The Song of Love

by Platt, Meara

  He froze with his mouth open and his fork raised.

  “You see, my cousins, Honey and Belle, are expected, and I thought it would be nice to see them.”

  He lowered his fork, sparing only a glance at the tempting chunk of baked apples sitting on the gleaming tines of silver. Those warm, savory apples should have been rolling in his mouth and preparing to slide down his gullet. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I thought we’d…”

  She blushed. “Yes, of course. If you insist. It isn’t as if I must see them today.”

  “But you’d like to.” He laughed silently, realizing his wife was not quite so guileless as he suspected. She’d lulled him into this state of glutted satisfaction—Lord, those pies were good—before asking him to agree to more hours out of their bed, her exquisite body achingly out of his arms. “I don’t mind. We’ll go if it means that much to you.”

  She placed her hand over his. “Thank you, Romulus.”

  He’d warned Finn to keep his wits about him, but Romulus knew he ought to have taken his own advice.

  Violet left him witless.

  He would jump through fire if she asked him.

  He had no idea how severely marriage could turn a man’s brain to pudding. He’d thought that particular idiocy occurred before marriage, stupid boys doing stupid things with the wrong sort of woman. The institution of marriage was supposed to sober a man. Make him responsible. Respectable. Wise. One sowed one’s wild oats before entering into said permanent arrangement, got the stupid out of one’s system.

  Completely wrong when dealing with love marriages. Making love to the woman one loved was a bountiful harvest of delights, but it left one’s brain soft-boiled.

  He kept hold of Violet’s hand, not caring that they were gathering stares. She tried to slip her hand away discreetly. He wouldn’t let go of it. “We’re married. We can do this.”

  She smiled at him. “I know. And I do love holding on to you. But I would love another bite of my lemon tart, and I can’t while you have my hand.”

  He chuckled and released her. “Gad, you have me wrapped around your little finger, and we’ve only been married a day.”

  “You have the same effect on me. Isn’t it exciting, Romulus? I feel so lightheaded. I’m still tingling all over from this morning, and giddy with delight at the prospect of what comes next.” Her eyes sparkled with happiness as she spoke. “I know where you’d rather be right now. Your gaze is hot enough to burn through the wrought iron of our table. I would rather be home with you, too. But I also like being out and about in town with you, being seen with my new husband.”

  “Is that so?”

  She nodded. “I’m not perfect. Indeed, I know I’m being quite prideful right now, wanting to show you off. Wanting to shout out loud, this man is the handsomest man in the world! This is my husband.”

  “Well, all right then. I’m feeling quite proud myself. This beautiful songbird is mine. How the hell did that happen? I feel I was rewarded for my bad behavior.”

  “It wasn’t so bad. You did the honorable thing and asked me to marry you. Which reminds me of another thing we ought to do.”

  “And that is?”

  “Stop by Lady Withnall’s townhouse and personally thank her.”

  He sank back in his chair and groaned. “Gad, Violet. Now you are going too far.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Another messenger awaited them when they returned home, this one for Romulus. “It’s from the Admiralty.” He looked at Violet in dismay. “I’ve been summoned.”

  Her hand tightened on his arm. “No,” she said in a broken whisper. “It’s too soon. We’ve only had a day.”

  “I know, love. It’s probably just a preliminary meeting.”

  She gazed at him with hopeful eyes. “Do you think so?”

  “Yes.” Although he wasn’t as certain as he made it appear. Still, he did not think it likely he would be sent off without a few days’ warning. “I had better go with the messenger. I’ll meet you at your aunt and uncle’s for supper.”

  Violet nodded. “I’ll go over there early and see if my Oxfordshire cousins have arrived. My other cousins may also be there, Dillie and Daisy. We were going to discuss the charity recital.”

  He gave her a lingering kiss. “It will be a wonderful success. You affect people, Violet. You are amazing.”

  She blushed. “Hurry home, Romulus. You have a wanton for a wife, and she is hungry for you.”

  “I will, love.” Romulus kissed her and then hurried to the Admiralty. The sooner he learned what this message was about, the sooner he could return to Violet.

  The late afternoon sun was bright and glistening upon the murky Thames water as he rode to meet the First Lord Admiral. In the distance rose the mighty Tower of London. It was not long before he strode into the massive stone Admiralty building that housed the naval administration offices and climbed the stairs to what looked like a war room of a sort.

  The wood-paneled chamber was filled with maps set upon a long conference table. The First Lord Admiral was seated at the head of the table. He knew the man, Viscount Melville, and gave him his due respect. Several high-ranking naval officers and a few politicians were also seated, apparently in wait for him.

  He recognized most of the men, a powerful lot who could make or break a man’s career.

  “My lords,” Romulus said, taking the nondescript seat offered to him. He was a mere captain, fairly low in the order of precedence among those at the table. Indeed, possibly the lowest. Yet, the Lord Admiral spoke to him first. “The Cornwall pirates have struck again, Brayden. Quite serious, this time. They’ve sunk one of our best ships.”

  Romulus frowned. “How did it happen? Captain Ashcroft is an experienced–”

  “Captain Erskine was put in command,” said a man he recognized as Lord Marbury, Marquis of Chester. Not a man to have as one’s enemy.

  Oh, bollocks. This was going to be a mess. Erskine also happened to be a nephew of the marquis, who presently looked as unhappy as a man could look and not be in tears…or raging. Romulus drew in a breath. “It was Erskine’s frigate that sank?”

  The marquis nodded.

  Which meant Erskine was in danger of losing his commission. It was standard procedure for a captain to stand for court-martial if he lost his ship. Is this what they had planned for the poor man? It wasn’t Erskine’s fault. The Admiralty was to blame for putting this inexperienced nephew of the Marquis of Chester in charge of an important command. “What happened to Ashcroft? Was he reassigned?”

  The Lord Admiral cleared his throat. “He’s still there, of course. Erskine ordered him to take their fleet and give chase to a pirate wolf pack.”

  “He ordered Ashcroft to lead the charge? So where was Erskine when he lost his ship?”

  The air became thick with tension. Finally, the Lord Admiral spoke up. “He stayed behind in Port Isaac. His frigate was moored in the harbor. Pirates burned it.”

  “Christ, he remained alone in Port Isaac? How many casualties on our side?” His heart ached for the men who’d had no chance to escape the burning vessel.

  “No casualties. Not a scratch on Erskine or his crew. No one was on board,” the Lord Admiral said, staring pointedly at the Marquis of Chester.

  Romulus shook his head. “No one on…where were they all?” Was Erskine that much of an idiot to leave his ship completely unprotected? Not even a few men to stand guard? Not that it would have helped. Perhaps his misguided decisions had actually saved his crewmen.

  Port Isaac was a pirate stronghold. The place was infested with those scoundrels. The harbor master and his underlings had to be in the pocket of those pirates, handsomely bribed to look the other way. All sorts of activities took place in the harbor under their very noses.

  Several of the town magistrates had to be on the take as well. Perhaps every damn official in the seaport town. Erskine knew this. He should have sailed out with his fleet. He should have been leading–


  He broke off the thought. “So, the burning of his ship was merely meant to humiliate the Royal Navy. Retaliation for my capture of McFlynn and his pirate wolf pack, I presume.”

  “We believe so,” the marquis said.

  Oh, damn.

  He saw the look in the marquis’s eyes and knew he was going to try to pin the blame on anyone but his nephew. Romulus stifled the shudder of apprehension that slithered up his spine. How could this be blamed on him? It was Erskine’s bloody ship. He was miles away when the ship burned, right here in London, ruining the luscious Violet Farthingale. He’d be damned if he’d allow them to pin the sinking of Erskine’s ship on him.

  He paused a moment, knowing he was about to cause an uproar. “Why wasn’t Ashcroft put in command? He was the obvious choice.” Of course, he knew the marquis must have put pressure on the First Lord Admiral to promote his nephew. This is how it was often done. Letters sent to the Lord Admiral petitioning for a coveted commission for a son or brother or nephew. “We’re lucky the morning papers aren’t filled with accounts of a bloody slaughter, which is what would have happened to Erskine and his crew if the pirates had really meant to do more than taunt us.”

  “Enough, Brayden. We didn’t call you in here to box our ears,” the marquis intoned.

  He gritted his teeth and nodded, knowing he needed to get this man on his side, and he knew just how to do it. “What are you going to do to Captain Erskine? He is a decent chap, just inexperienced. The sinking isn’t his fault.”

  The marquis stared at him. “Then you would vote against my nephew’s court-martial?”

  “Of course, I would. As I said, this isn’t his fault. You promoted him too soon. He should not be blamed for what happened.”

  The marquis released a breath of relief.

  “However,” Romulus continued, hoping to tread carefully, but not certain he could manage it, “he cannot be left in command. You cannot trust him with the lives of our sailors. You know this. A battle-tested commander has to be put in charge.”

  Every man around the table understood they had averted a disaster. Pirate captains did not gain their status by being stupid. They were blood-thirsty rogues, but also wily when it came to their own survival. Pirate common sense had saved Erskine and his crew. Not even the officials they bribed would have protected the rogues if Royal Navy blood was shed in their harbor.

  Not that the Admiralty would have done much if a few sailors had their throats slit. But if they’d touched a hair on Erskine’s head? The marquis would have demanded the might of the Royal Navy come down on them, crushing the scourge once and for all.

  Romulus almost wished they’d broken Erskine’s arm or done something harmless enough from which he’d heal. It would finally put pressure on the government to end the rampant piracy. But the corruption extended deep within the echelons of government. Everyone had their hand out, from high government officials down to the men who built the ships or loaded its cargo. It did not matter whether it was a merchant vessel, passenger ship, or naval frigate.

  Hands were out, it was merely a matter of how much each man grabbed.

  The Lord Admiral frowned. “Erskine will be given a promotion and assigned to the Admiralty here in London.”

  Romulus rolled his eyes, too angry with these pompous toads seated around the table to hold his tongue. “Have him shuffle papers all you like, but you cannot give him decision-making authority. You cannot put our lives in his hands.”

  “Watch what you say about my nephew, Brayden. I’ll have you put in shackles.”

  Bollocks. Time to get this marquis back on his side again. “Lord Marbury, if he is your heir, then do him the favor of getting him out of the line of battle command as soon as possible. He is inept at it. He is fortunate not to have been their target, or he would have died a horrible and painful death at the hands of these merciless fiends.”

  He scanned down the table. One of the lords seated here could be the very one protecting the harbor master and others, for those men running Port Isaac should have been tossed in prison years ago. “I am glad he is safe. In truth, I like him. But it is important that our men patrolling St. George’s Channel and the Irish Sea also remain safe. We need men in command who know what they are doing. Who will not be duped into making foolish decisions that cost the lives of thousands of sailors.”

  He turned to the marquis once again. “I sincerely hope your nephew is safe and unharmed. He is a good man at heart, just not meant for military service.”

  The Lord Admiral nodded. “There was not a scratch on him or his crew.”

  Which confirmed he had done nothing to save his vessel or chase the men who’d burned it. Erskine should never have been put in charge. He had no experience. But as the heir of a marquis, he had been quickly elevated in the ranks.

  No one around the table had to say it aloud, but they were all thinking the obvious. They were fortunate the pirates hadn’t meant to spill blood that night.

  Still, an expensive frigate had been lost.

  That had to hurt the royal treasury.

  The king must have been blazing mad.

  “I hate to send you back, Brayden. I had bigger plans for you,” the Lord Admiral said. “I wanted you in my own fleet command. But we need you back in Cornwall. You know the territory better than anyone. The pirates respect you, especially now that you’ve taken down one of the most vicious among their ranks. But they know you’re gone, and they’ve become emboldened. They’re easily outsmarting our patrols. The English merchants are howling.”

  The Duke of Grambling now spoke up. “So is His Majesty,” he said, confirming what Romulus had suspected. “He is most displeased. So, let’s fix this as soon as possible before all our heads roll.”

  The Lord Admiral nodded. “You are to return as soon as your ship is repaired.”

  “My old ship? The Plover?” He’d been told he would be given a new vessel in the Lord Admiral’s fleet, but he doubted that majestic frigate would now be put in service in Cornwall.

  They would give him back his old command, give him back his crew, his small but sleek and agile frigate. He was pleased. He knew this vessel, her every creak and groan. He knew how fast she sailed and how tightly she turned.

  He knew how many hits she could sustain.

  “She won’t be ready until next week,” the Lord Admiral said, regaining his attention. “I’ll expect you to remain in London until then.”

  He eyed the Lord Admiral curiously, surprised it would take so long when he’d expected the vessel to be seaworthy in a matter of days. She’d only cracked a mizzenmast. And why was he required to remain in London until then? Was the man purposely doing him a favor?

  How could he know about Violet and how desperate Romulus was for even a few more hours with her? Putting off his departure until next week would give him time to see her recital and make certain the funds were properly deposited in the orphanage account.

  “I hear your wife is giving a charity recital.” The Lord Admiral grinned at him, responding to the surprise surely evident on his face. “I happen to be a Fellow of the Royal Society. Some of the Fellows heard her sing today, just a practice song or two. I understand she has the voice of an angel.”

  Romulus tried to keep the smile of pleasure off his face, but he doubted he’d succeeded. “She has, my lord.”

  “Then it is fortunate you will be here for her recital.” He turned to the other men as they all rose, the business concluded. “You all must go hear Captain Brayden’s lovely wife sing. It is for an excellent cause. St. Aubrey’s orphanage.” He came to Romulus’s side. “I have reason to know it,” he said quietly. “I will be there to support her.”

  “Thank you, my lord. She will be honored.”

  “Oh, and Brayden…”

  “Yes, my lord.” He silently cursed, for here it was, the hammer about to drop on his head.

  “I’ll be assigning you a new cabin boy.”

  One of the Lord Admiral’s by-blows? No
, he didn’t seem the sort. More likely the by-blow of someone important. Perhaps someone connected to his family or that of a close friend. Likely, someone quite powerfully connected to whom the First Lord Admiral owed a favor. Why else would the man take personal interest in a cabin boy?

  Romulus did not particularly care who the lad was, for anyone put under his charge would receive the same treatment and protection. He’d keep this lad safe and well cared for.

  Indeed, if that was all demanded of him, then it was a relief.

  He needn’t be told to guard the boy with his life. It was ingrained in him. He’d fight to the death to protect a child. “Very good, my lord. I’ll watch over him.”

  “I know, Brayden. It puts my heart at ease.”

  Bollocks, he’d better not lose the boy.

  Who was this important lad?

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Romulus, you’re back early.” Violet took his arm as he strode into their townhouse. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and cast him a cheerful smile to hide her worry, but her stomach was in knots. Would he now confirm he had been ordered to sail to some distant shore and would not return for years?

  Somehow, she managed to remain calm. “I didn’t expect you until suppertime. I was about to go over to Aunt Sophie’s, but there’s no rush. I’m sure Honey and Belle are still unpacking. Anyway, I’d much rather hear what happened at the Admiralty.”

  He led her into his study and poured himself a brandy while he told her briefly what had transpired. They had another week together. It wasn’t nearly enough time, but she was grateful for every moment. She hung upon his every word as he related what had happened in Port Isaac.

  “So, this was a well thought out plan.” She shook her head in amazement. “The pirate fleet lured the ships under Erskine’s command out to sea on purpose? And he stayed behind? Making it easy for them to burn his frigate right there in the harbor? Oh, dear.”