Lucinda wondered about that dark look. What events from his past could still shadow his present? What secrets was he hiding? The ones he didn’t want the Royal Navy to discover?
“Has Lucinda told you?” Sophie chirped up. “We’re having a big bash tomorrow night. We thought Christmas Eve would be the perfect day, since people will want to be home on Christmas day.”
“A party?” Riel glanced at Lucinda.
“A ball,” she corrected.
He sent his aunt a frown. “You haven’t exerted yourself, have you?”
She fluttered a dismissive hand. “Of course not. Lucinda and I planned everything together, which was the best part. Then I let her and Mrs. Beatty do all the real work.”
Riel returned his attention to Lucinda. “Mr. Chase approved the funds?”
“Of course.” A bit of irritation prickled. “I’m not irresponsible.”
Mildly, he said, “I did not mean to imply you were.”
Lucinda fell silent, and fingered her fork. Riel was barely home and already he was asking questions and clearly distrusting the wisdom of her decisions. It bothered her, and it hurt.
“You know, Riel—Mr. Montclair—Ravensbrook has survived just fine without you here. We’ll manage just as well when you leave again.” Lucinda dared to push it a bit further. “You are leaving, aren’t you? When might that be?”
Sophie stared at her; probably shocked by her atrocious manners. Lucinda’s gaze tangled with Riel’s dark one.
He took a while to respond. Then, quietly and softly, he said, “Shall we rekindle the war, Lucy?”
“No. But please respect my decisions. Mr. Chase and I have handled things just fine for the last six months. I want you to trust that between the two of us, we might possess a brain that equals yours.”
He said nothing for another long moment. Finally, “I was not trying to disparage your decisions, Lucy. But it’s my job to make sure Ravensbrook’s money is spent wisely. You’ll forgive me, but I have not been able to check the ledgers in six months. I have no idea what is going on.”
Confronted by his calm logic, Lucinda’s ire deflated. She even felt foolish. “Of course.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”
He smiled a little. “In answer to your question, I leave the day after Christmas.”
“So soon?” she blurted, and then could have bitten her tongue. It wasn’t like she wanted him to stay!
“The Navy has assigned another mission for my ship.”
Tartly, Sophie said, “Why don’t they use their own ships?”
“They’re running thin, what with the war with the Americans and the war with France going on at the same time. Tradewind is a clipper, and one of the fastest ships in the British fleet. She can easily dart in and out of coves and spy on enemy ships. The Navy has rigged her up with additional cannons.”
“For all purposes she’s a war ship.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll be forced to fight the entire war.” Comprehension and sick acceptance wobbled in Sophie’s voice.
“Yes.”
“Why?” Lucinda said. “You’re not a commissioned officer. Tradewind is your ship. How can they force you to fight?”
“I want to defeat Napoleon, too.”
“That isn’t the whole story.” Lucinda felt this truth clear to her bones.
Riel gave her a level look, as if trying to decide how much he would tell her. Finally, he said, “If I do not comply, the Navy will look for any reason to impound my ship. Seize it, in other words, and use it until they are finished with it. Even then I might not get it back.”
“But that would be stealing!”
Riel shrugged. “They’ll look for any infraction I might have committed and use it to their advantage.”
“Any infraction?” Lucinda jumped on that interesting tidbit. “And would they find a reason to seize your ship?”
Again, that indefinable pause. Again she sensed that dark something in him, indicating that all was not as it should be with Riel Montclair. Maybe something from his past…or from more recent history. Riel’s edginess now, added to his first mate saying they didn’t want to raise the Navy’s suspicions, combined to make Lucinda very suspicious indeed. What could Riel be hiding that he didn’t want the British government to discover?
“Will you tell me?” she pressed. Lucinda could read nothing in that black gaze, and because of it, guessed he would not tell her the full truth now.
“I am a French citizen,” he said at last. “What better reason could they have to impound my boat?”
A good reason, indeed. But again, it wasn’t the full story. Lucinda wasn’t sure how she knew this, but her intuition rarely led her astray. That same intuition told her Riel would reveal no more. Not now. Maybe not ever. For now she would accept it, but Lucinda vowed that someday, somehow she would discover Riel Montclair’s deepest secret.
Perhaps this knowledge would give her the ability to gain some measure of control over her life—not that she wished him harm. She didn’t. But what if, down the road, she needed some sort of leverage over him? For example, if he refused to let her marry the man she wanted. Knowing Riel’s darkest secret might give her the ability to ensure her future happiness.
The underhandedness of her tentative course of action did not sit well within her, but on the other hand, the thought of gaining this greatest, most ultimate control over her life beckoned like the sweetest treat. One way or another, Lucinda would find out the truth. Then she would choose how to best use that information.
* * * * *
After supper, Riel helped Sophie back to her room. Before he left, she put a quelling hand on his arm. “She can read you, Riel.”
“Lucy?”
“Yes, Lucinda. Of whom else would I be speaking?” Sophie said impatiently. “She knows something is not right.”
Riel knew very well what she meant. Lucy’s pointed questions about his past weighed heavily upon his mind.
“She knows no facts. I want it to stay that way.”
“Why? Don’t you trust her? Do you think she would notify the authorities?” His aunt sounded indignant.
“I don’t want to start the war again,” he said grimly. “She still doesn’t want me to be her guardian. I can see it. I won’t give her ammunition to force me out of her life.”
“You’re making a mistake. You should be honest with the girl. Better now than later, when it can come back to bite you.”
“No. I will not.” Riel didn’t say it, but he didn’t want Lucy to look at him with contempt in her eyes. He had gained her respect. He didn’t want to lose it. And he also must fulfill his promise to Peter. The truth would give Lucy leverage to railroad him out of her life. He could not allow that.
* * * * *
The next morning Lucinda awoke to sunshine sparkling off the snow and bright blue skies. Christmas Eve! And a party to anticipate this evening.
She sprang out of bed, but a glance at the clock told her it was only half past eight. Effie wouldn’t arrive until nine. Well, for once she could dress herself and grab a crust of bread from Mrs. Beatty’s larder. Still much needed to be prepared for the ball tonight. Lucinda could not loll about in bed, waiting for the clock to mark the slow passing minutes until nine o’clock.
After donning a simple cotton frock of light blue and lace, Lucinda brushed her hair until it shone, and then left it lying in long waves down her back. There. Presentable. She nodded at the mirror and went in search of breakfast.
Lucinda perched on a chair in the dining room, nibbling on cold, leftover potatoes, when Riel arrived. He wore his jacket, and the scent of fresh air came with him. Evidently he had been up for some time. “Where have you been?” she inquired.
“I retrieved the ledgers from Mr. Chase.” He poured himself some tea, which Mrs. Beatty had just brought out, along with a tongue cluck of disapproval at Lucinda for eating cold food.
“He’s already up?”
“Yes. Last summer he mentioned he often gets
up at five. Since I don’t have much time to check the ledgers, I took a chance he might be up early this morning.”
“I’ve been keeping the petty cash,” she said with some pride.
“Have you?” With a surprising smile that relaxed his features, he sat across from her. “Mr. Chase has taught you well, then.”
“I hope so.” Lucinda decided to broach a subject she’d been thinking about for several weeks. “The Season is only a few months away. I’d like to know what monies are available to me. I need to commission a few dresses made before I go to London.”
“I will figure that out for you today.”
How agreeable he was! Lucinda decided she might like this relaxed, smiling Riel. She smiled, too. “What else have you planned for this day?”
“I will ride the grounds and see how the tenant farmers are faring.”
Lucinda felt proud that she could tell him she’d ridden out only last week. She relayed a full report of a roof that needed fixing, and assorted other odds and ends the people of Ravensbrook needed. One woman needed extra money to pay for a doctor’s care, for she was about to give birth. Mr. Chase had already provided that money.
Respect and approval gleamed in his eyes. “You have done well, Lucy.”
Warm pleasure flushed her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“If you like, I will figure out the money for the dresses now.”
Lucinda felt surprised. He exited from the room, but soon returned with a blue ledger and a parchment. While she finished her meager breakfast, washed down with hot tea, Riel did quick sums on the extra paper. Then he pushed it across the table to her. He’d circled a tidy amount, prefixed by a pound sign.
Lucinda didn’t know if the amount was a lot or a little, or even how many dresses she could buy with it. Of course, she knew the cost of the black dresses the modiste had made for her mourning period, but they had been simply designed gowns—not the latest fashion.
“Is it the same amount as last year?” she asked, trying to make a comparison.
To her surprise, Riel rose and angled his large body into the chair next to hers. Her heart beat faster, overwhelmingly aware of his close presence. He smelled clean, of warm, baked sunshine, and again she felt the raw power of him, carefully controlled, as always.
He pushed the blue ledger before her. His tanned hand rested next to her own. “See. Here is the amount from last year.” His warm breath touched her cheek.
Goosebumps prickled down her arms and Lucinda’s palms felt suddenly clammy. What was wrong with her? Stop it! she told herself.
The party could not come quickly enough. She glanced at the book and focused her thoughts. “So the amount this year is less, because of the mourning dresses.”
“Yes.”
Lucinda supposed she would have to make do with whatever the money would buy her. Last year she’d bought twelve new gowns. Perhaps this year she could buy only eleven. Disappointment lodged in her throat.
Absently, Lucinda scanned the other entries on the ledger. She realized the page appeared to be totals of last year’s expenses. The cost of her wardrobe, the expense of food—the amount of which surprised her a great deal—as well as the wages for Mrs. Beatty and the other staff. Her jaw dropped. “Is this how much Mrs. Beatty is paid each year?”
Riel glanced at the page. “Yes.”
“But…” It must be a mistake! “But how can she live on that? My dresses for the Season cost six times her yearly salary!”
“True,” Riel agreed with a surprised, but faintly approving look. “But she lives here. She pays no expenses for food or lodging.”
“Still. It doesn’t seem right.” Lucinda felt guilty now for the apparently extravagant amount she’d spent on dresses last Season. And just moments ago, she’d felt disappointed she could only acquire eleven gowns instead of twelve! How many dresses could Mrs. Beatty buy with her meager funds?
Riel’s gaze held hers. “What do you want to do about it?”
Lucinda blinked. “I can do something?”
“You are the mistress of Ravensbrook now. You can suggest an increased salary for your staff.”
“But…” Lucinda’s mind swam with the enormity of this idea…and the responsibility. “But where would that money come from? Isn’t all the money used up each month?”
“The crops brought in a little extra last year, and trims can be made here and there.”
“Trims?” Lucinda wasn’t sure if she liked the sound of that.
“Cut back on frivolities. Buy fewer dresses this Season, and give the extra money to your staff. Or give Mrs. Beatty and a few others a Christmas bonus, instead.”
While Lucinda did not like Riel calling her wardrobe a frivolity, she considered his words. It did seem unfair that she should have so much, and her devoted servants, so little.
“If I were to give Mrs. Beatty a bonus, how much do you think would be appropriate?” she asked at last.
His gaze held hers. “You are serious.”
“Yes. Mrs. Beatty has been more than a housekeeper here for the last thirty-three years. She’s been a mother to me, too. She deserves far more than she earns.”
“Have you any others to whom you would like to give bonuses?”
Lucinda named a handful of others, including Effie and Wilson, the butler.
Riel suggested an equal bonus for all, but Lucinda disagreed. Heads close together, they dickered out appropriate allotments for five of Ravensbrook’s oldest and most loyal staff. Lucinda’s dresses for the Season dwindled to eight.
Agreement finally made, Riel leaned back. “You have surprised me, Lucy. In a good way,” he added, when her eyebrows climbed.
“You believed me to be rich and spoilt, and completely selfish?”
“I am happy to see that you are not.”
It felt like a backhanded sort of a compliment. Lucinda wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted or proud. “Remember, you know little about me, Mr. Montclair. Let this be the first of your many lessons.”
A smile glimmered. “I have learned many already.”
“I thought we agreed to forget the past.”
He regarded her, still faintly amused, and his eyes intensely black. “I await you to teach me how wrong I have been.”
Warmth flushed her skin. “Then prepared to be schooled, Mr. Montclair. I have much to teach you.”
He chuckled. “Never will any of your lessons be dull, will they, Lucy?”
She flounced to her feet, suddenly finished with the conversation and the flush searing her skin. “Enough of the games. I have business to attend to, for the ball is only hours away.”
“Leave a dance for me.”
Lucinda couldn’t help but frown. How like him to autocratically demand a dance, instead of asking for one nicely, with an ample helping of humble supplication! “If I lack for partners I will gladly squeeze you in. If not…” She shrugged.
Riel only smiled, clearly unperturbed, which made Lucinda frown a little harder. She would make sure her dance card was filled up, and speedily. Riel Montclair might think he had a right to dance with her, just as he had the right to rule her life and run Ravensbrook, but he was wrong. At least in this small matter, Lucinda would teach him that she was in charge of her own destiny. And her destiny did not include a dance with a certain supremely confident, raven-haired pirate!
“Good day, Mr. Montclair.” She spun on her heel and left him to enjoy his breakfast alone.
A quiet chuckle followed her out. With a flare of indignation, Lucinda wondered if he’d ruffled her on purpose. She felt doubly determined to deny him any dance this evening.
Chapter Ten
Candles sparkled in the chandeliers in the ballroom, and punch filled the deep crystal bowl. Delicious Christmas confections adorned the buffet table along the wall, as well. Lucinda could hardly wait to sample them. Mrs. Beatty had baked up a storm all week. It was eight o’clock, and already guests streamed into the house.
“Hello!” Lucinda
greeted her oldest and dearest friend, Amelia, and her parents. “I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been?”
Amelia rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Bored,” she said drolly. “At least until dear Jonathon came to visit.”
Before Lucinda could ask who Jonathon was, a tall man with fashionably trimmed chestnut hair stepped forward and bowed over her hand. “Lady Lucinda,” he said in a smooth drawl. “Amelia did not say how beautiful you are.”
Lucinda smiled, quick to see how very handsome he was, with dark green eyes and classical features. And he was dressed to the minute in the very latest fashion, she noticed. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord.” Clearly he was titled. It seemed a safe assumption to make.
“He’s my second cousin once removed, the Duke of Warrington,” Amelia informed her. She patted her mousy brown hair, scraped back into a tidy bun. At least, it was tidy for now. Amelia was prone to outrageous mishaps, and rarely did she survive one evening without her dress spotted or her hair caught by a passing gentleman’s cuffed sleeve as he raised his arm to sip champagne. Unlikely though it was, this scenario had played out on several occasions.
“I didn’t know you were related to a Duke,” Lucinda teased her friend.
“If only I could be a duchess, then perhaps all of my worldly troubles would vanish.” Meaning her unlikelihood of catching a husband, Lucinda knew. Amelia believed herself too tall and plain. She did not see herself as the witty, clever girl she was, but Lucinda firmly believed the right man existed for Amelia. Someone who would recognize her for the treasure she was.
She took her friend by the arm. “Come, Sophie will want to speak with you again. She’s become my dearest friend over the last several months—next to you, of course.” A step away Sophie sat, chatting with Lady Humphrey. Lucinda introduced Amelia’s parents and Jonathon.
Sophie smiled. “I’m so pleased you could come to the ball. Lucinda has told me all about you. It’s good that young people could come and liven up Ravensbrook.”
Amelia’s parents joked a little about being considered “young people,” and chatted with Sophie.
The Pirate's Desire Page 15
