My Fair Captain

by J. L. Langley

  Dedication

  In memory of Charlie Mitchell. Friend and neighbor. He will be greatly missed.

  Extra special thanks to: Dick D, my V.E.P.B. You really helped me see this whole story clearer. I’d have probably started killing off characters for stress relief if it weren’t for you. I enjoyed our plotting sessions immensely.

  And to the ladies of Jaw Breakers. I’d have ripped my hair out on this one if it wasn’t for all of ya’ll. This story was the king of all DIP disorder catalysts. Thank you for suffering along with me.

  Prologue

  January 26, 4811: Planet Englor: A glade outside of Hawthorne Proper in the country of Moreal.

  A dried, crumpled leaf blew across the toe of his shiny black boot as he lifted his right foot. Nathaniel should have stayed home…honor be damned. It was all a misunderstanding, an accident. Now, he was going to pay dearly for it. He was going to die.

  “Six.”

  Nate swallowed hard and seized a deep breath as he took his sixth step. The crisp morning breeze ruffled his hair, blowing an overlong lock of dark brown into his eyes. He blinked and shook his head to dislodge it, then wished he hadn’t. His head still ached from the heavy imbibing he’d indulged in the night before. If by some miracle he got out of this alive, he’d never drink again.

  “Seven.” Baron White’s voice sounded exceedingly harsh over the rustle of leaves and a neighing horse. Then again, maybe it was the circumstances that made it sound that way. Or perhaps it was the serenity of the glade in contrast.

  With his mind dazed and his body on autopilot, Nate continued forward. He peered over the horizon, past the bare trees, where the sun was beginning to light the sky with its morning blush. When was the last time he’d been up early enough to see the sunrise? He couldn’t remember, but knowing this might be the last time… His carefree existence as the oldest son of the Duke of Hawthorne suddenly seemed worthless.

  Someone at the edge of the clearing coughed as the Baron’s voice rang out.

  “Eight.”

  Nathaniel advanced a pace. Why had he ever thought he could reason with the viscount? Daniel Bradford, Viscount Hargrove and heir of the Marquis of Oxley, had always been a hothead. Despite the fact their fathers were the dearest of friends and Nate had known Daniel practically since birth, there had never been any love lost between them. As children they’d been rivals. As adults, they merely ignored each other. Until last night. Last night, they’d become bitter enemies.

  “Nine.”

  Closing his eyes, he planted one foot in front of the other. The ancient Terran gun felt heavy in his hand. He didn’t want to do this. The accusation that had brought him here was false, but his alibi was just as damning. Everything in him screamed to run off the field and flee. He’d be called a coward, but at least he’d live another twenty years. And more importantly, he wouldn’t have to disillusion his father.

  “Ten. Fire!”

  Nathaniel turned knowing exactly what he had to do. He could not kill Hargrove. If by some miracle Nate lived, his father would surely disown him. He might be a wastrel, but he adored his father and disappointing him was the worst fate Nate could suffer, more horrible than even death. He aimed over Daniel’s left shoulder.

  The sound of gunfire erupted and a searing pain blossomed in his side. Flinching away from the agony, his finger jerked the trigger.

  Daniel’s blue eyes widened, his mouth dropped open and he stared at his chest, where a red stain spread across the tan brocade waistcoat. He looked back at Nathaniel, his face pasty white, and crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.

  A loud feminine scream tore through the air. Victoria, Hargrove’s fiancée, ran onto the field and flung herself over the viscount.

  Oh, Galaxy, what have I done? Nate stood perfectly still, watching for any movement from his opponent.

  Someone rushed toward Nate. “Star dust, Nate.”

  Jared.

  Nathaniel was vaguely aware of the hustle and bustle around him as he let the gun slip from his numb hand. It hit the dead grass with a soft thud. Staring at Hargrove’s lifeless body partially covered by Victoria’s blue riding habit, he willed the man to get up. But he knew that wasn’t to be.

  A flock of people crowded around the viscount, finally blocking Nate’s view, but the sobbing and sounds of disorder continued.

  Fingers prodded his side, making the dull twinge flare into sharp pain. He hissed out a breath and glanced down at Jared’s dark head. Why was his younger brother here?

  Jared perched on his knees, examining Nate’s side. “It’s only a flesh wound.” Rising, he moved in front of Nate. “We have to get out of here.” His brother clasped his shoulders and shook him. “Nate, are you listening to me?”

  Nathaniel tore his gaze away from his sibling’s worried brown eyes and looked past his shoulder. Hargrove couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. Nate hadn’t meant to kill the viscount, he was the one who was supposed to die.

  The physician stood over Daniel shaking his head. Victoria sobbed harder, raking her hand through Daniel’s blond hair, begging him to respond. Even Baron White had waddled his portly body over to stand by the downed man.

  “Nate.” Jared shook harder.

  Nate touched his injury, wincing at the pain. What was he to do now? He yanked his hand away from the sticky mess and brought it up between him and Jared. Dark red coated his fingertips and dripped down his hand.

  “Dammit, Nathaniel.” Jared slapped him, jerking Nate’s head to the side and nearly knocking him off balance. “Get it together. We have to go.”

  The sting snapped Nate from his daze. Jared was right. Dueling happened quite a bit, but it was illegal. No one would say a word unless the authorities happened along, then they would all be incarcerated. Which was no less than he deserved.

  “Did you ride Nabil? Or did you come in one of the lifts?” Jared asked, tugging him toward the horses. Right past the tree line, horse-drawn coaches and the Low In-Flight Transports hovered above the ground just off the road.

  “I rode Nabil.” Nate freed himself from Jared’s grip as they cleared the trees, looking for his black gelding. “What are you doing here, Jared?” Nate knew for a fact his brother had not been in the glade when he’d started pacing off. He’d purposely come to the duel alone, not even bringing a second.

  Nabil stood several yards away from the lift bearing his family crest. As Nate and Jared approached, the gelding pranced toward them, sensing his unease and the need for urgency.

  Jared tilted his boyish face in defiance as he walked to the lift. “Open door. Steps down.” The door slid into the doorframe and steps descended from the side of the vehicle. “I came to watch your back, brother mine. I woke and you were gone. You should’ve told me you planned to go through with this. I barely made it here in time.” Jared climbed into the carriage. “Steps up.” The stairs disappeared into the side of the black metal conveyance as Jared braced his hands on the doorframe and turned his attention back to Nate.

  For the first time, Nate noticed his brother’s disheveled appearance. Jared’s wrinkled black knee britches had been worn the night before. He was without waistcoat and cravat and his pale blue shirt had one sleeve rolled above his forearm. His shoulder-length dark brown hair hung loose as though he hadn’t even run a comb through it. The handsome face, a slightly younger version of Nate’s, was shadowed with stubble. By the looks of it, Jared had rolled out of bed, with no assistance from his valet, and into the lift to follow Nate.

  Feeling anesthetized from head to toe, Nate hefted himself into the saddle. “I wasn’t going to go through with the duel. I came to talk Daniel out of it, but he wouldn’t listen.” Turning Nabil toward the trees, he tried to see through the dried brush. His stomach dropped
to his feet, feeling the full impact of what he’d done—however inadvertently. He’d killed a man.

  “I’m sorry.” Jared’s voice was so quiet, Nate barely heard him.

  “So am I,” he whispered back. Turning Nabil, he gave his only sibling a sad smile. “Let’s go home, Little Brother.”

  Jared nodded and backed out of sight. The lift’s door shut, then the lift whipped off the grass onto the road. It floated at a fast clip in the direction of Hawthorne.

  Looking back at the clearing one last time, Nate closed his eyes. His life would never be the same again. Heeling Nabil, he nudged his horse into a gallop toward home and his father’s censure.

  Chapter One

  November 5, 4829: Planet Regelence: Townsend Castle in Classige, Pruluce (the ruling country of Regelence).

  An ear-piercing screech echoed through the castle followed by the slap of bare feet on marble floor. The sound of skin hitting the polished stone in the entryway suddenly muted into a soft thud. Aiden looked up from his sketchscreen.

  Muffin, his oldest brother’s ward, barreled through the door of the parlor, naked and dripping wet. Her shoulder-length red hair was plastered to her freckled face and around her neck and shoulders. She ran as fast as her short thin legs would carry her, trailing water on the blue carpet and looking over her shoulder. Barely sparing Aiden a glance, she dove under the chaise he reclined on.

  He bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing. It must be bath time. Saving his latest painting, he put the stylus in its holder on the side of the screen and set it aside. Leaning over the edge of the chaise, he lifted the gold damask ruffle. He brushed back a dark lock of hair that fell over his brow and focused on a pair of blinking wide blue eyes.

  Muffin brought her tiny finger to her pursed lips as rivulets of water ran over her rosy cheeks. “Shhh… I owe ju, Aid’n.”

  Dropping the fabric, Aiden sat back up, still fighting off his mirth. The four-year-old hadn’t figured out that Jeffers, the castle computer, knew everything that happened under its roof. Doubtlessly, Nurse Christy would ask Jeffers to pinpoint the child.

  Aiden decided to take pity on the waterlogged sprite. Sure she needed her bath, but it was good to rebel now and again. It kept things interesting. “Jeffers?”

  “Yes, Lord Aiden?” the disembodied baritone asked.

  “You have not seen Lady Muffin.”

  “My Lord, you know I’m not allowed to lie to castle guardians and chaperones on your behalf, including Lady Muffin’s nurse.”

  Aiden sighed. He did know, darn it. Inside the castle and on its immediate lawn were the only places he and his siblings were allowed without a chaperone. Which was why they had to resort to trickery to get any time by themselves. Speaking of alone time…

  He glanced at the clock on the mantel above the white marble fireplace. 9:12 a.m. Three minutes until Payton shut down Jeffers, assuming Payton could circumvent Jeffers’ cameras, the other castle servants and a security system to get to the access panel in the basement. The last time Payton flipped Jeffers’ switch, their parents responded by implementing more defense measures. “Fine, let me rephrase that. You do not see Lady Muffin, she is hiding somewhere in the house.”

  “That is true, Lord Aiden. My cameras cannot see under the chaise, although my heat sensors tell me she is there. I will tell Nurse Christy thus.”

  Aiden snorted. Jeffers would probably word his response to Christy exactly like that. Not that it would matter, Christy could easily follow the water trail to her missing charge. But it would give the little rascal a chance to assert her independence and cause chaos in which he could escape. As long as Christy wasn’t in the parlor at the time Aiden had to make his getaway.

  A loud clacking of heels clipped down the hall outside the parlor. Aiden held his breath until the footsteps moved on past. He glanced at the clock again, 9:14 a.m., then out the open parlor door. “Jeffers, close the parlor door. I’d like privacy, please. Also, close all cameras, heat sensors and microphones in this room until further notice.”

  The blue-curtained French door closed with a snick. “Yes, milord.”

  Hopping off his seat, Aiden looked under the chaise. He debated several seconds on whether to tell the little girl about the scheme he and his brothers had concocted. He didn’t want to chance the imp going outside and getting hurt, but even she should be able to take advantage of the rare freedom. Knowing her, she’d likely use her stolen minutes of independence to sneak into the kitchen and get some sweets. “Muffin, Payton is turning off The Spy today. Promise me you won’t go outside?”

  Her damp head bobbed, a bright smile lighting her cheeks. “Promise.”

  “And no telling Rexley.”

  Again she nodded. “’Kay.”

  “Whew.” Muffin told Rexley everything, and what his oldest brother knew, their parents knew. Rexley was heir to the throne and probably pictured in the dictionary under responsible. If he got word of Tarren cajoling Payton into shutting Jeffers off, Rexley would be honor-bound to go straight to their father and sire.

  Aiden dropped the concealing material and gathered his fourteen by eighteen inch sketchscreen he’d brought with him for his afternoon of freedom under his arm. He’d considered bringing a traditional sketchbook and some charcoal, but with the sketchscreen he could do more things. Even though he loved to use the time-honored methods, with the screen he could make the work larger, add color, even have it printed into a finished piece. He could alter his renderings anyway an artist would wish to do so and it had nearly unlimited storage, where as with the conventional means he eventually ran out of paper.

  He glanced at the fireplace. The mantel clock read 9:15 a.m. “Jeffers?”

  There was no answer.

  “Jeffers? Are you there?”

  Still the computer didn’t respond.

  Yes. Payton had done it. In all of Aiden’s nineteen years, he’d never known Jeffers not to respond after the first call. Even after asking for privacy, speaking the computer’s name would bring him back into the room.

  The French door opened and shut.

  No. He was so close. Aiden spun around, expecting to find Christy. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Colton leaning against the door.

  His brother clasped one large hand to his muscular chest and ran the other through his short black hair. Predictably, he was dressed in his buff-colored pants, a white poets blouse and his favorite brown riding boots. “Whew. That was close. Muffin flew the coop and her nurse and Cony are looking for her.”

  Muffin’s head popped out from under the gold damask. “Cony?”

  Colton started, then the corner of his mouth turned up. “Yup, Cony finished his meeting early and Christy intercepted him on the way to his study.”

  “Dust.” Aiden’s shoulders slumped. If their sire was out and about in the halls, they’d never make it past him. Their parent was a very astute man. He probably already realized Jeffers was out of commission. Which meant… “We have to hurry, Colton.”

  Colton nodded. “Exactly what I was thinking.” Turning toward the door, he lifted the edge of the curtain and peeked out.

  Walking up behind him, Aiden tried to see over his brother’s towering form, without luck. Colton was the tallest of his brothers and he’d inherited Father’s muscular physique. Aiden, even though a few months older than Colton, was the shortest of his siblings, but at least he’d inherited Father’s broad shoulders too. “Well? Is Cony out the—?”

  Colton jumped away from the door, his sherry-colored eyes wide. “Come on. Now Father is there too. We’ll have to go out the window.” He shooed Aiden to the front of the room.

  “Father?” Muffin asked.

  Hurrying to the window, Colton knocked the heavy velvet drapes aside and got tangled in the gold gauzy panels underneath. “Yes, Muffin. Father is, at this moment, on his way into the breakfast room.”

  Great. The breakfast room was across from them. Aiden set his sketchscreen down to hold the curtains out
of the way before Colton tore them down and they got in trouble for that too. “Where are you going?”

  Unlatching the wood frames of the window, Colton pushed the panes open. “Riding. Where else?” Colton was an avid horseman. He’d spend his entire day on horseback, if he were allowed.

  “I meant, where are you going riding?”

  “I’m going—”

  The door opened.

  Aiden let go of the curtains and dropped to his stomach, hoping the loveseat in front of the window would conceal him.

  Only a second later, Colton dove to the ground next to him.

  The door shut and the sound of panting followed.

  Dust. So close, yet so far. Now they were surely caught. The sofa had mahogany legs and an eagle claw foot, with an eight-inch gap between the bottom of the beige material and the floor. Anyone who bothered to look would see them. If it were Cony and Father, he and Colton were dead in the water.

  Aiden tried to see under the loveseat, but the chaise blocked the view of the door. Catching Colton’s gaze, Aiden tipped his head, indicating his brother should peek and see who was in the room with them. Colton was on the other side and could peer around the edge.

  Shaking his head, Colton mouthed the word, “You.”

  The big coward. If you want something done… Aiden belly crawled to the edge of the sofa, but before he could glance around it Muffin squealed, “Payton,” and scrambled from under the chaise.

  Payton? Aiden glanced around the side of the loveseat.

  His second oldest brother hurried farther into the room, catching Muffin as she leapt at him.

  Payton’s gaze landed on the open window and his brow scrunched. Looking down, he spotted Aiden. “Wha—”

  Colton stood. “Payton, what are you doing here?”

  Payton rolled his eyes, then glared at Colton. “Running for my life. What are you doing here? I sacrifice myself so you can get out, and you’re still here?” Frowning, he arranged Muffin in his arms and rushed to the window. “Muffin, you’re naked.”