The Pirate and the Puritan

by Howe, Cheryl

  “Let me finish and we’ll see who will learn the lesson!” Felicity bit her lip to keep it from trembling. In all her life, her father had never raised his voice to her.

  “The skin around the lad’s ankles and wrists had been rubbed raw. He looked as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. When he came to his senses, he told me he’d been captured by the Spanish. He’d escaped from a prison on a small island on the Spanish Main, but his crew hadn’t been so fortunate. They were hanged on their capture.”

  She noticed the guard lurking at the end of the corridor and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You let an escaped prisoner stay in your home?”

  “He was a runaway indentured servant who’d turned to piracy out of necessity. You must understand, I was close to debtors’ prison at the time. I sympathized with his plight, knowing I might soon meet a similar fate. You and your brother would have been turned out on the streets.”

  She gripped the bars. “And you trusted him, knowing he was a thief?”

  “Yes. And if you could listen to the truth you know in your heart, you wouldn’t be swayed by falsehoods spread by others. I know Drew is a good man, even if he’s confused about himself.”

  The guard shuffled toward her. “Just a few more minutes,” she pleaded. He nodded and disappeared into a dark corner of the prison.

  She turned back to her father. “I found El Diablo’s flag in Drew’s cabin.”

  Her father dismissed her damning statement with a wave of his hand. “That flag was used for intimidation. As was the character. El Diablo was as much a fiction as Lord Christian. Lord Christian was Drew’s identity on this island, El Diablo off. Drew was ruthless, yes, and he was a pirate. But women and children had nothing to fear—”

  “Then who killed Marley and his wife? Did you not know that the Duke of Foxmoor claims Marley wrote to him about Drew’s impersonation of Lord Christian?” Felicity heard the desperate emotion in her voice, but whether she hoped to convince her father or herself, she didn’t know.

  “Marley shouldn’t have been so greedy. He was fine selling pirated goods until merchants started hanging beside the pirates they bought from. Marley thought he could disassociate himself from Drew and wring some money for his silence from the duke as well. I thought I’d talked him out of his scheme, but...” Her father lowered his gaze.

  Felicity stared hard into her father’s downcast face. “You truly knew about this?” She wanted to ask if he was involved in the murders but stopped herself. If that were the case, everything she ever knew to be true would be turned upside down. “Please tell me you didn’t know Drew planned to kill Marley and his wife.”

  Her father raised his gaze, and again he was so unlike the amiable man she’d grown up with she pulled away from the bars. “I’m only going to say this one more time: Drew didn’t kill Marley, and he’d never, never murder a woman.”

  “How can you be so sure?” She wanted him to give her something solid to sway her in Drew’s favor and never make her doubt him or herself again.

  “Because I know the man. Apparently you don’t.”

  She couldn’t meet her father’s steady gaze. “No, I suppose I don’t.”

  Through the bars, he touched the tip of her nose. “I’m sorry you ever became involved in this. Drew had no right to...”

  He thankfully let his words drift off. Felicity had the urge to tell him Drew’s advances hadn’t been uninvited, if only to erase the worry from his features, but to do that she’d have to explain more than she dared reveal, especially to her father.

  He cleared his throat. “Your heart will heal, daughter. It’s the rest of you I’m worried about. That’s why both Drew and I wanted you to leave Barbados as soon as you arrived. I have some money hidden. Leave now and go back to Boston.”

  “I can’t.” She’d not planned to tell her father of their shared fate, but she’d not expected his confessed involvement in Drew’s deeds. “I left Drew only to run into the British. They used me as bait to lure him into a trap, but I shot one of their soldiers and Drew escaped. Our trial is set for a week from tomorrow, with the execution taking place immediately afterward.”

  Her father slammed the palm of his hand against the bars, making her jump. “I feared your strong-headedness would be the death of you. You should have stayed with Drew. He would have protected you.”

  If she had stayed, Drew would have absorbed her body and soul. Even now, she craved him. “I can’t trust him, and I still don’t know how you can.”

  “Drew might be a pirate, but he’s not a heartless killer. I’m not saying men didn’t die in the taking of ships, but he did not seek to kill. He did what he did to survive.” The guard had inched his way back to their side of the corridor.

  Her father continued in a whisper. “You’ve been with him? If he has such a flagrant disregard for life, why didn’t he kill you? You certainly haven’t made things easy for him—on any count.”

  Her lungs seized with the sensation of stepping out into a frigid Boston morning. She stared at her father, searching for the truth.

  “You haven’t answered me,” she said. “Who do you think killed Marley?”

  Her father slumped, and for the first time since she’d arrived he looked truly defeated. “I don’t know. Marley told someone else about Drew perhaps, someone who didn’t mind spilling a little blood to fatten his pockets.” She recalled the dinner party at the Linleys’ home and searched her memory for a slip by Drew to convince her father of his guilt, but even as she did so, an uneasy sensation turned in her stomach.

  Her confusion must have shown on her face, because her father spoke again. “Use that sharp mind of yours, and you’ll find the truth. If Drew killed Marley and Beatrice, why didn’t he kill me too, and sail away without a trace? He could have, you know.”

  The guard hesitantly tapped her on the shoulder. “Miss Kendall, Admiral Meldrick is waiting to see you. I’m sorry, but we have to go.”

  She remembered the young man from the tavern in New Providence. He was little more than a boy and always looked nervous in her presence. She nodded and blinked back tears she didn’t have to feign. She turned back to her father, pressing her palms flat against the bars. “I’m sorry, Father. I’ve caused you so much trouble.”

  Her father wiped his cheek with his sleeve and touched her fingertips with his own. “Nay, daughter, I’ve caused my own trouble, but I can’t bear to see you punished for something you’re not a part of. If Drew can come for you, he will. Don’t let your pride get the better of your common sense. Promise me you’ll go with him without a fuss.”

  She lowered her head and whispered, “No, he won’t come. He thinks I betrayed him.” Her gaze snapped up to meet his. “Besides, I won’t leave without you.”

  The young soldier shifted. “Please, Miss Kendall. You’re going to get me punished.”

  Her father leaned against the bars, as if trying to kiss her cheek. “Do whatever you can to save yourself. Drew won’t blame you for that. Go, daughter. May God be with you,” he whispered.

  She tore herself away from the bars and turned to the young man hovering behind her. Blindly, she followed him from her father’s cell. But before she reached the steps, she turned to look at him one last time.

  Her father smiled and waved, but she could see the tears on his cheeks shimmering in the single shaft of light piercing his cell. She turned away and let the tears wrench free from her tight chest, oblivious to the awkward comforts of the soldier beside her. He gently guided her up the moss-covered steps with a hand on her elbow.

  When she emerged from the underground prison, the bright tropical sun stung her bleary eyes. Life bustled in the busy street, contrasting the bleakness in her soul. The smell of sewage and trash standing too long in the heat caused her to feel even more wretched.

  How could she have known so little about her father? Instead of helping him, she’d been undermining him in her attempt to destroy Drew.

  In a wave, the gnawing feeling of unea
se that had begun in the pit of her stomach overtook her. Her knees grew weak and for the first time in her life she thought she might actually faint.

  She stumbled over to some shade provided by an over-hanging balcony and rested against the two-story building’s cobalt blue wall. Blaming her condition on the heat, she sent her frantic escort in search of a fan.

  She clutched her midsection, willing her turbulent thoughts to calm. Everything she knew about Drew pointed to the man her father claimed him to be. Too, nothing he’d ever done hinted that he would kill Marley and his wife in cold blood. Believing Drew hadn’t been responsible for the Marleys’ deaths salved her sense of being betrayed. At the same instant, his innocence brought home the consequences of her mistake.

  Her eagerness to accept the worst in Drew had almost cost him his life and still could. He had never shown her anything but gentleness, yet it had been easier for her to believe McCulla’s lies than her own heart.

  Drew must hate her. Would he have told her the truth if she’d stayed?

  She’d never know the answer to that, but it didn’t change what she had to do now. Fear of letting herself be vulnerable to Drew had caused her to destroy the only chance at love she would ever have. Rectifying the havoc she had wreaked was all she could give him. To do that, she had only one resource available to her: the truth. She wiped the tears from her face and stepped from the shade.

  The young soldier caught up with her before she moved too far down the street. She refused to accept the embroidered fan and fringed umbrella he tried to shove into her hands.

  “I’m fine. I need to see the Duke of Foxmoor. Do you know where he is?”

  “You need to rest, mistress. You looked pale as a ghost back there.” The soldier ignored her protests. He opened the umbrella and held it over her head.

  “Just take me to the duke. I’ve remembered something about El Diablo I think he’ll be anxious to hear.”

  The soldier sighed. “I’m glad to hear that. I didn’t want to be a part of hanging a woman, but I have to follow orders.”

  She stopped, realizing she didn’t know where she was going. “Do you know where he is, then? I’ll only speak with the Duke of Foxmoor.”

  The soldier relaxed visibly for the first time since he’d escorted her from the HMS Warwick to the prison. “His Lordship is staying at the Linley plantation. That’s where we’re to meet Admiral Meldrick”

  She took the umbrella from the soldier and stepped out of the way so he could lead her to the plantation. Admiral Meldrick had expected her visit with her father to break her will. Bringing her directly to the duke after her ordeal at the prison was Meldrick’s plan to still play the hero. He’d be in for a surprise he wouldn’t like, but she was gambling with her life that the duke would feel differently.

  Chapter Twenty

  Drew ripped the broadsheet from the stone wall and crumpled it in his fist. With the westerly winds at his back, the voyage from St. Lucia to Barbados would take no more than three days. His instinct to inch his way closer to Barbados and Felicity had proven correct. At the time, he’d hoped to find a clue as to the Marleys’ killer. Instead, he’d meet his death. It might have been the course he’d been traveling all along.

  In the pocket of his long velvet coat, he stuffed the handbill announcing the trial of El Diablo’s accomplices. The coat’s lining of pistols and daggers were useless against the weapons the British held. Watching Ben hang would have been difficult. Drew had seen friends die before, and Ben had freely chosen the wrong side of the law. With Felicity, he could make no such justification.

  Up until he spotted the announcement of the trial, Drew believed he might still save Ben. The British had imprisoned him for the real purpose of bringing back El Diablo. If they hanged their bait, what good would he be? But now they had something that would bring their prize in on his knees. He’d never allow Felicity to be hanged. Somehow they must have discovered that. The bastards had hardly given him enough time to deliver himself to them. This time, Solomon wouldn’t be able to persuade him to be patient. The hourglass had already been overturned, and too many grains of sand had accumulated on the wrong side.

  He signaled to the group of men he led on this search of St. Lucia’s taverns. They’d visited only a few, but there was no need to continue. Both the British and his father would receive exactly what they wanted. He sent a crewman to alert Solomon and the others of their imminent departure, while he went to ready the ship.

  He shifted the brim of his tricorn to cover his face. The unbearable heat of midafternoon left the cobblestoned streets virtually deserted. Even so, he couldn’t afford to be noticed. Getting captured before he could barter with his life would ruin any hope of saving Felicity and Ben. In all his years as a pirate, his life had never seemed more valuable.

  He strode back to the docks, sweltering under the weight of his coat. A tickle of fear fluttered his insides, but his determination to make things right was stronger. Ironically, he’d spent a lifetime struggling to survive only to give up without a fight. Despite everything, he still loved Felicity. He had no qualms about sacrificing himself for her safety. The choice was simple: There wasn’t any choice. Time was running out and he had only one card left to play.

  ***

  Felicity paused in the shadows of the Linleys’ cool marble foyer in desperate need to calm herself. An unexpected surge of anger shook her at the idea of coming face-to-face with Drew’s father. This was the man who’d badly mistreated Drew and had caused her own father to be thrown in jail. She must be humble, play on the man’s sympathies, if he had any. Surely he didn’t realize the man who called himself Lord Christian by day and El Diablo by night truly was his son—the one he’d abandoned all those years ago. If so, they were all doomed.

  With what she hoped was a tight grip on her emotions, she entered the crimson and gold drawing room of Linley Hall. Philip Linley and Admiral Meldrick fawned over a man equal in flamboyance to the decor. The vermilion satin of his trousers stood out like a bloodstain on the cream brocade chair on which he sat. When he rose, surely his breeches would leave a permanent mark. All three men eyed her as if they’d been delivered their main course.

  She stood straight in her plain brown dress, despite feeling like a smudge on the gilded wall covering. The splendor that had once awed her left her with a sense of isolation and doom. Perhaps the Duke of Foxmoor had retired from the afternoon heat, and the man staring at her behind a powdered mask of malice was only a traveling companion. He exuded status but was much too young to be Drew’s father.

  Admiral Meldrick stood, greeting her with a warm smile. He acted as if she were the guest of honor instead of a prisoner summoned for interrogation. She had no intention of being put on the defensive even if they did succeed in intimidating her.

  She ignored the grinning admiral and directed her request to the hostile stranger. “I’ll speak only to the Duke of Foxmoor.”

  The white-faced man leaned back in his chair. He curved his lips in a ghoulish imitation of a smile. His makeup cracked at the corners of his mouth and around his eyes. He was not as young as Felicity had first thought. A tall white wig and the red bow painted on his lips made him look like the exaggerated sketches of aristocrats in the Boston Gazette. He didn’t wear a coat and his silk vest embroidered with tiny purple flowers accentuated his thin frame.

  Though he carried himself with the bearing of someone who had possessed the title king all his life, he appeared to be only a little younger than Drew. The man opened his Cupid’s mouth, confirming Felicity’s worst fears.

  “How convenient. I’ve been wanting to speak with you as well. Miss Kendall, is it? Jarrod Andrews, the Duke of Foxmoor, at your service.”

  Admiral Meldrick walked toward her. “Did you enjoy your visit with your father, Miss Kendall?”

  He touched her lower back, giving her a gentle nudge. She stepped away from him, marching into the room of her own accord. “No, I didn’t.”

  Jarrod A
ndrews relaxed in the overstuffed chair as if it were a throne. Philip Linley had pulled a stiff wooden-backed seat up to the duke’s. Linley sat on its edge, appearing to follow the duke’s movements with every nerve in his body.

  She stopped in front of Jarrod Andrews, directly meeting his gaze. “I expected someone older.”

  Linley’s posture stiffened. “Miss Kendall, though I know you were born in the colonies I expected you would have been taught how to address your betters. His lordship inherited the title from his father a few years ago and should be addressed as ‘Your Grace.’ ”

  His thorough reprimand assured her Master Linley would not be an ally. Neither man hovering near the duke would likely sing any praises for Andrew Crawford. So, the duke was Drew’s brother, not his father. This could be to her advantage. The legitimate son might not know about his illegitimate brother.

  But the permanent sneer on the duke’s face warned that he did know and would like nothing more than to wipe his brother’s existence from the face of the earth. The prospect of Drew’s body hanged from a gibbet in the center of Bridgetown no doubt pleased Philip Linley just as much. Unfortunately, Felicity’s only hope lay with the duke, and that prospect seemed bleak at best.

  She squared her shoulders, trying to appear more confident than she felt. “Excuse me, Master Linley. If my manner displeases you, then perhaps you should leave the room. I have some important information for His Grace that does not concern you.”

  Admiral Meldrick swept between her and the two seated men. “We all know how distraught you must be, dear lady. Neither His Grace nor myself want to see a woman hang for the deeds of a fiend. Please speak openly.”

  She refused to allow Meldrick to remain in center stage. “Your Grace, I’ve been told capturing Andrew Crawford is of dire consequence to you because he impersonated a member of your highly respected family.”

  The Your Grace left a bitter taste in her mouth, but alienating the duke would not save Drew’s life. “If we could speak privately, I might be able to shed some light on the matter.”