The Ransom (24 page)

Juliana took the opportunity to slip away and seek out Rowan. But he was nowhere to be found. Not near the table where they served unending spirits, and not in the ballroom, the portico, or the garden out back. Not even upstairs in the game room, billiard room, or various tea rooms. No doubt he’d taken off with some man’s lonely wife.

Abandoned again in her hour of need.

She growled inwardly while ignoring calls here and there from friends begging her to join them. Forsaking the search for her brother, she spotted Mr. Kinder weaving through the crowd looking for someone—her father, no doubt, or mayhap Munthrope. The longer she delayed their encounter, the more of the night would be spent, and the less chance there was that he’d seek out her father at their home. Of course there was always tomorrow and the next day, but mayhap with Abbot’s help, they could put Mr. Kinder off until her father regained his health and could sit and chat with him.

Oh, fie! Abbot! She’d forgotten to ask him to sort out the mess with the
Midnight Fortune
while he was down at the docks on another matter. She sighed, chastising herself. She would have to deal with it on the morrow. Now, she’d gone and lost sight of Mr. Kinder. Nay. There. She spotted a flash of his gray doublet. Following him, she slipped through the mob and turned a corner into the dining hall, when he suddenly appeared before her. She leapt back with a start.

“Miss Dutton. Why ever are you following me? And where, pray tell, is your father?”

♥♥♥

Something had Miss Juliana all in a twitter tonight, and Alex intended to get to the bottom of it. Repeatedly he tried to extricate himself from clusters of admirers, demanding he entertain them with his embellished fables. Repeatedly he failed. Unfortunately as host—not to mention one of the most celebrated members of Port Royal society—it was not easy to slip away unnoticed, nor to deny his guests their due amusement. Fortunately, his height offered him the ability to watch Miss Juliana while he regaled and playacted and otherwise elicited belly-aching merriment from all within earshot. The poor lady flitted about like a goose chased by a jaguar, a look of angst marring her delicate features. One moment she was in the parlor, another in the foyer, then in the ballroom. Another time he saw her speaking with her friends Lady Anne and Miss Margaret—more like hiding behind their voluminous skirts until she dashed off again. She seemed to be looking for someone. Or perchance hiding from someone? Mayhap both. Fascinating woman! Did she never cease to intrigue him?

Finally, he begged leave of a group of elderly ladies—much to their effusive disappointment—with the excuse he must attend to Miss Dutton. He found the lady in question, her face pale, one side of her highly stacked coiffure drooping, and her eyes glazed as she spoke to a gentleman Alex had never met.

Relief appeared on her face when she saw Alex before unease seized her features again.

“Lord Munthrope, may I present Mr. John Kinder,” she said a bit breathless, “one of Port Royal’s most prestigious merchants.”

“Milord.” Mr. Kinder bowed. “I thank you for the invitation to your home.”

Alex raised his brows. He had never met the man and therefore could not have invited him, but Juliana’s desperate look kept those thoughts unspoken. “’Twas my pleasure, Mr. Kinder.” He nodded and flipped a curled strand of his periwig over his shoulder. “I do hope you enjoy yourself.”

“I have every intention of doing so, milord.” He turned to Juliana. “Now, if you would simply point me to your father, miss, I shall begin that enjoyment presently.”

Her father? Here? Alex would be most pleased to meet the man. “I don’t recall—” he began, but a sharp pain through his foot brought his glance down to Juliana’s shoe slipping back beneath the fringe of her skirts.

“My father?” She addressed Mr. Kinder. “Yes. I believe I just saw him. But where?” She laid a finger on her adorable chin and sent a frenzied look toward Alex. Now he was beginning to see things clearly, though the why of the matter eluded him.

“Ah, Mr. Kinder.” Putting one arm behind his back, Alex drew the man aside and gestured toward a linen-clad table lining one side of the room. “Allow me to show you the delicacies I had shipped in just for this occasion. No doubt we’ll encounter Mr. Dutton along the way.”

♥♥♥

“We have
torta del Casar
from Spain,
canneles de bordeaux
from France …” Munthrope’s voice trailed off into the muttering crowd, and Juliana felt as though her legs would collapse beneath her.

She found a chair and slid into it, hoping no one wished to converse with her. Thankfully, most of the guests seemed otherwise engaged in dancing, conversation, or shameless flirtations. Munthrope’s laughter echoed through the room. She shook her head. His Lordship surprised her. For such a ninny dunce, he’d picked up on her ruse immediately. Not only that, he’d played along and relieved her of Mr. Kinder’s company for a time. A time of rest she very much needed.

But that rest didn’t last long, as Munthrope soon returned.

“What have you done with him?” She grasped his outstretched hand and rose, wincing at the blister forming on her toe.

“Done? Begad, you make it sound so nefarious, sweetums.” His mischievous grin shocked her. “I merely deposited your Mr. Kinder in the company of four elderly ladies who are enamored with his tales of merchant adventures.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Or ’tis mayhap because they are all on their fourth cup of rum punch.”

Juliana gave him a coy look. “You are quite the scoundrel, milord.”

“Alack, you have found me out!” He winked and adjusted the red silk bounding from his throat, then waved at a passing acquaintance.

For the next two hours, Juliana remained by Munthrope’s side, all the while keeping an eye on Kinder, who seemed to flourish beneath what must surely be an unusual outpouring of female attention. More than once, Munthrope excused himself to offer the man and his companions another round of drinks, ensuring on her behalf that Mr. Kinder forgot all about her father. Why he was being so kind, she couldn’t say. That it touched a tender spot in her heart, she dared not admit.

So they mingled among guests, nibbled on treats, and even took in a minuet in which Munthrope’s usual entertaining style brought the crowd to laughter. Flamboyant in every move, with jeweled hands hefted in the air like a bird about to take flight, his white pasty face with that infernal horse patch over his right eye, and his cheeks and lips stained red, Juliana should have found his company irritating. Instead, she found it comforting. There was an authority, an assurance, behind the satin and lace she could not explain. Her nerves unwound, her breathing calmed, and thoughts of impending doom vanished when she looked in his eyes. Eyes of deep blue with specks of gray that reminded her of another man—a man opposite in every way from Lord Munthrope—the Pirate Earl. She’d been unable to shove the dangerous villain from her thoughts this past week, and had, much to her shame, secretly hoped to see him when she checked on Abilene. What a fool! How God must be frowning down upon her for such unscrupulous desires.

“So, sweetums, where is this mysterious father of yours?” Lord Munthrope handed her a glass of punch Madeira and drew her away from listening ears. “And why do you wish to keep Mr. Kinder from him?”

Delaying her answer, she sipped her wine, but her throat seemed to close, causing her to choke. “Father is home, if you must know,” she managed to say. “He finds these affairs dreadful and didn’t wish to see Mr. Kinder. In fact, he ordered me to keep him here.”
Fie, another lie!
Now, she truly
was
going to hell. How many good deeds would she have to perform to cover up two lies in the same night?

“I fail to see why your butler cannot simply turn the man away.”

Because her butler was on an errand, and the only other male servant who could stop Mr. Kinder from barging in was Mr. Pell, who was no doubt deep in his cups by now. “I fear Mr. Kinder can be quite persistent.”

“Persistent, I’ll not gainsay it, but still”—he cocked his head and fingered a curl of his periwig—“something else is amiss, I fear?”

Juliana gaped at him, taken aback by his discernment, and then by the look of concern in his eyes. Oh, how she wished for someone to confide in, someone to lend a caring ear. “If you must know, our family business has suffered a few setbacks of late,” she blurted out, then bit her lip, suddenly regretting the disclosure. But the worry lining his face bade her continue. “Father has been taken ill with worry.” Only a half-lie this time, but it provided an excuse for why the man never appeared in public.

Munthrope took her hand in his. “I am truly sorry to hear of it. Mayhap there is something I can do to help?”

“Nay.” She pulled back her hand, flustered at the comfort of his touch. “I beg your pardon. I should not have mentioned it.”

“I should hope at the very least we could be friends, milady.” His voice lowered a bit, and there was a seriousness to his tone that sent confusion spinning through her.

She gave a little smile but said nothing.

He frowned and stared across the chattering mob for several seconds before pulling his watch from his pocket and glancing at it—for at least the tenth time in the past hour.

“Perchance, am I keeping you from some other engagement?” she asked, teasing.

He gave a nervous laugh. “Nay, just wondering where Lady Cransford is. ’Tis past eleven, and I’ve not seen glimpse nor glance of the birthday lady. And we must have the cake before everyone leaves.” Munthrope drew his lips tight, stretching the mole at the corner of his mouth.

“Milord, ’tis so unlike you to fret so.” Juliana studied the momentary flash of intensity that made him look almost authoritative as he stood there scanning the throng. “I imagine Her Ladyship wishes to make a grand entrance. You know how ostentatious she is.”

He gazed at her curiously before a limpid gaiety overtook his features. “Oh, indeed! Indeed! I make no doubt!” He winked at her as he belted out a rhyme. “I simply do not wish people to pout and go out.”

Juliana felt a twinge of disappointment at his silly behavior. “Go out? When have you known this crowd to abandon a lively affair such as this? Why, I doubt anyone will think of leaving for hours.”

Chapter 20

“You’re late.” Larkin sneered as Alex fell in step beside him, breathless from running across town.

“Couldn’t be helped.” Alex gripped the pommel of his sword and quickened his step. Street lanterns cast flickering skirts of gold onto the soggy ground, where an early mist formed.

“What is it you do, Captain, when you’re not on board the ship?” Larkin cast him a sideways glance.

“Same as the rest of the crew: drinking, wenching, gambling. What else?” No one but Jonas knew of Alex’s alternate identity, and he intended to keep it that way.

“Yet I rarely see you in any of the bawdy houses around town.” Larkin’s tone taunted.

Ahead, raucous music spilled from one of those bawdy houses, along with a throng of drunken men, doxies draped on their arms. Across the street, two men clashed blades in some mindless altercation. This was Alex’s world. A world of darkness, violence, and debauchery. The world he’d plunged into after he’d realized God was but a myth. Yet it hadn’t taken him long to realize that the happiness promised by wealth, women, and pleasure was also a fable.

Larkin chuckled. “Aha, I have it. ’Tis a lady. Aye, it must be a lady who occupies your time.”

Alex snorted. If the man only knew.

“Some genteel beauty stashed away in a mysterious mansion.”

“A mansion in Port Royal?” Alex snickered. “You dream too much, Larkin.” Desperate to change the topic, he scanned the buildings that rose out of the darkness like tombstones in a misty graveyard. “Where are the others?”

“Waiting at The Three Mariners as you ordered.” Larkin brushed dust from his black coat and dipped his plumed hat at a passing group of giggling strumpets. “I have no need of a genteel lady when I have my pick of any of these luscious fruits.”

Indeed, the man spoke the truth. There wasn’t a fallen woman in town whom the sailing master hadn’t sampled. And continued to sample. Why, then, had Alex grown so bored with it all while Larkin seemed more invigorated with each passing month?

Thankfully, the conversation was cut short when they came upon his men—at least twenty of them—standing in the shadows beside the tavern, pistols and swords at the ready. The long sturdy plank Alex had told them to bring leaned against the brick wall beside them. Nodding his approval, he gave them final orders for their mission—a mission that, if he admitted it, stirred his blood to life. Finally something to break the tedium.

Though Juliana was doing a fair job at that. Unfortunately, he’d been forced to slip away from his own soirée with instructions for Whipple to keep the crowd occupied in his absence. Bad cess to it! Just when Juliana seemed willing to tolerate the doltish Lord Munthrope. He only hoped she would forgive him. But if all went well, he’d be back within the hour, and none would be the wiser.

Bare-masted and unsuspecting, the
Midnight Fortune
rocked idly at the end of King’s Wharf. If not for Port Royal’s deep harbor, the brig would be anchored at a distance in the bay, and they’d be forced to take a boat to board her. As it was, they needed to only leap onto her deck from the wharf.