by Cheryl Holt
"What of your demands for Caroline's boy?"
It hurt to hear Westmoreland refer to Harry as though he'd been immaculately conceived, but Lucas let it slide away with so much of his other outrage. Penny was all that mattered. "I make no demands. Harry has an exemplary home and a family who loves him. We don't need anything from you in order for him to have a happy life."
"I see," the duke said, pondering, while he toyed with the boundless implications of Lucas's announcement. "Explain something to me."
"If I'm able."
"How did you keep her there with you? And what caused her to return to my home?"
"I led her to believe we were eloping and that we would be married straightaway." Lucas blushed with shame. "We conducted a false ceremony; she thought it was authentic. Then she found that last note."
"The one from me?"
"Yes, and she easily deduced that it had all been a lie."
Harold steepled his fingers, then said pensively, ' 'Hence, she has been your wife in every way that matters."
"Yes, sir," Lucas said, hastily adding, "but I won't apologize for what happened between us. It was a wonderful, joyful time, and she was incredibly content." He stood and started to pace. Westmoreland was a cool customer, and it was difficult to see what he was contemplating. Lucas didn't feel as though he was making any headway with his arguments. "I realize you don't know me, and what you do know isn't good—"
"Very true," the duke interjected.
"But I'm a good man. I'm hardworking, I'm honest, and loyal. I'm devoted to my family, and as Penny would become part of it, I would be devoted to her as well. I have a solid business and a beautiful home in Virginia. We raise tobacco and horses, and along with the shipping, they furnish me with a fair income. Not what she's used to here by any means," he
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said, looking around at the opulent ornamentation, "but she'd never go without. I have many long-term servants who would graciously give her first-rate attention. And it's a good place to raise children. I could give her the many, many children she craves and provide sufficiently for all of them.''
"Penny wants a big family?"
"Yes."
"I didn't realize that about her ..." the duke said wistfully, sad and perplexed at what had been lost over the years.
"She would be happy," Lucas vowed. "I would love her all my days. I swear it to you."
"I should take your word for it?" the duke asked chidingly. "Just like that?"
"Yes," Lucas nodded. "Just like that."
"After everything you've done, you barge in here, declare your suit, expect me to go along like a sheep to the slaughter. ..." He sat back, assessing. "You're a bold son of a gun, aren't you, Pendleton?"
"I've always had to be, or I'd never have gotten to where I am today."
"Too true," the duke said, and at Lucas's questioning look, he clarified, "Actually I've learned quite a bit about you. You'd be surprised." He downed his drink, walked to the sideboard, and poured himself another—and one for Lucas too. When he returned to his seat, he handed the glass across, and Lucas couldn't help but be encouraged by the gesture. If he was about to be run off, laughed out of the room, or, worse yet, arrested and hauled away in chains, he didn't suppose Westmoreland would offer him a brandy first.
"Why did you go to the trouble of unearthing my past?" Lucas asked.
"Because it was imperative that I determine what kind of man had taken my Penny."
"So, you realized I wouldn't hurt her."
"I realized it from the beginning."
"I was convinced that you didn't care about her."
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"I always have," Harold asserted indignantly. "Maybe I didn't show it as clearly as I should have, but what father wouldn't love her? She's a fine young woman. Very fine."
"Yes, she is," Lucas agreed, relieved to discover that he'd been wrong, to see the tenderness burning in her father's eyes.
"And from the details I've gleaned," Harold continued, "I'm certain you'd make her a worthy husband. But there's just one small problem."
"What's that?"
"She's so furious with both of us that we couldn't convince her to do anything. Not in a thousand years."
"Well, I have this idea," Lucas said, a confident grin slowly spreading across his face.
"I was afraid you were going to say something like that." Harold sighed. "All right, let's hear it. . . ."
******************
"What is your surprise?" Penny asked her father while fanning her face in an unsuccessful attempt to move some of the overheated air in the stifling coach. They hit a rough bump in the street, and she lurched sideways, falling onto Colette, who sat beside her.
“All right, I'll tell you," Harold said, ''although I had hoped to wait until we pulled up in front."
"Pulled up where?"
"I've found you a house that might be suitable. I thought you might like to take a look at it."
"Really, Father? You'd truly do this for me?"
"I'm not the beast you believe me to be, Penny," he said. "I ask that you try to remember that in the days to come. I desire only what's best for you, and I pray you will be happy and content with your life. That's all I've ever wanted."
"If you say so," she grumbled.
Her ungracious response was rude, and she hadn't meant it to be, but the Duke was behaving strangely, and the heat was taking its toll, causing her patience to wear thin. With his
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strange words his eyes were suddenly blazing with an intensity she'd never witnessed in him before. The effect was unsettling, and she couldn't help wondering what had brought about this sudden change of heart. Guilt? A desire to be rid of her once and for all? A father's love?
On pondering the last, she shook her head. It couldn't be anything that outrageous. Whatever the reason he was proceeding with his kind deed, she intended to remain cautiously optimistic.
Gradually she began to realize that they weren't heading out of the city at all. From the smell of rotten fish and putrid water, coupled with the level of noise outside the closed coach, she could discern that they were nearing the river. She lifted the curtain and hazarded a glance. As she'd suspected, they were approaching the docks.
"You said we were going to look at a house," she remarked irritably. "What are we doing here?"
“I have a quick appointment to keep first. It will take only a moment." With that, the carriage rumbled to a halt, and they sat in silence while the coachmen hustled about, lowering the step and preparing the door.
When it opened, Harold stepped down, and Penny peered after him, her view filled with a beautiful sailing ship, its paint newly applied, its varnish and brass fittings shining in the afternoon sun. It occurred to her that she'd never been on a ship before, and it was a beautiful vessel to see up close. She leaned out, looking up and down the wharf where they'd stopped. There were ships tied off as far as she could see in both directions, but the one directly in front held her attention.
"What ship is that, Father?" she asked, pointing to it.
"It's the Sea Wind. Part of the Pendleton line." He took a step away from the carriage. "I've finally decided what I shall do with your Mr. Pendleton, so I must talk with his brother. He's probably concerned that Lucas hasn't returned to the ship, and he'll need to be apprised of the details before he sails today." Not trying to hide a guilty smile, he added, "Unfortu-
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nately Lucas Pendleton won't be joining his brother for the voyage home. In fact, he won't be going anywhere for a very, very long time."
"What, Father?" she called, but he was already moving through the bustling crowd and toward the gangplank. "What have you done?'' she shouted more loudly, but he was already away and couldn't hear her question.
Where was Lucas? He wasn't leaving for Virginia? Had the duke had him thrown in jail? What other reason could be serious enough that they would journey to this foul place in order to in
form Matthew?
She was furious. Hadn't the blasted man listened to a word she'd said? He wasn't supposed to do anything to Lucas! Or to his family! Did Penny have to hit the duke over the head to make her point?
Just then Colette leaned close and peeked out the door. "That is the captain's ship, non?"
"Yes, Colette."
"You don't suppose—" She paused, then gasped.
"What?" Penny queried, startled by Colette's reaction.
“I was just curious.... What if mon petit Harry is on the boat? In the very next moment your father may come face-to-face with his boy. I cannot think this is such a good idea."
"Oh, no," Penny groaned, distressed. She didn't think it was a good idea either. Not for father or son. Before taking the opportunity to reconsider, she was out of the coach and scurrying after the duke, hailing him, but he was already on board. From what she could observe, the ship appeared deserted; no one was about, so she followed her father with Colette close on her heels.
As she stepped onto the deck, her worst fear was realized as Harry burst out of the hatch, crying, "Penny! Penny! It's you! You're here!"
Paulie accompanied him, and the two boys raced to her side, unable to contain their excitement. She hugged them fiercely, powerless to hide the joy she felt at seeing them again. Harry
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began chattering a mile a minute, trying to describe every mishap that had occurred in his life in the past three weeks. She couldn't bear his happy babbling; she truly couldn't, and a few tears worked their way down her cheek.
"Miss Penny!" Paulie exclaimed, looking aghast. "We've made you cry."
"Oh, no," Harry breathed. "We didn't mean to."
"You haven't done anything," she said, forcing herself to regain control. "I'm just so very glad to see both of you."
"Have you been well?" Paulie asked.
"Well enough," she lied. "How about you?"
"We've been so grand." Harry answered. "We're going home, and Paulie is coming with us. We're going to turn him into a sailor; that's what Uncle Lucas says. Just see if we don't."
"That's very nice," Penny murmured, immensely relieved to hear that Lucas had kept at least one promise. "And look at you," she said to the older boy, grasping him at arm's length and shifting him back and forth. "You've grown a foot."
"What are you doing here?" Paulie inquired. "Have you decided to travel with us after all?"
"Please say you will," Harry interjected. "Please!"
The encounter turned awkward. Staring into their hopeful faces was too painful, and she struggled to take a deep breath as she said softly, “I haven't changed my mind. I'm just visiting with my father. He needs to speak with your uncle Matthew," she said, daring a glimpse at the duke for the first time since Harry had rushed up.
When she would chance to recall the incident later in life, she would always remember it as the only occasion she'd ever seen her Father rendered completely speechless. He'd turned white as a ghost, and Penny wondered if he might faint.
"Are you all right, Father?" she asked gently, moving to his side. Apparently the meeting was just as shocking for him as she'd imagined it might be when she'd initially seen him climbing up the gangplank.
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"I need to sit down" was all he could manage to say.
"Here you are," she said, easing him against a pile of rope. Penny glanced over at the two boys. They were staring at the adult man who was acting so oddly. She said to Paulie, "Could you go find Matthew for us?"
“Certainly, miss," he said, eager as always to do her bidding, and he hurried off.
She turned back to her father, noting the emotions that passed over his face as he regarded his son for the first time. The blond hair and the high cheekbones. The blue eyes and sharp intelligence. They were exact copies, one of the other, although Harry's hair was a shade darker. Even their bodies responded in the same fashion. They held their hands in a loose fist, tipped their heads just so while they carefully assessed each other, committing face and countenance to memory.
"My," Harold choked out, barely able to talk, "what a fine-looking lad."
"He is, Father. He's a wonderful boy."
“Would you introduce me?'' He rubbed distractedly at the center of his chest as though his heart were aching.
"Yes," she said, reaching for Harry and urging him closer. With the duke perched on the stack of ropes, father and son were nearly eye to eye. "Harry," she began, "this is my father, Harold Westmoreland. Father," she added, "this is my good friend, Harry Pendleton."
"Hello, Harry," the duke said, pride and amazement shining in his eyes.
“How do you do, sir?'' Harry said in impeccable tones, not sounding like the young child he was. "Are you the king?"
"No, Harry, I'm not." The duke smiled warmly.
"You look like you might be the king."
Harold reached out as though he wished to hug the boy, but at the last second his hand dropped to his lap. Stunned beyond measure, he simply stared and stared, then stared some more and finally said, "I knew your mother."
"Were you a friend of hers?" Harry asked.
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"I suppose you could say that," he replied cautiously.
Out of the blue, the boy inquired, "Were you kind to her?"
"No, Harry," the duke admitted frankly. "I wasn't kind to her."
"Then, I hate you," he spit out, and he stepped forward and kicked the duke in the leg so hard that he had the man bent over and gasping in pain and shock.
“Oh, my Lord..." Penny breathed, embarrassed but amused as she grabbed the lad and pulled him away.
But Harry wasn't finished with his father. Standing rigid and tall, appearing every bit like the gentleman who had sired him, he pronounced angrily, "How could you have been cruel to my mother? She's an angel in heaven. How could you not love her?''
His authoritative voice rang across the deck, and Penny was surprised to notice that the duke actually had tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Father," she said, wincing while trying to decide how a person could possibly fix a moment such as this. "I never imagined he'd ..." But her voice trailed off.
Rubbing his leg and surveying the boy with a brutal respect, Harold stated somberly, "I suppose I deserved that."
Just then Matthew Pendleton walked into the middle of the dreadful scene. Penny took a quick assessment of him, but she refused to be civil to the scoundrel who had so adeptly helped Lucas to break her heart, so she used Harry to escape, saying, "Harry, my father wishes to talk privately with your uncle. Perhaps you could show me your quarters while they're busy. I've never been on a ship before."
"Really?"
"Really," she answered. "Would you like to give me a tour?"
"I'd like that, Penny," he said decisively. "I should like that very much.'' He moved away, a wary eye cast in the duke's direction.
"Lead on, my little duke," she murmured, speculating on how long it would take for her father to recover from the
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emotional strain of the rendezvous. She left the two men to their business, and she was distracted by events, so she failed to notice the keen look of triumph that Colette flashed to them before attending Penny, offering assistance in descending the ladder.
******************
Penny disappeared from view, and Lucas slipped onto the deck and walked up to Harold. "Our plan worked well," he said, displaying an impudent grin that exhibited much more bravado than he was feeling. Facetiously he added, ' 'We didn't even have to tie her up to get her here."
"I'd better be away," Harold mumbled, surprisingly having to pause and wipe his eyes with the back of his hand.
At seeing his obvious distress, Lucas asked, "Is something amiss?"
"I hadn't imagined ... that is, I hadn't realized the boy would be on board. It never occurred to me."
The duke appeared stricken, and Lucas glanced at his brother, seeking an explanation. Out of th
e corner of his mouth he asked, "What happened?"
With raised brows Matthew said, “The duke and Harry just met." He leaned closer and whispered, "I don't think Harry liked him very much."
Harold was quickly regaining control of his swirling sentiments. He stood, though he was shaking and his knees were weak. He asserted, "She's going to be extremely angry in the beginning." He smiled halfheartedly. "I don't envy you the first few days."
"Neither do I, but she'll come around. I'm not worried. It's a long, long way to Virginia."
Reaching to the inside of his coat, Harold extracted an envelope and gave it to Lucas. "Show this to her when the time is right, will you?" he asked. "It clarifies why I agreed to help
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you. It's important to me that she understand my reasoning. Hopefully someday she'll forgive me."
Lucas patted him comfortingly on the shoulder and insisted, "I'm sure she will in time. Don't fret."
Harold fumbled around and produced another envelope. "This one is for you. It's the information about her dowry accounts, her trusts."
"I'll handle them well."
"I don't care about the accursed money!" Harold proclaimed vehemently. "I care about her! Be kind to her, or you'll be dealing with me. Make her happy."
"I intend to," Lucas vowed.
Harold took a step to go. Paused. Turned. For a telling moment he frowned at Lucas, struggling with an inner torment. "Write to me about the boy," he finally declared. "Tell me about him and about his mother. Explain what it is you'd like me to do. I'll consider it."
"Thank you," Lucas said, surprised and dazed by this bizarre, sudden change of heart. "You'll never be sorry."
"No," Harold admitted, "I don't imagine so. Watch over them both."
"I will," Lucas promised. "Good-bye."
Lucas held out his hand in farewell, and Harold clasped his tightly in Lucas's own. They shared the bonding handshake for as long as they dared—partners in crime, cohorts, accomplices, two men who were hoping to soon be in-laws—then, without another word, Harold hastened down the plank to the dock.
Lucas looked at his brother and issued the command. “Cast off."
