The Pirate Lord (30 page)

With an oath, he thrust Hargraves away from him. “Fine. You and Ann do as you wish. But you’ll stay out of my sight if you know what’s good for you.”

He’d turned toward his cottage, his bleak, empty cottage, when another voice stopped him.

“What about the weddings?” Queenie asked. “Do we still have to choose a husband in two days time?”

He leveled Queenie with a cold stare. He wanted so badly to tell her she’d have to choose a husband in two days. It would serve the impudent tart right to be forced to the yoke of one of his men.

But even before Sara had left, he’d seen the foolishness of trying to dictate who married whom, especially if he wanted the men and the women to have genuine affection for each other. That was one thing Sara had taught him. Not even desire could replace respect and affection in a marriage, and those could never exist when people were forced into the union. He’d forced her into being with him, and now he was paying dearly for it.

“There will be no weddings except for those of you who wish to marry.”

As astonishment struck the women, Louisa stepped forward. “Thank you, Captain. That’s good of you. And may I speak for the women in saying that we appreciate your kindness.”

“Kindness? I don’t do it out of kindness! I do it because it’s what Atlantis needs. That’s all I’ve ever cared about. That won’t change just because Sara is gone. She may have left all of us, but this place will go on…
we
will go on.”

They would make Atlantis a place to be envied, by
God, with or without Sara. Then one day he’d find her and throw it up in her face, show her what she had left behind. Because this time he wasn’t a little boy who had no say in what happened after a woman abandoned him. This time he had all the say in the world.

N
early a week had passed since Jordan and Sara had arrived in England, after a month at sea. It was evening, and Jordan stood at the bottom of the stairs in his London town house, pacing and glancing at the hall clock every five seconds. Sara was late. She’d agreed to attend the Merringtons’ ball with him tonight, and now she was half an hour late at least.

He wasn’t sure how he’d persuaded her to go. This morning she’d said a horrified no, acting as if he were asking her to run naked through the streets. Then this afternoon when he’d arrived home from a day at Parliament, she’d changed her mind.

Thank God. It was time she went out into society and put that deuced pirate out of her mind. A few dances with men of her own station, and she’d realize how foolish she’d been to fall for a pirate captain. Besides, people needed to see her so he could put an end to any breath of scandal that might remain. God knows he’d gone to enough trouble to protect her reputation.

He’d covered up her experiences with the pirates by
paying the owners of the
Chastity
a huge sum to claim she’d been sent back unscathed with the ship’s crew after the pirate attack. He’d let it be widely known that she’d been recovering from the trauma of her experience in the weeks since then. So far, everyone seemed to believe the tale.

Thomas Hargraves entered and cleared his throat loudly just as Jordan made his fifteenth circuit of the hall. Though Jordan wasn’t in the mood just now to be accosted by his butler, he hid his irritation. After all, Hargraves had lost his brother forever, thanks to Jordan, and some sort of amends for that had to be made.

“What is it, Hargraves?” He cast another glance up the staircase.

“It’s about Miss Sara, my lord. You told me to report on her comings and goings while you’re at Parliament during the day, and I thought I would do that before you leave for the evening.”

Jordan looked at the hall clock, then sighed. “Why the devil not? I’ve got nothing better to do at the moment.”

“Yes, my lord.” Hargraves took out a sheet of paper and bent his head to read it, his balding pate shining under the light of the candles. “At 9:11 this morning, after breakfasting with you, Miss Sara took a bath, attended by Peggy. Peggy helped her to dress—in the pink cambric walking gown, I believe—and Miss Sara came downstairs at 10:05.”

There was a slight rustling of paper before he continued. “Then she played the pianoforte in the drawing room. I believe the first tune was ‘Down by the Banks of Claudy.’” He tapped his chin. “Or was it ‘Down by the Sally Gar—’”

“I don’t care what she wore or what she played, Hargraves!” he burst out impatiently. “I just want to know what she
did
.”

“Yes, my lord,” Hargraves said, sounding a bit miffed. “She played the pianoforte until 10:32, at which time she asked me for a copy of
Debrett’s Peerage
. She
read that until 12:19. I must say it engrossed her rather much. For luncheon, I brought her a tray upon which Cook had placed a chicken pie—Miss Sara’s favorite, you know—a salad with six walnuts, two slices of—”

“Hargraves—” he warned.

“I wanted to make you aware of exactly what was given to her, because she didn’t touch any of it. And as you know, Miss Sara never does without luncheon—especially when it’s chicken pie.”

Jordan scowled as he began to pace again. “You can save the commentaries. I know she hasn’t been eating well since our return.” She hadn’t eaten much aboard the ship either. And this morning, he’d watched her butter a slice of toast with listless movements, then set it aside and never touch it again.

Nor was that the worst of it. She slept only a few hours every night and spent the rest of it wandering the halls like a ghost. She avoided any contact with him, and when forced into it, she answered his questions in monosyllables.

Except when they concerned that devil of a pirate, that is. Then she told Jordan more than he wanted to hear, all about the man’s dreams for a utopia and his kindness to children and a whole host of other “wonderful” qualities, until he was sick of hearing the name Gideon Horn.

But all that was over now. She’d agreed to go with him to this ball. Surely that was a sign she was getting over her infatuation for Captain Horn. And it couldn’t happen too soon, if you asked him.

“After luncheon, Miss Sara went out,” Hargraves continued.

Jordan whirled on him. “Went out? I told you she wasn’t to go anywhere without me!” Ever since their return, he’d lived in constant fear that she’d charter a ship on her own to return to that deuced island.

Hargraves colored. “She…er…sneaked out without anyone seeing her.” When Jordan began to glower,
the servant added hastily, “But she came back only two hours later. She said she’d been to visit one of her friends in the Ladies’ Committee. She looked quite well, and she asked for you immediately.”

That must have been when she’d entered the library to tell him she’d be attending the ball. What had happened in those two hours to change her mind?

It didn’t matter. She was coming around, and that was all he cared about.

A door opened upstairs, signaling that she was finally ready, and he gestured to Hargraves to be quiet. “You can tell me the rest in the morning,” he said in an undertone as he turned toward the stairs. “Go fetch Sara’s—”

He broke off as he caught sight of his sister standing at the top of the stairs. His mouth gaped open. Oh, my God-what insanity had brought this on? She was wearing an appalling gown. Cut low enough to reveal most of her breasts, it skimmed her figure, molding every curve. What’s more, it was made of gold gauze and thin as paper, the kind of gown only French women—or one of his mistresses—dared to wear. He could almost see her navel beneath it, for God’s sake.

Had she gone mad? Sara had never worn a gown like that! Even a married Englishwoman would refuse to go out in public so scandalously dressed, and certainly no respectable unmarried woman dared it.

“Where in the devil did you get that gown?” he growled as he approached the stairs. “Go back upstairs and change it this instant! You’re not going to Merrington’s in that!”

She flashed him a cool glance. “Whyever not? The whole purpose of your taking me to the ball is to find me a substitute for Gideon, isn’t it? I’m merely cooperating with your scheme. In this gown, I should be able to entice some poor man to take me, don’t you think?” She glided down another step or two. “But after I catch him, you’ll have to find a way to deceive him about my
ruination. Then again, he might not care. I do have a fortune, after all. That should buy me a presentable husband if the dress doesn’t do the trick.”

“Fortune hunters? Lechers?” he shouted as he stalked up the stairs. “Is that who you want for a husband?”

She shrugged, pulling at her neckline to make it even lower, if that were possible. “What does it matter? One man’s as good as another, don’t you agree? You must, or you wouldn’t have taken me from the one I loved in hopes that I’d find someone better.”

He halted on the stairs, eyes narrowing. “What is this, Sara, some trick to make me feel guilty for what I did?”

“Trick?” she said innocently. “Not at all. I’m merely trying to help you. Since you’ve appointed yourself to decide who I should or shouldn’t marry, I’m doing my part to catch the man. What do you think?” She smoothed the impossibly thin material against her skin. “Will Lord Manfred like this dress? He’s looking for a wife, I hear.”

Jordan gritted his teeth. Lord Manfred was sixty years old and both a lecher and a fortune hunter. The bastard had been sniffing after Sara for years. Sara loathed him almost as much as Jordan did. “You’ve made your point,” he ground out. “Now go up and change into a decent gown.”

“Oh, but Jordan, I have nothing better for snagging—”

“This instant, Sara Willis! Or I swear I’ll change it for you!”

“Well,” she said offhandedly, “if you insist. But don’t blame me if I can’t catch a suitable husband right off.” With a sniff she turned and walked back up the stairs.

“And don’t think this excuses you from going to the ball with me,” Jordan called after her. “I expect you down here in no more than half an hour!”

“Yes, Jordan,” she said in entirely too smug a voice.

As soon as Sara got inside her room, she smiled to herself.
Take that, brother mine
, she thought as she hur
ried to where Peggy held the gown she’d actually intended to wear. The servant made no comment as she helped Sara out of the scandalous French gown Sara had borrowed from her friend in the Ladies’ Committee. Good heavens, Sara had never felt so naked in all her life, and before Jordan, no less. But maybe now he understood how she felt about his insufferably arrogant behavior.

God knows he hadn’t understood before. She’d talked herself blue on the
Defiant
. Nothing she’d said had changed his mind. For a man reputed to be the most notorious rake in all of England, he was behaving like a prude. It was enough to drive her insane, knowing that for every minute he kept her away from Atlantis, Gideon put another brick in his fortress of distrust against her, believing that she’d abandoned him as cruelly as his mother. She couldn’t bear the thought!

She frowned as Peggy helped her into her other, more respectable gown. Oh, if only she could return to Atlantis on her own! But she dared not without Jordan’s permission or he’d just follow her, and this time he’d surely bring the Navy with him to destroy the island and all its inhabitants. He was so infuriating!

This morning, when he’d had the audacity to propose that she attend a ball, as if nothing had happened in her life over the past few months, she’d decided to make him understand how unfeeling he was being. Maybe now he’d listen to her.

But first she had to attend this ball, and for a very important reason. This morning, it had occurred to her that as long as she was stuck in England, she might as well find something out about Gideon’s family. That’s why she’d taken out
Debrett’s Peerage
. According to it, there was a duke’s daughter named Eustacia of the right birth date to be Gideon’s mother. What was more astonishing, however, was the fact that the woman was alive. She was the wife of the Marquess of Dryden. Best of all, Lady Dryden was supposed to be at the ball tonight, if
Sara’s information from her friend at the Ladies’ Committee proved true.

Of course, Lady Dryden mightn’t be Gideon’s mother, after all. The other things her friend had told her certainly didn’t fit the woman she’d envisioned as Gideon’s mother. Lady Dryden and her husband weren’t the glittering center of society, but recluses who lived quietly on their Derbyshire estate. Philanthropists who gave generously to several charities, they likewise avoided the public acclamation that came with such generosity. And Lady Dryden was renowned for her affability and kindness.

It didn’t make any sense. The woman was supposed to be spoiled and selfish. She was supposed to be
dead
, for God’s sake. But Sara had read every page of the peerage and hadn’t found another woman who fit Gideon’s description of his mother so closely.

Perhaps Elias had lied about his wife’s death. Or perhaps Gideon had misunderstood or misheard the name. In any case, tonight she intended to learn the truth.
After
she tormented Jordan a bit more, of course.

When she came downstairs the second time, he cast an approving glance over her gown before hurrying her out the door. It was only after they were riding in the Blackmore carriage that he spoke to her. “I don’t understand what I’ve done that’s so wrong. I only want to make you happy.”

She stared straight ahead, unable to look at him. “By keeping me from marrying the man I love?”

“You only
think
you love him. After a while, you’ll see it was just a momentary infatuation—”

“Thank you for that flattering assessment of my character.”

He cast her a startled glance. “What the devil do you mean by that?”

A bitter smile touched her lips. “You really don’t understand, do you? I know there
are
women of the sort of frivolous character you imagine, who fall in love, then
change their minds with a change of scenery.” She thought of Gideon’s mother, who’d abandoned him without a thought. “But surely you didn’t think I was one of them. If I do as you hope and forget Gideon after a few days back in England, won’t that show me to have the most unsteady and unreliable character imaginable?”

“It would show you to be sensible,” Jordan retorted, though he looked uncertain of his position for the first time since they’d left Atlantis.

“Sensible? I think not. A sensible woman doesn’t give her heart, then snatch it away on a whim. It took me a week to see past Gideon’s gruff exterior to the real man beneath, and three weeks more to agree to marry him. It wasn’t a decision I made lightly. Don’t you see? I
knew
you were coming to rescue me. If I’d wanted to resist Gideon, I could have.” Her voice softened as she thought of how Gideon had looked when he’d asked her to marry him. “But I didn’t want to resist him. I still don’t. That’s why I must return.”

He gave a low, exasperated curse. “Ask of me anything but that, Sara, and I’ll give it to you! For God’s sake, I’ll let you practice your reform efforts anywhere you wish, at any time. Just don’t ask me to take you back to that place!”

She stamped her foot, making the carriage wobble on its springs. “I don’t
want
anything else! What kind of woman do you take me for, to accept such things in the place of the man I love?”

Gritting his teeth, he stared out the window into London’s foggy night. “Haven’t you wondered why this pirate hates the nobility so much? How do you know he won’t change his mind about you one of these days, thanks to his unreasonable hatred?”

“It’s not unreasonable. It’s…it’s…” She stopped just short of telling him about Gideon’s past, just as she had stopped short so many times before. And with good reason. Jordan would never believe the tale. He would
think it some sort of lie Gideon had told to gain her sympathies. The very fact that Gideon had never sought out his mother’s family would make the story spurious in Jordan’s eyes. He would never believe a pirate could be too proud to risk the humiliation of discovering that his mother’s family still didn’t want him. That’s why she had to find out the truth before she told Jordan anything.