The Earl's Bride

by Joanne Wadsworth

“Who is that?” she asked as Anteros guided her out of the ballroom under a wide arch.

  “Giovani, a man I trust with my life.” He led her along a winding passageway, the lit candles in each wall sconce flickering eerily. At the end of the walkway, Anteros opened a door with stairs leading downward into the gloomy depths of the cellars.

  Cobwebs hung from the corners, the walls gritty and pitted, the overpowering scent of dampness swirling from somewhere within the murky depths far below.

  “This is an interesting place for a private meeting.” She shuddered and rubbed her bare arms.

  Chapter 11

  Donnelly tugged the sides of his hooded cloak closer to ward off the chill, the fog-shrouded night in the east end of London dense and dark. Slouching a little and keeping his chin down, he pushed open the door of the Boar Head Tavern and stepped inside.

  The crowded room was filled with men swigging drinks and enjoying a meal, while a fire roared in the hearth along the far wall. Sawyer sat hunched in one darkened corner, his head hidden within the folds of his hood, the acrid scent of sweat, spilled ale and fried food clogging the air. He’d sent Sawyer in ahead of him to do reconnaissance since he didn’t wish for any of the patrons to wonder if they were together, not when they had the captain to locate and information to uncover. Sliding into the closest booth where he’d be afforded a good view of the room, he lifted a hand to the barmaid as she circled the tables.

  She flounced up to him, her bountiful breasts almost spilling from the low neckline of her blue kirtle. “Ye hailed me, my lovely?”

  “Bring me some ale.” He kept his voice low, inflicting an edge to match the speech of those in this darker part of London.

  “Do ye wish for a meal too?” Raising one appreciative eyebrow, she leaned in even farther and he couldn’t miss the peek of pink nipple she exposed. “The bread is fresh from the ovens and the stew thick and chunky.”

  “Just the ale.”

  “Come now.” She tsked under her breath. “A big man like ye must surely have a hearty appetite. I have a room below-stairs if ye wish a tumble.”

  “My tumbling days are reserved for one woman alone.”

  “Have a wife do ye? Well, should ye change yer mind”—winking, she swished her bottom in front of his face—“then ye know where to find me.”

  “I won’t be changing my mind, but thank ye all the same.” Since she continued to wag her backside at him, he swatted her rear, which thankfully sent her into giggles and off on her way.

  “I’m telling ye, he said he’d pay us well for sailing with him. There are riches to be had across the seas.” A big-bellied man who’d had a pint too many and slightly slurred his words, waggled one brow at the other men at his table, a silver hoop looped through one of his ears. “Pirating is a merry way to go, lads. Tortuga holds a nest of excitement, with gold flowin’. There’s rum and revelry, wenches and plenty o’ rutting.”

  “I’ve got me a wife and child, Bolider. I can’t be leavin’ ‘em.” A lanky young man with a thin face and dark circles under his eyes, shoved one hand through his scruffy hair. “My wife would have me hide if I took off.”

  “A few months at sea and a bit o’ time for squandering our riches. Surely, ye can leave them for a wee bit, Johnny. Ye pockets would be overflowin’ with coin.” More urging from the man called Bolider.

  The barmaid returned and set Donnelly’s ale down.

  She sashayed away and moved around the men’s table, then plopped a platter of greasy sausages in the center, her kirtle flaring wide over her ample hips. All the men shoveled sausages into their mouths, oil dribbling down their chins.

  “Ye have fine fare, lass.” Bolider smirked as he grabbed the wench’s breasts and squeezed them. “I wouldn’t mind takin’ a bite out o’ ye.”

  “I won’t be sharing any of my fine fare with ye again, not when ye never give me a coin for my troubles.” She seized Bolider’s tankard and downed a mouthful of his ale. Giving him a feisty look, she muttered in his ear, “Thirsty I am, but fer a man who can sweep me off my feet.”

  “Come now, Meg. Captain Lewiston gave ye enough coin for the both of us when he last flipped ye skirts. I had to have a go at ye too, and he didn’t mind none. Ye didn’t mind it either at the time.”

  Captain Lewiston. Donnelly’s ears perked up and so did Sawyer’s, his man straightening where he sat on the other side of the rowdy men.

  “I’ll join ye at sea, Bolider.” A dark bearded man with his grimy shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows lifted his tankard to his lips. “There be no one keepin’ me tied to hearth and home.”

  “Me either,” a rough looking red-head said with a leer. “What o’ ye, Fraser?”

  Another yes came from the man called Fraser, then the one named Johnny slowly nodded with half a sausage still in his mouth. “Damn me, but I’ll find a way to tell the missus I’m joinin’ ye.”

  “Good lad, the captain will be pleased.” Bolider slapped Johnny on the back. “All of ye need to be at the eastern docks in four hours. Find The Renegade. We set sail on the dawn’s high tide.” Bolider dunked his head into the barmaid’s bosom and grunted as he swiped a tongue out.

  Meg lifted his head and laughing, shoved a sausage in his mouth. “Eat ye food and cease slobberin’ over me.”

  “I’ll give ye coin this time, lass, and I’ll sweep ye off yer feet too,” he rumbled as he stabbed his teeth into the sausage and broke the crispy skin. He scraped his chair back, tossed the wench over his shoulder and slid one hand under her skirts. A slap of her backside and he marched down the darkened corridor leading off the main room, his footsteps echoing and the barmaid’s giggles following.

  Four hours. That’s all the blasted time he and Sawyer had to halt Lewiston from setting sail.

  “Oi, ye got a problem?” A hand slammed down on his shoulder.

  Donnelly swiveled around, the bloke before him both familiar yet also not.

  “What? Cat got ye tongue?” The man jutted out his whiskered chin, a scar slashing his face either side of a leather eye patch strung over his right eye. “I haven’t seen ye in my tavern afore.”

  “Are ye the owner of this fine establishment?” he asked.

  “I just said so.”

  Then he must be Captain Lewiston’s brother, Geoffrey Lewiston. That’s why he appeared familiar. He had the same high forehead and pointed nose as Captain Lewiston. Taking care, Donnelly slowly rose to his feet. “The name’s Jack. I’m lookin’ fer work. Bolider said Captain Lewiston would pay them well.” He hoisted one thumb over his shoulder at the table of men. “I’ve been to Tortuga a time or two and know the waters well.”

  “Who have ye sailed with?” Geoffrey eyed him up and down.

  “The Hawk.” He named the wild and rugged pirate who terrorized the warmer seas around the Americas. “We parted ways.”

  “Interesting.” Geoffrey puffed out his chest, the glitter of jade pinned within the man’s billowy white shirt glinting at him. Exquisitely carved and in the shape of a skull-and-bones, the jade pin matched the one recorded in his father’s papers from within the treasure chest.

  He’d hit a windfall tonight. About damn time.

  “’Tis fine ale ye serve.” Donnelly swept up his tankard and saluted the man.

  “Hawk, ye say? Well, now I understand why ye seemed mighty interested in their conversation. If ye survived Hawk then ye’ll survive my brother and I. Get yerself down to the docks before the high tide. The Renegade sets sail from these shores soon, and we intend on terrorizing the seas as The Hawk does. We’re after loot, and plenty of it.”

  “Geoffrey!” A plump man at the bar wiping a jug with a cloth gestured toward the front door. A new arrival, the gentleman holding his chin high, his cravat impeccably tied and his finely woven jacket and tan breeches holding not a wrinkle.

  “Blackburne,” Geoffrey called as he strode across to the man. “Have ye come to make an offer on my tavern? I wish to leave it in worthy hands.”

&
nbsp; Donnelly flicked up his collar and turned away so Blackburne wouldn’t notice him, not that he’d met the man before, but he had seen him on occasion when he’d accompanied Prince George to a ball. Blackburne, a young and brash solicitor, advised England’s future king on business issues and was known to have become one of Prinny’s favorites amongst the men he kept as counsel. He also happened to be the man Bourbon had snuck the jade mask from. He’d more than hit a windfall tonight. He’d uncovered the jackpot.

  “We close the deal right now.” Blackburne pumped Geoffrey’s hand. “I need a business such as yours in this east end of town to expand my trade.”

  “Ye will be well satisfied with this tavern. Come to my office.” Geoffrey led the solicitor down the passageway.

  Gritting his teeth, Donnelly strode out the front door and into the foggy drizzle. Underneath a flickering lamp, he marched then continued on down the sidewalk. Shadows lurked between the buildings and down the alleyways. He took a hard right and halted at the end of the street to await Sawyer.

  His man appeared out of the swirling mist, his coat cloaking him.

  Pacing back and forth under the lamp, he muttered to his man, “Captain Lewiston isn’t leaving port, or his nefarious brother.”

  “They’re both as thick as thieves, my lord. Did you see the jade pin on Geoffrey? Pompous ass,” Sawyer muttered as he kept his hooded gaze watchful on the street either side of them.

  “I did, and we’ll deal with Geoffrey later.” He’d never considered Captain Lewiston as the thief, not when he’d been so loyal to his father over the years. Clearly though, greed changed a man. Which left a glaring question.

  Lewiston had sailed from port before his father had perished, so even though he’d stolen the chest, he couldn’t be the killer. He clenched his fists, his knuckles going white. “We’ll bring Lewiston in, with our bare hands if need be, his brother too.”

  “I’ll be right by your side.” Sawyer punched one fisted hand into the palm of his other. “I do enjoy a good brawl.”

  “Then to docks we go. We’ve a ship to find, and the elusive Captain Lewiston to apprehend.”

  Chapter 12

  Alone with Anteros and his man in the gloomy darkness of the stairwell leading downward into the shadowed depths of the cellars, the meager light from a lamp all that shimmered, Sophia shivered from the cold chill sweeping up from below, the dampness of the gritty walls clogging her nose and mouth.

  “Ensure all remains secure,” Anteros instructed Giovani and after his man disappeared downstairs to check the cellars, the captain swung his superfine black jacket off and eased it around her shoulders. Once he’d encased her within its warmth, he said, “You told me you’ve uncovered something of great import in your brother’s study. There is no one who will interrupt us here. Speak freely, Sophia.”

  “The book that contained the drawing of the jade mask was titled Peculiar Warnings, and I uncovered the same novel on the bookshelves in my brother’s study. After reading the first few lines I was taken aback by the rather ominous similarities between what was written and what had happened to Donnelly’s father.”

  “What were those similarities?” Interest flared in his eyes.

  “The novel spoke of the death of Count Clement, his clay-cold body being discovered in his library by his eldest son. The son, quite distressed at seeing his father on the floor, located a particular tome on one of the bookshelves, thrust it free and uncovered a secret cabinet. Within the cabinet, he removed his late father’s papers, those of great consequence.”

  “There are huge similarities. Continue, please.” He gripped her arms. “Leave nothing out.”

  “The passage stirred my memories. Only a day before the old earl’s death, I visited him in his library. He’d been sitting in front of the latticed windows as he’d held a burgundy leather-bound ledger in hand and when I joined him, he set that ledger aside. We chatted, and he showed me some of his favorite books and philosophical essays on his shelves. He stood right next to a series of Minerva novels and tapped the spine of one slightly out of position. It seemed a rather purposeful tap, and that was the exact tome which held the drawing. I can’t help but wonder if the old earl was trying to convey some kind of secret message to me. He would have read that book, as he’d read each one in his library.”

  “Yes, his tapping of the book could easily have been a subtle warning. What happened next?”

  “Mr. Taylor arrived to speak to him, and since I hadn’t wished to hold up his meeting with his man of affairs, I excused myself and returned to the drawing room where I joined Lady Maria.”

  “Is Donnelly aware of this?”

  “He’s aware I spoke to his father the day before his passing, that we sat together in his library, but I’d completely forgotten about his father tapping the spine of the Minerva novel, or that Taylor arrived to speak to him, so no, he’s not aware of everything.” She searched Anteros’s gaze. “Now Captain Lewiston is missing and Donnelly has gone to Geoffrey Lewiston’s tavern to track him down. What are your thoughts? Are we getting closer to uncovering the killer?”

  “It isn’t possible for Captain Lewiston to have killed Donnelly’s father and brother, not when he set sail on the Fortune Maria before the murders took place, but with his disappearance I’d surmise he’s our thief, which means the thief and killer aren’t one and the same as I’d first suspected. As Donnelly suspects too.”

  “Do you have any inkling who the murderer is?”

  “Not as yet, but I won’t halt my investigations until I uncover the killer’s identity.” He gestured down the stairs into the darkened depths. “A tunnel leads from this cellar below into the rear gardens. My coach awaits me in the rear alleyway.”

  “You’ve come prepared for a swift departure?”

  “Yes, I’ve always found it rather advantageous to have a secondary exit point, even from a lavish ball. I’m also leaving now, and considering the seer’s grave warning, I must take you with me until all is uncovered.”

  “Is that the grave warning you didn’t yet wish to tell me?”

  “Yes, but the time has now come to speak of it. Shira told me that danger awaits on the high tide, that only the lady who wears glittering gold can keep death from coming for the one her heart desires.” He motioned to her gown. “That is you, Sophia. Are you prepared to leave?”

  “Of course.” She had no intention of allowing James to fall into danger, not now, not ever.

  “Captain?” Giovani strode up the stairs, appearing out of the dark as he joined them under the flickering lamplight.

  “Does all remain secure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. We’re leaving, along with Lady Sophia.” He plucked the glittering diamond from his ear and passed it to his man. “Find Lady Olivia Trentbury in the ballroom and hand this to her, along with this message. Inform her that her sister is joining me on a mission of great importance to the eastern docks, and that she must hide the truth. Give her my word that I shall keep her sister safe and return her as soon as possible.”

  “Will do, Captain.” Giovani snuck out the door and disappeared back along the passageway toward the ballroom.

  Anteros closed the door, lifted the lamp and caught her elbow.

  Carefully, he steered her down the stairwell, the lamp’s glow guiding their way as he swung it before them. They passed rows of shelved wine then stepped through a doorway and down into the depths of a tunnel.

  The cloying odor of dirt and grit strengthened, then a hundred feet on, a wash of fresh night air blew all around and she scrambled out the opening of the tunnel and emerged within the shadows of a clump of thick bushes. A low branch snagged the ribbon of her mask and she pulled it free. Moonlight shimmered over the rear gate of the property and footsteps crunched over fallen leaves.

  Giovani appeared and gave Anteros a brief nod that surely meant all had gone well with Olivia, then he unclipped the gate and motioned them through.

  “To the Boar
Head Tavern, with all haste,” Anteros instructed his driver as he aided her directly into the confines of his awaiting coach. With the door closed, he flicked out his tails and sat.

  She held onto her seat as the carriage jerked forward, the velvet pads plush and thick, her destination not one she was currently dressed for. “I don’t suppose you have a change of clothes on hand?”

  “I never leave home without being prepared.” From underneath his seat, he pulled a satchel free and opened it between them. He pulled out lad’s clothing, a shirt, brown trousers, and a woolen jacket and cap. “These items belong to Wills, a lad in my employ. Wills won’t mind if you borrow what you need.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Allow me to give you some privacy, or as much as I currently can.” He turned and kept his gaze on the scenery out his window, where the moon shimmered down over private driveways leading to stately homes.

  “How did you come to employ a lad?” she asked as she removed the jacket he’d slung around her shoulders and not allowing herself a second thought, removed her gown of glittering golden gauze and the pale silk lining. The cooler air washed over her bare skin, but only for a mere moment before she donned the snug trousers and tugged on the coarse shirt.

  “Wills wished to escape his former employer, so he stole a skiff and when a storm passed through he ended up adrift. Pirates plucked him from the sea and sold him to my cousin in Tangier, whom I happened to be visiting at the time. Wills might be savvy with a thick skin, but he also has a heart of gold that will never harden. Since he wouldn’t have survived a single month with my cousin, who is unfortunately far too ruthless, I took him with me. Wills is now family to me. Giovani and I watch out for him.”

  “I see, and is it true that Tangier is a safe haven for spies? Those are the rumors I’ve heard bandied about here and there.” She donned the jacket and stuffed the gray woolen cap over her upswept do, then swapped her slippers for the scuffed leather boots at the bottom of the satchel. “I’m presentable.”