The Road to Ruin

by Bronwyn Stuart

  So there he sat, a debilitating headache from the spirits and a sick stomach from a lack of food, or perhaps it was an overabundance of fear and stupidity that made him feel ill. He wanted to be a respected and respectable member of society. He had saved the prince’s life for God’s sake. But nothing he did made up for his father’s past antics or his half-sister’s current disasters. Perhaps Miss Elmira’s father would have him killed rather than wed his daughter to the son of a pirate? One could hold on to the hope.

  “Brahm!” he called over his shoulder. His butler usually hovered somewhere close but theirs wasn’t a large house so in any case he had no doubt he would be heard.

  “Yes, Sir Anthony?” he replied seconds later as he entered the room.

  “Has my sister risen from her bed yet? I have need of her.” He almost laughed aloud at his own words. Was he seriously considering asking her advice in all of this?

  “The lady has not yet come down to break her fast.”

  “Wake her at once and send her to me.”

  “If you’re sure, milord?”

  Anthony stared at him. Even his own staff didn’t give him the respect they should, forever questioning his every command. He knew they meant well but it wasn’t as if he had to like it.

  “At once, milord.”

  Minutes passed in which Anthony poured himself another drink from the decanter on the little table at his side. He may as well get comfortable since he would not be able to walk for at least a month, after which he would swap this shackle for another more permanent one.

  A commotion in the open doorway gained his undivided attention as Brahm entered, followed by a footman and two maids, one in tears, the other wringing a cloth between her hands.

  “What has Daniella done this time?” Anthony asked, mentally bracing for another shock. Why so many in one morning?

  Brahm drew a deep, steadying breath and then stepped forwards. “It seems that Miss Germaine did not make it home last night, milord.”

  “At all?” came Anthony’s mild response.

  The crying maid came forwards as well. “She told me not to wait up for her, that she’d be late, but she never said nothing about not coming back at all.”

  Damn her. “Send for Pendleton: that boy always seems to know Daniella’s movements and exploits.”

  As he said the words, a furious knocking sounded at the front door. Anthony made to stand but the pain shot up his leg and with a mighty curse he fell back into the chair. “That will be the runners,” he muttered under his breath as he gestured for the butler to see what it was about. His sister had probably been arrested. Again.

  His butler wasn’t the most circumspect around but he knew his place and he knew society so when voices became raised in the portico, Anthony damned his broken ankle to hell. Daniella needed to be horsewhipped and soon.

  Brahm skidded to a halt outside the door. “A captain is here to see you.” He got no more words out as the captain in question charged into the room, his hat still on his head, his filthy boots leaving mud tracks on the Aubusson. In the middle of all of the disaster, the man held a sheet of folded paper in his hands.

  “And you are?” Anthony prompted after he dismissed his staff with a gesture.

  “Darius. I was a friend of your father’s a long time ago.”

  “A pirate friend?”

  The stranger laughed and took a seat without invitation directly opposite Anthony. “At one stage of my life, yes.”

  “What brings you by?” Anthony clenched his teeth; all this civility made him feel as though his skull would crack.

  “My bosun was this morning given an interesting note to be carried to Scotland and put in the hands of Captain Richard Germaine.”

  “And you’re here telling me this why? My father and I don’t communicate regularly so you can deliver the note yourself.”

  “The note concerns Daniella. Is she here?”

  Anthony shook his head, torn between keeping his sister’s unknown whereabouts a secret and sending a search party out for her, which would create yet another scandal. “She is indisposed.”

  Darius narrowed his eyes and reclined against the back of the settee. “You’re sure about that?”

  “Just what exactly is in that note? I take it you read it?” Pirates rarely observed even the most sacred niceties of postal etiquette.

  “I did. Do you know the Marquess of Lasterton? A James Trelissick?”

  “Not personally. I’ve heard of him but we haven’t yet crossed paths.”

  “So you know of no reason he would kidnap your sister in order to initiate a trade of some sort?”

  Anthony leaned forwards in his chair, his hands clenched on his knees. “The devil you say?”

  “It says right here, right above the seal of said gentleman, that he has taken Daniella and will meet the captain at Gretna in two weeks and he had better have the marquess’s belongings or she will find herself in a lot more trouble than where he found her.”

  Anthony’s head thumped as he closed his eyes. “What has she done now?”

  “There was a whisper of a tale, a red-headed gentlewoman selling her virginity at an auction last night. Heard the news over my morning ale down at the docks. Of course I wouldn’t put a lot of stock in the man’s words, only he had more coin to throw about than he did sense to keep his mouth shut.”

  She didn’t? She probably did. Anthony groaned.

  “I can tell you that Daniella did not leave by boat. The marquess’s house is being closed up and the servants are remarkably tight-lipped. They’ll only say that the master heads for the country. His carriage isn’t in his stables but yours is.”

  “My carriage? In his stable?” The effects of so much liquor and very little movement began to take a toll and the room spun violently. She would be the death of him. He knew she wanted to leave London, but with Lasterton? Anthony wasn’t even aware the two had been previously introduced. What would the Butcher want with his sister anyway? Her virginity, paid for? He almost snorted.

  “So you’ll go after her? You know, after you retrieve your carriage that is,” Darius said.

  Anthony shook his head. He couldn’t even chase a mouse around the room let alone a carriage across the countryside. “I can’t leave town. I’ll be called out. I won’t ever be able to return.”

  “What are you talking about, man? She’s your sister.”

  “Half-sister…” he replied with vague sentiment. “I’ve a suspected broken ankle and now a fiancée. Daniella got herself into this mess. She will have to get herself out. She’s a cunning bit of baggage; I’m sure she’ll be back by the end of the day with a great adventurous scandal to talk about and another black mark against her name. And mine.”

  “So you would leave her to her fate?” Darius asked him.

  Anthony nodded; his chest squeezed. “I have no choice, not this time. Lasterton is an army man, perhaps he will instil a measure of discipline into the girl.”

  Darius laughed but it lacked humour and warmth. “That might not be all he instils in her.”

  “If you care for my sister and call yourself a friend of my father’s, why do you not go after her yourself?”

  “I’ve a ship and men to think about and a job to do in England. I didn’t come here planning to chase your sister God-knows-where.”

  “No one ever plans when it comes to Daniella.”

  Anthony almost winced when a thoughtful look crossed the other man’s face.

  “If I do go after your sister and bring her back here—”

  “Not here,” Anthony said firmly. “If you find her, take her to Father. She won’t be welcome back in London if even one whisper of this gets out amongst the ton.”

  Darius nodded slowly. “If I set off after her, you will owe me a favour.”

  Anthony narrowed his eyes, cursing when Darius’s form blurred before him. “What kind of favour? I don’t have funds to speak of and I’ll soon be either dead or married at the end of a pistol p
oint. What could I possibly do for you?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know yet but if I come to you, no matter the favour, you will say yes?”

  “If it is within my power, then yes, damn you, the answer is yes.”

  “Excellent.” The filthy pirate stood and rubbed his hands together.

  It dawned on his very slow senses that Anthony had just been duped somehow. “You would have gone after her anyway, wouldn’t you?”

  “Probably.” The grin that accompanied the words made Anthony want to grab the man by the neck, but he wasn’t a violent sort. Not usually.

  He had a feeling that was all going to change in the coming months…

  Chapter Six

  By midafternoon, Daniella had had enough of the carriage. She’d had enough of Mrs McDougal’s incessant clicking as she knitted what appeared to be very large, coarse socks, and she’d had enough of the borrowed dress threatening to take more of her breath away. After their first stop, Lasterton had jumped down from the carriage with the order for her to stay put, still treating her like a child or a hound. When next he appeared, he thrust a thick hooded cloak into her hands with a curt command to don it.

  “But I’m not cold,” she’d complained.

  He gave her a look that said he didn’t care one bit for her comfort. “Put it on or stay in the carriage. It’s your choice.”

  God how she hated that carriage. The sway of a ship as the vessel rode the waves was what she was used to, not bumps and groans and creaks over cobbles and dirt. Or the way the carriage lurched when they were off or when one of the horses lost its rhythm and tried to find it again. Swinging the cloak around her shoulders, she tied it tight, lifted the hood and followed Mrs McDougal from the nightmarish conveyance.

  “We will eat a light meal and then be on our way again,” the marquess said in that tone that was not to be argued with. He pinned Daniella with a hard glare. “You will do as you’re told. You will not try to sway anyone over to your side, no thoughts of escaping me to get to your father quicker are to fill your head—and do not tell anyone your real name. Is that understood?”

  “Aye aye, captain,” she said with a little salute. What an arrogant man to think he could order everyone around with nary a please or thank you in it. She wondered if he was always this cranky or if it was the situation itself rendering him unbearable. When he’d spoken to her as though she was nothing more than an incorrigible bairn she’d wanted to kick his shins or worse. He was refusing to understand that she only wanted to be on the decks of her ship. Why any woman would want to live her life according to the ton’s set of rules she had no idea. It was like a smoky prison of their own making and she didn’t want a bit of it.

  But she would let men like Lasterton think they ruled all those around them if it gained her place back on the decks of The Aurora.

  As much as she despised his heavy-handedness, she did like that the marquess had them on a tight schedule. If they could decrease by even one moment her time in that carriage she would be thanking God.

  As they filed in to a clean and bright taproom, Lasterton ordered refreshments to be served in a private dining room—only to be told the only one the inn boasted was already occupied. While he and the landlord bartered on suitable eating areas, Daniella looked around at the occupants of the room for any sign of one of her father’s men, though she hadn’t seen a familiar face in weeks. And why was her brother taking so long to come after her? Surely he would have discovered her missing by now and be in pursuit?

  Not that that was at all what she wanted.

  If Saint Germaine found her first, he would drag her back to the city and a marriage agreement before she could blink. After all, she tarnished his near-perfect reputation with her schemes. Even the marquess’s superior attitude and arrogance would be preferable to that fate.

  She gripped the edges of her hood and pulled the fabric farther over her face.

  “This way, m’dear.” Lasterton held out his arm for her to take. She really should have been listening to the excuse he’d given the innkeeper. Were they married? Was she his sister or cousin? They should have discussed ruses before now so she knew how to act.

  Rather than ruining whatever story he’d spun, she silently took his arm and let him lead her to a small but cosy sitting room. There were only soft sofas and a few chairs around a small table as furniture but the fire was built and it beckoned. She hadn’t felt the cold before but she did now. She suspected the sudden chill shivering its way down her spine had more to do with foreboding than it did the air temperature.

  After the innkeeper promised sustenance and closed the door, Daniella turned on the marquess, despite the presence of his staff. “Are we working together or not? Will you please tell me what stories you are spreading around before we leave the carriage?”

  “Keep your voice down. I don’t want to be followed too closely. We’ll leave a different tale each time we stop.”

  He really was better at this than she had been. She refused to look at either Hobson or Mrs McDougal, already knowing the smirks they were undoubtedly wearing.

  “We cannot risk someone coming to your aid. Whether you are a willing hostage or not, I’ll not let anyone interfere in this.”

  Daniella nodded and turned to the fire for comfort. She wouldn’t remind him she only remained his hostage while it suited her. If at any time she thought he meant her harm, she would escape. But where would she go? She had no money. No belongings. Nothing but her name and her father’s reputation. It’s why she’d attempted to sell her virginity. It’s why she sought deeper disgrace. If she had the funds of a marquess, she would have simply booked passage on a ship and run back to him again and again.

  Until they reached Scotland, where the humblest of farm boys knew and respected Captain Richard Germaine, she was at Lasterton’s mercy.

  There was no more time to think about anyone’s mercy as the innkeeper’s wife came into the room bearing a tray of pies and ale. Not one of their party moved until the small-statured lady closed the door behind her.

  Trelissick cleared his throat. “Everyone eat. This will be our last stop before nightfall.”

  Hobson and Mrs McDougal each picked up a plate without hesitation and sank into chairs to eat.

  As tenterhooks dug deeper, Daniella took a plate, but the constant tension of the day left her feeling vaguely uneasy and she picked only at the top crust. She worried that if she did eat, she would see the food again in not much time at all such were her nerves.

  “You have to keep your strength up, Daniella.”

  The way he said her name so softly did things to her already upset stomach. “You aren’t eating,” she pointed out, more to distract herself than him.

  He shook his head.

  “Nervous?” she asked.

  “Not so much nervous as terrified.”

  She was surprised. “Terrified? Of what?”

  “Whom, is more like it. This could go badly at any time for either one of us. For all of us really. Your brother could even now be in pursuit with his pistols already loaded.”

  “You don’t know much about my brother then,” she said wryly.

  “If you were my sister, I would avenge your honour.”

  The way he said the words, she knew he meant it. She warmed slightly towards him. “The only reason my brother would want me back is to marry me to one of his old friends and so be rid of me.” And she did mean old.

  “Where was Anthony when you were aboard the pirate ship?” Lasterton asked her.

  Grinding her teeth with frustration, Daniella longed to remind him once again that The Aurora was a privateer ship. It had been many a year since they had flown the Jolly Roger: they had a bountiful enough time sailing for the King of Spain. The greedy monarch had no way to discern how much they kept for themselves and how much they returned to his shores.

  “My half-brother was away at Eton by the time I was born. He is much older than me.”

  “So you have dif
ferent mothers?”

  “We had different mothers.”

  “What happened to your mother?”

  “She died.” Her stomach did a flip-flop and she put her plate back on the table.

  Trelissick waited but Daniella didn’t elaborate. Her mother was no privateer. She was a common Scottish woman of indiscriminate morals and Daniella hadn’t seen her since she was four years old.

  Daniella inwardly groaned and nearly rolled her eyes. Behind closed doors, being a pirate’s daughter was exciting and thrilling for the empty-headed debutantes. She should have told them all about her lowborn mother trading her only daughter for jewels and coins and scuppered her chances of a London marriage once and for all. Why did she always choose for herself the most difficult paths?

  “Daniella?” Lasterton called her name.

  “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I was woolgathering. What did you say?”

  “I said I’m sorry to upset you. I shouldn’t ask you such questions when it is none of my business.”

  “Tell me about your family,” she prompted, wishing for silence but hoping at least to be allowed to listen rather than speak.

  He swallowed: she saw his throat working as his skin paled. Abruptly, he reached into his pocket and withdrew his watch. “Time to go.” Then he rose and walked from the room.

  Daniella was left to follow with Hobson, who had eaten only a little, and Mrs McDougal, who had all but polished her plate with a dry crust of bread. Were they not nervous about discovery, terrified of pursuit?

  When she flicked a glance at them, they both seemed quite content, as though this wasn’t the first time they’d kidnapped a lady. She gulped. She hoped it was the first time they had kidnapped a lady.

  The next hours in the confines of the carriage were very nearly Daniella’s undoing. Every bump in the road, every loud noise between Hobson and the driver made her breath hitch in her throat. She didn’t want her brother catching them up and dragging her back to London. He would never leave her to live a life of her choosing, and now that she’d broken free of the capital the idea of returning made her heart ache.