The Pirate Lord (31 page)

She fiddled with the clasp on her reticule. “Just believe me when I say he has every reason to hate us.”

They rode in silence a few moments before he spoke again. “So you’re still as set on having this pirate for a husband as before.”

“Yes. And that won’t change, no matter how many balls you drag me to.”

“Then why did you agree to come to this one?”

She avoided his gaze. “I have some…business to take care of.”

“Business? What kind of business?”

She debated what to tell him, then decided she could reveal part of the truth. “I want to meet Lady Dryden, who’s supposed to be in attendance tonight. I have something to discuss with her.”

“Concerning the Ladies’ Committee? I know she’s quite the philanthropist.”

Sara pounced on the excuse eagerly. “Yes. Concerning the Ladies’ Committee.”

“You may have trouble finding her. There’s supposed to be quite a crush.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll find her.” Yes, she’d find her. Even if it meant accosting every matron in the place. Because one way or the other, she was going to find out if Lady Dryden was Gideon’s mother. It was the least she could do for the man she loved.

Gideon boarded the
Satyr
, pausing as he passed the railing where he had kissed Sara the night of the fire. The night she’d given herself to him so sweetly.

A crushing weight descended on his chest, the same weight that had lain there ever since she left. How long had it been? Three weeks? Four? He hardly knew. The past month had been a blur of sleepless nights and frenzied days. He’d worked his men hard until Barnaby had finally come to him and begged him to let up. But Gideon had wanted the cottages finished, and then when they were all done, he’d thrown himself into having a schoolhouse and a church built.

There was only one purpose left in his life now: to make Atlantis perfect in every way. Then the world would hear of his utopia, of the place where men and women lived freely side by side without the tyrannies of an unjust government. The world would hear, and
she
would hear. She’d know that he’d succeeded despite her, and she’d curse herself for leaving.

He pounded his fist into the rail. Who was he fooling? She wouldn’t care what happened to Atlantis. She was free of it, and that was all that mattered to her. Everything she’d said about wanting to rebuild it and help it grow…it had all been empty words to distract him from what she was planning. And he’d believed them! Like a lovesick fool, he’d believed every word!

He started to leave the rail, then caught sight of his own cottage. It was the only unfinished building on the island. He hadn’t touched it since the day she left. What was the point? Without Sara, there was no reason for him to have a cottage. The only woman he’d ever wanted to marry was her, and now that she was gone…

Now that she was gone, it made no difference what his house looked like or when he ate or how many successes Atlantis realized. Nothing mattered.

Confound it, why couldn’t he get the woman out of his head? Everything made him think of her. When he cut a bunch of bananas, he thought of how much she used to love them. Every time he saw a white embroidered blouse or a red head of hair, his heart leapt. Until
he realized it wasn’t her. It would never be her. She was gone, and no matter what she’d said, she wouldn’t be returning. It would be stupid to dream otherwise.

He pulled her locket out of his pocket and stared at it. Why he’d kept it he didn’t know. He turned it over in his hand, remembering how she used to play with it when she was talking to him, her slender fingers twisting the chain this way and that. He ought to toss the blasted thing into the ocean. It represented a lie, the lie that she would return, one of the many she’d told him to deceive him until rescue arrived.

He dangled it out over the rail and looked down at the water, which was deep enough for his purpose. All he had to do was drop it, let it slip from his fingers.

But he couldn’t. Some foolish, sentimental impulse made him shove the locket into his trousers pocket instead, a low curse erupting from his lips.

With a scowl, he strode across the deck and through the entranceway into the saloon, headed for his cabin. Molly and her children still slept there at night, but he used it during the day. And just now he had a very specific purpose in going there. He wanted his bottle of rum. He didn’t often indulge, but today he planned to drink himself into oblivion. For once, he wanted not to be plagued by thoughts of Sara.

Throwing open the door, he entered his cabin, only to hear a squeal and see a blond head disappear under the bed covers. “Come out, damn you, whoever you are!” he shouted. “What in blue blazes are you doing in here?” He’d dismissed his cabin boy from his duties the day they’d settled on Atlantis, so it couldn’t be him, and he’d seen Molly talking earnestly to Louisa not long ago, so it couldn’t be her.

It had better not be one of the other women either. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of them just now. So help him, if it was that blasted Queenie, he’d throw her out on her ass.

Then he realized that the shaking lump under the bed
covers was decidedly smaller than any of the women. He groaned. Jane, Molly’s five-year-old. It had to be.

He forced some gentleness into his voice. “Jane, is that you, girl? Come out. It’s all right. I won’t hurt you.”

A blond head emerged slowly from beneath the satin, red eyes and nose first, followed by a pouting mouth. “You yelled at me! You said bad words, and you yelled at me!”

With a sigh, he moved to sit on the bed. “I know, sweetie. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just that I’ve been grouchy lately.”

More of her emerged from under the covers. She laid two chubby arms on top and stared at him with solemn eyes. “Because Miss Sara went away, huh?”

He stiffened. “Miss Sara’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Oh. I thought Miss Sara was gonna marry you.”

“Where’s your mother?” he asked, eager to change the subject. He’d come in here to drown out all thoughts of Sara, not to be reminded of her by a child. “Why did Molly leave you in here all by herself?”

“She said she had to talk to Miss Louisa. She told me to take a nap.” Again she pouted. “I don’t like to take naps.”

Suppressing a smile, he reached over and ruffled her hair. “Yes, but naps are good for little girls. Why don’t you just lie down, and I’ll leave you alone to sleep, all right?”

She lay back obediently against the pillows, but he could feel her eyes follow him as he rose and walked to the desk. Opening the drawer, he took out the bottle of rum, wishing he had some way to hide it from her sight.

“Is that gin?” she asked in a querulous voice.

“No. Now go to sleep.”

“My papa used to drink gin sometimes when he was sad. Then he would sing funny songs and make me laugh.”

Gideon stared at her. Though Sara had told him some of the women had husbands back in England, he’d
never thought much about it. After all, if they’d had decent husbands, they wouldn’t have gotten involved in criminal acts in the first place, would they?

“I miss my papa,” she said with a child’s candor. “I miss him lots.”

He felt a twinge of conscience. “Why didn’t you stay with him in England?”

“He and Mama said I had to go with her. He said the men over the sea wouldn’t bother her none if they saw she had me.” Her eyes lit up. “Papa said he would come to be with us soon’s he got the money.” Then her face fell again. “Only…only Mama says he can’t come to be with us, now that we live on the island. Mama says I gots to have a new papa now.”

A bitter lump of guilt caught in his throat. He tried to ignore it. Molly’s husband would most likely never have made it to New South Wales, and she might have been forced to take a new husband there anyway, if only to provide for her children.

But telling himself that didn’t lessen his guilt. Little Jane didn’t understand those fine nuances, did she? She only knew there’d been hope of regaining her father before, and now there was none.

For the first time, he understood what Sara had been trying to make him see. Not all the women were happy to be here. They weren’t all delighted to be given new husbands without having any say in it. No, indeed. Some weren’t at all happy. Some were having to face the fact that they were to lose their loved ones back in England forever.

And it was all thanks to him and his grand plans for utopia. Utopia? When he’d called Atlantis utopia in front of Sara long ago, she’d called it “a utopia where men have all the choices and women have none.” That’s exactly what it was—he had created it to be so. But he was fast discovering that a utopia where only half the people have choices wasn’t much of one.

“Mama says I hafta be a big girl,” Jane went on, tears
forming in her pretty green eyes. “She says I got to learn to like my new papa.” She looked up at him, and his heart twisted inside him. “But I miss my own papa. I don’t
want
a new papa.”

Quickly setting the bottle of rum down on the desk, he moved to sit beside Jane on the bed. He laid his arm around her small shoulders and pulled her close. “Don’t worry, sweetie. You don’t have to have a new papa if you don’t want one. I’ll see to that myself.”

She snuggled against his shoulder with a little sniff. “I wouldn’t mind
too
much if you were my new papa. But you’re gonna marry Miss Sara, aren’t you? When she gets back.”

She said it with such assurance it nearly broke his heart. “Yes, when she gets back,” he repeated hollowly.

Suddenly, Barnaby burst into the cabin. “Cap’n, you’d better come quick. Molly’s having her baby.” He glanced at the child, then motioned Gideon to come to the door. As Gideon stood up to join him, Barnaby added in a low whisper, “And she’s not doing too well either. It looks like she’s not going to make it. She’s asking for the child, so you’d better bring her along.”

In that moment, Gideon forgot about the bottle of rum he’d come to get. He forgot about Sara’s betrayal and his own hurt. With a sickening lurch in his stomach, he scooped up little Jane in his arms and followed Barnaby out the door.

J
ordan had been right, Sara thought as she looked through the crowded rooms of the Merringtons’ luxurious mansion. Finding Lady Dryden in this crush was impossible. Sara had spent the last two hours looking for the woman, with no success. Since Lady Dryden was not often in society, few people knew her. When Sara did succeed in finding someone who knew her and asked to have Lady Dryden pointed out to her, she was told she’d just missed her. The lady was as elusive as a breath of wind in the calms.

Feeling frustrated, she headed for the balcony to gain a moment of quiet. Unfortunately, a woman emerged on the balcony to join her only a few moments later. They acknowledged each other with polite nods, but respected one another’s privacy by standing in silence for several moments more. The other woman had just turned to go back into the ballroom when the pendant
around her neck caught the torchlight, garnering Sara’s attention.

It was an onyx horse’s head, ringed round with diamonds. Though smaller than Gideon’s, it was a veritable copy of the one he wore as a belt buckle.

Sara’s blood pounded in her ears. “Lady Dryden?”

The woman halted, casting her a startled look. “Yes? I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Sara surveyed the woman with building excitement. It was her. It had to be. She had the same jewelry, and even her coloring was right. With midnight hair threaded with gray and eyes the color of bluebells, Lady Dryden certainly
could
be Gideon’s mother.

But how to begin? Sara had rehearsed this meeting a hundred times, yet now that it was here, she was at a loss. She mustn’t let the woman leave, that was for certain.

“My name is Sara Willis. I’m the Earl of Blackmore’s stepsister.” Sara swallowed. “I-I was just admiring your pendant.” Nothing like getting right to the point, she always said. “I saw a brooch very like it recently.”

The woman stiffened. “Did you? Where?” Her voice was far from nonchalant. Indeed, she seemed suddenly very interested in what Sara had to say.

“This is going to sound strange, I know, but it was worn by a pirate. He’d had it made into a belt buckle.”

“A pirate? Do you mean that to be a joke?” Lady Dryden asked, clearly disappointed. Before Sara could protest, Lady Dryden’s expression altered and she added, “Wait, you must be the young lady who traveled aboard the
Chastity
. My friend in the Ladies’ Committee told me about you. The ship was accosted by pirates and you narrowly escaped capture.”

“Yes, that was me,” she said dryly. Jordan’s story had certainly spread widely. But perhaps it was time that someone knew the truth, especially this someone. “Actually, I didn’t escape capture at all. I spent a month with the pirates on an island in the Atlantic. I got to
know them very well, especially their captain.”

Lady Dryden looked shocked and just a little surprised at the way a complete stranger was taking her into her confidence. “The Pirate Lord? You spent a month with the Pirate Lord himself?”

“Yes. Have you never heard his real name?”

Lady Dryden shook her head, clearly confused to have Sara ask her such a thing.

“It’s Horn. Gideon Horn.”

The blood drained from Lady Dryden’s face. She looked as if she might faint, and Sara rushed to her side. “I’m so sorry, I’ve upset you. Are you all right?”

“Did…did you say ‘Horn’? The man’s name was Horn? You’re certain?”

“Yes. I came to know Captain Horn quite well during my stay on his island.” She hesitated to continue, given Lady Dryden’s obvious distress. But the woman had abandoned her son, after all, and she deserved to be upset. Sara’s voice hardened. “Indeed, I was surprised to learn he wasn’t an American at all. He was born English, the son of a duke’s daughter. Apparently his mother had run off with her tutor, an Englishman named Elias Horn, then had abandoned her child after her family asked her to return.”

“No!” Lady Dryden protested. “That’s not the way it was at all! I never—” She broke off, tears welling in her eyes. “So
that’s
why my son never looked for me. All this time he must have thought…” She trailed off as confusion spread over her face.

Sara shared the woman’s confusion. This wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. “Lady Dryden, are you saying that you are indeed Gideon Horn’s mother?”

The woman stared about her distractedly. “Of course! Surely you had guessed that or you wouldn’t have spoken to me of him!”

Sara’s heart thundered in her ears. She’d found Gideon’s mother. “I wasn’t sure. Elias Horn told Gideon that his mother was dead. But there was only one duke’s
daughter named Eustacia in
Debrett’s Peerage
, and it was you. Then, when I saw your pendant…”

“You were sure.” Lady Dryden gazed back into the dining room, tears coursing down her cheeks as she surveyed the crowded room. She seemed almost frantic as she grabbed Sara’s arm. “Oh, Miss Willis, we must find my husband! He must hear this at once!”

Sara felt all at sea. Lady Dryden didn’t look or act like a woman just hearing that the son she despised was a pirate. And why, after all these years of not caring about him, would she suddenly be so eager to hear about him? Or to tell her husband of her sordid past?

“Lady Dryden,” Sara murmured with concern as the woman tugged her toward the door, “are you sure you want to tell your husband of this without any…preparation?”

“Yes, of course!” Then, as if the full import of Sara’s question hit her, Lady Dryden darted a glance at her, eyes rounded in distress. “Oh, but you must think—If my son thinks it, then you must think—Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You’ll understand when you hear my tale. But Miss Willis, we
must
find my husband first! I assure you he’ll want to hear everything you have to say.
Everything
!”

“Certainly, my lady,” Sara said. She could hardly say anything else.

But she made herself one promise as she let the woman drag her into the ballroom. After the marquess heard what she’d told his wife, she was going to get some answers of her own.

Gideon paced the drawing room in Silas’s newly built cottage. Molly was ensconced in Louisa and Silas’s bedchamber and was screaming for all she was worth. Thank God one of the women had taken Jane off as soon as she’d seen her mother. He wouldn’t have wanted the girl to hear her mother suffering so.

By God, he’d never dreamed that birthing babies was
this awful. He’d never had any dealings with a woman in labor before. The few minutes he’d been in the bedchamber had almost been more than he could stand. And when he’d hurried out as soon as Jane had been taken from the room, Louisa had mumbled something derogatory about the entire male sex.

He hadn’t taken offense. How could he? Molly was screaming her blasted head off and enduring hours and hours of pain, all to bring forth a child without her husband. At the moment, he had the utmost respect for women and nothing but contempt for himself and his kind.

Ann slipped through the bedchamber door, a worried look on her face. “The baby is in the breech position, cap’n. That’s why Molly’s havin’ such a hard time of it.”

“Breech position?”

“When a baby comes, its head is supposed to come out first. But this one’s wee behind wants to come out first, and that won’t work. Louisa and I don’t know enough about it to make it right, and there ain’t a midwife amongst the women. We already asked.”

“Surely there’s someone who can help,” Gideon protested. “There are fifty women or more on this island.”

“That’s true. But most of ’em have as much knowledge of childbirth as I do—enough to take care of a normal birth. For somethin’ like this, we need a midwife, and we don’t have one. Ain’t you got a doctor at all on this island?”

He shook his head as guilt sliced through him. No doctor. No midwife. Eventually, of course, he’d intended to coax a doctor to the island, but he hadn’t done so yet. Still, he should have thought to bring a midwife here for the women.

Suddenly a raucous voice came from the entrance to the cottage. “All right then, where is she? Where’s the laboring mother?”

They both turned to find Queenie standing there, her sleeves rolled up and her face set.

“Queenie,” Ann said in a firm voice, “you mustn’t disturb Molly. Things aren’t goin’ so well. The baby is breech. She needs to be kept still while we figure out what to do.”

“She needs a woman who knows how to help her, that’s wot she needs,” Queenie retorted. Another scream erupted from inside the bedchamber, and Queenie headed toward it purposefully. Ann moved to block her path, and Queenie scowled at her. “Get out of my way, country girl. Who do you think delivered all the babies in the whorehouse? Me, that’s who. We couldn’t risk a doctor turning us in to the magistrate, so I always done it. I’ve birthed more babies than you probably held in yer lifetime. And I’ll birth this one, if you’ll just let me by.”

Ann hesitated, staring at Queenie as if she didn’t quite believe the woman.

“Let her pass,” Gideon ground out. “If she says she can do it, let her do it, by God. We’ve got no choice.”

When Ann stepped aside, Queenie sniffed, then flounced into the bedchamber, leaving the door open.

“Queenie!” Louisa exclaimed from inside the room. “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s all right,” Ann said as she entered behind Queenie. “She says she used to birth babies.”

Louisa harrumphed. “She’s probably seen more things going into a woman than coming out of one.”

“That’s true enough,” Queenie said mildly. “But I know a thing or two about bringin’ a child into the world. And you ain’t got much choice just now, Miss La-Di-Dah.”

Gideon went to stand at the doorway and looked in, but all he could see were Ann, Louisa, and Queenie crowding around the bed. Just beyond them, he glimpsed Molly’s pale face and her hair matted with sweat.

Queenie settled herself on the edge of the bed with a murmur of distress. He couldn’t tell what she was doing, but when she finished, she wiped her hands on her apron and announced, “Aye, the baby’s breech, all right. We’ll have to turn it.”

“Turn it? Can it be done?” Louisa asked anxiously.

“Aye, it can be done. Sometimes. I’ve tried it a couple of times before.” Queenie sounded grim. “It worked only once, though. Sometimes you can’t turn the baby.”

“Do whatever you have to!” Molly’s high-pitched voice rose above the others’ murmuring. “Just get the baby out of me, damn it!”

Suddenly, Ann and Louisa moved away from the foot of the bed, both going around to help comfort Molly, and Gideon got his first sight of Molly’s parted legs. He gasped. Blood and water smeared her thighs nearly to her knees.

“By God, do something!” he choked out.

“I’ll take care of it, Cap’n,” Queenie retorted. “You go fetch us some boilin’ water, all right? And have Silas make extra for tea. The poor girl’s gonna need it after this.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. Gideon fled, cursing himself for his cowardice. Molly was so small, so fragile. How would she make it through this? And what would become of her baby and little Jane if she didn’t?

He found Silas in their new communal kitchen and gave him Queenie’s order. Silas already had a pot boiling. He took it off the fire, then came up next to Gideon. “You’re lookin’ green around the gills, Cap’n. She’s havin’ a rough time of it, eh?”

Gideon looked at the older man with wild eyes. “She might die. The baby might die.” He pounded his fist on the table, full of self-loathing. “And it’s all my fault, do you hear? I should have brought doctors to this place and midwives. But what do I know about taking care of women? I don’t know a goddamned thing! Sara was
right. I didn’t even consider their needs, not once! It’s no wonder she left me!”

Setting down the pot, Silas patted Gideon’s shoulder, then went to the cupboard and poured him a cup of whisky. “Here now, settle down and drink this. It can’t be so bad as all that. And Miss Sara didn’t leave you because you didn’t bring doctors here. She left because she had to take care of family. But she’ll be back. She said she’d come back, and I believe her.”

“She won’t,” Gideon said grimly. “She hates me, as well she should.”

“Stop talkin’ that way. It don’t do no good to think such things, most especially when they ain’t true.” He picked up the pot again. “You sit here and drink a bit while I bring this to Louisa. And maybe by the time I come back I’ll have some good news for ye.”

Good news? What good news could Silas possibly bring? Even if Molly lived, which looked doubtful, the poor woman was still trapped here, thanks to him.

And he was still without Sara. He had to get out of bed every day and move forward and work and eat and live, all the while knowing that Sara had not loved him enough to stay. For that matter, he didn’t even know if she had loved him at all. She’d never said she did. Of course, he’d been equally silent on the subject, afraid to put into words something that might make him even more vulnerable than he already was. But he’d lost her anyway, and now it was too late to tell her that without her he was a ship without sails—dull, listless, emptied of meaning.

No wonder his father had drunk himself into a stupor every night after losing the woman he loved. It was one way of getting through the silent nights and the empty, cold days.

Gideon wouldn’t do that, however. He had too much self-respect for that. No, he would just…exist. He would go on. But no matter how he tried, he would never succeed in driving her image from his mind.

With a groan, he dropped his face in his hands. If she had wanted to punish him for all his sins, she’d certainly found the way to do it. He hadn’t realized how much she’d brought to his life until she’d taken it all away, not even giving him a chance to ask her to stay.

Rising from his seat, he thrust his chair aside in sudden anger, watching as it skittered across the new plank floor. That was what made it hardest. She hadn’t waited for him, hadn’t said a word, not even good-bye. She’d slipped away as if eager to take her chance to be rid of him.

And after all she’d said about wanting to help, after all she’d said that night on the deck of the ship…he remembered that night so clearly: the way she’d given him hope, the way she’d goaded him out of his despair by saying they could rebuild Atlantis—