by Howe, Cheryl
Drew lifted his head from where it hung between his braced arms. Apparently, his brother didn’t share his desire not to know what the competition had been up to over the years. Probably because he didn’t see Drew as competition at all. “I don’t recall using the Andrews name during that particular adventure, but I’m glad you’re keeping careful record, brother.”
The duke’s cocky grin drooped on one side at Drew’s appellation. “Oh, but you did claim to be a child of my father’s. A bastard, no less. Apparently the Spaniard thought that was enough to garner payment of a ransom. But alas, it wasn’t.”
Drew sat up on his knees, testing his ability to stay conscious before he used the wall to help him stand. The duke watched him with a satisfied smirk on his face. No doubt he thought the knowledge that his father would leave Drew in a rat-infested torture chamber to die would come as some sort of striking blow. Drew remembered making the claim now, but it had only been to stall for time. The hope of a ransom had saved Drew from immediate execution, and in the end, he had escaped.
“Why are you here?” Drew was ready to cut the confrontation short. “As you can see, I won’t be escaping this time.”
“No. And you turned yourself in to save a woman.” His brother made a tsk-tsk sound that had Drew thinking of desperate ways to slip from his shackles. “I wish our father had lived to see this. He’d never have believed it. When he heard of your pirate escapades, I fear he thought you an idealized hero in some tragic epic. He always loved untamed things. How I’d relish him knowing I was the instrument that brought you down.”
“You didn’t do much. Were you always such a tattler? Probably hid behind your mother’s skirts.” Drew paused as casually as he could manage, considering his circumstances. “That’s right. You were sickly, weren’t you? Could never go out and play with the other children.”
“I was the heir. The only offspring my father had that mattered. My mother thought I needed sheltering.” The duke squared his shoulders. “But she was wrong. I killed Marley and his wife, you know.”
Drew placed his hands flat against the moss-covered wall behind him and tried to appear relaxed instead of on the verge of fainting. “I don’t believe you.” He wasn’t sure if he did or not. His head spun, and he desperately needed to lie down, but he suspected his reply would be the most upsetting to his brother.
“Who else would have committed the crimes?” The duke stepped closer and pulled off his tall white wig. Hair the same color and texture as Drew’s fell around his brother’s shoulders, and even Drew was forced to see the resemblance. “I came to give Marley his reward for the information he’d so thoughtfully provided. With the help of some hired ruffians, of course. His pretty young wife saw our approach from the window and ran down to greet us. At first she thought I was you. She was all ablush that you came strolling up to her front door in the dead of night. Did you bed her?”
“No.” Drew wanted to close his eyes against the duke’s words, but he didn’t want to reveal how much his brother’s ruthless acts shook him.
“I did. A shame to kill her, but there was no way around it. Marley, on the other hand, brought his fate upon himself. You don’t blackmail a duke. It’s not done.”
Drew watched his brother in silence, recognizing his cold detachment as something Drew had once cultivated in himself. But even at his worst moments, he’d had limits. Apparently, the Duke of Foxmoor had none.
“You look at me as if you wish to say something. Speak, dear brother.” He said the word with ill-disguised contempt. “That’s why I’ve come tonight.” The duke strode closer. “I decided to offer the reward for Marley’s murder instead of doing away with you myself when that dear, sweet Beatrice mistook us, even momentarily. I posed for the drawing.” The duke stuck out his jaw and angled his face for Drew’s inspection. “I think I might be the more menacing pirate. From what I see, you don’t live up to your reputation.”
“Why didn’t you just kill me?” Drew tried to keep his shoulders rounded, though a strong desire to reach for his brother had broken through his pain-fogged brain. “Why go to all this trouble?”
“Do you think I came all this way just to kill you? Do you think I care about you that much? Hardly. If you had died in that prison, as you were supposed to, you would have saved all of us a lot of trouble.” His brother’s direct gaze challenged Drew to argue.
“I never wanted anything from you or our father.”
The duke hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his embroidered jacket. “Well, believe it or not, he wanted something from you.”
Drew straightened before he could stop himself, his interest rattling his chains.
The duke nodded in acknowledgment of Drew’s reaction, then he paced to the other side of the cell. “No, I don’t think I’ll tell you.” He paced back again. “The reason I didn’t kill you was because our father acknowledged you in his will.”
Drew didn’t have the strength to hide his surprise.
“Oh, yes. And he was still alive to receive that little ransom note from the Spanish. Wanted to send the money and bring you back to the bosom of the family to recover. I couldn’t have that. And not just for myself. I wouldn’t let him insult my mother’s memory like that.”
Drew took a step toward his brother, all restraint swept away by an awful realization. “You killed him, didn’t you?”
“Not precisely, no. Our father was an accomplished horseman. Did you know that?”
Drew nodded, despite himself. He’d often seen his father ride through the village on his latest mount. How many years had it taken Drew to stop holding his breath with the hope the duke would finally pause to speak to him?
“Look at you! Please don’t tell me you actually loved the pompous ass. I assure you, he wasn’t worth the maudlin expression. Be glad I loosened the stitching on his saddle and dug a trench under his favorite jump. He’d just gotten a new stallion—a mean animal that was supposedly untamable. Everyone told Father he’d break his neck on the bloody thing. I just made sure he did.”
The duke sagged for a moment, then stood straighter as he took a deep breath and let it out again. “It feels good to get that off my chest.” He rubbed the velvet lapel of his jacket, which would have covered his heart if he had one. “There was speculation about his death, of course. Everyone knew we didn’t get on, but luckily no one but me knew about the ransom letter. The old man thought I would somehow be pleased to know I had an older brother. As if I didn’t already know.”
The duke paced in front of Drew, rambling on as if he were talking to himself in a mirror. “Well, that old bugger got the last laugh, because I didn’t know he’d left you money, and even referred to you as Andrew Crawford Andrews in his will. I mean, really, what kind of noble name is that, Andrew Andrews? It might have been clever of your mother to name you Andrew in the event anyone in the village missed the fact she was my father’s whore, but I’m sorry—if all that came to light in London… Well, we just wouldn’t want that, would we?”
His brother paused to stare at Drew, waiting for him to rise to the slur against his mother. Let his brother think what he wanted. He had no right to know how Drew’s mother, against reason, loved his father and the child they’d created together.
“So you see,” his brother continued with a slight smirk, “I couldn’t kill you outright without bringing undue attention to myself. I certainly had no intention of taking you home and welcoming you into the family. Actually, if Marley hadn’t brought your existence to light, you might have escaped with me thinking you’d died in that Spaniard’s prison. I’m so glad that didn’t happen, aren’t you?”
“I don’t want my father’s money. I have plenty of my own.” Drew’s head was slowly clearing. The room no longer spun, but what came into clarity was entirely more unsettling.
“Less than before, I imagine. That was an added benefit of seizing the New England Trading Company’s assets. Of course, the ships and goods had to be divided among the governor and
a few wronged citizens besides myself, but I made out nicely.”
Drew studied the moss that crept up the wet stone of his prison while his brother’s words washed over him. His brother’s confession didn’t really matter. Even if he told someone about the duke’s involvement in Marley and Beatrice’s murder or even his father’s death, no one would believe him. Drew was an outlaw, after all. He had committed enough acts of piracy on his own to warrant his hanging. Felicity’s involvement in his life had made the end to his games inevitable. His life meant nothing without her in it, and having her in it would be her death warrant.
Drew leaned against the wall and crossed his ankles. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” The duke sighed. “Well, I feel as if I’ve just been to the confessional. I suppose I should be on my way and let you rot in peace.” He yanked his wig back on and tucked his hair beneath it. Rows of tight white curls adorned with a burgundy-colored ribbon provided the bloodthirsty fiend with an effeminate air that covered his tracks as well as his title. Drew could now see why Lord Christian’s disguise worked so well.
The duke bowed at the waist. “I can honestly say it was a pleasure to meet you.”
Drew tried to keep the bloodlust out of his eyes and maintain his relaxed stance. Let him out of his chains and he would rip out the duke’s liver and make him eat it. Worst of all, in light of his brother’s list of victims, Drew had no doubt Felicity was in serious danger.
Drew suspected his brother read his thoughts, because the main stepped outside the cell and closed the door. He took the torch from its holder on the stone wall.
“One more thing.” The man’s genuine smile set Drew on edge. “Felicity is going to have a terrible accident shortly after your execution. You told her too much.”
Drew lunged, but his chains brought him up ridiculously short of reaching the duke. His brother’s laugh drifted over the rattle as he walked away.
Drew eased back against the wall. A cold fury cleared his vision, allowing him to see through the pitch-black gloom. He’d have his chance with the Duke of Foxmoor after all. Being the martyr was no longer an option. His prison rations remained in a dark corner of the cell, untouched. The runny gruel and moldy bread had looked too revolting to eat before, but things had changed. He needed his strength.
A large rat challenged him over the bread and lost. Drew picked off the largest sections of spongy green from the damp loaf. He swallowed the first bite before he gave in to the urge to spit it out.
Without examining the contents too closely, he took a gulp from the bowl. He winced and took another long swallow. After he forced down the rest of the food, he’d sleep. And tomorrow he’d find a way out of here.
Chapter Twenty-two
“Where are all the guards?” whispered Felicity.
“I don’t know. Maybe we’ve finally had some luck.”
In the inky darkness, she heard Solomon’s shrug in his tone rather than witnessing it with her own eyes. She stared down into the void at the bottom of the steps. After the first two, the rest disappeared into nothing.
“Or maybe they’re all down there.”
A map of the jail, procured from one of its former inmates, had revealed the back entrance. The thick oval door stood off the main street so pedestrians wouldn’t be bothered by the flow of dead prisoners. Not many survived the Barbados goal’s harsh conditions. Even fewer escaped. The wooden door, reinforced with steel bands, was supposed to be locked and guarded.
Solomon touched her shoulder. “It’s too late to change your mind. He’s to be executed tomorrow.”
To distract from her sudden rush of fear, she checked the contents of the sack slung over her shoulder. “I'm just making sure I have everything.” She readjusted her breeches. The increased freedom of wearing men’s clothing boosted her confidence. She could do this. She had to do this.
When Solomon showed up on her father’s doorstep shortly after Drew’s arrest, he’d wanted her help only as an informant. She’d had other ideas.
Being part of the escape plan kept her from thinking about her last meeting with Drew. She could still pretend she was a part of his life, and that the hurtful words he’d said didn’t exist. She turned to Solomon. “I’m ready.”
Without a word, he nudged her forward. She gingerly descended the first step. One. Two. She placed her hand against the cold stone, using the wall as a guide. There were twenty-three steps in all and she had to count every one of them.
Concentrating on getting down the windowless stairwell without breaking her neck didn’t stop her anxiety over seeing Drew again. After her initial devastation ebbed, she’d realized his cruelty at their last meeting had sprung from a desire to keep her from helping him. It was obvious. Unfortunately, his declaration about not loving her sounded too close to the truth. Her father had tried to warn her. Drew’s reputation with women alone should have convinced her she’d never be more to him than a passing fancy. His words only confirmed what she already knew.
Twelve. She forcibly pushed away the thought and focused on the steps. When her fingers brushed something slimy, she fought the urge to wipe her hand on her breeches. Touch had to double for eyesight.
Despite his lack of feelings for her, she still loved Drew and would do anything to see him safe. Eighteen. She couldn’t let her personal heartbreak foil the plan. He had never promised her anything but lust. Even she was slightly surprised that she’d expected more. Perhaps her love for Drew had grown so strong that she found it hard to believe the intensity was not returned.
Twenty-three. She stepped down onto the soft dirt floor. Cells lined the walls. Muted moonlight drifted through the high windows. Gray clouds with dark bellies shut out the stars, keeping her from seeing more than a few inches in front of her. She had to strain to make out the cells. Drew was supposed to be in the last one.
She counted the cells and stopped at Drew’s. From her bag, she removed the long, sturdy file she’d selected for picking the heavy latch. If it hadn’t been for her extraordinary talent for opening locks—a skill that could not be bested in speed by even the most experienced cutthroats in Drew’s crew—she’d have been forced to wait on the Rapture. She wanted to be the one to set Drew free. Her rescue would show him his words hadn’t destroyed her. He meant as little to her as she did to him. Only she herself had to know her heart was permanently shattered.
She laid her hand against the cell’s face, feeling for the lock. The slight pressure pushed open the iron gate.
She froze. It should have been locked. The small fear that lay curled in her belly got up and stretched. She crept inside the cell. Empty chains lay in a heap against the wall.
She pursed her lips to silence her anguished cry. They could not be too late. It was unthinkable. He hadn’t been in the cell long enough to die of starvation or disease. Solomon’s informant had said they’d seen him— She didn’t complete her thought.
A hand clamped over her mouth a second before she was shoved to the ground. The file flew from her grasp, landing on the dirt floor out of her reach. Her assailant fell on top of her. She tried not to panic as she fought for a chance to free herself. Squirming in her captor’s grasp, she reached for the long, sharp file. Her fingertips grazed its tip. If she could grab it, she could use it as a weapon.
Her assailant groped her body, stilling his movements when he touched her hips. The fierce grip he had on her loosened. He lifted his weight and rolled her over.
She recognized the opportunity and acted swiftly. Mustering all the strength she possessed, she yanked up her knee between his bent legs.
He rolled off her with a familiar grunt. “Felicity.” He groaned. “It’s me.”
She scrambled to her feet, pushing strands of hair out of her face to assure herself it was indeed Drew.
“You scared me.”
Drew curled into a ball on his side. “I guess”—he paused to catch his breath—“you’re still angry.”
“Yes, but I only kneed y
ou because I didn’t know it was you.” She stood over him, straightening the oversized jacket that had twisted in their struggle. Being in his company brought the sharp sting of his rejection back in a rush. He grunted as he slid to his knees.
She put her finger to her lips. “Shh. We have to be quiet.”
“I think I’m going to be sick. Do you know how bad it hurts a man when you knee him in the groin?”
“Yes.” She held herself stiffly. Running to his side would only remind them both of how foolish she’d been in declaring her love. “I wouldn’t have put so much force into it if I’d known it was you. Now hurry.”
He finally got to his feet, but had to bend over his knees for a few seconds before straightening. “What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”
“I’m here to rescue you.”
“I think you emasculated me instead.”
She choked down a terse rejoinder. Curtailing his virility, even temporarily, wouldn’t hurt him. She should have kneed him in the beginning instead of falling in love with him.
“How did you get out of your chains?”
With a jerk of his head, he directed her attention to a dark corner in the cell. “I had the key.”
Her gaze focused on a crumpled figure, blood running from his mouth. A tray of food lay scattered around him, as if he’d been surprised while delivering Drew’s last meal. Immediately, she looked away. Turning her back to Drew, she tried to hide her revulsion. She really was in over her head this time. Having another death on her conscience was more than she could bear. If the British caught them, no one would be spared.
“Let’s go. The others are waiting.”
He grabbed her arm and turned her around. “He’s not dead. Just resting.”
She tried to pull away, but he brought her closer by wrapping his arms around her waist. “We have to hurry.”
