The Ransom (4 page)

Her mother’s familiar scent drifted past her nose, and for a brief second—one brief, glorious second—Juliana’s heart leapt with the hope that when she opened her eyes, her mother would be standing before her. But her mother was long gone. Dead and buried in the cemetery just outside the Palisadoes gate. Three years ago, yet it seemed like fifty. Juliana felt as if she were nearing fifty years of age instead of twenty.

Wandering into the garden her mother loved so much, Juliana inhaled deeply as she wove among the flowering bushes—gardenias, poinsettias, and hibiscus—finally stopping at her mother’s favorite, heliotrope. She lowered her nose to the tiny purple flowers that smelled so much like her mother. Sweet scents of vanilla and cherry swirled around her like a healing balm, and she closed her eyes as happier times danced on the edge of her memory—moments that, if she didn’t bring them oft to mind, she feared they would slip into oblivion. Already, she had trouble picturing her mother’s face. The details of her lovely complexion, green eyes, and fair hair blurred like the heliotrope Juliana now stared at through teary eyes.

She slid onto the stone bench and hugged herself. “Why did you have to leave me, Mother? Just when I needed you the most.” She knew her mother was in heaven now, for if anyone was in heaven, it would be her mother. Kind, loving, generous, with ne’er a disparaging word for anyone, even when father treated her as if he’d purchased her like he had Mr. Abbot. Yet instead of wallowing in the misery of a bad marriage, her mother had become a patron to the neediest in the city. She’d given generously to the poor and hungry and donated hours of her time assisting the children at the Buchan orphanage when the preacher who had been sent to care for them had left them to starve. Juliana had much to live up to if she was going to see her mother again and be welcomed in that celestial city.

Air heavy with fragrant moisture swirled about Juliana, and she shifted on the seat as the heat of the day dampened her skin. “I have kept my promise, Mother. I have continued your work at the orphanage.” Though time had not permitted a visit today, Juliana went as often as she could. How could she not? ’Twas her mother’s dying wish, her last lucid thought from a feverish brain before the ague took her home. A disease she had caught from the very orphans she begged Juliana to now care for. But she didn’t fault the needy children. Caring for them came easy. What didn’t come easily was the time she must sacrifice away from her father’s books.

“Mother, I am running a shipping business!” Her exuberance rang across the garden, and she quickly glanced up to ensure no one had heard her. No one was about at the moment, but she needed to be careful. After her father had become ill, she’d released most of the staff and had told only those upon whom she sorely depended for help. And those she trusted to keep quiet about her father’s condition. The less people who knew that Juliana was in charge of Dutton Shipping, the less chance the truth would be unleashed.

Still, Juliana woke up every day and fell asleep every night with the bitter taste of fear in her mouth.

“Mother, you would be proud,” she whispered. “You taught me to be independent and strong. For that I thank you.”

The sun slipped behind the stone wall that bordered the garden, dragging her thoughts to the prior night and her encounter with the Pirate Earl. A most unusual man. Dangerous, intimidating, a scoundrel by all intents, yet he spoke with a gentleman’s tongue. And, like a gentleman, he had left her with both her virtue and her money. Alas, what sort of pirate did that? Especially one of his reputation.

No matter. She waved her hand through the humid air, shoving aside the thought. No doubt ’twas God who stayed the vile man’s hand. Besides, she would be more careful the next time she paid Abilene a visit. Providing the poor lady was still … oh my—Juliana’s fears of Abilene’s fate resurged. Lifting up a silent prayer, Juliana determined to inquire after her soon.

Perspiration slid down her back, and she realized she’d not had her morning toilet nor changed her attire since yesterday. Her mother would be so ashamed. Her father would berate her. Miss Ellie would simply shake her head. Yet the lady’s maid had not come to retrieve Juliana all day. No doubt she’d been busy with Juliana’s father.
Oh, fie!
Juliana had forgotten all about the doctor visit, and she had so wanted to be present when he examined her father. She hoped Dr. Verns had some good tidings for a change. She hoped Abbot’s business at the dock was a success. Her head spun with all her concerns, and she reached up to rub her temples. She hoped to spend a quiet evening at home and retire early.

But that was not to be. No sooner had Juliana sat at the table in the dining hall with a cup of hot tea and a plate of corncakes—which she’d all but begged Cook to relinquish before supper—than Miss Ellie entered the room all aflutter. Before she could say a word, Juliana inquired whether Mr. Abbot had returned, but Ellie shook her head. “Miss, I forgot, you ’ave the soiree at Lady Stevenson’s tonight.” She moved toward her, hands wringing and eyes sparking. “We must get you bathed and ready to go.”

A ball? Juliana sagged in her seat. She had no energy left for a ball tonight. Besides, Miss Ellie looked as though she’d not taken a moment’s rest all day. “Come sit.” Juliana pulled out a chair and patted the seat. Hesitating at first, the maid finally slogged forward and sank onto the cushion, shoulders slumping.

Juliana sipped her tea, then set the cup on the saucer with a clank. “I will not go and leave you to tend my father alone. You need your rest.”

“He is sleeping,” Miss Ellie replied. Though only fifteen years Juliana’s senior, the strain of the last few months had leeched the youthful glow from the maid. Tiny lines formed at the corners of her mouth, and the luster had faded from her brown eyes. Even her normally tight cotton gown seemed loose around the waist. Juliana hated that her family’s problems had caused so much turmoil for the woman.

She laid a hand on her arm. “You aren’t eating enough, are you? We have plenty. There is no need to fear.”

“I know, miss. I ’aven’t the stomach for eating these days. Besides,”—she glanced at her plump middle and chuckled—“I ’ave plenty to spare.”

“Still, I insist you take care of yourself. Which is why you are to take the night off and get your rest.”

“I will, miss, but you still must go to the party.” She fingered a wayward strand of dark hair that had escaped from her mob cap. “The doctor gave your father laudanum, so ’e’ll sleep through the night and be no trouble to me.”

The doctor, of course
! “Pray tell, what was Dr. Verns’s report?”
Please Lord, allow me some measure of hope
. But the frown on Ellie’s lips crushed any chance of that.

“He bled ’im as usual, miss, though Mr. Dutton was none too pleased. Then ’e instructed me to boil some milk with barley and rum.”

“Did my father drink it?”

“Some. I’ll give ’im some more when ’e wakes.”

“The doctor gave no indication that my father improves?”

Miss Ellie shook her head.

“So there is no excuse not to attend the soirée tonight,” Ellie said. “Miss Akron’s maid inquired about you. Said there is talk among society that somethin’ is amiss ’ere at Dutton house.”

Fie
! Wasn’t it hard enough running a business and a home, caring for orphans, tending a sick father, and dealing with a wastrel brother? Did Juliana also have to keep up pretenses just to stave off meddlers?

As if on cue, Rowan sauntered into the dining hall, looking no worse for his night of wanton dissipation. In fact, dressed in a doublet of violet taffetas, silk breeches and hose, with a plumed castor on his head, he cut a fine figure, charming as ever as he winked at her, plucked an Ackee fruit from a bowl, and bit into its juicy flesh. “What is this, Sister? Why are you not dressed?”

“The question should be,
Brother
”—Juliana couldn’t help but grimace at the mischievous innocence claiming his features—“why are you inclined for yet another evening of revelry so soon after dragging yourself home in the wee hours of the morning?”

“I never drag, sister dear. I merely move rather slowly, and upon finding something resembling a couch or bed, I gracefully fall upon it.”

Juliana flattened her lips. “’Tis a wonder you can find a resemblance to anything in your condition.”

“Condition?” Rowan strode to Miss Ellie, leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek. Shrieking, the maid stood and batted him away. “For shame, Mr. Dutton.” Red infused her face as she bobbed a quick curtsey and darted from the room, shouting over her shoulder. “I’ll await you in your chamber, miss.”

Grinning after the flustered maid, Rowan faced Juliana, his eyes sparkling. “What condition is that, Sister?” He took another bite of the fruit. “Alack, the one wherein I find my pockets empty yet again. Is that the horrid condition of which you speak?”

Frustration mounting, Juliana rose from her seat. “I just gave you a shilling two nights past.”

Shrugging, he stole one glance over his shoulder at the sideboard then faced forward and tossed the rest of the Ackee over his head. It landed with a plunk in an empty pewter pitcher.

Juliana shook her head. “How do you
always
do that?”

“Skill.” He grinned.

“’Twould that you had equal skill in keeping your money.”

“I
am
keeping it. I am merely investing it.”

“In what? Cards, women?”

“In truth, I find I have a talent for Faro.” He gripped the back of the chair Ellie had vacated and for a moment the humor fled his blue eyes. “And soon my investment will pay off. You will see that even
I
can help out with expenses.” His mirth returned as he waved a lace-swathed hand across the room. “Besides, you have plenty of money. Father’s shipping business is thriving, is it not?”

“No thanks to you.”

“When are you going to realize that I am the beauty and you are the brains, dear sister?” He brushed dust from his coat.

“We are both beauty and brains, my twin. Trouble is, you use your beauty for harm, while I use my brains for good. Which one of us do you believe will ultimately provide a suitable living?”

He pointed a finger at her and smiled. “Ah, it delights me that you brought up the topic, for tonight, you and I will have a chance to prove that beauty is far more lucrative than brains.”

“Whatever do you mean?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“At the soiree, of course. You are of marrying age. Faith now, how many wealthy men vie for your hand?” He waved his hand around exaggeratedly. “All you must do is choose one. Then you’ll no longer have need to work so hard every day.”

Juliana bristled. “Father will get well.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Then I am perfectly capable of taking care of us. As I have proven. Besides, I don’t wish to marry.” Not if women were to be ignored, bullied, treated as property, and forbidden to use their talents in lucrative endeavors.

“Pshaw, Sister! Why be such a bore? Come now, go up and refresh yourself and put on your best gown. I have a surprise for you this evening.”

While the word
surprise
—spoken from her brother’s charming lips—may have delighted a thousand other women, bringing to mind jewels or trinkets from the Orient or romantic interludes, it did naught but douse Juliana with foreboding. “Rowan, I will not suffer another matchmaking scheme. Especially not with that fawning looby, Captain Nichols. I will attend the soirée with you but only for a short while. That is all I can promise.” She need only make an appearance to assuage the wagging tongues.

“That is all I ask.” He gave her a sheepish grin then turned to leave. “I’ll retrieve my allowance from Father’s strongbox.”

“Please try to not spend it as fast as I can make it, dear brother.”

Halting, he pressed a hand on his heart. “Nigh impossible, for you are very good at making it, dear sister.”

As he strode from the room, a whistle on his lips, Juliana swallowed a lump of apprehension. He had resigned his case far too easily. There’d been no arguments about her staying through the night, dancing with this wealthy baron or that rich merchant, fluttering her fan at a handsome inheritor or an affluent naval officer.

One particular boorish officer came to mind, Captain William Nichols. Her brother had been foisting the man on her for months now, spouting his praises at every occasion, alluding to his noble pedigree, his estates back in Hertfordshire, the vast fortune Nichols had inherited from his Viscount father, and all the while proclaiming that the man had taken a fancy to Juliana. Of the latter she could attest. The captain had been relentless in his pursuit of a courtship between them. A bitter taste rose in her mouth. She supposed he was handsome enough, particularly when attired in his dark blue naval suit, but he seemed ill-tempered and mawkish, and she found herself avoiding his company. Not only that, his prying persistence invaded her life in such a way that she feared he’d discover her father’s illness, uncover her deception …

And bring them all to ruin.

Yes, she must definitely stay as far away from the intrusive Captain Nichols as possible.