“Until Bonny’s banished, Cap’n.”
Heavy boots strode in the direction of the desk. A quill scratched on paper. “Take this, Haskins. Tell him I’ll be there on Monday.”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“And Haskins, tell the crew I’ve not forgotten my promise.”
“We don’ need extra coin for sailin’ the ship, Cap’n. Brits’ infernal henpecking or no. We’re your crew.”
“You deserve it. I’ll have money coming in soon. At the end of this week, in fact. I’ll bring it when I return to the ship.”
Money coming in soon? At the end of this week? Lucinda softly gasped. On Friday Mr. Chase would pay Ravensbrook’s monthly stipend into Montclair’s hand!
“Very well, Cap’n. Thank you. I’ll be off.”
Lucinda peeked around the end of the tapestry and saw the unkempt scoundrel exit. Her mission had proven quite fruitful. Now, she needed only to escape from her hiding place without detection.
Her cheek dusted the tapestry as she drew back, and suddenly her nose itched most alarmingly. She must have stirred up dust. Lucinda grabbed for her nose again, unmindful that her hand would cause a noticeable ripple in the tapestry.
“Ah chuh!” Stifled though she’d tried to make it, the sneeze exploded like shattering china.
Lucinda scrambled to find the closing lever. Haste made her fingers clumsy. As a child, she could have closed it in two seconds flat.
Now two seconds stretched to three, then five…and with each one she heard boots clomp closer.
Her fingers closed on the latch. Finally! She jerked it down just as Riel swept aside the tapestry. Horrified, she stared back at him. His dark, shadowed face looked more like a pirate than ever before, and his black brows winged upward in surprised displeasure.
“Lucinda!” he thundered as the panel slid shut. Breaking free of her frozen horror, Lucinda bolted down the short hall, and then out the hole by the bookcase. She whipped a glance over her shoulder. No Riel. Shaking, she shoved the bookcase back, and it clicked into place just as her guardian’s large frame filled the doorway.
“Lucinda,” he said again, but with no more pleasure. His black brows looked ominous.
Trembling, she gripped the bookcase behind her. How should she play this? Pretend it never happened? That he’d seen a ghost who looked like her within the wall?
“Riel.”
Flustered, she realized she’d called him by his first name. Attempting to adopt a modicum of dignity, she pulled out the hanky she’d tucked inside her sleeve. Glancing at her father’s coffin, she dabbed her eyes. “Have you come to pay respects to Father?” She didn’t have to fake the tremor in her voice.
Riel stepped into the room. “You have cobwebs in your hair, Lady Lucinda.” His soft voice sounded dangerous.
“Oh!” Her fingers fluttered to her hair.
“Perhaps you will allow me.” He stalked closer, and she shrank back.
“No. I…I will thank you to keep your distance, Mr. Montclair.”
“You are frightened. Perhaps because you heard words that weren’t meant for your ears?”
Lucinda lifted her chin and swallowed, fighting for courage. “Have you things to hide, Mr. Montclair?”
“I have private business to conduct. Business that is none of your concern.”
“But you are very much my concern. I must understand what sort of a man you are, if you’re to take over Ravensbrook.” Her mind worked quickly, trying to decide which bits of information to provoke from Montclair first.
“You can trust me.”
“Oh? Because you say so? I am not a feather-brained ninny. Tell me what your business was about.” Her insides felt shaky, like a poorly set pudding, but outwardly, she struggled to project a visage of cool calm.
Here was her chance to discover the full truth about Riel Montclair. …If he would tell her. And once she found out, how could she best use that knowledge to evict him from her home? Lucinda wished she had more time to plot her strategies.
A long moment ticked by. “Tell me what you heard.”
“I heard it all,” she said rashly. “I know the Royal Navy wants you to return to your ship. If you don’t, they’ll seize it and likely throw you in the brig.” Of course, she’d embellished the last part, but she was fishing for information now. It was part of her hastily improvised plan of attack.
His fingers twitched at his sides. Because he wanted to throttle her? Or because she’d backed him into a corner and now he’d have to fight—or bluff—his way out?
“The Navy wants me to run a mission.”
“Why?”
He paced closer, but she refused to cringe back. “It’s top secret. I cannot give you details.”
“Pooh,” she said. “You want me to trust you. Then you must trust me first.”
“I cannot say more.”
Lucinda changed tactics. “Why, then, would the Navy be suspicious of you?”
Shadows darkened his eyes. “The Brits have no reason to distrust me. I have helped them for the past two years.”
“Truly?” One brow arched. “I thought you owned a merchant ship. How could a merchant ship be of use to the English Navy?”
“Again, I would rather not say. It could be dangerous for you.”
“Dangerous for me?” Surprise quickly devolved into suspicion. He was trying to scare her and throw her off the scent. Temper sparked. “I am not a fool. You have a dark secret, Mr. Montclair. I know it. And when I discover what it is, I’ll personally invite Admiral Smythe here so he can cart you off to the Tower of London!”
Unknown emotions flickered across his face. To her surprise, he chuckled. “You have quite the imagination, Lucy.”
Lucinda wanted to stamp her foot. She had learned exactly nothing about his nefarious doings! She snapped, “Who was that man, and why was he here?”
Laugh lines crinkled from the corners of his eyes. “You heard it all, did you?”
“Answer my questions!” She glared.
The smile eased back into a straight line. “Haskins is the first mate on my ship, the Tradewind.”
“A merchant ship.”
“Yes. A privateer. Which means I own my ship, but in time of war we are authorized to attack enemy ships. The Royal Navy has commissioned me to work on their behalf.”
“Oh.” Lucinda reassessed the facts. The Royal Navy had an assignment for him. A secret mission, perhaps? A thought flew to mind. Her father had recently been on a secret spying mission, or so she’d guessed. “Was…was my father on your ship when he died?”
“Yes. We were under cannon fire. A cannon ball hit the stern railing, and your father was too close. We made him as comfortable as possible during his last minutes.”
“I see.” She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. Now things were beginning to make sense. Riel and her father had met on the Tradewind and become friends. But how had Father grown to trust him so implicitly? They hadn’t known each other long, had they? “How long was Father on your ship?”
“Seven months.”
A good amount of time. And her father had never known a stranger. Seven months confined on a ship could probably make even enemies bosom buddies. But none of this explained what Riel was currently trying to hide from the English government. Truly, he didn’t want them to become suspicious of him—she’d heard him admit as much to his man, Haskins. What was he hiding?
Then the other suspicious bit of information she’d overheard returned to mind. What about the money he’d claimed to be receiving soon? At the end of this week—coincidentally, when Mr. Chase would deliver Ravensbrook’s monthly monies directly into Montclair’s hands.
The idea that Riel might be planning to pilfer Ravensbrook’s money for his own personal use made her see red. In fact, she opened her mouth to confront him on that subject, too, but then she bit her tongue. He would tell her nothing. Especially if he did plan to steal from Ravensbrook.
No. She shouldn’t tip him off t
o her suspicions. Far better to catch him in the act—if, indeed, that was his nefarious plan.
So, she’d learn how to keep the ledgers. Hopefully she’d be able to prove his unsavory deed, should that be his scurrilous intent, and bring the evidence to Mr. Chase later. A good plan.
Unfortunately, she had little faith in her ability to prove mismanagement of funds, and even less faith in Mr. Chase’s willingness to expend any effort to help her. As well, Riel would be leaving soon. He may not even write in the ledgers until he returned. What, then, would happen to the stipend Mr. Chase planned to pay him on Friday? What a confused mess this could become! No. The best plan would be to get rid of Riel now, before he signed the papers on Friday. Before he could touch a pence of Ravensbrook’s money. Before it was too late.
Riel’s big body appeared relaxed, but it belied the guarded look in his eyes.
Lucinda decided to pretend satisfaction with his answers. Clearly, he would reveal no deep, dark secrets to her. However, now she trusted him even less than before.
In the next few days, she would continue to ferret out facts and expose them to the bright light of day. Perhaps then Riel would be revealed as the rat he probably was, and scuttle off to the darkest cave…a dungeon, perhaps…and leave Ravensbrook in peace. No need to tip him off to her plan, however.
“Very well,” she said. “I will take your leave.”
His fingers gripped her arm as she brushed by, which forced her to stop very close to him. Her heart beat faster when she looked up at him. It was late, almost time for supper, and a dark beard shadowed his jaw. He was a powerful man. And dangerous. She again felt this rush of truth to her very marrow. Certainly not a man to trifle with. Much as he appeared civil now, if she pushed him too far, what would he do?
“Yes, Mr. Montclair?”
He released her arm. “Do not spy on me again, Lucy.”
“I will thank you to call me Lady Lucinda. And you may be sure I have no intention of being found in such a position again, Mr. Montclair. If you will excuse me.”
His faint chuckle further stoked her irritation. Drat the man!
All at once, she realized the full implications of the Navy ordering Riel to return to his ship. He would leave soon. Perhaps he would never return.
Her quick hope at this happy thought swiftly faded.
His mission would not last for two years. She still must find a way to get him out of Ravensbrook for good. A man of his questionable character could not gain control of her money or her ancestral home. Not even for one day.
Only two full days remained until he signed the papers on Friday morning. It was unlikely that she would discover any of his secrets in that short amount of time. However, during the time in the secret passage, she’d concocted the outline of a plan to oust him from her home—permanently. It may not be the most prudent scheme. But she believed it would convince Riel to leave Ravensbrook willingly. And better yet, at a fast gallop.
* * * * *
Riel watched Lucy sweep away, her shoulders straight and regal. The faintest hint of irritation tilted her chin. She was as beautiful as a yellow rose, and just as prickly.
Something else had bothered her just now, at the end of their conversation; something she’d bitten back and kept hidden. He couldn’t imagine what it could be, and the puzzle disturbed him.
His mind returned to their earlier conversation. She hadn’t heard everything Haskins had said to him, although clearly she was quick to believe the worst. His gut told him if she knew the full truth of his past, which he did not intend for the British Navy to ever discover, she would not see it the way her father had. The dislike she felt for him would deepen into contempt.
Self-disgust twisted in him, for in truth, he felt the same way. How long would his past haunt him? For how long would he feel the need to make amends for what he had done? Forever?
He believed in God’s forgiveness, and he’d asked for it, as Peter Hastings had advised, but still, Riel could not forgive himself. He felt certain Lucy would not forgive him, either. No, the truth would provide fuel for her to evict him from her life as speedily as a skiff with the wind at its back.
No, he thought grimly, Lucy must not find out. He must fulfill his promise to her father and protect her. A deathbed promise.
He’d made it five days ago, when Peter lay on the deck of the Tradewind with his life’s blood seeping from his chest. Face as pale as death, his eyes had opened and stared skyward. “Riel.” The scratchy whisper drew his attention.
“I am here.”
Peter’s eyes, dilated in agony, focused on him. “Riel.” The older man’s hand gripped Riel’s arm with surprising strength. “My daughter…”
“Lucy.”
“Yes,” he gasped. The Earl’s eyes looked heavenward, as if seeing something far off…a truth beyond the constricting barriers of time and space. “Protect her…from the wolfff…” The last word slurred, so Riel couldn’t tell if Peter had said “wolf” or “wolves.” Either way, the meaning was clear enough. The hairs prickled up on the back of his neck. Peter saw something that could—or would—happen in the future.
The Earl’s eyes widened suddenly, looking wild. Clearly and sharply, he ordered, “Tell me you will do this!”
Riel gripped the older man’s shoulder. “I will protect her with my life. I swear it.”
Peter relaxed. A faint smile hovered. “I know…can count…you.” Seconds later, his life slipped toward the heaven he had just seen.
Now, Riel’s heart beat hard with the same urgency he’d felt then.
Lucy was a beautiful, wealthy girl. Peter was right. She would be choice prey for the wolves of London. At least until she married.
So Lucy would not chase Riel off, although clearly that was her fiercest desire. He would fulfill his promise to Peter and remain her protector and guardian; at least until he saw her safely married to some unwary nobleman. Then he would be on his way.
Amused pity flashed when Riel contemplated the man Lucy would snag with her beauty, but pierce with her thorns. Peter was right about something else, too. Lucy would either need a strong man—and he’d better love feisty confrontations, Riel thought with a faint smile—or a weak one she’d trample beneath her lovely feet.
Perhaps Riel would take pity on the most naive of her suitors and warn them off before they became too smitten. Or perhaps not. His oath bound him to Lucy until she was securely married.
Hopefully by the time of her last Season, Napoleon Bonaparte would be vanquished, and Command Headquarters would release its grip on the Tradewind for good. Riel longed for the day when he could sail free, with no fear of his past or the Royal Navy breathing down his neck.
Freedom. The taste of the wind in his teeth and his destiny ruled only by the cut of the sails. Riel knew it was his life, and his only future. His past ensured he could never have more. Love and marriage belonged to innocents like Lucy. Such pleasures of hearth and home would never be his, and he had accepted that. He was lucky to have his freedom…he was lucky to have a life at all. And within those boundaries he would remain content.
Chapter Five
“My great-aunt Sophie should arrive late tomorrow morning,” Riel told Lucinda that evening. He forked up a bite of succulent roast.
“How splendid for you. Now I will be outnumbered in my own home.”
Inwardly, Lucinda winced at her horrible, rude words. Her father wouldn’t have tolerated them, and truthfully, it made her feel sick to utter the wretched statements. But for Ravensbrook and for her own sake, she must stay her newly chosen path. Hopefully, she would be able to stomach herself in two days’ time.
Irritating Riel beyond measure was the only plot she’d been able to devise that might convince him to wash his hands of her and gallop for freedom.
Riel lay down his fork. “Do not take your quarrel with me out on my aunt.”
Of course, Lucinda would never worry or distress a frail older lady. But Riel didn’t know that. Not yet
. Here was her opportunity to goad him still further: to provoke him to abandon his oath to her father. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before you invited her without my consent.”
He went very still, and eyed her. “You would not.”
Encouraged by the warning in his low tone, she said, “Truly? Know one thing, Mr. Montclair. Each of your decisions concerning Ravensbrook will reap a consequence. If you want my cooperation, discuss your wishes with me first.”
Long, silent moments crept by. Lucinda sensed a dark thundercloud gathering behind Riel’s unreadable features.
He rumbled, “Agree to treat her as a welcome guest, Lucinda.” The hard inflection in her name sent a shiver through her. She almost preferred that he call her Lucy. At least then he sounded faintly amused and tolerant. But wasn’t this her goal? To frustrate him beyond measure so he’d cry off guardianship duties before signing the final papers?
“I will do as I see fit,” she promised.
“Your father raised you to be a lady.”
“Of course. And that is what I am.”
“Then you will behave like a lady with my aunt.”
She offered her best, dimpled smile. “I see. You want me to soothe your ears with sweet promises. I’m sorry. You will have to live without them.”
With uneasy satisfaction, she noted that his knuckles turned white around his crystal glass. Pretending nonchalance, she cut another bite of meat and popped it in her mouth. A heavy silence elapsed, which Lucinda endeavored to ignore. After clearing her plate, she signaled for the last course. Strawberries with cream, she was happy to discover.
Was the conversation with Riel finished? Had she won?
Biting into a sweet, luscious strawberry, Lucinda swept a glance from under her lashes down the table. A mound of strawberries, with a thick dollop of cream, lay on a fine china plate before him, but he made no move to touch it. His hard brown eyes caught hers, denying escape.
“You know I must return to my ship on Monday.”
“Yes!” She injected a chipper note into her voice.
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