Sexual Hunger

by Melissa MacNeal

  The man behind the messy desk bristled to attention as they entered. When he saw the suits and uniforms, he quickly stashed a copy of The Pearl in his desk drawer. “What’s the meaning of this? Have I not been informed of something important, Theodore, that you bring these people into my—”

  “Take us to the man you’ve been watching so carefully, MacTavish,” Dreyfus said with a raise of his eyebrow. “It seems we’ve had a…misunderstanding about his identity.”

  The police sergeant frowned—and then gaped at Jason. “How the hell did you get out?” His face flushed as he implored the rest of them to believe him. “I swear to God I haven’t left my post, not once in these past two days—”

  “Save it,” Dreyfus warned. “We’ve more important fish to fry.”

  The sergeant glowered but motioned them down a hallway. When Jason caught sight of his twin, he felt a weight lifted—a bond reconnected—and again he realized how oblivious he’d been after he’d gotten shanghaied. “I say, it must be the pirate, Johnny Conn!” he teased as he extended his hands between the cell’s bars. “What a pleasure it is to meet you at last, sir! I’ve heard so much about your escapades!”

  “Jason! You damn—Jesus, but it’s good to see you!” As Jude gripped his hands, joy and relief radiated from his face.

  “Holy mother of God,” MacTavish muttered. “Wouldn’t believe it if I weren’t seeing it with my own eyes.”

  Jason turned, to nail the sergeant with his gaze. “So tell me, officer—which of us is the notorious Johnny Conn? If your life depended on it, could you choose?”

  MacTavish smirked. “Don’t get smart with me! Just because you look enough like—”

  “May I introduce Jason, Lord Darington,” Dreyfus interrupted with a purposeful gaze. “Which means, now that Phillip has passed, we’re dealing with the heir and new owner of Darington Shipping. Do I make myself clear?”

  The policeman looked unimpressed, but he kept his mouth shut.

  “Or could it be that I am Jason, Lord Darington?” Jude demanded in a voice that matched his twin’s. “And if I am, imagine what the magistrate will say if you take me—or both of us!—to trial for plundering three ships.”

  “A crime that has been proven false,” Captain MacLeod added triumpantly. “While you and Dreyfus sat as snug as bugs in a rug, thinking you’d restored order along the coast, my chief officer actually investigated those shipwrecks. We shall interrogate the captains and pilots of those vessels,” he added, studying the reactions of the four suited partners. “But in the meantime, we owe the Darington family our apologies for this grievous miscarriage of justice. Do we not?”

  The hallway rang with silence. Jason couldn’t quit grinning at his twin, who looked a little frazzled but pretty damn fine, all the same.

  “Unlock the cell,” Dreyfus muttered. “I’ve had my fill of this two-sided tomfoolery, trying to distinguish between twins after—”

  “Then I’ll be pleased to dissolve your partnership, sir.” Jason remained calm. It felt absolutely right to sever such a stuffy old autocrat whose blindness went far beyond what he couldn’t see with that silly monocle. “My father’s attorney will attend to it as I review the estate with him. We’re on the cusp of a new century, and it’s time for change. A fresh viewpoint.”

  Without another word, MacTavish swung open the barred door. Jude smiled tiredly at Jason and Maria. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on, brother,” he murmured as he preceded them down the hall. “Be ready for some surprises. We’ll need a huge broom for all the clean sweeps we need to make—and I, for one, am damn glad you’re here to make them!”

  “All right…tell me about this man who’s kissing Mother.”

  Jason lowered the spyglass, scowling. The afternoon had been a total triumph, springing his twin from jail, dispatching a cargo ship to fetch the crates from his caches, and then boarding the Fortune’s Opportunity for the voyage home. It had given him a particular thrill to announce his homecoming, as the new Lord Darington, in a telegram to Quentin, so he and Mrs. Booth would know when to expect them.

  Now, however, his pulse pounded. His gut told him there was far more to this flirtation than his mother taking comfort after his father’s passing.

  Jude cleared his throat. “That’s one of the surprises I mentioned. And you should—”

  “Be aware that your mother knows about us, too,” Maria remarked. “As in, the three of us.”

  “And how the hell did that happen?” Jason frowned at them, but then put the spyglass to his eye again. “She didn’t learn it from me, because I’ve been the soul of discretion since before we became engaged.”

  “She’s a mother. She knows things,” Maria said with a sigh.

  “Eyes in the back of her head. Or maybe Jemma’s been tattling,” Jude remarked sourly. “You know how she turns that damn ferret loose, just to follow him places she isn’t supposed to go. Not that she ever needed an excuse for being nosy.”

  Jason shook his head. “What I’ve seen surpasses my tolerance for—” He looked away. Couldn’t watch that steely-haired stranger devouring his mother against a secluded wall of the steamer, in a kiss that would’ve made him grab Maria, were it any other passionate couple he’d spied upon. “How long was I gone? Hell, I’m not even sure what day it is, much less—”

  “Years, it seems.” Maria smiled sadly. “In reality, we should’ve been married for two months, as of today.”

  “I have a lot to make up for, sweetheart,” he murmured. “But right now, I believe this bastard is an opportunist, taking advantage of our mother’s grief and vulnerability before Father is even cold in—”

  “Oh, she glowed like a candle at Christmas the first time she met Polinsky. And Father was there with her.” Jude, perhaps to add fuel to the flames, plucked the spyglass from Jason’s hand. “Yosef Polinsky has appeared in various homes to conduct séances and perform magical tricks, most of which involve making ladies’ jewelry disappear, as a jest.”

  “And then in actuality, we hear,” Maria continued. “Mrs. Golding reported some gems missing after she invited Polinsky to be her…houseguest.”

  “You can’t be serious! She’s eighty if she’s a day!” Jason snatched the spyglass from his brother for another look at the man in question. “This fellow can’t be that desperate. If he weren’t somewhat attractive, I’d think—my God, now he’s fondling her, with his knee between her—that’s it! This has to stop, now!”

  “No! Wait!” Maria grabbed him from one side and Jude from the other. “If you confront them, you’ll exacerbate the venom she’ll spew at you!”

  “Exacerbate?” he demanded. “Let me think. The root word there is ass, and I’m about to kick that fellow’s to Kingdom Come!”

  Jude tightened his grip. “Polinsky uses his charisma on all the ladies—”

  “Charisma? Like I call mine Blackbeard and yours is named Longfellow?”

  Maria snickered in spite of their unpleasant exchange. “He’s a medium, like my brother. Uses his power to mesmerize women…and then ingratiate himself. When Mrs. Golding threw him out, Martha MacPherson was waiting in the wings to welcome him.”

  “He’ll know you plan to rip into him even before formal introductions are made. You can’t fool these fellows with psychical powers, Jason.” Jude stood taller, listening to something. “There’s the bell, announcing dinner. An occasion not to be missed, in that ugly, crowded room. Polinsky and Rubio have been snarling at each other the entire trip, and Mum has been her usual bossy self—only more so, because she’s seducing a new lover—”

  “And Jemma is witnessing this?” he demanded. “That alone is reason for me, as the head of the family, to reprimand their brazen behavior. And Mother barely into mourning, too.”

  “She refuses to weep and wail over your father’s passing,” Maria remarked quietly. “Has informed us she didn’t marry Phillip for love, and that she’ll put on no false airs about her feelings for him.”

  Jason’s
mind reeled. How had so many things gone awry since his abduction and his father’s death? And why did he suspect this charmer, Yosef Polinsky, was behind most of them? He set the spyglass on the windowsill. “Shall we go down to dinner? See who gets chewed and who does the chewing?”

  30

  Maria held her breath as footsteps approached. The tiny dining room had become even more airless while they waited five…ten…fifteen minutes for Lady Darington and Yosef Polinsky. Jemma fidgeted; made a face at the bowl of cabbage that swam in grease and the platter of unidentifiable meat beside it. Rubio and the twins glanced repeatedly at their watches.

  “This is inexcusable!” Jason muttered. “When I get my hands on—”

  “Shhh! They’re coming!” Maria braced herself for the accusations that would spew like steam from a teakettle. Her brother’s predictions still rang in her mind, about revelations and revenge, and she sensed they might come true sooner rather than later.

  Lady Darington paused in the doorway, looking serenely poised in a fresh gown of robin’s-egg blue. Her smile hid secrets…strategies intended to get her what she wanted. “Good evening, children—and Miss Palladino and Rubio, of course. Jason, may I present Mr. Yosef Polinsky, whose spirit guides helped us search for you these past—”

  “Yes, Mother, we’ve seen what Polinsky is searching for, when he kissed you behind the lifeboats.” Jason stood to establish his superior height—and his mood. “I find your behavior repugnant, in light of how little time has passed since Father died. This charismatic opportunist is taking advantage of your unsettled emotions and—”

  “Let’s call a spade a spade, Darington.” The silver-haired medium stepped around Dora, his gaze afire. “Your mother and I are adults, mature enough to know an extraordinary bond existed even before we’d met. Out of respect for her unsettled emotions, you can keep your presumptuous opinions and accusations to yourself!”

  “Not when my sister is present, I won’t! And not when the two of you so lewdly paw each other, in plain sight!” Jason raked his hair back from a face flushed with disgust. “As the head of this family, I should take you down to the hold and chain you to the ring in the wall—the spot reserved for prisoners and those who might endanger others on board!”

  “Do it!” Polinsky challenged. “Chain me wherever you think I belong! I guarantee you, I’ll be no less a part of your mother’s life!”

  “Let’s go, then!”

  “Jason!” Maria struggled to rise from her tightly tucked chair. “Please don’t incite any more ill will than—”

  “No, no, Miss Palladino. I insist that your fiancé follow through on his foolish threat,” the middle-aged medium replied in a calm voice. “He shall prove his point—just as I shall prove him impotent against my powers. The sooner the better, I say!”

  When the two men left, their taut retorts drifted back to the little nook where everyone else sat crammed around the table. Everyone but Dora, who stood behind her chair with a scowl fixed on her face. “We need to discuss a few basic premises,” she said sourly. “But I shall wait for Jason to return, so I need not repeat them.”

  The room became unbearably warm as Lady Darington eyed each of them in turn. Jude looked cautiously at Maria, masking his expression with the confusion and curiosity they all felt. Jemma tapped her fork tines against her plate.

  “Enough of that racket, damn it!” her brother finally rasped.

  Jemma’s face curdled. “Mummy—Mummy, I’m not feeling well! I’m going up to the room with Willie—”

  “You’ll remain right where you are! What I am about to say affects you as much as it does your brothers.” Dora’s sour expression mirrored Jemma’s. “High time, daughter dearest, that you act your age, is it not? From what I’ve seen of your…relations with Chief Officer O’Keefe and with Quentin, we should find you a suitable husband before your reputation ruins our chances for that.”

  Jemma turned deathly pale. She focused on her empty dinner plate, as though she wanted to disappear into its network of tiny cracks.

  Only Rubio seemed unfazed by Dora’s mood or by the time Jason took to return. He sat with his hands clasped in his lap, his eyes nearly closed, swaying slightly as though he’d entered a trance state.

  Maria hoped he was gleaning powerful, worthwhile information to deal with whatever Dora was about to drop on their heads. Jason’s mother looked none too comfortable, despite the way she’d taken control of this room, this voyage home. When she gripped the back of her chair, Maria noticed she no longer wore the gold wedding band Phillip had given her. In its place rested a sizable chunk of aquamarine, which matched her gown. The ring’s asymmetrical design differed distinctly from her other jewelry.

  Maria composed herself when she heard quick, purposeful footfalls approaching. And then she prayed that whatever happened during this family gathering, she would still return home to marry Jason. Pandora looked formidable enough to make those sweeping changes her brother had described during Jason’s tarot reading. Revelation and revenge might not cover it, the way she was seething.

  “You needn’t have waited.” Jason gestured toward the food as he took his seat. “I was securing Polinsky to that iron ring in the hold with a double chain because—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Jason!” his mother muttered.

  “—he goaded me into doing it!” her son continued with a pointed glare. “You couldn’t have chosen a more pompous, arrogant asshole for a companion, Mother! Are you happy now?”

  Dora’s lips twisted. “Matter of fact, my dearest children, it is indeed time to talk of my happiness. Now that you’re the head of the family, Jason, I can reveal the realities of my marriage to Phillip so you’ll know who you are. And whose.”

  Maria’s throat went dry. Jason widened his eyes at his twin as possible meanings of his mother’s announcement sank in.

  “What on earth do you mean, Mummy?” Jemma whined. “If we’re not going to eat this repulsive food, may we please hold this discussion elsewhere? I’m going to absolutely retch if I continue to inhale—”

  “Enough out of you!” Dora’s knuckles turned white even as she smiled, as though she were about to grace them with a revelation far more delicious than the congealed meat on that platter. “Perhaps, as you grew up, you noticed your father and I were not particularly…affectionate.”

  “Mum, it was never our place to say—”

  “Silence! Must you torment me in my moment of truth?” Dora shot her younger son a look that withered any inclination for him to speak again. “There’s no easy way—no pretty, polite way—to explain the details, so I’ll just blurt them out. Your father didn’t marry for love, nor did he acquire any such feelings for me in our thirty-two years under the same roof. He was a nobleman in need of an heir, and I was…the tarnished daughter of a prominent family, seeking refuge and respectability. It was a match made in hell.”

  Maria glanced nervously around the table. The twins and Jemma sat tensely, ready to spring from their seats, yet they appeared too stunned to move. Rubio remained somewhat distanced. Why hadn’t Lady Darington excused him from this potentially damning discussion? Why on earth would a wife of thirty-two years say such uncomplimentary things to her children about their father—even if she’d been so unhappy? Why not bury her feelings with Phillip and move on—as she obviously had, by taking up with Polinsky?

  “And it went downhill from there,” Dora continued in a whisper. “Can you imagine the irony of marrying a dashing, wealthy nobleman who desires an heir, only to learn he’s been rendered impotent by the pox?”

  Jason and Jude exchanged a guarded look. “Mother, if this is a subject best confessed to the vicar or laid to rest—”

  “Cowards!” she cried. “I’m doing you an enormous favor, telling you Phillip was not your father! Perhaps this will free you from whatever disappointment or disagreement you found with him, for he was as frigid and unlovable with you as he was with me!”

  She inhaled noisily to kee
p from crying. This time no one interrupted: they all felt too uncomfortable to even shift in the hard wooden chairs.

  “Had he been slightly agreeable or accommodating, considering how I spent the prime of my life keeping his reprehensible secrets, I might have at least respected him,” she continued in a wavering voice. “As it was, I bedded his two best friends—with his consent—to disguise his condition, and to find occasional satisfaction for my…sexual hunger. I might be your mother, but I do have needs!” she blurted. “I refuse to mourn the man who never loved me! And I will no longer deny myself the physical delights I have done without for so long.”

  Was this one of Dora’s dramas, scripted to cast her in a more auspicious light? Or to divert their attention from matters she did not want to discuss? Maria glanced at her brother. Rubio’s face remained serene as he looked directly at Lady Darington…which suggested her recitation had rung true for him.

  “Please let me add that the joy of raising you three children was the only thing that made my marriage to such a boorish, peevish nobleman bearable,” she said softly. “Most of the time.”

  Most of the time, her children had made the marriage bearable? Or most of the time it was a joy to raise them? Maria didn’t address this difference aloud: she still wondered why she had been included in this discussion, along with her brother. If Dora had asked for her support or encouragement, woman to woman, she wouldn’t have proposed Yosef Polinsky as the antidote to Lady Darington’s loneliness.

  “Well, then,” Jemma mused in a high, childlike voice. “If Daddy was not my father, who was?”

  “And how does this affect Wildwood? And Darington Shipping?” Jason queried carefully. “While I’m sorry your marriage was unfulfilling, Mother, I cannot believe Father groomed me to assume his estate—his business concerns—only to let me drop off the edge when he died.”