The Ransom (36 page)

Make a fool out of her.

She pressed down her satin mantua, drew a deep breath, and watched as Nichols leaned toward His Lordship, whispering in his ear. Ridiculous. Munthrope would brush the man away with an expression of bewilderment, and then she would be ashamed of even entertaining the preposterous notion.

A cloud of brandy enveloped her, and she knew before she turned that her brother had approached.

“Juliana, I need to speak with you.”

When did her brother ever call her by her Christian name? “Not now, Rowan, I’m busy.” She waved him off, keeping her eyes on Munthrope.

There it was. The look of confusion on Munthrope’s pasty white face, followed by his exclamation, “Begad, man, what has that got to do with me?”

Then why did Nichols offer her a wink as he strode away, his eyes grazing over Rowan in contempt before he left the room.

“Juliana, I fear thisssss cannot wait.” Rowan insisted, his words slurring.

“What is it Rowan? That you’re going to spend the evening with Lady Crastmur because her husband is at court? When have you ever needed my permission for your sordid affairs?”

“’Tis not that.” His words lacked the usual sarcasm.

She faced him, concerned.

He swayed and blinked at her as if trying to focus. “I lost the
Midnight Fortune
.”

The words jumbled in her mind. “Lost? She’s still anchored in Kingston Harbor. You mean at sea?” No doubt the alcohol had addled his reason.

“Not at sea.” He stared at the ground. “In a game of Faro.”

Juliana blinked, shock forbidding his words to enter her mind. Laughter drew her gaze back to Munthrope, who excused himself from the women and hurried toward her, waving and smiling at guests as he passed. He greeted Rowan then took her hand.

“Sweetums, I regret that I am called away on sudden business. I’ll arrange for my footman to escort you home.”

Chapter 28

Alex hurried down the dark street, wiping his face with a damp cloth as he went. There hadn’t been time to change his attire, nor to wash the infernal white chalk from his skin. A pox on Captain Nichols! The man’s suspicions would prove the end of the Pirate Earl. And Lord Munthrope with him. How a dimwit like Nichols could have put the pieces together of Alex’s double life, he had no idea. Yet ’twas obvious the man wasn’t fully convinced. Hence, this trap he laid.

Turning a corner, Alex stormed down Thames Street. Hopefully the servant he’d sent ahead had already reached Jonas, and his quartermaster was henceforth gathering Alex’s crew from the various punch houses and brothels. Not that Alex planned to set sail, but just in case.

Another curse blasted from his lips. This time directed at Larkin. Had the sailing master done as Alex ordered and tossed the Spanish tapestry overboard? Alex had been so caught up in saving Juliana’s ship and dealing with Nichols and a mutinous crew, he hadn’t made sure. And he had no confidence that Larkin’s greed had permitted him to obey. If Captain Nincompoop found the unique piece, he would have all the evidence he needed to drag Alex to the Jamaican council to be tried for piracy.

Ignoring the insults of “merry andrew” and “limp wrist” tossed his way, he charged onward, wishing he was still a praying man but knowing that if he was, it wouldn’t be proper to plead with the Almighty that he not pay for his crimes. Yet, he could not deny that for the first time in four years, he wished he had committed no crimes at all. Wished he was an honorable man. For her. For the woman who stirred him in every way possible. If only he could be the man she needed him to be.

Two men leapt out at him from the shadows, one wielding a knife, the other a pistol, both reeking of rum and refuse.

“Look what we’ve got ’ere. A real gentleman, says I.”

“Aye,” the other man slurred, cocking his pistol. “Lost are ye, milord?” They both laughed.

“How’s about ye ’and over yer money pouch.”

Alex sighed and stood his ground. “And why would I do that?”

“Consider it yer payment fer encoachin’ on our territory.”

“Aye,” the other added. “Consider us trolls guardin’ the docks.”The first man thrust the knife toward Alex and gestured for him to hand over his money.

Alex studied his assailants, their positions, their stances, the lack of intelligence in their limpid eyes. He had no time for this.

“I’ll pay your toll, gentlemen,” he said, and before they could blink, Alex caught the man’s arm betwixt his forearms and twisted it until something cracked. The man yelled out in pain. As the knife clinked to the ground, Alex booted the other man in the groin and snagged the pistol from his grasp. Then turning, he rushed away, shouting, “Beware the price for encroaching on
my
territory.”

Within minutes, he charged down the wharf and leapt aboard his ship, only to meet the barrels of at least a dozen pistols. “’Tis me, your captain,” he announced, tearing off his periwig and tossing it to the deck. His crew stood frozen in place, eyeing him as if he were a ghost.

“Is Larkin aboard?”

One by one they lowered their weapons. “Nay, Captain.” Riggs, the boson, approached. “I ain’t seen ’im since last night. Why are ye dressed like a—”

“What of Jonas? Has he returned?”

“Nay. He gathered five men and took off like a nun in a brothel jist afore ye got here.”

“Ready to set sail, Riggs.” Alex faced one of his topmen. “Conlin, take a dozen men and search this brig from truck to keelson. Start with Larkin’s quarters. I seek a rare Spanish tapestry. Bring it to me immediately.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” Conlin seemed to be withholding a chuckle at Alex’s attire but finally sped off.

Alex walked to the starboard bulwarks and gazed toward Thames Street, where lanterns winked at him maliciously and sordid laughter rode upon curses and ribald tunes. “Come on, Jonas.” He squeezed the railing tight. Shorthanded or not, as soon as the brig was ready to sail, Alex would have to leave. Unless they found the tapestry first. Otherwise, he couldn’t take the chance. Mayhap Nichols had discovered Alex’s ruse as Lord Munthrope, but there was no crime in that. Though what the discovery would do to Juliana, he could not consider, so heavy did the loss of her weigh on his heart.

However, ’twas his throat and the throats of his crew that concerned him at the moment. Though Nichols had ordered spontaneous searches of suspected pirate ships before, he’d not done so in quite some time, and Alex had grown lax. His gaze sped to Execution Dock, where the gibbet swayed in the wind, some unlucky pirate’s rotted flesh and bones hanging upon it. He’d not feared death before. Welcomed it, in fact, as an escape from the emptiness. But that was before Juliana Dutton.

Now, he’d give anything to live and prove himself a man worthy of her.

♥♥♥

Drawing the hood of her cloak tightly about her head, Juliana tore down the street after Munthrope. Her heart crashed against her ribs as the moist night air saturated her face with a mist that chilled her to the bone. Or mayhap ’twas the way His Lordship now sped toward the docks, alone and without conveyance, that chilled her so. Why else would he do such a thing unless the words spoken by Nichols were true?
She could not believe it!
Even when her memories betrayed her unbelief. Even when everything within her shouted the truth of it. But she had to see for herself. Had to demand an explanation for why yet another man had betrayed her, played her for a fool, used her for some selfish purpose.

Just like Rowan. Had he truly lost the
Midnight Fortune
in a bet? Was he really that foolish and self-serving? She could hardly think of that now. Or the loss of revenue it would mean for the business. A third of the profits at least.
Lord, why are you allowing all these horrible things to happen to me? I’ve tried to be so good. What does it take to please you?

Giving no thought to her safety, she sped onward, tripped over a loose brick, and nearly tumbled to the ground. She redeemed her dignity and caught a glimpse of Munthrope’s white periwig up ahead as he rounded a corner.
Deceiving cullion!

Darting forward, she turned the same corner to see him held at knife point by two ruffians. Nay, not held, it appeared—not by his cavalier, confident stance. More like annoyed, as one would be with two gnats. Halting, she slipped into the shadows beside a cooper’s store. She couldn’t hear the villain’s words, but ’twas obvious their threat. And for a moment—a brief moment—she feared for Lord Munthrope’s safety. But before that moment had even passed, the man who should be naught but flaccid and soft due to his pampered station in life, dispatched both thieves with more speed and skill than she thought possible.

With the speed and skill of a pirate.

Then, wiping his hands of them, he dashed off into the night.

Horrified, Juliana stumbled backward and fell against the store front, trying to catch her breath, trying to settle her heart and her mind. But instead, they only spun faster. She had no time for shock or even anger. She must finish this. She must confirm what her eyes had already told her was true.

Skirting the men still writhing in pain on the ground, she continued after Munthrope, keeping to the shadows. A band of knaves approached, drinks in hand, and a ribald tune on their lips, but as soon as the street-light crossed her face, they tipped their hats and went on their way. She was the Pirate Earl’s lady and not to be touched. Why did that thought flood her with warmth when it should make her sick to her stomach? Mayhap that was the reason God was so displeased with her? For enjoying the attentions of such a sinful man.

The lap of waves and toll of bells grew louder, overtaking the merriment from town. Juliana halted and scanned the line of wharfs jetting out onto dark, misty waters. Where had he gone?

There. Moonlight flashed off his pink satin doublet as he stormed down one of the docks. Juliana clenched her jaw. What else would Lord Munthrope be doing down here unless he was indeed the Pirate Earl? Fury overtook her reason, and clutching her skirts she sprinted after him, not caring that she stormed toward a ship full of pirates.

♥♥♥

Alex could hear the patter of feet behind him as his crew scampered across the deck and leapt into the shrouds to unfurl sails. He also heard cat-calls and whistles from the same men. Spinning around, he spotted a flash of burgundy satin and flaxen hair speeding down the wharf. The puff of silk and lace halted before his ship. His heart turned to stone.

He started for the lady, saw in a shaft of moonlight the fury pinching her lovely features, heard her call out, “Munthrope, you swine!” before she backed up, grabbed her skirts, and sped up the plank betwixt dock and bulwarks. Leaping over the railing, she tumbled onto the main deck with a thump and a groan that brought every man within distance to her side. Most of them not with the intent to help the lady but to stake their claim on the gift they no doubt assumed the good Lord had dropped in their laps.

“Back away!” Alex ordered, shoving them aside as he knelt beside her, his mind careening with thoughts and questions he hadn’t time to entertain. “Milady.” He extended his hand.

She slapped it away. Palms planted on the deck, she lifted her gaze to his. Eyes like icicles speared his soul, instantly freezing it.

“You!” She struggled to rise, refusing his help. “You!” She jabbed him in the chest with her finger.

Laughter bounded through his crew. “Get back to work!” Alex shouted, causing even Juliana to jump. As the men skittered away, another sharp finger stabbed his chest.

“You lied to me! You deceived me!” She picked up his periwig from the deck and thrust it in his face. “You’re the Pirate Earl. All along, you’ve been one and the same!”

Fury melted her cold eyes into pools of pain and betrayal. A pain Alex felt deep within his soul. He grabbed her wrist to keep her from jabbing him again. “Aye, ’tis true. But not for the reasons you think.”

“What other reasons could there be?” She struggled against his grip. “Let me go,
Pirate
!”

His crew continued to laugh.

Conlin popped up from below, a string of men on his tail. His eyes brushed over Juliana, first with delight and then with curiosity, before he faced Alex. “There’s no sign of the”—he coughed—“item ye told us to search for, Cap’n, but we did find Larkin in his hammock. Out cold.”

Alex glanced toward the city, where a group of men rushed toward them. From their erratic and somewhat besotted running, he guessed it must be Jonas and the rest of his crew. Juliana tugged on his arm, growling like a she-devil, then kicked him in the leg. Pain arched into his thigh, and he spun her around and shoved her against his chest, clamping an arm about her waist. She struggled, kicking and thrashing like a wild cat.

He faced Conlin. “Don’t stand there like a washed-up carp! Wake him up, man, and ask him where it is!”

“We tried, Cap’n,” another sailor offered, his eyes all over Juliana. “Threw cold water on ’im an’ everything, but ’e’s buried in ’is cups. Ye know ’ow ’e gets.”

Yes, Alex did. He growled and ran his other hand through his hair. Now he had no choice but to set sail.