be arriving by the end of the week.” She waved her hand in dismissal.

With a satisfied grin Kassie curtsied and followed the butler to her rooms. She could not wait to share her latest book by the new author, Sir Walter Scott, with Sally.
She was pleased to find her maid and friend waiting for her in her bedchamber. “Oh, Sally, this will be like old times. I even brought a couple of new books for us to read.”

Sally laughed. “Oh good. I have really missed our reading sessions. You are so lucky to have a father who thought it was a good idea to teach a girl to read. My father could not even write his own name.”

Kassie squeezed her hand. “I have an idea. The Dowager’s niece will not be here until the end of the week, how about I teach you to read?”

The maid’s eyes brightened. “Would you? Oh, that would be grand,” she breathed.

“We have a few hours until dinner, why not start now?”