by Georgie Lee
‘Dehesa may have a fearsome reputation, but he also has a sense of honour most pirates lack. I saved his life. He’ll repay the debt.’ The thought of the struggles of the last five years and his time as Captain Rose finally coming to an end lifted Richard’s spirits as much as the sight of Cas standing before him. Except she didn’t look on him with the same desire and love as at the cabin, but remained rigid with well-deserved indignation. He didn’t care. She could threaten to shoot him again with her father’s duelling pistols and he would still do all he could to win her back. Her willingness to defy convention and meet him here told him capturing her heart, like the pardon, was possible. ‘I also found your Mr Powell and I carry an affidavit from him attesting to his dealing with Vincent through Mr Adams. The sworn testimony of two scoundrels is the best I could acquire and it will have to be enough. I won’t run any more. I will come home a pardoned man and fight Vincent with the law on my side.’
‘Your evidence will be enough, especially when you give Lord Spotswood this.’ She slipped her fingers into the front of her bodice and removed a folded piece of paper tucked between her skin and the brocade and held it out to him.
He took it, the parchment still warm from the heat of her body, and opened it, tilting it towards the faint torchlight and struggling to read the scrawl. ‘What is it?’
‘A letter in Mr Fitzwilliam’s hand detailing his trade with pirates and the silver he received for it.’
He gaped at her. It wasn’t possible. ‘How did you get this?’
‘Miss Fitzwilliam gave it to me.’ She explained Miss Fitzwilliam’s role in obtaining it and the grudge the sister held against her brother, one powerful enough to crush him.
Richard studied the document before him. The one thing he’d never been able to find and Cas had secured it for him. ‘You can’t imagine what this means to me, what you mean to me.’
‘You’re right, I can’t.’
Her grave words startled him, and he glanced up to find her studying him the same way she had when he’d revealed himself to her aboard the Devil’s Rose—remembering the strength of their love, but not trusting it or him.
He tucked the paper in his frock-coat pocket and took Cassandra’s hand. She didn’t grip him back or surrender to his slight tug to draw her closer, but stayed firm, like one of the statues along the garden walk. He took her other hand and stood over her, ready to ask once more for her to share his life with him, unsure this time if she would accept. ‘I was wrong to leave you, both times, and I was selfish in all my pursuits. I’ve never enjoyed peace like I have when I’m with you and I was a fool to throw it away to run after something as fleeting as riches, glory and adventure. At one time, I thought there was nothing left for me but a life at sea, then you came to me. Even at my weakest and most wounded, in pain and worried about my men, with you beside me I could touch something of what I’d lost and picture a future I hadn’t dared to imagine before. I refuse to allow it and you to slip away from me ever again.’
The mask covering her face made her green-brown eyes turn deeper in the shadows, but the whites sparkled in the low light of the garden with her tears. He reached behind her and untied the strings of the mask, uncovering her beautiful features. ‘I love you, Cas. I never stopped loving you and I never will.’
* * *
The words he hadn’t said to her in the cabin when she’d opened her heart to him curled around her as he pressed her into a deep embrace. A single tear slid down her full cheek, and he brushed it away with his thumb, his hand heavy and warm along the side of her face. The sounds of laughter and music stole over them and she wished she and Richard were like the other couples promenading in the light, their cares nothing beyond crops and dresses, their time together at its beautiful start instead of tainted by the journey. She longed to accept him, to have faith in the need in his voice and his touch, but with the scabbard of his sword and the hardness of the blunderbuss hidden beneath his coat reminding her of the man he really was, she was afraid to trust him again. ‘You’ve left me twice. I can’t believe you won’t do it again.’
He tugged a piece of parchment out of his coat pocket and held it up to her. ‘Is this enough proof for you?’
‘What is this?’
‘Open it and see.’
She stepped back enough to take the document, but he didn’t let her go, keeping her within the protective circle of his arms. With quick flicks of her fingers she unfolded the paper, struggling to read it in the moonlight mixed with torch flame.
Shock made her gasp and she raised her face to his, as incredulous of this as he’d been of the paper she’d handed him. ‘You sold the Devil’s Rose.’
‘To Mr Powell. It was the price I was willing to pay for his testimony and to come home to you.’
Cassandra opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. He’d given up the Devil’s Rose for her. It didn’t seem possible. ‘But your men? You said you wouldn’t leave them to fend for themselves.’
‘I haven’t. They’re aboard the Casa de Oro, safely moored in an inlet beyond Lord Spotswood’s reach, waiting for me to send them word of their pardons. Once they have it, we will retrieve our wealth from Knott Island and start our lives over, they in the islands and I here with you, if you’ll still have me.’
Cassandra rested her hands on his shoulders, the letter of transfer for the Devil’s Rose crinkling beneath her palm. He was keeping his promise to return to her and severing his ties with Captain Rose for good. For a brief moment there was no palace or masks or giggling young ladies with their escorts, but only her and Richard, as it had been in Uncle Walter’s garden. He was proposing to her for the second time, offering to struggle and work beside her to make Belle View prosperous again and to create for Dinah the happy family life Cassandra craved. There would be more children, siblings for Dinah to play with, to share the wonderful moments and to help her bear the sorrows, like Richard would do for Cassandra.
‘Tell me you still love me, Cas,’ he implored, his face tight in expectation of her answer. ‘Tell me I still have your heart.’
‘Yes, always.’ She rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, sliding her arms around his neck and drawing him close. She didn’t care who might pass by and see them—it didn’t matter, nothing did except Richard’s pledge to her and hers to him. They would be together, united against all challenges. He would be her husband, and she would never be alone again.
She lowered herself to her heels, breaking from his kiss, but refusing to let go of him. ‘What will everyone say when I marry a pirate?’ she teased, glancing up at him through her eyelashes while fingering his finely embroidered lapel.
‘You’ll be the talk of Williamsburg.’ He bent down and nuzzled her neck with a muffled laugh. ‘Are you sure you can endure more notoriety?’
‘With you beside me I can endure anything, even a few rumours and some whispering, but I wonder if you can remember your manners.’
He leaned back in her arms and smiled, deepening the faint lines at the corners of his eyes. ‘I’ll do my best to be a respectable planter and, if that’s not enough, I’ll buy everyone’s good graces. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I have enough money for us to rebuild Belle View with or without anyone’s approval.’
She stiffened in his arms. The threat of Mr Fitzwilliam had faded in Richard’s embrace, but it came rushing back to her. ‘I may not be able to keep Belle View to rebuild.’
She explained to him what had happened with Mr Fitzwilliam after he’d left, pacing in her agitation.
‘The deed must be a forgery, like his Dutch passes,’ he spat, the thirst for revenge filling his eyes once more.
‘But we can’t prove it. If he’s convicted, everything will be confiscated by the Crown, even Belle View.’
He took her hand, as sincere as he’d been when he’d shown her the letter of transfer. ‘I’ll find a way
to make sure it isn’t. Once Vincent falls, anyone connected with him will tell what they know in an effort to save their own necks.’
She gripped his hand tight, still unsure. ‘How can you be sure they won’t flee instead?’
‘Even if they do, the single advantage of having lived among lowlifes for so long is my unsavoury connections. I’ll call on them to root out Vincent’s agents if they try to escape, and prove the deed and the shipping pass that first convicted me are forgeries. I promise you, I will make everything right.’
For the first time since he’d left her in Yorktown, she was sure it was a promise he would keep. ‘Then let’s go to Lord Spotswood and finally end this.’
Richard picked up his mask and hat and put them back on. ‘I’ll go first. You follow soon after so as not to draw attention to either of us.’
‘Be careful,’ she called after him, retying her own mask across her eyes. He turned, offering her a small salute before heading up the path and into the palace.
Cassandra waited until he was inside the ballroom, then began the long walk back to the Governor’s Palace, dread and worry accompanying her. Richard had his evidence, but it was still difficult to imagine this would all end well. Lord Spotswood might turn on Richard and condemn both him and her. Without his ship, the one he’d given up for her, he could not escape.
No, there would be no need for him to flee. The evidence was solid and Lord Spotswood was a man of his word. He would honour his bargain, the way she’d once honoured hers with Richard.
Ahead, Mr Fitzwilliam stood at the door to the ballroom, his face dark. Disgust drove out her worry as she approached him. This man would not force himself on her or command her life, but die at the end of a rope. She climbed the stairs and, ignoring his outstretched hand, strode past him into the lively ballroom.
‘What were you doing out there?’ he demanded, coming to her side.
‘Taking in the cooler air.’
‘You aren’t to wander off alone like that. What will people say? I won’t have you behaving here like you did in London.’
She ignored his lecture on decorum while across the room, Richard and Captain Dehesa stood with Lord Spotswood. The Governor rubbed his round chin while he read Mr Fitzwilliam’s letter, the affidavit and then listened to Captain Dehesa speak.
She held her breath, waiting for Lord Spotswood’s response, her attention darting from him to the two soldiers flanking either side of the ballroom door. Would Lord Spotswood believe Richard and the pirate Captain or turn on them and arrest them, allowing the true villain to escape from the law while condemning Richard to the gallows? Everything hinged on Lord Spotswood’s decision and the moments seemed to stretch out while she waited for some sign or indication of which way he would decide.
Next to her, Mr Fitzwilliam continued to berate her about her behaviour, while on the dance floor the revellers completed their intricate turns and steps in time to the flowing music.
At last Lord Spotswood folded the paper and raised his hand. Cassandra held her breath, waiting for him to summon the guards, but he held it out for Richard to shake. Cassandra’s knees almost gave out under the weight of her relief. He believed Richard and the evidence. They would be safe.
With a flick of his fingers, the governor waved over one of the guards. He whispered to the dragoon who nodded then hurried off, she felt sure, to gather others.
‘Did you hear what I just said?’ Mr Fitzwilliam raged in her ear.
‘No, not one word of it,’ she snapped, all the deference she’d been forced to pay to him for the last two weeks gone.
He noticed the change and snatched her by the arm, his fingernails digging into her skin. ‘You’d better not have been enjoying more than the air. If you do anything to embarrass or disgrace me like you did Lord Shepherd, I’ll make sure it’s not you who suffers, but your daughter.’
She tugged the mask off her face, reserving for him the heaviest look of hate she could conjure. ‘Whatever hold you think you have over me, it doesn’t exist. You’re about to be ruined and you’re no longer in a position to harm me, my daughter or anyone else I love ever again.’
He let go of her, fear and surprise flittering across his face beneath his mask.
Mr Adams rushed up to him. ‘We must leave at once. They’re coming for us.’
He nodded to the soldiers filing into the room. The musicians stopped their playing and the dancers stumbled in their steps to stop and watch, everyone talking and wondering what was happening.
A red flush spread up Mr Fitzwilliam’s neck as he realised he was at last found out. Her curled his hand into a fist and jabbed one warning finger at her. ‘You bitch. You’ll pay for this, I’ll make certain of it.’
‘Another time. We must go or we’ll be hanged.’ Mr Adams pulled him by the arm out the open door.
‘Arrest Mr Fitzwilliam on charges of colluding with pirates,’ Lord Spotswood ordered the dragoons, his command sending a wave of surprise rippling through the room.
‘He left,’ Cassandra cried, pushing her way through the throng to reach Richard and Lord Spotswood. ‘They went through the garden.’
‘Sergeant Grant, send men after him,’ Lord Spotswood ordered the thick-necked soldier beside him. ‘Mr Fitzwilliam can’t sit a horse well enough to get far by the roads.’
‘He can escape downriver by boat,’ Richard reminded him.
‘I’ll dispatch men to Butler Plantation.’
‘He won’t go there.’ Miss Fitzwilliam joined the group. ‘There aren’t any ships moored at the dock tonight.’
‘But there’s one at Belle View.’ Fear hit Cassandra like lightning. ‘Dinah! He said if I ever did anything against him he’d make her suffer.’
‘I won’t let him harm her.’ Richard took her hand and pulled her towards the door.
‘Take horses from my stables,’ Lord Spotswood called after them. ‘Sergeant Grant and his men will accompany you to Belle View.’
‘Voy contigo.’ Captain Dehesa tossed aside his mask and sprinted after Richard. ‘We’ll kill Mr Fitzwilliam like the dog he is.’
Chapter Eleven
The uneasy stillness surrounding Belle View was more ominous than reassuring. Richard, Cassandra, Captain Dehesa and the six soldiers led by Sergeant Grant crept up the main drive, keeping to the shadows. They’d left the horses a quarter-mile back to hide their arrival. Despite their quick mounts, it had taken nearly an hour to get there by the rutted and dark roads. Cassandra hoped they weren’t too late. The current on the river was fast and the water route much quicker.
‘Do you think they’re inside?’ Sergeant Grant whispered while they watched the house, searching for signs of Mr Adams and Mr Fitzwilliam.
A woman’s scream followed by a man’s raised voice silenced the night sounds.
‘They’re in there! Hurry!’ Richard ran up the drive to the house and slammed into the front door, but it was bolted shut.
‘Break it down,’ Cassandra ordered when Dinah’s shriek split the air. She’d tear Belle View apart brick by brick to reach her daughter.
‘You two, grab a log. The rest of you go around the back and make sure they don’t slip out,’ Sergeant Grant ordered, and four men hurried out of sight as they rounded the house. The two remaining soldiers picked up a thick log from a pile near the corner of the house. Holding it between them, they stood before the door and swung it into the wood. In one hit the weathered door broke open.
‘Dinah!’ Cassandra called, following the men inside. ‘Dinah!’
‘Mama!’ Dinah answered from the back sitting room.
They raced down the hall and burst into the room to find Jane kneeling over Mrs Sween. The housekeeper lay unconscious on the floor, an angry gash above her left eyebrow. Dinah cowered in the corner behind a small ottoman, her face red with tears.
Cassandra rushed t
o her daughter and swept her into her arms. ‘It’s all right, my love. You’re safe now.’
‘Where are they?’ Richard demanded of Jane.
‘I don’t know. They tried to take the child, but Mrs Sween wouldn’t let them. The ugly one knocked her down. Then, when they heard the crash at the front door, they fled.’
One soldier picked up Mrs Sween and laid her on the sofa.
The thud of footsteps beneath the floorboards echoed through the room.
‘They’re trying to get out through the cellar passage to the kitchen,’ Cassandra said to Richard, stroking Dinah’s hair to soothe the child’s frightened sobs. ‘You remember where it is?’
‘I do. This way.’
Richard sprinted out of the room, Captain Dehesa, Sergeant Grant and one soldier following close behind him. He rushed to the door set in the panel just off the dining room and pulled it open. The musty stench of old air and damp earth struck him. He moved cautiously down the sagging treads, blunderbuss raised, eyes adjusting to the faint light falling into the darkness from the chandelier in the hallway. Richard could see little except for the outline of support timbers, sacks of flour and the dust covering the old stone floor. Anyone hiding in the shadows below held the advantage.
They entered the narrow passage outside the storeroom, creeping steadily along. With their eyes still adjusting to the darkness, their senses were keen for any movement or sound alerting them to danger. There was nothing but the creak of floorboards overhead, the sifting of dust and faint voices. Richard continued on, step by cautious step, unwilling to relax his hard grip on his blunderbuss.
Then the flash of a pistol lit the room and Vincent’s face. A deafening boom shook the cellar, and Sergeant Grant grunted and fell against the wall, a stain of dark red spreading out over the wool covering his upper arm. From overhead, the women exclaimed with alarm.
‘Richard, are you all right?’ Cas called out, her voice muffled by the floors and walls between them.
‘I am, but Sergeant Grant is wounded.’ Richard turned to the soldier. ‘Help him up to the ladies.’
