Splendor

by Catherine Hart

  Devlin’s chin came up defensively. “Laugh if you will, Eden, but an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, and these notions are not of my invention. They had to arise from some truth, otherwise there would not be so many people who believe in them. So put that in your bum roll and sit on it, milady.”

  “I’m not wearing a bolster at present,” she countered saucily.

  He grinned and arched a sardonic brow at her. “I noticed.”

  “How crude of you to observe such a thing.”

  “No more indelicate than you pointing out the fact.”

  Jane sighed. “Drink your tea, children, and Mama will take both of you home and put you to bed for a nice long nap, so that I may have some peace at last.”

  Devlin’s eyes brightened. “And will the nice mama put us to bed together, by chance?” he asked with a boyish grin.

  Jane answered with a lemon-tart smile. “Only bound and gagged in individual parcels.”

  Quite inadvertently, mother and daughter were soon treated to another prime example of a sailor’s superstitious nature. Nate had come to dinner, and the four of them were just finishing their meal when Willie Moffet brought the cows home from pasture. He was later than usual, and Dora had already retired to her quarters, so Eden volunteered to feed and bed the animals, while Jane conversed with the men.

  When Devlin gallantly offered to help her, Eden politely declined. Not only was the pirate captain inept at handling livestock, but she had a keen suspicion he only wanted to corner her in the haymow for another session of touch and tickle. And Eden had had quite enough of that. From now on, she intended to avoid all temptation.

  She’d finished with the milking and had just stored the fresh pails in the well-house to cool when she felt something small and furry brush against her leg. She gave a lively start of fright before hearing the tiny meow. Looking down, she found a small black kitten, its golden eyes peering up at her in the most pathetic manner.

  “Oh, just look at you!” she murmured, bending to scoop the little mite into her arms. “If you aren’t the cutest thing since Christmas!” As if in full agreement, and to further entice her, the cat rubbed its head under her chin and began to purr contentedly.

  Eden laughed. “You win, puss. You can’t have the fresh milk, but there’s a lick or two left in the pitcher in the kitchen, and I’m sure no one will begrudge the little you will drink. I’ll bet there are even a few scraps from the table you could have. How does that sound?” The kitten somehow managed to purr and meow in the same breath.

  When Eden entered the dining room with the cat, to show the sweet little thing to her mother, she watched in awe as both burly pirates blanched as white as starched linen and went twice as stiff!

  “Get... get that creature out of here!” Devlin croaked, his voice as raspy as sand, his eyes resembling two huge burn holes in a sheet. Nate nodded mutely, his head bobbing so vigorously that, had it been attached to the handle of the churn, they would have had butter in seconds.

  “Oh, come now!” Eden scoffed. “ ’Tis but a tiny, harmless kitten. One would think I’d just come through the door with a full-grown lion!”

  “ ’Tis black!” Devlin declared, pointing an accusing finger at the animal. “Pure black! An omen of misfortune, should it cross your path! I’ll not have it near me, I say!”

  Had he not pointed that finger so directly, all might not have gone so awry. As it was, Zeus, who was perched invisibly on the back of Devlin’s chair, took this as a command to attack. With an ear-piercing shriek, and mad churning of wings, the bird launched himself at the cat. So heartily did he do so that the thong binding him to the rung of the chair uncoiled itself before Devlin could think to prevent it.

  Even as the falcon squawked his warning, the kitten reacted in fright. Its needle-sharp claws bit into Eden’s arm, the fur on its back standing straight up like porcupine quills. It leapt from Eden’s arms, leaving behind eight long red welts for her efforts to hold it.

  Eden’s yelp of pain, and her cry of alarm, were scarcely audible for the cat’s frantic yowling, Zeus’s horrid screeching, and the shouts of the other three humans.

  “Get the bird!”

  “Catch the cat!”

  “The hell with the blarsted cat! Grab hold of Zeus’s leash!”

  “Watch out!”

  “Oh, no! My best lamp! Eden, quick! Fetch the broom!”

  In the process of trying to douse the fire from the toppled oil lamp, Jane tossed an entire pitcher of water into the crotch of Nate’s britches. “Sorry,” she apologized lamely. “Eden! Bring more water! Quickly!”

  Devlin, who was the only person present who could see the dratted hawk, was dashing around like a madman, whistling at the top of his lungs—all the while keeping one eye on the cat and trying mightily to stay out of its path.

  Frightened witless, the kitten was scurrying hither and thither in an effort to elude Zeus. Under tables, around chairs, up the draperies it went, the bird in hot pursuit.

  Nate, who also had no ambitions toward catching the kitten, applied himself to putting out the fire and trying to rescue further breakables from flapping arms and wings.

  Jane manned the broom, chasing after both demented creatures as best she could, while Eden scampered over and around furniture, trying to snag the fleet-footed kitten. At one point she almost had hold of him, until she caught her head in the rungs of a chair and nearly strangled herself. She could have cheerfully throttled both animals and urged her mother to put the broom to better use—on the men!

  At long last, when Eden was sure she had not one more breath in her body, or one more ounce of strength to go on, Devlin caught hold of Zeus’s thong and reeled him in. Using the leash, he bound the hawk’s lethal feet and employed a table napkin as a hood to finish the job of restraining the frantic bird.

  Seconds later, Eden captured the kitten, which she promptly deposited outside the back door. The instant the cat’s paws hit the grass, it was off like a shot. Eden doubted they’d ever see hide or hair of it again—not if the poor thing had an ounce of brains!

  She walked back into the dining room and stared about in disbelief. “Merciful heavens!” she exclaimed. “It looks as if a hurricane struck!”

  Chairs were overturned, the draperies drooped on their rods and were scarred with snags, and the linen cloth was half off the table, the dishes balanced precariously on the edge. Goblets were toppled, the chandelier was askew, and Jane’s prized Persian rug had a wet scorch in it.

  “I don’t even want to look.” Jane groaned from her resting spot against the wall, her eyes closed in weary defeat. “When I do, I’m going to be sick.”

  Eden noted that both men were now conspicuously absent. “Where did those two worthless ninnies disappear to?”

  Jane gave a tired chuckle. “They ran for their lives, as all brave men are wise to do when faced with a woman’s fury. Devlin went upstairs to calm his beloved bird, which I am considering poisoning. And Nate bussed me on the cheek and fled to the ship, assuming that would be far enough from my reach for safety. Little does he know how long I can hold a grudge, the silly fool!”

  “And they call Finster a milksop!” Eden declared, sinking down beside her mother. “Heaven help us both, Mama! We’ve fallen in love with a pair of very contrary rogues!”

  Chapter 17

  With Jane miffed over the desecration of her dining room, and Eden keeping her distance and acting wary of him these days, the highlight of Devlin’s life was his continued campaign against Finster. He delighted in devising new ways to publicly discredit the accountant, just as Finster had tried to do to him. The difference lay in Devlin’s more devious methods.

  He took to following the moneylender around town, shadowing his activities. He listened in on private transactions and conceived of ways to scotch the most advantageous deals Finster had in the offing. This he did cheerfully, with the knowledge that if he ruined the man financially it was no less than Dudley had meant for Eden
.

  As he had done in the tea shop, Devlin continued to plague Finster with perplexing accidents. The fellow would be walking down the street with a favored client and suddenly lose control of his limbs, his arms and legs thrashing about unaccountably in every direction as Devlin nudged his elbows or tripped him up. After several such incidents, people began to shy away from him, as if he had contracted some strange disease they were loath to catch.

  But Devlin’s crowning achievement, the one he most enjoyed, occurred right in the man’s own lending house, with his father looking on in horror. The previous day, a ship had landed in the harbor bearing several important officials from London, who had arrived to inspect various business establishments in Charles Town. They were presently touring the offices of the accounting firm, having been ushered inside with much formality.

  Naturally, since there was a lord or two among them, they had gathered a large contingent of curious followers, and the main receiving room was full to overflowing. The elder Finster had designated his son to present a bouquet of flowers to Lady Chamberlain, who had accompanied her husband on the voyage. Puffed with pride, his hands filled with flowers and all eyes upon him, Finster announced pretentiously, “Lady Chamberlain, it is with great honor that I offer you this small token of our esteem.”

  At precisely this point Devlin chose to strike. Conveniently unseen, he held out the invisible blade of his sword and swiftly sliced the buttons from Finster’s trousers! The accountant’s britches dropped to his ankles with the speed of a falling stone, while his shirt stayed crumpled at his waist. Since he wore no drawers beneath, his intimate anatomy was completely displayed to one and all, but most especially to Lady Chamberlain!

  A collective gasp ran through the crowd, even as the baroness cried out in shock and swooned into her husband’s arms. Finster, as stunned as the rest, abandoned the flowers and hastened to retrieve his trousers.

  The irate baron sputtered, finally got hold of his wits, and declared pompously, “I’ll have satisfaction, by God! At dawn on the morrow, you shall meet me with your sword and your second!”

  “But my lord! I know not how to wield a sword!”

  “Then it shall be a duel of pistols.”

  “But your lordship, he has no second!” a voice tittered from the rear of the room.

  Finster’s father stepped forward, his face blistered with shame for his son, but ready to defend him nonetheless. “My lord, please! ’Twas an unfortunate accident which we much regret. Is there no other way to rectify this unfortunate incident? I beg your mercy. He’s my only son.”

  “Then I pity you, sir, for you got a raw bargain,” the baron assured him. “You would be well rid of him.”

  “Of late, I would agree. But not through his death. I implore you to spare him.”

  Devlin would have liked to have argued the point and urged the nobleman to insist on the duel, but as he was presently invisible, he could not. This same hindrance, as well as his own moral code, was what had thus far deterred Devlin from personally engaging Finster in mortal combat, since it wouldn’t be sporting to do so as a spirit, with the man unable to see him. It was one thing to go up against a rowdy band of misfits such as had planned to attack the Winters’s home, or to tangle with cutthroat buccaneers who themselves had no scruples. But Devlin did not deem it fair to remain invisible when facing an opponent less skilled than himself, particularly one generally thought to be a gentleman. Thus, by his own honor, he was forced to limit his revenge against Finster to milder confrontations.

  The baroness was quickly reviving from her faint, and it was she who next claimed her husband’s ear. “Harold!” she whimpered. “Did I hear mention of a duel? You promised me, upon your sacred oath, that you would not indulge in such perilous endeavors again. I care not what becomes of this horrid man, except that I never set eyes on him again. Let us return posthaste to England, where we are accorded the respect so lacking in this filthy backwoods colony.”

  Blast and damn the woman! Devlin could have spit nails! Just when he’d finally cornered the little weasel good and proper, it looked as if Finster was going to escape without the least consequence, not even so much as a slap on the hand!

  But perhaps not entirely. As the disgusted crowd began to disperse, several comments were offered up.

  “’Twill be a cold day when I do business here again.”

  “Mr. Finster, you’ll not see a pence more from me as long as your son is working here.”

  “Far as I’m concerned, ye can get yer meat from another butcher, sirs.”

  “That goes for me as well. I don’t do business with perverts.”

  “That lad’s gone as queer as a three-legged goose!”

  Devlin’s retelling of the tale set Eden, Jane, and Nate rollicking. “I’ll wager his father will choose the business over his son, and send him packing off somewhere until the dust settles,” Jane predicted. “That old man is so tight with his money, he probably takes it to bed with him each night.”

  “Well, the sooner Dudley is gone, the better it will suit me,” Eden announced.

  Nate agreed. “And good riddance to the varmint! I just wish ye’d told me what it was ye were up to today, Dev. I’d have paid to have seen it.”

  “Well, I’m more than glad Eden and I were absent, thank you. I don’t wish to have my daughter viewing such a spectacle. Once was quite enough,” Jane put in, obliquely referring to the day Dora had whisked the sheet from Devlin’s nude body, exposing him to Eden’s eyes.

  Eden blushed. Devlin merely laughed and said, “Truth be told, there wasn’t much to see today. Mayhap that’s why the lady fainted. Mayhap she thought him malformed!”

  Jane glowered, but commented sweetly—too sweetly. “Captain Kane, your mouth could do with another soaping from your shaving brush, anytime you’d care to oblige.”

  “And I wield a wicked razor, too, if you’ll recall,” Eden added.

  Under their dual assault, and much to Nate’s amusement, Devlin sought a swift retreat. “Methinks I’ve decided to grow that beard after all.”

  Though Devlin had never had much to do with farmyard animals, there was one area which could almost be termed domestic in which he excelled. In the days following the episode with Zeus and the cat, he put his knowledge of carpentry to good use, as a means of getting back into Jane and Eden’s good graces. It also served to keep him occupied when he wasn’t needed at the warehouse, or when Eden was otherwise engaged.

  Within a short time, he had repaired two sagging dresser drawers, replaced the chipped cornice above the corner cupboard, refitted the loose rungs of several chairs, and refinished the top of a drop-leaf table. He also mended Eden’s office chair, the one that had been all but destroyed when her office was ransacked. It would never be quite the same, but at least he’d managed to save it from the kindling pile.

  Jane was thrilled, and very grateful, for these needed repairs. Eden was moved to tears, and properly astounded. “Devlin! I had no idea you were so talented. Where did you learn such a wonderful skill?”

  A shadow crossed Devlin’s face. “From my father,” he admitted. “He was a carpenter by trade, and he taught me.”

  “How marvelous to have such skill run in the family. Where are your parents now?”

  “In England,” he answered brusquely. “In their graves.”

  “Oh, Devlin! How thoughtless of me to ask such a thing.” Though grieved that her curiosity had obviously brought him pain, she could not help questioning him further. “Has it been long?”

  Squatting back on his heels beside the window frame he was bracing, Devlin let the wedge of wood he was holding drop unheeded to the floor, his mind turning backward in time. Just when Eden had decided he was not going to answer her, he spoke in a voice made husky with emotion.

  “ ’Twas eleven years ago. We were planning to move to the colonies, where my father was going to join his brother in the carpentry shop he had begun here. Before we’d completed our packing, and th
e sale of our house and shop there, London was hit with the cholera. It swept through the city like wildfire. Fearing for my health, Mother and Father decided to send me on ahead of them to the Americas. I didn’t want to leave them behind, but they insisted. You see, by then the port officials were reluctant to allow ships out of port, fearing the transport of the disease. My parents promised to follow as soon as possible.”

  “And you left? All by yourself?” Eden queried in soft commiseration. “Did you have no siblings, no other relatives to come with you?”

  “There were just the three of us, though I’m sure Mother wanted more children. I was sixteen, well able to fend for myself, and big for my age even then.”

  “How long was it before you learned of their deaths? I assume they died of the cholera, did they not?”

  “Aye, and it took me six interminable years to know of it.”

  Eden was aghast. “Six years!” she exclaimed. “My word, Devlin! Why so long?”

  He gave a chilling, mirthless laugh. “Fate, my sweet. A black-hearted pirate by the name of Swift took it into his head to attack the ship transporting me to the colonies. The only thing that kept me from a watery grave-was my youth, my size, and my carpentry skills, which the Gai Mer was badly in need of. Even that would not have saved me had I not agreed, under duress and much persuasion, to sign the Articles of the Brethren, thus effectively, and upon my solemn oath, joining the order of pirates.”

  “If the Gai Mer is yours, what became of Swift?” Eden wanted to know.

  “First of all, the Gai Mer jointly belongs to Nate and me, since we organized the mutiny against Swift some six years after my capture. As for Swift, who made so many years of my life a living hell, I may be granted yet another opportunity for revenge against him, since rumor now has it that he is still alive. In days past, I’d joyously imagined his bones, and those of his loyal followers, adorning the beaches of the uninhabited island upon which we marooned them.”