The Pirate's Desire

by Jennette Green

  She bit her lip. Quietly, she said, “Please pass the rolls, Mr. Montclair.”

  Riel’s eyebrows rose. However, he did not comment upon her uncharacteristically meek behavior.

  For the remainder of the meal, Lucinda asked many questions about Sophie’s life in London, and in the country. She learned Sophie had wanted a change in her life, and that was why she had agreed to come to Ravensbrook. She also discovered that Sophie would not stay for the entire two years. Instead, she’d only stay for a few months at a time, and she’d also stay at Riel’s townhouse during the Season.

  Luncheon was pleasant; surprisingly so. Lucinda felt Riel’s dark eyes upon her more than once. He even chuckled once or twice, in a quiet, deep rumble that sent a tickle through her stomach. In addition, his manners were impeccable and charming.

  She endeavored to ignore him. It was becoming more apparent with every passing hour that he was a dangerous man in innumerable ways. On the disturbingly positive side, he was smart, and could be quite charming, as well. No wonder her father had liked and trusted him. If she hadn’t overheard his secret conference with his scruffy henchman, she, like her father, would be unaware of Riel’s unknown, unsavory secret that he wanted to keep hidden from the Royal Navy. Not to mention the questionable manner in which he planned to “come into money” at the end of this week.

  Although it was true she had no proof yet of wrongdoing on Riel’s part, if the Royal Navy should not trust him, then she should not trust him, either, nor should she trust Ravensbrook into his care. And certainly not her choice of a husband, either.

  No, despite the temporary truce at this luncheon, peace with Riel was not possible.

  Chapter Six

  After lunch, Sophie retired to take a nap. The rest of the household trotted into high gear, readying for the Earl of Ravensbrook’s funeral that evening. Servants set up chairs outside on the grassy lawn, and Mrs. Beatty instructed a platoon of serving girls, hired for the day from the village, to prepare the cold meats, cheeses and fruits for the reception afterward.

  Lucinda’s dress arrived; a rich, black silk. It fit perfectly. As the hour drew near five o’clock, a knot twisted tighter and tighter in Lucinda’s stomach.

  She was about to say goodbye to her father forever. And yet in many ways, she’d already said goodbye. Why did the coming funeral seem like such a momentous occasion? Perhaps because the coffin represented the last remaining part of her father—a part she could still touch. Soon it would be lowered into the ground, never to be touched or seen again.

  She would never see her father again. Hot tears welled in her eyes and scorched her cheeks.

  Would she weep throughout the entire funeral? She’d look dreadful, but did it matter? This evening was for her father, to remember him, honor him and grieve him with friends. No extended family lived close enough to come, and that was for the best, since few of them had known him well.

  Through her bedroom window, Lucinda saw Pastor Bilford arrive. Two pairs of strong young men from the village carried her father’s casket to a small grassy clump in front of the carefully placed chairs.

  She looked at the clock on her bedside table. One minute until five. Time to go. Alone, she would meet throngs of people expressing their sorrow. Would they expect her to be strong? To raise her chin and put on a brave front? Perhaps even comfort others who mourned?

  Lucinda didn’t think she could do it. More tears glimmered as she stood in front of her closed bedroom door. She didn’t want to go out there. She wanted to stay safe in her room and weep for her father…the best father in the world. A sob shuddered in her chest.

  A knock came at the door. “Lady Lucinda.”

  Riel, and very formal, too.

  With reluctance, Lucinda put her hand on the knob. She supposed she must go out sometime. After blotting her eyes, she opened it and looked up at her guardian. He still wore all black, but now he wore a cravat and a fashionable, tailed coat that fit his muscular shoulders to perfection. With the blunt angles of his face, and his black hair drawn back in a tail, he was the most striking, handsome man she had ever seen. She blinked up at him; for a second, at a loss for words.

  He extended his arm. “I have come to escort you downstairs.”

  Lucinda felt a flash of gratitude. She gripped his arm, and felt the thick, corded muscles beneath the superfine jacket. She could do this. “Thank you,” she whispered, but wasn’t sure if he heard.

  “My lady.” He indicated for her to descend the stairs with him, and a glance upward proved he had heard, for a warm smile lurked in his dark brown eyes. He’d never smiled at her before, not like that, and it unexpectedly warmed a small, unhappy place inside her.

  Holding tightly to his arm, and with her chin lifted, as if about to face the guillotine, she descended the stairs and slowly crossed the hall to the back door, which led to the garden.

  She did not want to be here. She did not want to be here. Lucinda swallowed back a soft sob as Riel placed his hand on the knob.

  “You are ready?” The deep voice was quiet, and even gentle.

  She heaved a small, fortifying breath. “Yes. I suppose.”

  Riel opened the door and they descended the stairs to join the throngs of people dressed in black.

  As soon as her nearest neighbor, Lady Sisemore, gripped Lucinda’s hands and tearfully wailed, “Lady Lucinda, we are so sorry for your loss.” Lucinda began to relax. Others—many others—had loved and revered her father, too. In a strange way, it comforted her that she wasn’t the only one who grieved.

  By Riel’s anchoring side, she traversed the rows of white chairs, greeting townspeople and neighbors and offering a tearful smile to a friend or two. She wished her best friend Amelia had been able to come, but she and her family were visiting in northern England. Riel saw her settled in her seat, and then moved aside to talk to Pastor Bilford.

  A short time later, Riel escorted Sophie to sit beside her, and the service began. Pastor Bilford had prepared quite a speech, and after he finished, others spoke as well, including Riel.

  Lucinda listened closely as the familiar, deep voice introduced himself. Riel had been with her father when he had died. Would he say more about the events surrounding his death?

  “The Earl of Ravensbrook was a fine, honorable man,” Riel began, meeting her gaze for a long moment. “We became acquainted long ago, and that friendship solidified as he served the Royal Navy aboard my ship.

  “Commodore Hastings always saw below the surface, to the true heart and worth of a man. I was seventeen when I first met him, and barely a man, but he made me a better one for having known him. I am grateful for his intervention in my life. By accident, we met again two years ago and he convinced me to use my merchant ship to help the Royal Navy. I was glad to agree.

  “Commodore Hastings served for seven months on my ship. A braver, more honorable man I have never met. I deeply respected Commodore Hastings, and he died with courage and fortitude, serving this country. The world is a lesser place without him in it. I will miss him.”

  More tears filled Lucinda’s eyes. Riel took his seat.

  “Lady Lucinda?” Pastor Bilford cleared his throat. “Do you wish to speak before we close the service?”

  “Of…of course.” Lucinda clutched the letter the Admiral had written and rose to take her place.

  Feeling nervous, she faced the small crowd gathered on the lawn. Nearly all of them were close friends, and most looked on with deep sympathy.

  “My father was a wonderful man, as all of you know,” she began in a wavering voice. “My mother died when I was five. Father took over then as both father and mother to me. I could not have asked for a more loving, wonderful parent.” Tears clogged her throat. “I could go on all night remembering our happy times together, but instead I would like to close with words written by Admiral Smythe.” With a crinkle and a trembling hand, she unfolded the letter. “He says,

  Commodore Hastings served His Majesty’s Royal Navy fo
r twenty-seven years with honor and distinction. A finer officer and man I have rarely met. His courage and wisdom in battle saved countless lives, and his sharp insight proved decisive in many victories for England. He is matchless in peer and station, an outstanding hero and he will be sorely missed.

  – Admiral Smythe

  Tears overflowed then, and Lucinda quickly regained her seat.

  The next two hours passed in a blur. Men carried Father’s casket to the wagon, and horses slowly plodded to the family plot nestled at the foot of the forest. Pastor Bilford spoke more words over the coffin, and then the young men lowered it into the grave.

  After a short prayer, Pastor Bilford sprinkled dirt on top. Through it all, Lucinda stood with her arms tightly crossed, and wept silently. She felt so alone.

  Lucinda remained there, alone, as dusk fell and the others trickled back to the house. Her thoughts felt disjointed, and she felt incapable of moving from the spot. As well, the peace and beauty of the burial spot soothed her soul. She crossed her arms again, hugging them to herself, shivering a little in the cool evening. The young men shoveled the remaining dirt over the coffin. Lucinda remained stationary. She did not feel that she could leave until they were finished, and her father finally at rest.

  “That’ll do it.” A lanky lad shoved a sleeve over his forehead.

  “You are ready?” Riel’s voice spoke behind her, and Lucinda jumped.

  “I…I thought everyone had gone.”

  “I have been here the whole time.”

  She saw the steadiness in his eyes, and the compassion and sadness, too. At last, she believed her father and Riel had been good friends. Only a friend would feel the grief etched into Riel’s face.

  She offered him a small, wobbly smile and took the arm he offered.

  Riel pulled a clean white handkerchief from his jacket pocket. With a sobbing laugh she accepted it. “My own is a bit soggy.”

  In silence, they walked together across the grassy field and back to the house. Once again, Lucinda felt grateful to Riel for thoughtfully accompanying her when she felt most alone.

  Perhaps her father had been correct about some details of Riel’s character. Not that Lucinda wanted him to become lord over her now. Oh, certainly not. But perhaps he was not quite as dastardly as she had begun to wonder. Surprisingly, that thought cheered her a little.

  As soon as they arrived, it became clear the reception party was in full swing. People chatted and laughed, and filled their crystal glasses with lemonade and punch. Already a line formed at the buffet table. Candlelit tables had been set up in their absence, ready for the guests to sit and partake of their meal.

  “Lord Iveny.” Lord Humphrey, a plump man with a balding pate, accosted them within moments of their arrival. Lucinda did not like him much, and neither had her father. She suspected he lived an idle, bored life. Perhaps that was why he stirred up strife at every point possible.

  “You own a privateer?” he said, sipping his red punch.

  Riel’s stiffened a little. “Yes. A merchant ship.”

  “But a privateer,” Lord Humphrey insisted with a sly half-smile.

  Riel’s guarded look hardened into something else entirely. “You are correct.”

  “Mmphh.” With a pleased smile, the viscount strolled away. Riel’s narrowed gaze followed him.

  Lucinda wondered what had transpired between the two. Clearly Lord Humphrey had made Riel feel uncomfortable. She wondered how.

  “Lady Lucinda.” The dowager Traynor gently patted her arm. “I am so sorry, my dear. I knew your father when he was a mere boy…”

  Lucinda talked with many more guests as dusk deepened into night. Lanterns on poles brightened the grassy area, and always on the periphery she was aware of Riel’s dark figure circulating among the guests. With apparent ease, he smiled and made small talk with the many strangers.

  Before long, Lucinda helped Aunt Sophie find a table and fixed a plate for her, and then returned to the buffet line to prepare one for herself. A few feet ahead of her in line, Lord Humphrey grumbled, “Barely enough for a crow.”

  With a side glance at Lucinda, his wife quickly said, “But such a shame about the Earl.”

  “Yes, yes,” Lord Humphrey mumbled. “More a shame he left Ravensbrook in the hands of a scoundrel like Montclair.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” murmured Lady Humphrey.

  He snorted. “He owns a privateer. Pirate ship, is more like it. I’ve heard plenty about those scoundrels. They get a letter of marquee from the government and it licenses them to pirate the Frenchies without fear of the gallows. If the French capture them, they’re considered prisoners of war.” He snorted again. “Opportunists is what they are.”

  Sick enthrallment made Lucinda listen harder, but Lord Humphrey now complained about the rolls. Although she knew eavesdropping was unseemly, Lucinda followed her neighbors to the dessert table. There, Lord Humphrey perched one of each morsel upon his plate. Unfortunately, he said no more about Riel.

  By now, however, Lucinda simply had to find out more about privateers. If she discovered evidence that proved Riel was an unscrupulous privateer, and therefore unfit to run Ravensbrook, didn’t she need to know? Shouldn’t she find out everything she could?

  Too bad she’d have to learn of it from a blatherskite like Lord Humphrey.

  Lucinda quickened her pace. “Excuse me, Lord and Lady.”

  The Humphreys turned, their surprise palpable. To her credit, Lady Humphrey pinkened with embarrassment. “Lady Lucinda. The service and reception have been splendid. You have done your father proud.”

  Mrs. Beatty and her legions of helpers had done her father proud, but Lucinda did not belabor the point. She had matters of more import to discover.

  “Thank you. Excuse me, but I heard you mention something about privateers, Lord Humphrey. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I find the subject most fascinating. I would be in your debt if you would enlighten me about it, for I have little knowledge on that subject.” For good measure, she demurely fluttered eyelashes. Her first Season had taught her that the quickest way to get what she wanted was to stroke a man’s ego.

  Lord Humphrey chuckled, but cast an uncertain glance at his wife. “Why, of course, Lady Lucinda. What do you wish to know?”

  “What is a privateer, my lord? Is it merely a merchant ship?”

  He snorted. “Not likely. Privateers can board enemy merchant ships and steal their cargos. Snakes, the lot of them!”

  Disbelief crept into Lucinda’s heart. Much as she had wanted to believe the worst about Riel, and had actually accused him of being a pirate in the past, part of her had begun to think she might have been wrong about him.

  But Riel was a privateer—he had admitted as much. And he’d also said the Navy had commissioned him to work for them for the last two years. Legitimate work, she’d thought, and perhaps it had been, when her father was on the ship, but before that, what had Riel done? Had he attacked enemy merchant ships, stolen their goods and reaped the profit for himself? And surely those French ships did not give up their cargos without a fight. So he and his men had killed, and all for greed…

  A cold sensation, like icy stream water, slid through her veins. Lucinda felt faint. She gripped the back of a nearby chair for support.

  “Are you all right, Lady Lucinda?” Lady Humphrey’s voice seemed to come from a great distance.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” Lucinda forced a false smile to her lips. “The evening has been a bit much. I…I need to rest.” She did not hear their reply. Thankfully, as she lurched away, her thoughts swam back into focus.

  She spotted Riel standing a few yards away; a tall man with broad, muscular shoulders, all in black, with his hair in that pirate tail. Because he was a pirate!

  With suddenly nerveless fingers, Lucinda set down her plate on a nearby table. That must be the secret Riel wanted to keep from the Royal Navy. He was a pirate. He had never stopped being a pirate. He killed people for gain. />
  With shaking steps, Lucinda headed for the corner of the house. It was too much. The service, the funeral, and now learning that the worst she had feared about Riel was, in fact, true. She must escape. She had to be alone.

  * * * * *

  Riel kept an eye on Lucinda as he circulated among the guests. He spent a few long moments with Mr. Chase, advising him of his soon departure. Mr. Chase agreed to continue administering the accounts on Ravensbrook’s behalf, and also agreed to teach Lucinda to take care of the petty monies so his work load would be reduced.

  By the time that necessary conversation concluded, Riel had lost sight of Lucy. He scanned the dimly lit throng for her bright head and then found her, delivering a plate of food to his aunt. As he watched, she leaned close to Sophie and spoke to her, obviously inquiring if she needed further assistance.

  Surprise and appreciation flickered through him. He had been remiss, talking so long with Mr. Chase. He should have attended to his aunt, but Lucinda had done so.

  His gaze followed his charge as she returned to the buffet to assemble her own plate. Lucinda astonished him at every turn. Although exasperating and ornery, to be sure, she also revealed glimpses of finer, deeper emotions that kept him guessing at her true character. Here, she’d cared for his aunt as though it was the most natural thing in the world to do, and clearly, she’d also deeply loved her father. Vulnerability flashed through her at unexpected times, which appealed to him.

  Lucy was a study in contrasts. Sometimes she appeared to like him a little, and others she seemed hell-bent on antagonizing him, obviously hoping he’d wash his hands of her. Nothing would make her happier than running him off her property.