The Ransom (35 page)

“Ye heard us, ye foppish nod.” The man on the end spat into the sand. “We’re takin’ the lady an’ ye have no say in it.”

Cupping his ear, Munthrope took a step toward them. “Taking the baby, did you say?” He snorted. “There’s no baby here, gentlemen. Begone with you.” He flicked his jeweled hand at them. “Back to your cups, little pups.”

The men stared at Munthrope, dumbfounded. One of them scratched his head. The other shared a glance with the third, and both started to laugh.

“Are ye daft, ye witless toad?” The leader lunged forward and pointed at Juliana with his sword. “The woman, the wench.”

Her breath escaped her. Her mind raced. What did these men want with her?

“The French? Where?” Munthrope lifted his chin and spun on his purple-ribboned heels, searching the darkness and waving his cane, inadvertently knocking the man’s blade aside. “Are they attacking?”

Gripping the hilt of his sword tighter, the leader let out a foul curse while chuckles bounced between his friends.

“Gentleman, if you’ll allow—tsk, tsk. Such language in front of the lady.”

Munthrope feigned indignance. Or was he serious? Juliana couldn’t decide. Either way he was a fool! Did he think he could but put on a show as he did in society and beguile the crowd? For this crowd would take no thought to silence his buffoonery.

“Give us the lady!” They started forward, weapons drawn, but Munthrope stood his ground.

Juliana moved behind him. “Nay, milord.” Her voice sounded as though it came through syrup. Her legs trembled. But she could not allow him to be hurt—or worse, killed—on her account. “I will go with them. If not, they will kill you.” Yet memories of the way His Lordship had dispatched the thief on the beach resurged. Surely that had been pure luck, had it not? Even so, the pampered man was no match for
three
ruffians. Ruffians who, for all their demand to possess her, ironically seemed not the least bit interested in her at all.

Even so, the thought of going with them had her blood rushing so madly, she thought she might faint. She was about to touch Munthrope’s arm to stay any further bravado, when he turned to face her. A calm assurance passed across his eyes. No fear or alarm. He nodded as if to say “obey me.” Then he winked.
Winked!
As if this were but an act in a play. Gripping her shoulders, he nudged her back.

“I’ve ’ad enuf o’ this,” one of the men said as they swarmed toward Munthrope.

Juliana let out a shriek.

Munthrope twirled and flung his cane across the path. It struck the man’s pistol, sending it into the air. Munthrope caught it. A shot exploded. Glass shattered and all went dark. Blood pounded through Juliana so fast, it buzzed in her ear. She stumbled, tripping over her voluminous mantua, and started forward with one thought in mind: help poor Munny before he gets himself killed! Shadows passed before her in a mad demonic dance.

A grunt, a groan, a shriek! Another pistol shot thundered the air. The ring of blades. The eerie squish of metal slicing flesh. A thud and moan. Curses. Footsteps skittering away. Then all went silent.

“Munthrope!” Juliana groped forward, her eyes still adjusting to the shadows. “Munthrope!” There. A pink lump on the ground. She dashed to his side and touched his arm. Moaning, he rose to sit while adjusting his periwig, his breath coming hard.

“Are you injured, milord?”

“Nay, nay, sweetums. Are the fiends gone? Oh,
do
say they are gone!” He allowed her to assist him up, then furiously brushed sand from his doublet and breeches.

“I believe so.” She scanned the surrounding darkness. “But you … how did you?”

“Me?” He flung a hand to his ruffled cravat. “You think I … ?” He chuckled. “Nay, milady. In good sooth, I feared for my life. Those swag-bellied devils were nigh upon me when I dove to the ground in fear. If not for that other man …”

She felt a tremble wrack through him. “What other man?”

“A rescuer, milady. A champion,” he breathed out. Plucking a handkerchief from within his doublet, he dabbed his forehead. “A man who appeared nigh as rough as the men who attacked us.”

A champion. Juliana pursed her lips. She knew of only one man who would risk his life for her. “Did this rescuer have black hair and wear leather attire, milord?”

“How now? How did you know?”

“A guess,” she mumbled. “And he said nothing?”

“Nary a word. Just dispatched the villains and left.”

The Pirate Earl
. It had to be. She’d not seen him in almost a month. Not since she’d told him to leave her be. And he’d done just that. Though not in her thoughts. Much to her shame, she’d been unable to banish him from those.

Munthrope began fluttering the handkerchief around his face. “A most frightening experience. I thought ’twas the end of ol’ Munny.”

“You were very brave, milord, to stand up for me.” And she meant it. She’d not expected such courage from the man.

Leaves fluttered up ahead and more footsteps sounded.

“Let us be away.” Juliana tensed. “I fear there are villains afoot this night.”

“Indeed, I shall take you home.” He bent to retrieve his cane, then placed her hand on his extended arm. “If I am so overcome, you must be all atwitter with nerves, sweetums.”

“In truth, I
am
a bit shaken.” And she would rather return home, but her absence from the ball would only cause curiosity among those with naught more to do than ponder the lives of others. “However, let us make an appearance, milord. Since we are almost there and our absence would be of note. If you are able?”

She sensed him smiling, but could not make out his face in the darkness. “Pray, milady, I am more than able.”

After greeting the host and hostess, Lord Munthrope entertained several guests who begged for one of his humorous tales, looking and behaving no worse for his frightening ordeal. Juliana, on the other hand, had difficulty calming her heart, both from the fear at what the villains had wanted with her and from the gallant rescue by the Pirate Earl. She could make no sense of either, and instead, drifted listlessly through the crowd, sampling the treats, and avoiding her friends.

Now, as she watched His Lordship draw out the climax of a particularly fanciful story, his body a blur of flailing satin and gold trim, she wondered at her strange attraction to him. Perchance ’twas naught but the pressures of her life befuddling her heart and mind, for what woman in possession of all her wits would be drawn to such a silly man for anything save entertainment or—with the prospect of marriage—security.

Security
. When was the last time Juliana had felt secure about anything? Especially her future? Save for that one moment in her mother’s garden when Munthrope had held her.

He finished his tale, grabbed two drinks from a passing tray, and headed toward her, when two other ladies intercepted him and led him away. Shrugging, he cast a smile at Juliana over his shoulder.

Something in the way he glanced at her just then, a slight tilt to his lips, a mischievous authority in his eyes, reminded her of the Pirate Earl. Not that she needed reminding. Fie, did the rakish man follow her all about town? What kind of pirate was he? But the more disturbing question was why the idea thrilled her so.

Releasing a ragged sigh, she studied the life-size marble statue of an angel, complete with wings and peaceful smile, and realized she was probably doomed to hell for such wayward desires.

So absorbed in her thoughts, Juliana didn’t see Captain Nichols until his shadow crossed her face and the scent of his bergamot cologne smothered her.

He smiled—that sickly sweet maniacal grin of his that always soured her stomach. He followed her gaze to Munthrope and gave an indignant huff. “You can’t seriously be fond of that princock.”

Juliana frowned and took another sip of her wine punch. “He is a kind man.”
And twice the man you’ll ever be
, she wanted to say, but that would be cruel.

“Kind, you say?” For some reason this sent the captain into a bout of laughter that took several moments to contain. She should have taken the opportunity to slip away, but curiosity at the man’s hysterics kept her in place, waiting with a tap of her foot for him to finish.

Finally he drew a deep breath and begged her forgiveness, then leaned toward her and said something that froze every ounce of blood in her body.

“Lord Munthrope
is
the Pirate Earl.”

Before the words had a chance to settle on her reason, she gave such a hearty laugh, several people turned to stare. “I had my suspicions as to the state of your mind, Captain. Thank you for confirming them.”

His lips tightened. “The evidence is overwhelming.”

“Pray, what evidence?”
You jealous whiffet
.

“Why, just tonight before you arrived, did he not overcome three armed men?”

Her heart canted in her chest. “How do you know that?”

“Because, my dear, I staged the altercation to prove to you who His
Lordship
truly is.”

Raising a hand, she slapped him across the cheek. Her glove unfortunately softened the effect. “How dare you? You sent those bullies? Have you any idea how frightened I was?”

“My apologies, Miss Juliana, but it couldn’t be helped.” He rubbed his cheek. “I assure you, you were safe the entire time. Should my suspicions have been in error, my men would have brought you to me and done Munthrope no harm.”

Juliana could hardly contain her anger. “You are quite wrong, sir. ’Twas not Munthrope who fought off your men, but the”—she gathered her breath—“another man who happened by.”

He laughed. “Is that what he told you? I was hiding but a few yards from where he stood, and I can assure you ’twas Munthrope who overcame the men. And quite expertly, I might add. Much like a man experienced at fighting.” He gave a grin of victory, then leaned toward her. “You do realize ’twas him who shot out the lamp so you couldn’t see.”

She backed away, her breath fleeing her once again. “You’re mad! If I couldn’t see, then how could you?”

“A different angle, my dear. One in which the lights from the house were behind him.” He leaned back and puffed out his chest. “Oh, I assure you. There was no other man present.”

His words stormed through her, stirring up her rage and refusing to attach to reason. She felt her face redden with heat at the man’s audacity, cruelty, and lies. “Are there no lengths to which you will not go to make me yours, Captain?” She spun to leave.

He caught her arm, his eyes flashing. “Nay. There are not. I did this for you! To save you from the villain. Can you not see that?”

“They are nothing alike!” she spat. “Their appearance, their gait, their gestures couldn’t be farther apart! Their voices are completely different. And besides, Munthrope is taller by at least a foot.”

A satisfied smirk took residence on his thin lips. “Have you considered the man’s heeled shoes and tall periwig?”

Nay, she hadn’t. She jerked from his grasp. “Why would the Pirate Earl pretend to be Lord Munthrope? He would have no need for the charade. He has plenty of wealth and could have any woman he wants.”

“Shall we test my theory, miss?”

“You may test whatever you wish. I want no part of it.”

Ignoring her, he continued, “I intend to inform His Lordship that I issued orders for the Navy to search the Pirate Earl’s ship within the hour. If he is not the notorious pirate, he won’t give a care. If he is, I imagine he’ll make some excuse to leave immediately. If I am wrong, we will know right away, and I will grovel for your forgiveness.”

“And while you are groveling, you will promise to never speak to me again.”

He winced at this but nodded his assent. “Observe, my dear.” With chin high, Captain Nichols strolled to where Munthrope enthralled the elderly ladies with some lavish rendition of Shakespeare’s
The Taming of the Shrew
.

Juliana sipped her drink. The punch soured in her stomach, and she set the glass aside.
Ridiculous, ludicrous notion!
Nichols’s lust for revenge had turned his brains to mush. She stared at Munthrope, arms waving and gestures exaggerated as he acted out the play. The Pirate Earl, indeed.

Yet as she continued to stare, vague memories rose, dulling the chatter and music around her: the surprising feel of Munthrope’s muscular legs and arms when she’d inadvertently touched him, the brief moments when his voice dipped in baritone, the way he fought off that thief on the beach, the horse patch he always wore in the exact same spot the Pirate Earl bore a scar. Visions flashed of both men rubbing the edges of their mouths with thumb and forefinger when deep in thought, both calling her milady, both smelling like rose and cinnamon. And the sword wounds! Fie, the sword wounds on Munthrope’s right arm. The Pirate Earl also had a wound on that very same spot.

Nay, nay, nay!

She rubbed her temples. Just coincidences. Her breath heaved in her throat. She gripped her neck. She was being silly. She was not engaged to the Pirate Earl! Nor would kind, honorable Munthrope lie to her, deceive her in such a horrendous way.