Starlight & Promises

by Cat Lindler

  “No,” Samantha blurted, drawing a puzzled look from Delia. “I-I mean, that is hardly necessary. Steven is already here, and you are overwhelmed with Chloe’s beaus, Aunt Delia. I was looking forward to an invigorating ride.”

  Delia looked frazzled but smiled nonetheless. “Samantha is quite right, Steven. Why should we confine her to the house simply because I have other commitments? You two run along and enjoy yourselves.”

  Goose bumps rippled along Samantha’s arms. At last she would have the opportunity to confer alone with Steven. Four weeks had passed since Christian’s sailing with no word of his whereabouts or when he would return. Samantha burned to pursue Miggs and the Manta Ray. The colder the trail became, the more difficultly she would have in finding him.

  When Steven handed Samantha into the carriage and followed her, sinking into the facing seat, Jasper loomed in the doorway, clearly intent on joining them. Samantha sent him a thunderous look. He scowled, closed the door, and climbed up on top with Pettibone.

  Alone at last was the foremost thought on Samantha’s mind; however, Steven had retreated to the past.

  Lansdowne, England

  1872

  As was his habit, the marquis dismissed the servants for the night. He allowed no witnesses, no interference in the ritual chastisement of his son. ‘Twas not the first time they had played out the dance this way.

  The old man sat behind his desk, his white, winglike brows crouching over censorious hazel eyes, brittle with anger and disappointment. He showed no inclination to extend an invitation to sit, and Steven braced himself, legs apart and hands clasped behind his back. Though he was now nineteen, on uncounted occasions since the age of ten, he had stood exactly this way, in this same room, while facing his father’s wrath.

  Edward Burnett, 7th Marquis of Lansdowne, got to his feet. “Steven, I am forced to a difficult decision. You’ve allowed your indiscretion to taint the family name. I find I cannot tolerate or forgive this outrage. We’ve held the Royal esteem for six hundred years, fought honorably in England’s wars, and imparted favors to kings and queens. Before your precipitate action, no scandal dared touch our name, nor will it ever again.”

  Steven set his jaw and flattened his mouth. His fingers wove tighter together, every muscle growing tense. “What are your intentions?” he asked, vocal cords as taut as cello strings.

  Lansdowne walked to the walnut sideboard, where he poured a glass of brandy and motioned with the decanter.

  Steven stiffly declined with a shake of his head.

  “I have decided,” Lansdowne said with clear remorse, an emotion he seldom expressed, “that your brother, John, will succeed me.”

  Steven erupted, hands fisting at his sides. “You cannot mean that! The title rightfully belongs to me. Is it not entailed?”

  A door of dispassion closed across his father’s face. “Indeed, I can and already have. Her Majesty and the House of Lords agreed to approve the change, precipitated, I daresay, by your dishonest actions.”

  “And what in bloody hell do you expect of me?” Steven shouted.

  “I expect you to leave England—forever. You inherited funds from your mother. In addition, I’ll add a yearly remittance that will ensure you live comfortably.”

  “You must be mad!”

  His father sighed. “Steven, a young man such as you, intelligent and with a talent for scientific inquiry, should have no difficulties coping. I see no reason why you should not live a productive life in a place such as America. The Americans tend to be more forgiving of scandal than your peers. You will have the opportunity to make a fresh start.”

  “I’ll not go.”

  Lansdowne picked up the brandy glass and gave his back to Steven. “Martin packed your baggage and booked your passage on a ship leaving England tomorrow morning for Boston. Be on it.”

  Tears stung Steven’s eyes. He strode sharply from one side of the room to the other, halted, and turned to his father. “Can I say naught to change your mind?”

  “You cannot.”

  “So be it,” Steven said bitterly. His father’s antique dueling pistol lay on a bookshelf at his right elbow. As though in a dream, he picked it up, pointed it, and fired.

  Who knew the old fool had kept it loaded all these years?

  Richard Colchester!

  The name stabbed like a saber thrust. If not for Richard Colchester, Steven would have covered every contingency, destroyed the evidence, ensured his colleagues’ silence, and weathered the storm with a dignified air and affronted attitude, as befitted a peer of the realm. It didn’t have to come to this … this travesty.

  Were it not for his father’s cooling corpse, he would be tempted to believe it didn’t truly happen.

  With limited time in private, Samantha could hold her silence no longer. “Have you heard of a ship named the Manta Ray?” she asked.

  Steven visibly started and averted his face, taking an audible breath. “Where did you hear that name?”

  She looked down at her knotted hands. “I’ve heard gossip. The Manta Ray is a merchant ship. Since you have a shipping firm, I imagined you might have knowledge of it.” She lifted her gaze to his face. “Have you?”

  He returned her look with an unreadable expression. “Indeed, I know of the Manta Ray. However, I conduct no business with its captain. The information you have is incorrect. The Manta Ray is no merchant but a pirate ship.”

  He knew the ship! A shiver raced across her skin. “My word! I was unaware of the ship’s connection with pirates. Are you then acquainted with its captain, a Mister Miggs?”

  “Unfortunately,” he said slowly. “We have crossed paths a few times, though I would hesitate to count him among my acquaintances. He has a reputation as a dangerous, vicious man.” His eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask about Miggs and the Manta Ray?”

  She expelled a mental breath. Now or never. She must either trust Steven or drop the subject entirely. “I understand Mister Miggs may have abducted my uncle and his friend James Truett.”

  Steven looked shocked. “My dear, you cannot be serious. Miggs is certainly capable of abduction, but he does naught without profit. Why would he take Richard?”

  In for a penny, in for a pound. “Some despicable character paid him. I’ve no notion of whom. But I must discover the identity of Mister Miggs’s partner and whether Richard is still alive.”

  Steven took her small, cold hands in his large, warm ones. “Samantha, Miggs is a monster. You dare not involve yourself in his business, even if it concerns Richard. Your husband may not be present to prevent you from taking foolish risks, but as your friend, I feel a responsibility to guard your safety. I could not possibly allow you to pursue this pirate.”

  “I have no other leads, Steven. Will you help me? You can ask questions where I cannot.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I beg you, as Richard’s friend and mine, help me. I need only to know whether Richard still lives and, if he does, where I might find Mister Miggs and the Manta Ray.”

  He released her hands and combed his fingers through his beard. “You ask the impossible. I applaud your motives. Nonetheless, you cannot embroil yourself in such a perilous undertaking.”

  Her tears spilled over. “I beg you, Steven. Please do this for me.”

  He sighed. “If I should aid you, will you vow to do nothing rash or foolish, such as trying to find Miggs on your own?”

  A tremulous smile curved her lips. “I promise. I’ll not make a move without consulting you. If we should uncover his location, we can notify the garrison.”

  “Very well.” Steven took out his handkerchief, wiping away her tears. “I shall discover what I can, but I caution you, prepare for the worst. If this man has Richard in his clutches, your uncle’s chances of surviving are quite slim. You must understand, my dear, that what I learn may not be what you wish to hear.”

  “I realize that. But I must know. If Richard is dead, I can face that fact. What I cannot abide is not knowing his fate.”


  Steven moved across the carriage aisle and sat on the bench next to her. He enfolded her in his arms and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “I vow I shall try. Then we can allow the military to handle the situation.”

  The day after his conversation with Samantha, Steven met with Miggs in the back room of the Blue Boar Inn. After quaffing a swallow of ale, Steven asked Miggs, “Is the Manta Ray still anchored in Macquarie Harbor?”

  Miggs nodded and scratched at a louse crawling through the hair covering his bare belly.

  “I have Colchester’s young niece,” Steven said, looking at the pirate with disgust.

  Miggs’s hand jerked, and he spilled ale on the table. “Where?” he sputtered.

  “Not here, you half-wit. But I have her trust. She will do whatever I say.”

  Miggs leered, his gap-toothed mouth a gruesome sight.

  “You’ll keep your hands off her or see not a penny of payment.” With a smirk, Steven lifted his tankard. “I have plans for her. Perhaps when I have what I want,” he added at the lustful look in Miggs’s eyes. He pointed a stiff finger at the pirate. “But not before! I want this one alive. A dead girl cannot lead me to the cat.”

  When Steven showed up the following morning at Talmadge House, Pettibone stared down his nose at the early intruder. “Neither Lady Delia nor Mistress Badia accept social calls before ten,” he stated.

  Steven stood his ground. “‘Tis imperative I speak with Mistress Badia.”

  When Pettibone shook his head, Steven handed the butler his card. “Please inform her I called on urgent business.”

  Samantha had slept poorly and arose earlier than was her usual habit. Due to the promise of Steven’s assistance, her mind had raced throughout the night. She could now set her plan in action.

  While she was dressing, Steven’s and Pettibone’s voices drifted up from the downstairs foyer. She rushed her toilette, scraping a brush through her hair, and flew down the stairs as Pettibone was turning Steven away. Stopping on the bottom step, she pressed a hand against her stomach.

  “Steven,” she said breathlessly when Pettibone began to close the door, “Aunt Delia is indisposed, but will you stay for breakfast?”

  Pettibone twisted around with a scowl.

  Over breakfast in the morning room, Steven exuded an impatience that fueled Samantha’s hopes. “You have information for me,” she whispered when the maid left them alone.

  Pettibone entered the room before Steven could answer. The butler took up a post by the door, standing stiffly like a rusty suit of armor. Though Samantha glowered at him, he remained on watch.

  When Steven nodded fractionally, her heart leapt. They limited further conversation to inconsequential matters. At the conclusion of the meal, Steven asked whether she and Delia would care to join him for a carriage drive.

  “Aunt Delia suffers from the same unfortunate ailment Gilly contracted and is taking her rest. Gilly is nursing her. But I would love a jaunt in the fresh air.”

  This time Jasper ignored Samantha’s downturned mouth and sharp looks and hefted himself onto the carriage bench next to her. Again she was unable to converse freely. Steven slid her a wink and suggested they stop at Government House gardens to stretch their legs. She swiftly agreed.

  With Jasper following from a ten-foot distance, they ambled through the flowers on crushed-shell paths. Samantha and Steven kept their faces turned forward or bent over the blossoms and carried on a whispered conversation.

  “Richard is alive,” Steven said first.

  Samantha’s breath jammed in her throat. Her pulse beat wildly. “Alive?” she said in a strangled whisper.

  He nodded.

  “Where?”

  “In a hidden cove where the pirates anchor their ship.” “How did you discover this?”

  “One of Miggs’s men values coin more than loyalty.” “What action do we take now? Can the military aid us?”

  He shook his head and glanced at Jasper, judging the distance between them. “Samantha, I have other news … news of a distressing nature.”

  She peered at him but could discern no inkling of what he was thinking.

  “After checking about, I uncovered shocking allegations of corruption in the military leadership,” he said. “They have known of the pirates’ cove for some time. The pirates pay them tribute for protection. They’ll not come to our aid. If we should attempt to involve them, word will most certainly get back to Miggs.”

  Heart sinking, Samantha plopped down on a stone bench among the blooming roses, while Jasper took up a position farther down the path. What could they do? Christian and Garrett were far away, obviously off on a false lead. Who knew when they would return? If she waited, Richard could die in the interim. Jasper would not help her. He would lock her in the house were he even to suspect she was considering rescuing her uncle from pirates. Steven was her only hope.

  She lowered her head and whispered her question. “What shall we do? We cannot confront pirates alone, but every day that passes further endangers Richard’s life.”

  He smiled and turned his head toward her. “We are not alone. I have loyal men, men I trust. I shall go after Richard.”

  Her fisted fingers mangled her skirt. “I must go, too. You’ll not leave me behind.”

  “No, ‘tis too dangerous. The pirates Miggs deals with are killers. I’ll not place you in jeopardy. We have another problem,” he said before she could object. “I failed to learn the cove’s exact location. When I know more, I’ll get back to you.”

  Jasper shuffled his feet in the shells, and Samantha darted a glance at him, then came to her feet. With Steven beside her, they wended their way through the garden to the carriage.

  Steven handed her into the conveyance and whispered, “I shall be in touch soon.”

  As if she didn’t have enough worries, another complication reared its thorny head. Samantha had missed her monthly course. She recalled Christian’s letter and sought out her maid. “Gilly, how does a woman know she is breeding?”

  “Ooh, that’s marvelous, ma’am.”

  Samantha waved off the maid’s speculation. “Refrain from jumping to conclusions. I ask only so I shall know if and when I’m with child.”

  Gilly’s face fell. “Well, usually the first sign is missin’ the monthly courses. Then the mornin’ sickness comes on, though some women never have the sickness.”

  Samantha did not feel ill. Surely an encouraging sign. Someday, should her detestable husband ever return, she would quite like a child or two, though she had no desire to rear a child alone.

  “By about three months, the breasts become tender and swell,” Gilly said, “and by the fourth month, ye develop a little belly. But all women are different. Me mum had four babes without even knowin’ she was breedin’ ‘til they popped out of her.”

  “Popped out of her?” Samantha twisted her mouth into a frown. What a disconcerting vision!

  “Are ye breedin’, ma’am?”

  “I-I’m not certain. I mean, do a husband and wife not have to have … relations for a long time before they make a baby?”

  Gilly chuckled. “Nay. Just one time. That’s all it takes. But most women don’t catch so quickly.”

  Samantha sighed. So much for that theory. “Say nothing, Gilly. I missed only one of my courses. That could be a result of my upset over Christian’s leaving so abruptly.”

  “Mum’s the word, ma’am. It’ll be our secret ‘til ye’re certain.” Gilly grinned. “I hope ‘tis a little lass, so we can dress her in frilly frocks.”

  Samantha gave Gilly a warning look. “Nothing. Say nothing to anyone.”

  Gilly made a gesture of buttoning up her lips and grinned again.

  Samantha pushed the worry from her mind.

  A week went by without word from Steven, and Samantha’s fretting wore her nerves to a nub. She began to believe he had deliberately lied to prevent her from taking off on her own. She moped about the house in a dyspeptic disposition, causing her
family to remark upon her behavior.

  While tossing about in her lonely bed a few nights later, a rustling came from outside her window. She rose up on her elbows and turned toward the sound. When a black shape blocked the moonlight, she opened her mouth to scream.

  Boot steps thudded forward, and a hand clamped down on her lips. “‘Tis me, Samantha. Steven,” a voice whispered. He slowly removed his hand.

  She blinked and strained to make out his features in the pale light. “What are you doing here?” she hissed. “If Jasper were to catch you, he would tear you limb from limb.”

  He dismissed her words with a gesture and eased down on the edge of the bed. “I acquired a paid informant in Miggs’s crew. He agreed to lead me to the cove for a price and on one condition. He knows of your presence in Hobart and insists you accompany me. He will accept his reward only from your hands.”

  “Reward?”

  “I shall, of course, provide the coin.”

  She shook her head. “That will be unnecessary. I have my jewels and will gladly give them up for Richard’s safety.”

  “Can you dress and quickly pack a bag?”

  She hesitated. “Can you not simply tell me the location?”

  “He refused to disclose it, offering only to guide us there. I would never take the chance of harm coming to you if there were any other way. My informant guarantees your safety. To be certain he tells the truth, my men will guard us. If we are to rescue Richard, we must leave tonight. The trip will take some time over rough territory, and the Manta Ray returns to sea in a couple of weeks. Should Richard still be alive, I give you my word he will not be by the time they sail.”

  She posed one more question. “Were you able to discover who hired Miggs to kidnap Richard?”

  He shook his head. “I dare not push my informant further and risk losing his cooperation. Perhaps we shall learn all there is to learn when we find Richard. Making certain he escapes safely is my greatest concern. I have no doubt the man you seek will eventually reveal himself. Will you come with me? I have men and horses waiting below.”