Fortune's Bride

by French, Judith E.

  Garrett caught her shoulder and jerked her around to face him. “To hell with ghost stories! Why did you tell Whitehead we were to be married?”

  The sparkle faded from her gaze, replaced with stubborn will. “We are. And we will be wed today—tomorrow at the latest.”

  “Have you lost your wits, girl?” The audacity of her! His anger was tempered with admiration. His black stare had been known to intimidate a drunken Carib Indian, yet this spoiled little minx didn’t flinch. “I’ve no intention of taking a bride. And if I did, it would be one of my own choosing.”

  “Nay,” she flung back, twisting free of his grasp.

  He couldn’t hold her and remain upright without hurting her, so he let her step away. “Nay, indeed,” he repeated. “What game is this you’re playing? Are you pregnant with some man’s bastard that you need to find a husband so quickly?”

  She drew back her hand to slap him. He threw up an arm to block her blow. “I warned you never to try that again,” he said coldly.

  “How dare you insult me!”

  He’d seen his share of angry women before—heard his portion of tears and spitting curses. But Caroline offered none of these familiar retorts. Instead, her brown eyes narrowed and darkened to the color of old oak. Her sensual lips tightened to a thin line and her chin firmed. If she’d had a pistol in her hand, he’d have ignored his injured leg and dived for the nearest cover. “What am I to think,” he answered, “when you proclaim me your betrothed without so much as a by-your-leave, madame.”

  “You have ruined my reputation,” she said, with only the slightest tremor in her husky voice. “You have ruined me, and therefore you must make an honest woman of me. If you do not, I’ll be the laughingstock of every decent man and woman in the colony.”

  “That is hardly my problem.”

  “No?” She balled her small hands into tight fists at her sides. “But it shall be if I exposed you to Major Whitehead—if I tell him that you forced yourself into my bed.”

  “What do you want of me?”

  She took a deep breath. “Can we sit? It’s rather intimidating to have you glowering down at me.”

  “Why me? A woman of your wealth—”

  “You were my brother’s friend—are his friend,” she corrected. “You claim to be loyal to England and you are not already married. Are you?” She looked up at him anxiously.

  “No. I’m not married.” He followed her to the bench and eased himself down on it. It was all he could do to keep from groaning in relief as he took the weight off his leg.

  Caroline sat on the far end and half turned toward him. “I shall be honest with you,” she said.

  “Thank God for that.”

  “My cousin has kept me a virtual prisoner in my own home since my husband’s death,” she said. “Now he is trying to force me into marriage.”

  “For your money.”

  She nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Not to be unexpected, certainly. Women of your class—”

  “I am a Talbot by birth,” she said proudly. “A Talbot of Fortune’s Gift. This land has been handed down to me from my mother and her mother, back to Great-great-grandmother Lacy. The women in my family don’t allow themselves to be manipulated by men, not by their fathers or their husbands.”

  “An interesting concept. But again—why me? Why not someone—”

  “Will you cease arguing long enough to hear what I have to say?” She didn’t raise her voice, but her tone became frosty. “You needed my help and I risked my life to give it to you. Now you may pay that debt by marrying me.”

  He grimaced. “You’d rather give your wealth to me than keep it in the family by marrying Cousin Bruce.”

  “Not a real marriage, you dunce,” she snapped. “A marriage of convenience. We would keep separate beds, and I would keep control of all that is mine.”

  He stared at her in disbelief. “And what do I get from this one-sided bargain?”

  “Your life, for one thing.”

  “You’d betray me?”

  She swallowed. “If I have to,” she said softly.

  “Your brother’s friend.”

  “We are in perilous times,” she answered. “Sometimes it is necessary to do things one would never consider in kinder situations.”

  “If I was this rebel traitor they’ve accused me of being, what’s to keep me from choking the life from you and making my escape?”

  She chuckled. “You’re no murderer, Garrett Faulkner. Besides, you’d never find your way out of the maze. You’d be trapped here with the evidance.”

  A lock of curling red hair fell over her eyes and Caroline brushed it away, tucking it under the edge of her lace cap. The green wool hood framed her oval face, and he was struck by just how lovely she was. Who would believe a devious mind lurked behind such a facade?

  He took a deep breath and tried once more to unravel the mystery. “I can see why it would be to your advantage to marry, but why me? You hardly know me. I could be a profligate, a rogue.”

  “You are. At least from what I know of your reputation, you are. A scoundrel. What can you say for yourself? The grandson of an indentured servant with a failed naval career behind you? A man with a taste for blooded horses and cheap women? Heir to what? A thousand acres of played-out tobacco land.”

  “Twelve hundred acres,” he replied. “And not all played out.”

  “You are a poor planter at best, sir, and with our fortunes affected by this rebellion, you are not likely to become any richer in the near future.”

  “What will you offer me?”

  “Money. A great deal of money.” She lifted her chin and stared at him with regal arrogance. “You shall have a tenth share of my inheritance—more money than you or yours could imagine.”

  “And you want in return?”

  “I want your name and protection,” she said. “I want my brother ransomed, and I want your promise—in writing—that our marriage will be annulled in five years’ time.”

  “Five years?”

  “Yes. Naturally, I will give you a living allowance now, but the bulk of your reward will come on the day our annulment is final.”

  “You think I’m the sort of man who would marry a woman for her money?”

  Caroline shrugged. “We’ll soon see, won’t we?”

  Her barb stung like that of a black wasp, and he felt his face flush. The truth was, he found her offer tempting. With Caroline’s money, he could buy another ship. And with a ship, he’d find a crew and fight the British again—something he’d not been able to do in the months since his vessel had gone down off Lewes with most of his men. “A marriage of convenience only,” he repeated softly. “Does that mean I am to watch while you flit from man to man and perhaps gift me with children?”

  It was her turn to flush. “I sleep alone!” she retorted. “I shall continue to do so. No word of gossip has ever touched my name . . . until last night.”

  “If we did make this bargain, how can you be certain we could obtain an annulment at the end of five years?”

  “We will both swear that the marriage has never been consummated.”

  He scoffed. “You’re a widow. That’s a difficult point to prove.”

  “Not for an heiress to Fortune’s Gift,” she said. “For a high enough bribe, I could find a judge to rule that that you were incapable of functioning as a husband.” She smiled and raised a palm to ward off his anger. “Not that I would, you understand. You may put all the blame on me. You may claim anything you like, as long as I remain in control of Fortune’s Gift and all its wealth.”

  “I think the two of us under one roof would soon come to murder,” he said.

  “There is no need for you to remain on Fortune’s Gift. Naturally, your own plantation will require your attention. I need only your name and the title of wife to a man known to be loyal to England. I am quite capable of managing my own affairs.”

  “I see.” He turned his head away. Who would have thoug
ht it of Reed’s sister? The damnable wench. She had him in a trap and was twisting the bonds. “This is not a decision to be made lightly,” he said. She remained silent. Ignoring his pain, he rose and walked to the far side of the garden. A wife . . . It was the last thing he wanted, but if she brought with her the chance of a ship under his feet once more . . .

  Caroline had no idea he was Osprey. If she did, she’d not have made the offer. The British had spread the word that he’d betrayed his crew and ship—that he’d deliberately sailed into a trap. He hadn’t. He hadn’t even been at the wheel that night his ship had gone down; he’d been flat on his back in his cabin with a musket ball in his shoulder. But he’d had only his best friend Noah to confirm his story, and a black man’s word meant little. But if Reed Talbot was alive—if he could be ransomed from the British—Reed would vouch for him. His name would be cleared and his honor restored.

  The memory of the hearing burned in the pit of his stomach like gall. The Continental high command had charged him with cowardice and treason. They’d demanded to know why forty-four good men had gone to their deaths, and Garrett had been one of only four survivors. He and Noah had lived, Reed had been wounded and taken prisoner. A fourth man had survived the battle and been shot trying to escape.

  Garrett sighed. The captain always goes down with his ship. But not this captain. His friends and crew had fought bravely and died one by one while he lived to tell about the battle. It was a thing that made for poor nights’ sleep, a thing that twisted and turned inside a man and made him want to seek revenge.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” he whispered. The only reply was the lonely cry of a fish hawk high overhead.

  In the past months, he and Noah had harried the British, seizing dispatches, cutting loose moored vessels, doing whatever they could to harm the English military. Even though he had gone to every friend of his and his father, no one would help him get another ship—no one would let him sign on to fight aboard another captain’s privateer. Now Wesley Steele’s widow might give him that opportunity.

  He wondered just how far he could trust Caroline. Reed and Wesley had both been strong for independence; Wesley had shed his life’s blood for it. Why then was his widow such an ardent Tory? Or was she?

  He glanced back at Caroline. She was sitting as he’d left her, hands clasped in her lap, eyes down. A passerby would think she had nothing more on her mind than the cut and color of a new gown.

  She would vex his life beyond belief—he knew it. If he did as she asked, men would say he wed her for her money. And it would be true. Damn it to hell! He wanted nothing more than to fight for freedom. He had no time for a spoiled beauty and her demands. He’d always loved women, but war was no time to take a wife. If he married her, he’d be responsible for her safety. And if he didn’t, he’d be hard put to get away from Fortune’s Gift with his neck intact.

  Straightening his shoulders, he returned to the bench where she waited. “I want a ship,” he said.

  She smiled. “I have lots of ships. I forget how many, but surely one will suit you.”

  “Then—”

  “Wait,” she interrupted. “There’s one thing more. You’ve heard of my sister Amanda?”

  “You have no—Oh, you must mean the black girl your father raised. Her name is Amanda?”

  “Yes. Amanda Talbot.” She stared at him as if daring him to contest the fact.

  “What of her?”

  “She’s black.”

  He scowled. “I believe we’ve covered that point. What about her?”

  “Amanda is not a slave. She’s a free woman.”

  “Fortune’s Gift has never owned slaves. That’s common knowledge.”

  “You have no objections to Amanda?”

  “It depends on what she does. I don’t know the girl.”

  “She isn’t a girl. She’s a woman. And this is her home. She and her son, Jeremy, will continue to live in the house as part of my family.”

  “So?”

  “You don’t care if a black woman eats at your table?”

  He laughed. “My mother died when I was born. A black woman nursed me, wrapped me in nappies, and taught me manners.”

  “I allow no black man or woman to be mistreated on Fortune’s Gift,” she warned.

  “Mistress Steele, are you serious about making a bargain with me or not?”

  “I’d make a bargain with Lucifer himself to save Fortune’s Gift and my people.”

  “Then I accept your offer. I will give you my name, and you will give me a ship and access to your fortune.”

  “Within reason,” she said.

  “Of course.” He took her hand. “A kiss of peace to seal our contract, madame?”

  “I think not,” she replied haughtily. “There will be time enough for that at Oxford Church.”

  Chapter 5

  Oxford, Maryland

  It was midafternoon of the following day when Garrett and Caroline stood before the minister in the small frame church in the waterfront village of Oxford. Major Whitehead waited a few steps behind them. In the absence of any of her family members or close friends, Caroline had asked the British officer to stand as one witness. Reverend Thomas’s wife, Cora, would sign the marriage contract as the second. The only other people in the church were Mistress Marie Collins, town apothecary and gossip, and the six dragoons who had acted as escort for the bridal party. Mistress Collins, who never missed a wedding or a funeral, was a close friend of the minister’s wife.

  Nervously, Caroline glanced over her shoulder at the door. Major Whitehead had explained that he’d sent Bruce on patrol with a squad of dragoons at dawn. The major also said that he’d neglected to inform the captain of Caroline’s impending nuptials. Still, she couldn’t help worrying that her cousin would arrive and put a stop to the ceremony, or that he might have returned to the plantation and caught Mary and Abbie making their escape to Delaware with friends.

  This was a very different wedding from the one she’d shared with Wesley before the war. They’d been married in the great hall at Fortune’s Gift on a bright May morning. Reed had given her away, and there had been so many guests that dozens of them had stood outside in the garden. The feasting had gone on for three days, and Caroline and Wesley had danced their wedding night away.

  Reverend Thomas cleared his throat and Caroline was jerked back into the present. The minister glanced sternly from her to Garrett. “Are you certain you wish to go through with this?” he demanded brusquely.

  “We do,” Garrett assured him. Her bridegroom had evidently lost all doubts in the night that had passed since she’d presented him with this decision. Today, Garrett was all gallant manners and charming smiles. At this moment, he was gazing down at her as though she were a frosted wedding cake and he was about to take a bite.

  “And you, Caroline? Are you certain?” Reverend Thomas had performed the ceremony for her and Wesley, and he was obviously distressed at her new choice of a husband.

  Caroline attempted to speak, but the words caught in her throat and she nodded stiffly. Now that she was here and about to become Garrett Faulkner’s bride, her courage wavered.

  Last night, she had gone to the servants’ quarters to tell Amanda to remain hidden until she sent for her. “I’m going to marry Garrett Faulkner,” she announced. Amanda had burst into tears as Caroline explained the precarious situation.

  “Don’t,” her sister had begged. “You don’t have to do this for Jeremy and me. We’ll run away, someplace Bruce can’t find us. Bruce can’t force you to marry him if he isn’t threatening us.”

  “It’s best for all of us,” Caroline had insisted. “If it isn’t Bruce I’m made to marry, it will someone just as bad. I have too much wealth to be allowed to remain without a husband for long. Garrett Faulkner is a man who will be easily managed. He realizes that if it wasn’t for the war, I’d never consider wedding a man of his class. He’s only interested in my fortune. I’ll make him take us south to the Caribbean w
here we’ll be safe. Once there, I’ll get the money to ransom Reed. And when the fighting is over, I’ll buy my freedom from Mr. Faulkner. He’s already agreed to an annulment for ten percent of my wealth. He’s a simple man, Amanda. Give him his race horses, a bottle of good wine, and a tavern girl, and he’ll give us no grief.”

  “I don’t want you to ruin your life for us,” Amanda argued. “It isn’t fair.”

  “I’m doing this as much for Reed as for you and Jeremy. You know Bruce would never let us buy our brother out of prison. Once Reed’s safe, we’ll be a family again. It won’t matter which side wins the war. If the Americans succeed, Fortune’s Gift will be saved because Reed fought for them, and if they lose, I’ll keep the land for my loyalty to England. Don’t you see, Amanda? It’s the only way.”

  Now Caroline was not so sure. Her stomach felt as though she had swallowed a handful of butterflies. Her hands and feet were cold, and her knees were weak. If she didn’t keep her teeth clenched shut, she was certain they’d betray her fear by chattering.

  Garrett took her hand in his, and she looked up into his face. He was grinning like a prize fool. His obvious pleasure in this marriage was enough to make her want to run screaming from the church. He had laughed and joked with Major Whitehead all the way from Fortune’s Gift. And both men had alluded to the rare pleasures of acquiring both an attractive wife and wealth in the same bargain.

  Caroline didn’t know how Garrett could keep up such a cheerful front when his wound must be giving him great pain. She had washed and bandaged the injury late yesterday afternoon, again at midnight, and still again this morning. There was little sign of infection—a wonder in itself—and the stitches had held. Still, each step Garrett took must be an effort. And if he stared at her with calf eyes one more time before they left the church, she’d be tempted to swat him in his bad leg with her hymnbook.

  They had ridden to Oxford today by carriage, although if it were not for his wound she would have suggested they come by horseback. The roads were a disgrace, one mud hole after another. Twice the carriage had become stuck, and everyone had had to climb down from the vehicle. It had done her heart good to see the major’s fancy-dressed dragoons dismount and wade through water and slop to push the wheels free.