The Scandalous Lady Sandford (Lost Ladies of London Book 3)

by Adele Clee

  Lillian crept along the narrow corridor and up a flight of steps leading to the deck. The chill in the air stole her breath, as did the giant moon casting an eerie silver-green sheen over the sea. The wind whipped strands of hair loose from her dishevelled coiffure and, despite her dire circumstances, for a moment she felt free.

  The men going about their work paid her no heed, and so she wandered over to the wooden rail and peered at the inky depths below.

  Did they imagine she lacked the courage to jump?

  “The water is icy cold tonight, lass.” The Scot’s deep voice startled her. “Stiff muscles are a hindrance when it comes to swimming. You’d be lucky to last thirty seconds in there.”

  Lillian did not turn to acknowledge him but stared out at the horizon. He came to stand beside her. Neither of them spoke. His heavy breathing left puffs of white mist in the chilly night air. Soon the silence became deafening.

  “Were you with the man who stopped the carriage outside my window?”

  “Aye.”

  Lillian cast him a sidelong glance and studied his face. With soft blue eyes, full cheeks and a red beard tinged with white flecks, the Scot’s countenance suggested his heart was as large as his frame.

  “Am I here because of my brother?” It wouldn’t be the first time a man had used her to exact his revenge.

  “Aye. It’s not for me to explain the details, but know you’re in no danger, lass. We'll not harm a hair on your head. Master’s orders.”

  Truth echoed in his words. Indeed, she should have been terrified out of her wits, and yet she felt a strange form of peace.

  “Who is your master?” She looked the Scot in the eye. “Do I know him?”

  The Scot’s mouth twitched into the beginnings of a smile. “Happen you do. I have it on good authority he’s a friend.”

  Lillian had no friends.

  “Aren’t friends supposed to extend an invitation when they seek your company?”

  He opened his mouth to answer, but a loud cry from the crow’s nest drew their attention to the black mass of land in the distance.

  “Not long to wait now.” The Scot inclined his head. “Should you need anything during your stay at the castle, just ask for Mackenzie.” He patted his chest so there was no mistaking who he meant.

  The castle? This whole debacle was like something one read about in the gothic novels of Ann Radcliffe and the like. “Thank you, Mackenzie. I only hope your master shows me the same care and consideration you have.”

  “Have no doubt. The master is a gentleman despite what others might say. Now, I’d best attend to my duties.”

  Mackenzie strode away.

  Wrapping the coverlet tightly around her shoulders, Lillian stood and watched as they drew closer to the shore. Mackenzie returned, thrust a telescope into her hand and left without saying a word. It was difficult to see in the dark, but she spotted the tall brazier emitting an amber glow from the top of the castle’s keep.

  Someone shouted about dropping a temporary anchor, and she soon found herself bundled into a small boat. Mackenzie and another man rowed to the sandy cove. They led her up the steep stone path to the castle on the clifftop, escorted her through the gatehouse and the bailey, before coming to an abrupt halt outside studded oak doors.

  “The master is waiting for you in the great hall.” Mackenzie offered her a reassuring grin. “You’re on your own from here.”

  She handed Mackenzie the coverlet. She’d sooner catch her death of cold than appear as a frail woman swamped in a blanket. Both men bowed and left her standing in the damp corridor.

  Lillian inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders, ready to meet the only man brave enough to challenge Vane.

  Chapter Two

  Fabian Darcy lounged back in the majestic throne chair positioned in the middle of the dais. Some of his men were out scouring the streets of London and Paris looking for his sister, Estelle. Another group had the task of finding the Marquess of Trevane’s sister and bringing her to Raven Island.

  The creak of the centuries-old door drew his attention. His heart hadn’t stopped pounding since Graves woke him to say he’d spotted a ship approaching. Fabian had stood by the brazier on the roof of the keep and watched the small boat ferry his guest ashore. He imagined Vane’s distress upon discovering he’d failed to protect the only person who mattered.

  It was a feeling Fabian knew well.

  The soft pad of footsteps on the stone floor forced him to focus. Lady Lillian Sandford walked towards him with the same regal air she’d possessed as a child. A satisfied grin threatened to form, but he dismissed it along with the secret fascination he’d nurtured since boyhood.

  “Lady Lillian.” He jumped to his feet, delighting in the look of instant recognition, and relief flashing in her eyes. Her hair was as dark as he remembered, her lips as pink and full. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

  A frown marred her pretty brow. She searched his face before scanning his unconventional attire. No doubt she preferred seeing a gentleman in a starched cravat and tight-fitting coat, not an open-collared shirt hanging over buckskin breeches.

  “Lord Ravenscroft.” The lady curtsied. “Or should I call you the Raven? That is the name you use when sailing the high seas is it not?”

  So, she had kept abreast of his movements in recent years. “Merchants must have faith that their goods will reach the destination without incident. The name merely conveys confidence that I’m a man who gets the job done.”

  “Oh, I wondered if it was a reference to your obsidian eyes and ebony locks, although my brother is more inclined to believe it has something to do with your black heart.”

  Fabian gritted his teeth. The mere mention of Vane caused him to clench his fists at his sides. For eight years he’d dreamed of knocking the rogue on his arse and taking aim. But firing a ball into Vane’s chest would not bring Estelle back. And if Fabian’s current plan had any hope of success, he had to remain calm and composed.

  “The raven is a symbol of good luck, or so I’d have my clients believe. Equally, they are opportunistic birds. They take what they can where they can find it.” And that’s exactly how he’d made his fortune, taking the jobs others deemed too risky.

  The lady narrowed her gaze. “When it comes to kidnapping, I have to agree that both luck and opportunity played a part. How fortunate that Mr Green had a mishap with his balloon.”

  Knowing his men, it was no mishap but the result of meticulous skill and planning. “While I’m yet to hear the details of their mission, my men know to take advantage of any situation.” He cast her a mischievous grin. “As do I, Lillian.”

  Damn. He hadn’t meant to use her given name, or for his voice to carry a sensual undertone. Still, from what he’d heard, she was accustomed to gentlemen being far too familiar. The thought roused his ire.

  “Then they must get their thieving ability from their master.” She touched the gold locket resting at the base of her throat as though it had a magical ability to bring the wearer courage. “Are you not a pirate, my lord? Are you not a man used to taking what he wants?”

  Fabian laughed. “Is that what your brother told you? Perhaps the thought that he’s not the only scoundrel helps him sleep easier at night.”

  “So you deny the allegation?”

  “I run a legitimate business, but believe what you will.” He stepped down from the dais, and the lady stepped back. “Stealing you away from home is the only criminal act I’ve ever committed, and so on that count, I raise my hands guilty as charged.”

  “One thing is certain,” she said lifting her chin.

  “And what is that?”

  “I’m looking at a dead man. My brother will kill you and leave your head on a spike as a warning to those who dare to cross him.”

  Fabian folded his arms across his chest. “Would you care to make a wager to that effect?”

  “I know him better than anyone. It won’t matter that we were once friends and neighbours. You’d
be a fool to underestimate him.” A weary sigh left her lips. “After all, what has he to lose?”

  “What have any of us to lose?” He closed the gap between them. “Vane robbed me of the only thing that mattered. Perhaps it’s time I returned the favour.” Oh, it was a fitting retribution: an eye for an eye, a sister for a sister.

  “You speak as though I should fear you, my lord.” She bit down on her bottom lip as she watched his every move. She looked pale and tired though not from lack of sleep. “And yet I must admit to being relieved to find you’re my captor.”

  “Then allow me to advise you to have a care. I’m no longer the sweet young man you remember.” Hate and bitterness filled his heart now, and he made sure she heard it in his voice. Her family’s evil actions had purged him of any romantic notions he might have once possessed. “Don’t make the mistake of trusting me. Don’t imagine for a minute that I won’t use you to get what I want.”

  “And what do you want, Fabian?” She shuffled back a few steps and surveyed the vaulted ceiling, the fan of swords on the wall above the dais, and the vast array of antlers displayed as trophies from successful hunts. “Why act the wicked baron and bring me to a castle in the middle of Lord knows where? Had you asked for my help or guidance, I would have given it freely.”

  The sound of his given name falling from her lips threw him off kilter although only momentarily. “It is not your help I need.”

  She stared at him for a moment and swallowed deeply. “I see.” Those two words held a wealth of pain and disappointment. “You mean to use me in the hope my brother will fall at your feet and do whatever you ask. Am I to be played and discarded like a pawn in your bid to capture the king?”

  Guilt surfaced and to cleanse his conscience he thought of Estelle, suffering in squalor for eight years while the world presumed her dead.

  “Estelle is alive.” He squeezed the words past the lump in his throat.

  A stunned silence filled the vast hall.

  “Alive?” Lillian’s eyes grew wide. She jerked her head back and clutched her locket. “But she perished when The Torrens sank off the French coast.”

  Fabian’s heart thumped in his chest as he pictured his sweet sister struggling to stay afloat amid a sea of bloated bodies and the remains of the wooden wreckage. “I have every reason to believe she survived.”

  “But how can that be?” Lillian shook her head, confusion swimming in her hazel eyes. The lack of light in the gloomy hall made her irises appear earthy brown, yet he knew they were ringed with a hypnotic shade of green. Indeed, he daren’t look too closely for fear of falling under their spell. “Why has she not come home?”

  “How can she? She doesn’t know where home is.” Besides his men, few knew the island's location. “When Estelle ran away my father owned Prescott Hall. We lost everything when we invested in your father’s mining venture.”

  A cold chill swept over him. He would never forget the pained look on his father’s face when he delivered the devastating news. They’d had no choice but to break the entail as Fabian would have struggled to maintain the property under the burden of such a heavy debt.

  A blush touched Lillian’s cheeks. “My father was a frivolous man who cared nothing for other men’s hardships.”

  The hint of shame in her voice pleased him. “In that, we agree.”

  “Then am I to understand that this impressive building is a recent purchase?”

  “My first ship was my home for several years. Now I have the funds to live wherever I please.”

  It suited him to live away from the society he despised. Gentlemen were fickle. A lord could rob a man of his wealth and blame it on a bad investment. When a poor man took advantage of the rich, they called him a thief and a pirate.

  “And it pleases you to hide away here?”

  Fabian straightened. Lillian Sandford had always known what to say to rile him. “What are you insinuating? You may call me a pirate, but do not label me a coward.” He’d beaten men to a pulp for less. “I live here because I cannot bear hypocrisy. I live here because I can do what I damn well please whenever I choose.”

  “How fortunate.” Her hazel eyes searched his face, probing, accessing. “Like all birds, the raven is a symbol of freedom. As a woman, doing what I please is a luxury I can ill afford.”

  The comment brought about an unexpected tightening in his chest. “Walk with me.” It was a command, not a request. He could no longer stand there looking into those sorrowful pools and pretend to feel nothing.

  They left the great hall and climbed the stairs to the top of the keep. Neither spoke though guilt flared when he heard her breathless pants but did not offer his assistance.

  He led her to the brazier. The dying flames gave off enough heat to keep the chill in the air at bay. “Look out and tell me what you see.”

  Sailors stared at the wide stretch of ocean, their minds engaged in planning their next wild adventure. Lillian gazed up at the full moon, at the stars twinkling in the inky sky. The vastness often made a person feel insignificant. For others, the majesty of it all proved powerful enough to cleanse the soul. Her little sighs and gasps told him she took comfort from the peace and stillness of the night.

  “It is hard to comprehend how something so magnificent can exist in such a cruel world,” she said softly. Did she speak of a past suffering, or of her distress upon being kidnapped by a pirate?

  “Nature causes just as much devastation as man. Ask anyone who’s sailed during a thunderstorm or been swamped by thirty-foot waves.” He thought of Estelle scrambling to keep her head above the water and quickly sought a way to change the subject. “Hold out your arms and twirl around, but keep your fingers wide apart.”

  She turned and frowned at his odd request. “Why?” Perhaps she thought he meant to ridicule her.

  “Do it, and then I shall tell you.”

  “What, so you may mock me?” She ventured closer to the parapet and peered at the jagged rocks below. “Or is it your intention to make me dizzy? Would it suit your plan if I tumbled over the edge and plunged to my death?”

  Panic gripped him. Fabian closed the gap between them. Surely the woman wasn’t fool enough to jump. “I’ve spent eight years blaming myself for Estelle’s death.” Vane was culpable, too. “I’ll not have yours on my conscience.”

  “And yet you kidnapped me and brought me here to live with a crew of seafaring men.” She stepped back, an incredulous look distorting her pretty features. “Do you think the matrons will accept me now? In our society, a woman with a ruined reputation may as well be dead.”

  “From what I hear it is too late to worry about your virtue.” He hadn’t meant his words to sound so blunt, but anger burned inside. It was too late to offer advice about the company she kept, and he blamed Vane for her lack of judgement. “Only marriage can save you now.”

  “Marriage?” Lillian gave a mocking snort. “How foolish of me. Why did I not think of it before? I’ll simply pick one of the many men clambering over each other to marry the disreputable sister of a scoundrel.”

  Fabian fell silent. He relished those few seconds of peace, for his world was about to erupt into a cacophony of questions and protests. “Why pick another man when you can marry me?”

  Chapter Three

  “Marry you! Are you out of your mind?” Lillian swallowed to clear the lump in her throat. This was not the first time Fabian Darcy had tormented her for his own amusement. “Is that your penance for kidnapping? Or is this where you lie and tell me you’ve admired me since I was a girl?”

  “That depends. Does my motive have any bearing on your answer?”

  The breeze caught the open neck of his shirt, drawing her gaze to the bronzed skin beneath. She’d spied on him once, had seen his bare chest as he wrestled with Vane on the lawn one summer’s evening when her parents were away. His shoulders were broader now. Judging by the muscular thighs filling his breeches, she imagined the rest of him was equally impressive.

&n
bsp; “You need a husband,” he continued, “and I seem to be the only man offering.”

  “Have you offered? It sounded more like a cruel joke to me.” Before she could utter another word, Fabian grabbed her hand. The sudden jolt of awareness made her gasp. “Let go of me.” She tried to break free, but his grip was firm.

  “Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” He brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his warm lips over her knuckles. Every nerve in her body sprang to life. He gazed deeply into her eyes, and for a moment he looked sincere. “Marry me, Lillian.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Lillian shook her head as he released her hand. Her stomach flipped, and she felt giddy. Perhaps she was still suffering from the effects of the punch. “Is it to be retribution, then? Are you so intent on punishing Vane that you would shackle yourself to me?”

  Fabian shrugged one shoulder. “I must admit, the thought of causing your brother pain pleases me no end.”

  A small part of her wished he had lied. Could he not have said he found her enchanting? Could he not have invented a fairy tale? One that spoke of a destitute lord making his fortune on the high seas so he could return to claim a lost love.

  But this had nothing to do with love. This was a clear act of spite and revenge.

  “What makes you think I’m desperate enough to accept?” It didn’t matter that she’d dreamt of marrying him when she was fifteen and he was a happy, carefree gentleman of twenty. “You may despise my brother, but I love him. What makes you think I would hurt him by frolicking with his enemy?”

  The corners of Fabian’s mouth curled up into a sinful smile. “Are you not a woman who craves adventure? Does the thought of frolicking with a pirate not hold some fascination?”