“How did you get down here?” Phin asked.
“Slowly.” She’d had to grab on to trees, and her legs gave out numerous times. It’d taken her much longer than it would have a month ago, but she’d made it on her own and was ridiculously proud of herself.
“Come to see us off?” Phin moved forward, the others following, silent and wary of this new Emmaline.
She lifted her chin. “I’ve come to sail with you.”
Phin stopped again, surprise and delight in his expression. “What changed your mind?”
“You. Me. You were right. I’m not the same person and probably never will be, but I still love to sail.” The partial truth. There was more she wasn’t willing to share yet.
“That’s my girl,” Phin said, and her crew relaxed. They were a tight-knit group but a tight-lipped group as well. They wouldn’t comment on her sudden appearance. They’d take it in stride, and be happy for it, she hoped.
Her knee buckled, but she managed to keep herself from falling. Phin seemed to note it, but didn’t say anything. “I plan on captaining this voyage,” she said.
“Of course.” He waved his arm toward the tender waiting for them. “Shall we?”
Chapter Twenty-five
“You’re ruining my life.” Lady Claire Addison stamped her foot and acted more like a two-year-old than a woman of eighteen.
Nicholas glanced above his solicitor’s notes to look at Sebastian.
“My job is complete, then,” Sebastian said drily.
Nicholas bit back a snort. The two had arrived at his doorstep an hour ago and hadn’t stopped their bickering long enough to take a deep breath. Nicholas suspected Sebastian fled here to escape their sister, and Claire followed, haranguing him the entire way. Or maybe Sebastian didn’t want to suffer alone.
Claire was a beauty with a sharp mind who possessed the ability to drive a monk to drink heavily. Since their parents’ deaths, it’d been up to Sebastian to rein her in, and so far he’d failed. Nicholas helped when he could, but his mind wasn’t on his family right now. He had bigger problems to contend with. Like getting back to Emmaline.
“This is so unfair.” Claire fell into the chair, her skirts billowing up around her.
“Claire, please,” Nicholas said. “Act like a lady.”
She crossed her arms and glared at him. “What does it matter? He”—she nodded toward Sebastian—“won’t let me do what ladies do.”
“Ladies don’t go running off with gentlemen they don’t know.” Sebastian’s voice rose and Nicholas shushed him. No reason to let the servants know what was going on. They didn’t need word to spread of Claire’s newest involvement.
“I know him,” she said.
“You do not know him,” Sebastian said.
“And how do you know?”
Sebastian shot Nicholas a help-me look, but Nicholas merely shrugged and tried to concentrate on the papers before him. ’Twas hard enough to do alone, when his thoughts constantly turned to his wife and the questions swirling through his brain.
Was she still unconscious? Was she even alive?
He’d received no word from Phin, and he truthfully hadn’t expected to. He’d told Phin that he would finish his business here and would return to the Isle of Wight posthaste.
He ran a hand down his face and focused on the numbers before him, but they kept blurring. When was the last time he’d had a full night’s rest? Before the attack on Blackwell, most likely. Since returning to London he’d been in meetings with Kenmar, the king and his advisors. They were not pleased Blackwell turned traitor, and Kenmar was especially angry he’d backed the man in several investments. Luckily, the king laid no blame at Kenmar’s feet.
“Nicholas—”
“No.”
“But you don’t even know what I’m going to say,” Claire said, her voice rising to a pitch that hurt his ears.
“I can guess. No.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and jumped from the chair to pace to the window, where she parted the curtains and looked out. “You two are insufferable.”
Sebastian and Nicholas shared a smile. Claire was a handful, and Nicholas had no doubt Sebastian would foist her on the first eligible male he could find. But she was their sister, and by God, the man they eventually handed her off to would meet with their approval. And they most definitely did not approve of Horace Buchanan—hence the drama.
She turned to face them and Nicholas braced himself for another round of pleading. She was beginning to wear on him. He was half-tempted to let her do what she wanted in order to teach her a valuable lesson. If only the lesson wouldn’t ruin her reputation.
“If you would only meet with him, you’d see what a wonderful person he is.”
Nicholas snorted. Sebastian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You’re being rude.” She stomped her foot again.
Sebastian dropped his hand. “Fine. I’ll meet with him.”
Nicholas raised his eyebrows. Had Claire finally worn their brother down?
“You will?” She rushed to Sebastian and fell to her knees in front of him. “Truly? You’ll meet with him? You won’t be sorry, I promise. He’s the nicest man and he cares so very much for me.”
“No he doesn’t.”
Claire jumped up. “How can you say that?”
“Because I’ve looked into his background.”
His face paled and Nicholas put his papers down, waiting for the next bit of news.
“What have you done?” she whispered.
“Merely what any brother or father would do.”
“How could you?” She spun away from them, then turned back. “You don’t trust me to choose my own suitors?”
“No,” they both said.
“Oh. You.” She flung her hands out at her sides.
Sebastian pinned her with the look. The one their father had perfected and apparently passed down to his eldest. The one that said, “You aren’t winning this argument and you shouldn’t even try.”
“Horace Buchanan is up to his eyeballs in gambling debts,” Sebastian said.
“That’s a lie.” But her words weren’t as forceful as before.
Nicholas might have felt sorry for her, if it weren’t for the fact she’d nearly run away with this blackguard last night. Thank all that was holy the tail Sebastian had put on Buchanan warned them.
Sebastian sighed. “It’s not a lie, Claire. He owes a lot of men a lot of money, and you’re not the first girl with a sizeable dowry he’s tried to run away with.”
“You’re just saying that because you don’t want me with him. Because you don’t want me to be happy.”
“Excuse me, my lord.” Nicholas’s butler stood inside the doorway of the study, dour, serious, dressed perfectly. And for some reason, Nicholas suddenly missed Clarence. Clarence who mumbled and complained every time he was asked to do something. Who was so rude it was shocking at times.
“Yes?”
Winston cleared his throat and, for the first time ever, looked like he didn’t quite know what to do. Nicholas had never seen this before. Intrigued, he waited.
“There is a … woman … here, my lord.”
Nicholas suppressed a smile. The poor chap, he truly was ill at ease. It wasn’t as if Nicholas had women calling all the time. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time a woman called, other than Claire.
“And this woman’s name is …”
Winston cleared his throat again. “I wouldn’t have bothered you with this, my lord. I would have sent her on her way, but she’s quite insistent. She, uh, threatened to make a scene at the doorstep, so I had to let her in, you see.”
Nicholas stilled and he barely dared to breathe. “Did she give a name?”
“She did, my lord. She says she’s … Well, she says she’s Lady Addison. Your wife.”
Sebastian’s gaze zeroed in on Nicholas and Claire made a sound but didn’t move. Certainly it couldn’t be … There was n
o way … She was ill, injured.
“You might want to meet with the lady,” Sebastian said softly.
“Yes. Of course.” He shot out of his chair and ran down the steps, taking them two at a time, and paused at the bottom to collect himself. He looked around the entryway, but it was empty, and he’d forgotten to ask where Winston put this woman who claimed to be his wife. He opened the first door he came to and there she was, standing in a ray of sunlight, dressed in a sapphire gown, her hair pinned up. Relief nearly buckled his knees. She was alive. Thank you God, she was alive.
Slowly, she turned from studying the painting above the fireplace. She’d lost weight. Her cheekbones were more pronounced and her waist too slim, but there was color in her face.
Those green eyes, so serious and sad, took him in. Did she know about their child? Yes, he saw the grief in her eyes, the knowledge lodged there. He wanted to go to her, to take her in his arms and hold her close and never let her go, but he held back, sensing she wasn’t ready for that.
“Hello, Nicholas.”
Ah, God, her voice that so enchanted him. ’Twas the most beautiful sound he’d heard in a long time. He forced his legs to move, to enter the room. “Emmaline. You’re looking well.”
She looked down, smoothing the skirts of her gown. “My thanks, my lord.”
So, she was back to my-lording him.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better. Stronger.”
Even in the beginning, when they didn’t get along, they’d always had something to say to each other, but now he was at a loss. This wasn’t the Emmaline he’d fallen in love with, the woman with fire in her heart. Her injury had changed her. He should have expected it, shouldn’t have been thrown off guard by it.
Someone cleared his throat behind him, and Emmaline’s gaze jumped to a point beyond his shoulder. Sebastian strode in and quirked an eyebrow at Nicholas.
“Emmaline,” Nicholas said. “This is my brother, Sebastian Addison, Earl of Claybrook. Sebastian, Lady Addison.”
Her face lost all color and she swayed, her gaze riveted to Sebastian. Quickly, she executed a curtsy, but Sebastian took her hand and helped her up. Nicholas was grateful, for she looked ready to fall over.
“Pleased to meet you, my lord,” she mumbled.
“Call me Sebastian. We are related now.”
She swallowed and hesitated. Eventually she dipped her chin in acknowledgement.
Claire entered as she always entered a room, with the energy of a newborn colt.
“Oh, my.” She raced toward Emmaline, who took a step back and braced herself as if preparing for a blow, but Claire stopped short and looked her up and down.
“Emmaline. My sister, Lady Claire. Claire, my wife, Lady Addison,” Nicholas said.
Emmaline gathered her skirts to prepare for another halfhearted curtsy, but Claire flung her arms around her and gave her a big hug. Emmaline’s eyes went wide and her arms hung limply at her sides for a moment, before tentatively moving to Claire’s shoulders, where she awkwardly patted her.
“It will be so nice to have another woman in the family,” Claire said, pulling away. She tossed her head in Nicholas and Sebastian’s direction. “They are insufferable to live with and don’t understand what it’s like to be a woman.”
Emmaline’s wide gaze went to Nicholas in a silent plea for help. However, Sebastian was the one who stepped forward and took Claire’s arm. “I’m sure you two have much to talk about. Claire and I will leave you be. Emmaline, I look forward to getting to know you. Please accept my dinner invitation for tomorrow evening.”
“I …” She licked her lips and looked beseechingly at Nicholas.
“That will be fine, Sebastian,” he said.
His brother nodded at him and dragged Claire away. Nicholas waited until the front door closed before saying anything, but Emmaline beat him to it.
“You told them about me?”
“Of course.”
Her brows drew down in apparent confusion.
“Would you like to sit down? Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Did you miss me as much as I missed you? Do you want to touch me as I want to touch you?
She shook her head. “I can’t stay. We’re setting sail tomorrow.” She looked away.
“I see.” He didn’t see until now, but he should have. “And you came because …”
She set her jaw and her eyes flashed with defiance. “I’d like to sell the plantation and house.”
“Why?”
She looked away and pressed her lips together.
“Why would you like to sell the plantation, Emmaline?” He could see it was killing her to ask for permission to do what she wanted with what she considered her property. And, in truth, it bothered him as well. She shouldn’t have to get his permission.
She lifted her chin. “It’s time to move on. Time for another adventure.”
He refused to allow the hurt that knifed through him. She was fighting back, protecting herself from her own pain.
“I … I’m grateful you killed Blackwell, though I’m sorry you had to do it.”
“I was glad to do it.” If there was one thing he didn’t regret, it was Blackwell’s death.
“I don’t wish my father’s demise on your hands.”
“He nearly killed my wife. Of course I was going to kill him.”
She fiddled with the sleeve of her gown. “Well, thank you anyway.” She dropped her arm and looked toward the window. “I should be going. I need to find a new home now and … Well, I couldn’t let things end the way they did. I wanted to say good-bye.”
“I see,” he said again, the picture becoming more and more clear. “I was finishing some business before you arrived. Are you able to wait a few days before we leave? I’ll have to instruct Winston to close up the house.” He looked around at his surroundings. At the house that had never been a home, because it lacked Emmaline’s presence. “I’ll have to talk to my solicitor about selling it. Or maybe we can keep it for when we visit London.”
She was looking at him with wide eyes, her lips parted.
“And, of course, I need to inform my family where we’re going. Where are we going, by the way?”
“I don’t … I … What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about moving. You said we have to find a new home.”
“But I didn’t mean with you. That is …” Her face colored and it took everything inside Nicholas not to smile. For the first time since he’d met her, he’d flummoxed his lady pirate.
“What did you mean, then?” He stepped closer. Close enough that he could touch her, but he refrained, although it nearly killed him.
“I know we can no longer remain married.”
“Why?” He moved a half a step. She moved back.
“Why?” She licked her lips and he nearly groaned.
“Why can we no longer remain married?” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, the skin so soft, so silky and so warm. She’d always been warm. ’Twas as if she soaked up the sun’s rays and stored them within her.
Her breath hitched at his touch. “Because my father was a traitor to the Crown. And I’m a bastard.”
He tilted his head and studied her rounded eyes, the need residing inside them. She spoke the words, believed them, but didn’t want to believe. She wanted hope again.
“Surely …” She stepped back, but was crowded against the fireplace and had nowhere else to move. “Surely there are ways to annul our marriage. I’ll do whatever you wish.”
“Why would I annul our marriage?” His anger churned inside him. This was what Daniel Blackwell had done to his daughter—destroyed her confidence, shredded her self-assurance. If he wasn’t already dead, Nicholas would kill him all over again. The bilge-sucking bastard.
She tugged on her gloves and he suddenly remembered she hated wearing them. He took her hand and pulled her glove off, finger by finger, while she looked up at him with that hope shimmering in her eyes. That�
�s all she wanted in life, hope for a better future. A happy future. Finally her fingers were free and he dropped the glove to the floor, covering her hand with his and raising her knuckles to his lips. She breathed deep, the color rising to her face.
“Your father was the bastard. And you are not your father.”
“Aren’t I?”
“Blackwell sided with Spain, not you. In fact, you helped uncover the plot and the king is grateful.”
She swayed. He tightened his hold on her hand, ready to catch her if she should fall. Damn it, she was weaker than he thought, still not recovered from her injury, and here he’d been thinking of tumbling her to the floor and showing her how he was going to keep her at his side.
“You told the king about me?”
“Of course I did. He wanted to know the entire story.”
“Does he know about …”
“Yes,” he said softly.
“What did you tell him?”
Distracted by her soft, warm skin, he looked at her. “Him?”
“The king.”
“I told him you acquired the Lady Anne persona when you suspected Blackwell of treason in order to bring him down. The king is very grateful.”
She swallowed and grabbed hold of the back of a chair for support. “You didn’t,” she whispered.
“I did. And you are completely exonerated. Well, except for one small thing.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What one small thing?”
“He couldn’t completely exonerate you without some punishment. So he’s confiscating your ships. And the plantation.”
Emmaline drew in a deep breath while Nicholas held his own. He hadn’t known how she would react to losing her ships and her home.
Slowly she let her breath out and nodded. “That seems a fair price to pay. I would have liked to have kept the ships, but I can always acquire new ones.”
Nicholas smiled instead of shouting with joy as he wanted to. He also refrained from asking exactly how she planned on acquiring new ships. They would discuss that later.
“I also told him you are the widow of James Sutherland, a privateer and plantation owner, and the woman I love.” Nicholas might also have mentioned a certain Peter Lansing and his unwanted advances on Emmaline, and the threat he posed by almost halting the mission to catch Blackwell. The king was not pleased.
The Notorious Lady Anne: A Loveswept Historical Romance Page 31
