Lord of the Privateers

by Stephanie Laurens

  Until this voyage.

  Until now.

  She could feel his gaze on her face, but she wasn’t yet ready to meet it—to meet him and discuss them.

  Them wasn’t an entity she’d as yet had a chance to adequately define.

  Movement to her right had her glancing that way. Harriet led what appeared to be a delegation; Annie, Gemma, Ellen, and Mary followed close behind. Annie was carrying a brown-paper-wrapped parcel in her hands.

  Her expression lightening in welcome, Isobel shifted to face the other women; her movement alerted Royd, and he turned to greet them as well.

  Harriet halted before them. The other women ranged around her, their expressions relaxed, yet serious. “We thought about what you said earlier,” Harriet said. “About the other backers—the ones whose names we don’t yet know—being very difficult to identify. That if you couldn’t put names to them, and Ross-Courtney and Neill continued to keep their mouths shut, then the whole thing—our case against them—might come to naught.” Harriet paused, her expression suggesting she was running through a rehearsed speech.

  Isobel, along with Royd, waited patiently.

  Harriet gave a small nod and continued, “When we were in the cleaning shed and Muldoon was showing Ross-Courtney and Neill the blue diamonds, Muldoon said he’d sent a letter to the diamond merchant in Amsterdam and that he’d recommended the merchant send the information about the blue diamonds on to the banker.”

  “The banker?” Royd frowned. Then he murmured, “Ross-Courtney isn’t their banker.”

  “No, he ain’t,” Ellen said. “Because when Muldoon said that, his high-and-mighty lordship said as how that was good, and the banker would tell the others so they would know about the blue diamonds, too.”

  “So what we thought,” Harriet said, “was that if you took some blue diamonds to London and showed them around society, then as they are very rare, those other backers might come and ask where you’d got them.”

  “They might think the others—Ross-Courtney and Neill, or even the three younger ones—had cut them out,” Mary said. “They’d want to know, wouldn’t they?”

  Royd stared at the women for several seconds, then stated, “That’s brilliant.”

  The five women beamed.

  Annie stepped forward and held out the package. “These are the best set of blue diamonds we could put together—enough to make a nice, big, showy necklace.” She offered the package to Isobel.

  She glanced at Royd, then accepted the parcel. “Why me?”

  “Well, we thought as you’d be going to London with him.” Gemma tipped her head at Royd. “Aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am. Whatever happens, I intend to see this mission through to its end.”

  “Well, then.” Gemma nodded at the package in Isobel’s hands. “That there’s what will bring the buggers out of the woodwork. We thought as you’re the best one to wear it—you’re so tall and striking, you just walk into a room and every man’ll be looking your way.”

  “And then the ladies will look, too,” Mary said, “and once they set eyes on those diamonds, it’ll be all over town by the next day.”

  “And then the four we don’t have names for won’t be able to resist,” Harriet concluded. “They’ll just have to sidle up and ask where you got the stones, won’t they?”

  Royd could see the picture the women had painted unfurling in his mind. They were right; it might work. Possibly better than any other approach. There was, of course, an element of danger, but he knew the woman by his side.

  He glanced at Isobel, waited until she raised her gaze from the paper-wrapped parcel and met his eye, then he arched a brow. “Are you in?”

  She held his gaze for an instant, then replied, “Definitely.” She looked at the women. “I’m honored that you’ve entrusted me with this. But I have one proviso. Once the necklace has played its part, and we’ve unmasked all the backers, and they and Ross-Courtney and Neill are on their way to the gallows, that we sell the necklace, and the proceeds be sent to your fund.” Her gaze uncompromising, she stated, “No one but you and the others who slaved here should benefit from these stones.”

  The other women were a touch flustered; they tried to suggest Isobel keep the necklace “for her trouble,” but ran headlong into the wall of her will and finally accepted her proviso.

  With that settled, Royd thanked them again and suggested that the existence of the stones and the necklace to be made from them—indeed, their entire scheme to unmask the backers—would best be kept a secret to be shared only with those who needed to know. “At least until we’ve used the necklace and accomplished what we hope to achieve.” He met the women’s gazes. “You never know who in Freetown might hear and think to write to some cousin who turns out to be connected to one of the backers...” He shook his head. “The fewer who know, the better.”

  As he’d hoped, secrecy only added spice to the enterprise. The women readily agreed.

  Smiling, Isobel offered her hand; the other women shook it, then returned to the ongoing party.

  Royd watched them go, then looked at Isobel.

  She was studying the package, turning it over in her hands.

  “Second thoughts?” he asked.

  “Oh no.” She looked up and met his eyes. “I was just thinking that, in lieu of Ross-Courtney’s balls, this is an appropriate alternative route to justice—one I’m happy enough to take instead.”

  CHAPTER 13

  They set off with dawn a mere promise in the sky. In a long column, the ex-captives and their rescuers marched out of the mining compound through the gap left by the fallen gates and headed down the path that would take them north to the estuary’s coast and the ships waiting there.

  One group of sailors forged ahead, clearing the path with machetes, making the trek as easy for the women and children as possible. The ex-captives followed in groups, women and children walking with the men, with sailors interspersed in threes and fours to help any who needed assistance over the occasional steep dips and climbs.

  The column straggled out for nearly half a mile, with Hillsythe, Lascelle, and his men driving the prisoners along at the rear.

  Initially, Ross-Courtney and Neill tried to protest being forced to walk with their wrists shackled, but they soon fell silent as the demands of the trek took hold. The three younger men could manage well enough, but the two backers would find the going increasingly hard, and Lascelle’s French crew had no inclination whatsoever to lend a helping hand.

  The Frobisher men and their ladies, along with Dixon, Fanshawe, and Will Hopkins, were the last to leave the compound. They stood inside the fallen gates and looked around one last time.

  Dixon stared at the dark maw of the mine. Then Fanshawe clapped Dixon on the back, and with a nod, Dixon turned and, with Fanshawe and Hopkins, walked out and away.

  The Frobisher captains and their intrepid women followed. The men had their seabags, and Isobel had her satchel with the petition and the blue diamonds carefully stowed, but otherwise, they carried no luggage. Hand in hand, they walked briskly along.

  They soon overtook the rearguard and the prisoners; as they came upon other groups, Dixon, Fanshawe, then Caleb and Katherine, and eventually Will Hopkins, Aileen, and Robert, slowed to join others and talk as they walked.

  Many of the discussions Isobel overheard concerned the ex-captives’ expectations on returning to the settlement. For most, their time in the compound had changed how they saw life and left them with a greater determination to wring more from it than they previously had, than they’d previously been content with.

  By the time Liam Stewart, who Royd had deputed to lead the column, called a midmorning halt, Declan, Edwina, Royd, and Isobel had almost caught up to the column’s head.

  At the end of the break—twenty minutes i
n which to drink and rest—the column got under way again, this time with Royd in the lead. Isobel walked beside him, thinking of what lay ahead.

  After an hour, she fell back to where Katherine was walking alongside Caleb. After noticing that Caleb called her cousin Kate, Isobel inquired and, when informed Katherine preferred Kate, admitted it suited her rather better.

  Kate had smiled, then asked after Iona, and their conversation turned to the Carmodys. To family.

  After ten minutes, Caleb left them to it and dropped back to speak with Lascelle.

  That allowed Isobel to, with a smile, ask about his and Kate’s intentions. She was pleased, yet hardly surprised, to hear that Kate and Caleb planned to marry as soon as was reasonable after returning to Aberdeen. “But we want to see this business of catching and convicting the backers dealt with first.”

  At that point, Edwina and Aileen came bustling up—just as Kate turned to Isobel and asked, “But what about you and Royd?” Kate knew of their long-ago handfasting. “You have to formalize your...arrangement and actually get married, don’t you?”

  Naturally, Edwina and Aileen turned bright, inquiring gazes on Isobel, too.

  She managed to keep her expression relaxed. “We haven’t yet had time to discuss it.” Which was true.

  Edwina narrowed her eyes on Isobel’s face. “But you and he are going to marry, yes?”

  She had to answer; over the past days, she’d come to respect the other three too much to fob them off with a flippant reply. Besides, if she married Royd, these three would be her sisters-in-law. She sighed. “That, too, has to be discussed.” To her surprise, she heard herself add, “But I expect we will, so yes.”

  She almost blinked. Had she really made that decision? Sometime over the past days, without being aware of it?

  While the other three rattled on, sharing opinions about weddings, she walked beside them in something of a daze. Viewing him and her—them together—and all they’d shared over recent days and weeks, what possible reason could there be for her not to formalize their relationship?

  She knew the answer. Knew it had no basis in cool rationality.

  It was born of fear, pure and simple—and it still had a hold on her, albeit weakened and overwhelmed by the action and drama, and the closeness and mutual reliance they’d engaged in over recent days.

  Over the past days, they’d worked as a team—not just in business but in life.

  They made an excellent team—they were stronger and more powerful together than apart, more effective collectively than individually.

  Over the years, they’d changed and grown—older and wiser, certainly, but also a great deal more certain of themselves. More confident in who they were—and also in what they could be together.

  Could she banish that old fear? Could she believe in his love, the quality of it, the caring and understanding—the steadfastness of it—enough to trust him with her heart again?

  Did she believe he loved her enough to chance it?

  The question revolved in her mind.

  Then Edwina asked for a description of Iona and how the Carmody matriarchy worked; relieved, Isobel pushed her still-unresolved question from her mind and returned to the conversation.

  They chatted and walked and shared their hopes and dreams for their futures. Inevitably, the talk turned to the baby Edwina was carrying—supposedly the first of the next generation of Frobishers.

  Except...

  By late afternoon, when Royd called a halt and they made camp in a clearing the sailors had expanded to accommodate all of the company, Isobel had accepted that there was one very large confession she and Royd had to make—mostly she, for it was Edwina, Aileen, and Kate who needed to be told first.

  With those three, she helped Harriet, Annie, Gemma, Ellen, and Mary settle the children—and, as usual, that made her think of Duncan, underscoring the issue. Once they reached the ships, if she knew her son at all, there would be no hiding him, and one glance would inform everyone there of his parentage—paternal and maternal.

  The column had marched steadily and had covered more than two-thirds of the distance to the shore; everyone was weary. After eating a meal put together from comestibles the sailors had carried, everyone retired to their oilskins or cloaks and settled down for the night.

  Sleep rolled over the camp in a wave. Conversations faded, replaced by soft snores.

  After setting pickets and the watches for the night, Royd was one of the last to seek his place on the clearing’s floor. He stretched out beside Isobel, his chest to her back as she lay on her side, facing into the trees.

  Her eyes closed, her cheek cradled in her hand, she felt him come up on his elbow; closing his other hand on her upper arm, he leaned close and looked down at her face.

  After a moment, he bent his head and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

  Her lips curved. “Almost.” She’d been waiting to inform him, “Tomorrow morning, I’m going to tell Edwina, Aileen, and Kate about Duncan. You might want to mention him to your brothers.”

  “Ah.”

  She couldn’t see his face, but she could all but hear his mind whirring, considering what had prompted her decision and—more—what her willingness to take that step meant.

  She wished him luck with the latter; she wasn’t sure of that herself. All she knew was that her feet were now on this path, and revealing Duncan’s existence was the inevitable next step.

  Eventually, he murmured, “I’ll tell them.”

  Then he lay down and slid his arm across her waist—heavy, possessive, and reassuring.

  She smiled and surrendered to sleep.

  * * *

  The camp rose in the pre-dawn coolness, and after a light breakfast, the column marched on.

  Excitement over seeing the ships, let alone boarding them, lent wings to the children’s feet, and they skipped along behind Royd and his brothers, who were following the sailors at the head of the column.

  With the compound literally falling farther and farther behind them, the adults, too, seemed gripped by eagerness to forge ahead—to the shore, the ships, and back to their lives. Lives that, no matter their station, they now appreciated much more than they had.

  Isobel suggested that she, Edwina, Aileen, and Kate walk behind the children, giving Annie, Mary, Gemma, Ellen, and Harriet a break from having to keep their eyes on the increasingly rambunctious brood.

  When, with an undeniable air of invincible authority, Isobel called four boys back into line, Edwina remarked, “You’ve obviously had plenty of experience maintaining order with the brood at Carmody Place.”

  Isobel paused. “Yes and no.” She hesitated only a second more before saying, “Actually, there’s something—someone—I need to tell you about.”

  “Oh?” came in an interested chorus from three throats.

  As simply as she could, she told them about Duncan.

  “Good Lord!” Kate said. “I had no idea you’d had a child.”

  “Yes, well, it was over seven years ago,” Isobel replied. “He’s almost eight.”

  “And,” Edwina said, her eyes alight, “he’s on board The Corsair, so we’ll shortly get to meet him.”

  Isobel nodded.

  Aileen had been unnaturally silent; her expression suggested she was still somewhat stunned. When Isobel caught her eye and arched a brow, Aileen said, “I’m still grappling with Royd not knowing—how did he take it?”

  Isobel thought back, then widened her eyes. “Quite well, actually. I was the one who fainted.”

  Which, of course, led to a barrage of questions; she found herself answering with more candor than she’d anticipated, yet it felt surprisingly cathartic to share her reactions with these women.

  These sisters. She was accustomed to ha
ving a tribe of women about her, but these three...they were more like her.

  Their men were more like Royd, so they better understood both her reactions as well as his.

  It was Kate who pointed out, “Well, that makes any question over you and Royd marrying redundant.” At Edwina’s and Aileen’s puzzled looks, she explained, “If a handfasting results in a child, then the parents must marry.” Kate paused, then added, “Either that or the mother must surrender the child to the father”—she cut a glance at Isobel—“but obviously, that’s not going to happen.”

  No, it isn’t. But Isobel only dipped her head in agreement and let the discussion flow on to the three upcoming marriages in the Frobisher clan.

  The thought of marrying Royd, of after all these years, actually walking down the aisle with him waiting for her at the end...eight years ago, she would have raced down that aisle with bright eyes and a brimming heart, but she’d left that wide-eyed, rather naive innocent behind long ago.

  Now...

  She was eight years older and, after the past weeks, had a much better idea of what she needed from him to make their marriage work—and what she needed to give to it, too.

  Half an hour later, she saw Caleb thump Royd on the back, while Declan and Robert abruptly stopped in their tracks, then swung around and, over the intervening children’s heads, stared at her.

  When she returned their stunned looks with an unperturbed gaze, they blinked, shook their heads, then turned and hurried to catch up with Royd and Caleb.

  Beside Isobel, Edwina laughed, and Aileen was smiling.

  When Royd called a midmorning halt, they could smell the sea. The halt lasted barely ten minutes. Everyone wanted to rush on, especially the children. Only the fact that, to do so, they would have had to run past the four Frobisher captains kept the increasingly unruly mob in check.

  And then, quite abruptly, they marched out of the jungle and onto the sands.

  The children cheered and raced down to where waves lapped the shore, but before they reached the water, their voices suspended. Their feet halted, and jaws dropping, they stared at the six ships lying at anchor, bobbing on the blue water.