by Mary Martin
The boy told her that Fredrick had gone off to the small lake on the far tip of the estate to fish. Starlin thanked him and directed Rue toward the path that led in that direction.
Rue took all of her concentration to keep him firmly in hand. He was a big gelding who liked to play the trickster by taking the bit in his teeth and running with the wind.
Starlin was holding him easily. However, she had little time to enjoy her surroundings, and she was scarcely aware of it before they were almost out of the copse of trees and upon the lake. She could see the blue water in the distance, and just barely discerned Fredrick moving about on the boat dock, a long slender pole in his hand. As she drew closer she saw him draw in his line and unhook a good-sized fish. Even in the worst weather, Fredrick could always be counted on to catch something.
She observed him fondly, recalling the previous year, and his arrival at Eaton Hall. He'd been broke and without reference, but beyond doubt a kindly soul who knew his horseflesh and how to easily make friends. A bond had quickly formed between Starlin and the groomsman. He'd taught her everything about horses, and she offered up advice on catching fish. In the interim, she found that he was a good listener as she talked of her dreams for the future. They'd spent many companionable hours together, and not once had their difference in station ever intruded upon their closeness.
Fredrick had been especially comforting to her after he'd learned of the manner of her parents' untimely demise, and of the long, hard road she'd had to follow just to keep from losing her sanity because of it. For the first time, she'd found she could discuss the incident in the Devil's Triangle that had been so bizarre and tragic. Treasure, fie! she'd fumed to Fredrick, and he had agreed. Even now she thought there wasn't a one worth risking life and limb for.
Starlin was brought up short upon reaching the woodsy fringe of trees. The groomsman had disappeared, though his fishing gear still lay about. Once again she heard the sound of two deep voices conversing quietly, just beyond a shelter of trees.
Two men were conversing .. . one voice belonging to Fredrick, the other ... to Morgan? Perplexed, Starlin dismounted. Suddenly, without warning, a large black wolfhound bounded through the grove at her, his fangs drawn back in a snarl. Heart pounding, she froze, watching apprehensively as the nasty brute sniffed at her. Immensely relieved, she saw a young man race through the trees, stopping short when he saw her.
With a shrill whistle he brought the sleek animal immediately to heel at his side.
"I apologize, madam, I had no idea that Merlin was going to tear from the park and onto your property. He isn't as fierce as he appears. Did he scare you?'
"Yes," Starlin managed shakily. "I wasn't expecting such a beast."
"He's a good sort, actually." He clamped a long strap to the dog's collar. "It won't happen again, I assure you. And, now please excuse me."
"Wait," Starlin said.
He turned, his rich gray cloak swirling about his long legs. He appeared very familiar. He stood smiling, even white teeth piercing the gloom.
"Can I be of some service?" he queried expectantly, his accent cultured.
"I thought perhaps . . . you might have noticed an older gent wearing a slicker? I had thought I heard conversation between the two of you."
"Oh, the groomsman," he replied without hesitation. "Yes, we were talking back there." He reached one big hand downward to pat the wolfhound on the head. "Merlin here startled the gent same as you. He's a fond habit of making fun for himself that way. I expect your man will be along shortly."
Starlin glanced over as Fredrick's familiar figure appeared from the trees. She felt relieved to see him.
The young man's dark-lashed eyes flickered over her once more before he bid her good day and turned away, the wolfhound beside him. Starlin watched him leave, then hurried toward Fredrick.
"You are certain that animal did not hurt you?"
"No, not a bit," he returned with a reassuring grin. He led the way back toward the lake. "Think no more about it. The fish are awaiting us—let's turn our thoughts to a great catch."
Malcolm Wells, the attorney for Cambridge Salvaging and Storage, watched a young woman of great beauty and distinction approach the house from the expanse of glass windows that made up the conservatory along the back of the house. There was no doubt in his mind who she was. Starlin Cambridge. Her willowy figure drew a slow half-smile to Malcolm's face, brightening his intense features. He was remembering her as a child in those ridiculous boyish clothes she always insisted upon wearing, with her wild mane of hair a riotous black mantle that fell to her waist, and her feet bare of any shoes. Yes, she'd been a little scamp, always adventuring along the most isolated stretches of thelCey West shores without remembering to tell anyone where she was going.
And now? He wondered what she was like now. He wished he could find some way to talk with her. He had so many things to ask her. Of course, he knew it was impossible. The earl, and time, were against that ever happening.
The earl had told him in the beginning he must never communicate with Starlin, and that he must do everything in his power to keep her stepbrother away from her. The earl did not want to risk exposing her to bad memories. When he had first brought the girl to London he'd had the best doctors examine her. She had been in a subdued, unnatural state, and unresponsive to anyone. The doctor had advised the earl to keep the girl sheltered from anything associated with her past. It was vital to her emotional stability. So, the earl had kept Malcolm on retainer, and Malcolm had kept Benton Cambridge from Starlin. It had not been too difficult a task, until now.
Time—it came back to him sharply. His business in England must be concluded this week. He had to return to his practice in the Keys, and, of course, Benton. He withdrew his pocket watch and checked the time.
Damn the earl! If he didn't stop dallying, Malcolm was certain he'd force him to miss his meeting in London later. He snapped the watch cover closed, his thoughts concentrating on the task ahead.
The exotic array of plants and bright-blooming flowers that bedecked the room went unnoticed. He was anxious to get his confrontation with Lord Winfield out of the way. He had arrived at Eaton Hall a short time ago and had presented his card to the butler at the front door. The very proper Bridges had looked down his nose at the attorney, gauging by his manner of impatience that he was an American, and had told him in a cool voice to please wait in the foyer until milord had received his card.
Leaving off his hat and gloves, Malcolm had expected to be ushered directly to the earl. However, upon the butler's return, he had been surprised to hear that he was to wait a few minutes longer.
"Milord wishes for me to inform you that he will see you just as soon as he has concluded the business he is attending to at the moment." He bowed curtly before swiveling about on his heel. "Now, if you,will follow me, please, I think that you will find it quite pleasant to wait in the conservatory where it is private."
The attorney fumed inwardly. So, the old boy does not wish me anywhere near his precious granddaughter, he thought darkly. He was being led like a stray through the out-of-the-way hallways of the house to avoid any possible confrontation with the girl. As they walked through the halls of the great house Malcolm could not help being impressed by the obvious show of wealth that he glimpsed as they passed various rooms. Drawing rooms extended in vistas on either side, with impressive mantelpieces graced by ancestral portraits. The furnishings were of cherry wood, expensively designed and upholstered. Thick carpets stretched luxuriously across the expanse of floors, and vases of delicate cut flowers graced various tables. Money was plainly evident—and Malcolm could hardly refrain from whistling his awe. The attorney, while he lived with a certain degree of refinement and elegance in the unusual cosmopolitan community of Key West, had never in his forty-five years seen anything as opulent as his present surroundings.
At last, the butler entered to announce the earl.
Malcolm looked up as the Earl of Eathert
on strode into the conservatory gripping Malcolm's card in his clenched fingers, his thunderous expression bespeaking a foul mood, Malcolm noted. He drew up several feet short of the attorney and stood glaring until he heard the butler close the door behind him.
"So—a matter of utmost urgency has brought you all the way to London posthaste, eh, Wells?" He waved toward a pair of highback chairs with overstuffed cushions. "This is a definite breach of our agreement, I might remind you. Come, sit down quickly and tell me what could not be relayed to my solicitors."
Malcolm Wells took his time in making himself comfortable. He fussed with the cuffs of his shirt, tugged negligently at his stiff collar, then glanced coolly at the earl whose face was mottled with rage. "You look well, sir. The years have been kind."
"I have no desire to exchange pleasantries with you, Wells. My granddaughter is due back from her ride at anytime. I do not wish the two of you . . . to borrow an American expression... to bump into each other. Now—get on with it."
"Crass of me to forget how lowly I appear to a man of your station," Wells replied with no hint of expression. "In thinking of your granddaughter's welfare I overlooked the fact that I am just like the rest of the hired help—your hired help, I might remind you, Earl."
"And I hope you know that you are jeopardizing the monthly retainer that I have deposited in your American account?" the earl shot back.
Malcolm formed a steeple with the tips of his fingers and peered over the point at the distinguished-looking earl. "Benton wishes to see the girl again. And if you do not allow him to do so, he has threatened to come after her himself, and without delay."
"Is he mad?' the earl thundered.
"Yes, quite frankly. His drinking has ruined his emotional health as well."
"Good Lord, I knew he was unstable since the accident, but I had thought his only concern was the fact that he had to split the inheritance with Starlin."
The attorney shrugged. "It's been coming on for years, actually. He drinks incessantly. And there's been a sudden turn of bad luck with the salvaging business."
"This disclosure must never reach Starlin. She is not to know, or for certain, she will insist on going to Benton's aid." He pointed a rigid finger at the attorney. "And you must not allow Benton to contact her. I am warning you, Wells."
The attorney did not so much as blink. "I am doing my very best. However, when Benton is drunk he is uncontrollable. He is liable to do anything, even come to England. I was supposed to have written you a letter some time ago to inform you of his legal rights."
"He has no legal rights!"
"You forget yourself, milord, hmmmm?" Wells returned.
The earl suddenly looked very old. He rose to his feet and crossed over the gleaming tile floor to stare out of the windows. "He must not be allowed to go any further with this. You and I both know what will happen if he does."
"That is why I came. You have paid me well to keep Benton under control. I may not be able to do so much longer. If he challenges the will in court, it may be discovered that it is a forgery, and that Benton is truly Starlin's legal guardian."
The earl's shoulders slumped. "How I have cursed myself for not reconciling with my daughter before her death. I know she would have stipulated that she wanted me to have Starlin and not Benton."
"What do you wish me to do?" the attorney stated somberly.
"I want you to keep him in America. Return to the Keys at once and watch him every minute. I am doing what is necessary at this end to ensure my granddaughter a happy, productive life, although I doubt very much whether she sees it in that way."
"You can rest assured I will do everything in my power to meet your request." Wells rose from his chair and took his leave.
"I bid you Godspeed on your return journey," the earl said. "And hasten your departure, for time is of the essence, as you well know."
Wells was just stepping out into the hallway when Starlin's voice drifted down the long hallway from the kitchen. The earl waved the attorney onward with a frantic motion of his hands. The last thing that he wanted was for Starlin to see the Cambridge attorney here at Eaton Hall. The earl proceeded toward the kitchen, pausing just before pushing the door inward to take a deep breath.
Starlin glanced up at the creak of the swinging door. "Grandfather, I hope you were at last able to get some rest after all of the fuss earlier?"
"Yes, I was, thank you." He requested a cup of tea from one of the maids. "And no sugar, please."
Starlin also accepted a cup. "Why don't we go into the study, sir. I think we have a matter of last evening to discuss further."
The earl and Starlin made their way to the large, darkly paneled study and took seats in comfortable lounging chairs. Starlin's gaze traveled over the handsomely furnished room, the shelves lined with several rows of morocco volumes that the earl was fond of reading each day. She tried to keep her voice calm as she addressed him.
"Grandfather, have you had time to consider what you are asking of me?'
"What... exactly are you saying?'
"This proposed marriage to Lord Courtland. It is not of my choosing, nor will ever be."
The earl's chin sank upon his collar and he appeared to stare at the shiny buttons of his waistcoat for a time before answering. He raised his eyes to meet hers.
"My dear, I have done nothing for years but consider your feelings—and your dreams. And I have waited patiently for this one special man to come into your life and declare his overwhelming love for you. But frankly, darling, that is a girlish dream that should be relinquished. And you know it too, Starlin," he posed gently.
"It is not, Grandfather! My mother found it with Carl. She did not have it with my father, I am sorry to say. And that was an arranged match, I might remind you," she stated most directly.
Becoming annoyed by his own desperation to see her safe from Benton Cambridge, he said irritably, "I will not allow you to continue having your suitors dance a jig to suit your fancy. You have been gossiped about long enough and have continually turned aside many a fine English lad." He paused to draw an even breath. "It's time for me to take a stand regarding your future. These alliances are a part of our life-style, Starlin. And unless the man of your dreams turns up very soon you shall wed Buckwald Courtland.
To his astonishment, Starlin issued a quiet but profound statement that left him staring after her quite speechless.
"Perhaps this man has entered my life, Grandfather."
She had uttered the words simply to put an end to this stubborn notion of his to see her married to the foppish Courtland. Now, after hearing them aloud herself, she found herself wondering if she had stated them for another reason as well. One that she did not wish to admit as yet. Not even to herself.
"Well... do you wish to share his name with me?" the earl blustered, clearly taken aback by her words.
Starlin fidgeted uncomfortably, wishing she had bitten her foolish tongue instead of saying something so absurd, and untrue.
"He ... he doesn't even realize how I feel about him yet, sir."
"This is astounding news," the earl responded. "Although it pleases me no end to hear you have taken an interest in someone." And then he said nothing for a moment, merely sat staring off into thin air as if he could picture quite clearly the face of the man his granddaughter had been referring to.
"What are you considering?" Starlin probed hesitantly.
His gaze shifted to hers. "A matter of time?"
"Time?" she echoed with a puzzled frown.
He smiled patiently. "Bluntly, dear girl—I was thinking to myself how long I should hold off on announcing my decision to -betroth you to young Courtland."
A deep silence fell into the room. Starlin knew she was trapped like a fox, but she could be as clever as one when cornered. "Just a short time .. . that is all I am asking," she stated softly, rising to walk over to the bay area of the study to view the expanse of green lawns in the distance.
"A reprieve,
Starlin, or the chance to win your Prince Charming's favor7' the earl inquired quietly, walking up behind her to placecalming hand on her shoulder.
Starlin felt her brief feelings of hostility leave her. She turned around to hug her grandfather lovingly.
"No matter what happens, it will never destroy our special relationship. I shall always love you ... remember that."
The earl stroked her head tenderly, beginning to wonder if perhaps there was something more to his granddaughter's words than even he knew. "You have your reprieve, darling. But only for a short time. If this man you have spoken of does not seek your hand in marriage, then you will be affianced before the year's end to Buckwald Courtland. Is that understood, and agreed upon?"
Starlin nodded, having barely heard the last of his words. The only thing that she could think of at the moment was that she had won her freedom for a while longer. And as for this dream man? . . . Where she was to find him, she did not know.
"The earl doesn't know who he's pushing around, but he will soon .. ."
With a series of muffled oaths on his lips and fury within, Malcolm Wells hurried at a brisk pace through the twisted cobblestoned streets of the underbelly of London's city life, a section vastly different from the fashionable district he'd just left. Hyde Park far behind, this was a menagerie of humankind: common souls of the working class who strived daily to seek out an existence in the netherworld of the underprivileged. He passed a wretched beggar turning an organ for hope of a ha'penny. So engrossed in his own concerns, Wells failed to see the tall, cloaked figure following behind him in shadowed pursuit, or the beggar thank the man for his toss of coin. A wolfhound sprang forward on command to tread on silent paws behind Malcolm, his dark nose sniffing at the attorney's heels.
Damn the earl! He'd guarded the Cambridge chit so closely that Malcolm had not had opportunity to say even a word to her. He'd felt driven, ready to throw caution to the winds in order to obtain his objective: Carl's journal, filled with notes that he was certain would reveal the location of the galleon lying on the reefs in the Sargasso Sea.
