Knowing it was useless to ask for sal volatile aboard this ship, Phoebe chafed the woman’s wrists until the woman’s eyes fluttered open.
“Take slow breaths,” Phoebe whispered.
“Oh, Jimmy. M’Jimmy,” the woman moaned. “I shall ne’er see ye again.”
A man sat beside her and nodded to Phoebe. “Thank ye, miss. She’s m’daughter. I shall tend to ’er.”
“Both of you are going to Australia?”
He nodded. “We’ll ’ave each other at least.”
Phoebe saw the envy on the faces around them and knew that few others would have a relative traveling with them. The tears grew heavier in her eyes, but she would not let them fall as she thought of never seeing her friends and family again.
Her name was shouted, echoing oddly through the space that must be larger than she had guessed, and she heard prayers being whispered. If these people thought she was here to save them, she must disappoint them. She could not save herself.
When her name was bellowed again, she pushed herself to her feet. She picked a path among the people sitting in the hold. The back of her gown clung to her with whatever had been wet on the deck. In a few days, she doubted if she would even notice.
A sailor was standing at the base of the companionway. “Cap’n wants to see ye.”
“I do not wish to see him.”
He gripped her arm so tightly she groaned. “Cap’n said he wants to see ye. So see ye he shall.”
“Very well.” She pulled her arm away and climbed the steep companionway. When she stepped out onto the deck, she stared in disbelief. Lamps hung overhead from the masts, but she did not look at them. Instead she stared at the lights of London, which were receding beyond the stern. They were already underway. In the depths of her grief, she had not noticed any change in the rhythm of the ship to alert her that they had set sail.
She took a deep breath. The smoke from the chimneys of Town had never tasted so precious. The breath exploded out of her when a hand in the middle of her back shoved her forward along the rocking deck. Her arm was taken again. This time, when she tried to jerk away, the sailor refused to release her.
He eyed her up and down. “We never had a fine lady like ye on the ship. ’Tis a right shame that ye have to stow with the rest of those who are going beyond.”
She recognized the term that meant being sent to Australia as a convict. “I have no other choice.”
“Aye, ye do.” He rubbed his hand against the back of his mouth. “There be other quarters on this ship.”
“No, thank you.”
“So ye think ye be too fancy for the likes of me?”
Tempted to say yes, she turned away. She did not want to get into a brangle with this sea-crab. She wanted to catch a last glimpse of London. Even if she had not mortgaged everything she owned in the attempt to save some of these people from the too harsh laws, she would not have been allowed to bring funds with her to buy her passage home. She might never see London and her home again.
Another sailor, a cap settled just above his eyes, stepped in front of the man holding her arm. “Cap’n’s waitin’,” the second sailor said in a high-pitched voice that seemed too small for a man. Many of the sailors were not much more than boys.
“Then be out of m’way.”
“I will take ’er to ’im.”
Phoebe thought the first sailor would protest, but he nodded and shoved her toward the second man. She kept her feet with difficulty. When the second sailor put his hand on her arm, he did not clasp it as tightly as the first man had. Nor did he stare at her as if she were a harlot walking on the docks. She almost thanked him, then bit back her words. Any sign of clemency toward her might get this man punished. The tears grew heavy again. She had tried to protect her allies, but she might never know if she had succeeded.
As she stepped through a door into a cabin that was brightly lit and furnished with pieces that would not have been out of place in a dignified drawing room in Mayfair, she watched Captain Currie come to his feet. He was smiling broadly as he slapped a short lash onto his palm as if he were anxious to beat the truth from her. She shivered. That might not be far from what he was really thinking. Glancing past her, he said nothing as the sailor stepped out and closed the door.
“This is your last chance to name your assistants,” the captain said. “I delayed the Trellis once from going to sea in order to stop you and your allies. I give you this one last chance before we head for open water.”
“Don’t you think that if I had had assistants I would have named them before this?” She folded her arms in front of her. “By all that’s blue, do you think I want to be sent away from England?”
“I think you are protecting those who helped you.” He sat on a gold-tufted chair. His poor manners told her that he now considered her one of the convicts. “You know it is futile.”
“Yes, I do.”
“What?” He sat straighter.
“It is futile to ask me to give you answers to your questions when I have already answered them and you choose to disregard what I say.”
“I am waiting to hear you say that Lord Townsend was part of your cabal.”
“I cannot say that, for it is not the truth.” She hid her amazement that he was asking about Galen. Why hadn’t he accused Galen of that when she was betrayed? Something was not right here. A sickening despair clamped around her. Her trial had been absurd, not a legitimate trial at all. Had it been only a sham to set a trap for someone else? Galen? But that made no sense if Galen had betrayed her—by accident or apurpose—to the authorities.
“Mayhap it is and mayhap it is not. At this point, my lady, you have spun so many tales for us that I cannot know what is true and what is a lie.”
Phoebe opened the door. “Then I believe there is no need to continue this conversation.”
Setting himself on his feet, he strode to her. “You will leave only upon my command.”
“Captain Currie,” she said coolly, “this is a convict ship, not a slave ship. I will give you the respect due to you as captain of this ship. In return, I expect you to offer me the respect due to me as Lady Phoebe Brackenton.”
“You are a convict.”
“A titled one, captain. My title was not taken from me.” She kept her chin high. “I bid you good night. It has been an intolerably long day.”
Phoebe fought to breathe normally as Captain Currie glowered at her. He opened his mouth, but the shout came from on deck. She whirled to see several men fighting. She could not make out which ones they were because the lanterns hanging from the masts rocked with the motion of the ship.
“Take her below!” Captain Currie ordered, pushing her toward the second sailor who had brought her to his cabin.
“Aye, Cap’n,” he replied in his squeaky voice as he took her arm. “This way, m’lady.”
“What is happening?” she asked.
He chuckled, keeping his head lowered. “Don’t worry yerself, m’lady. Some of the lads don’t want to go to Australia any more than ye do. Cap’n will get their attention.”
Phoebe swayed with the motion of the deck as the sailor led her closer to the railing so they could avoid the fisticuffs. Shouts seemed to come from every direction. A man ran past her, knocking her into the railing. She gasped and clutched onto the rail when a section of it swung open. That was where they had come aboard. Someone must not have latched it securely.
“C’mon,” the sailor holding her arm ordered. “Time to get you away from this fight.”
“Yes,” she said as a man shrieked with pain.
“Good luck, Lady Phoebe,” the sailor murmured, his accent abruptly gone as his voice deepened.
She stared at him as he drew off his cap. “What? Jasper!” She could not believe what her eyes were showing her.
His answer was a shove. She rocked backward and reached to grasp the railing. She caught one side as her other arm windmilled. Jasper tore her fingers off the railing. He pushed her aga
in.
This time, she fell. Did someone else scream or was that her? She had no time to guess before she struck the water. Fighting her way back to the surface, she looked in every direction. If the Trellis bore down upon her, she would be killed.
Her sigh of relief bubbled against the waves when she saw she had been propelled far away from the ship. Her relief became disbelief when two more splashes came from closer to the Trellis. Someone else was in the water. A shout of “Man overboard” rang out from the ship’s deck. She started to swim toward the person, but a hand grasped the back of her soaked gown.
Looking over her shoulder, she saw Jasper. With a chuckle, he said, “This way, my lady. Fast as you can now.”
“Can you swim?” she asked, spitting out water as the wake from the ship lapped her face. “Is your leg strong enough?”
“Follow me.” He began a clumsy stroke that propelled him with surprising ease through the murky waters of the river.
Phoebe did. The skills she had learned as a child in the pond at Brackenton Park were rusty, but she managed to paddle toward the shore. Abruptly the shadows thickened in front of her. A small boat! If it was from the Trellis …
Her arm was grabbed. She started to scream, then choked on the sound as she looked up into Galen’s face. Lines were deepened by the darkness. Grasping his arms, she let him help her scramble into the boat. Jasper crawled aboard and grabbed the oars, pushing them away from the Trellis and toward some trees that were overhanging the river.
Phoebe began, “How did you—?”
Putting his finger to her lips as he had so often, Galen drew her down into the wet puddle at the bottom of the small boat. He pulled a tarpaulin that stank of fish and stagnant water over them. In the dark cave beneath it, he put his arm around her.
She rested her cheek against his chest that was bare above his half-buttoned shirt. He must have been portraying a local fisherman because he wore denim pantaloons and scuffed boots. Running her finger along the skin revealed by his open shirt, she closed her eyes and savored the wondrous texture.
He tilted her face up as his mouth captured hers. The hunger in his kiss matched the need she had feared would never be fulfilled. When he pulled her closer, her wet clothes should have steamed with the heat that washed through her, threatening to overmaster her. His lips swept away the water on her neck as he lathered it with kisses.
“That was close,” he whispered in her ear.
“What do you mean?”
“I nearly lost you to the far side of the world.”
“Yes, you did.” She drew up her knees as she had on the ship and leaned back against a slat that must be a seat. “Why did you come to save me? Were you trying to assuage part of your large load of guilt?”
“Guilt?” He opened a dark lantern, because the light would not seep through the tarpaulin. His eyes narrowed. “At what?”
“Captain Currie—”
“Who?”
“The master of the Trellis. The ship I was on. He told me that you had betrayed me to the authorities.” She took his sleeve that was as wet as she was. “He told me that you had led him to me.”
“Me? Phoebe, I love you. I would never betray you.”
Her fingers clenched on his sleeve. “You love me?”
He swept his fingers up through her wet hair and pulled her mouth to his. The slow, deep kiss left her quivering as he drew back enough to say, “I had thought that you would have guessed by now.”
“You never said.”
“And I never said that you were involved with the escaped convicts.”
“Even when I told you that you were stupid to let your brother twist your life about?”
“Even when you told me that and made me realize what a beef-head I have been.” He clasped her face between his hands. “Yes, I was furious with you, but I would never betray you. What gave you the idea that I would do that?”
“Captain Currie told me that you had let the authorities know where I was when I went to see Charlie Gerber.”
He tapped her nose. “Going to see one of the vanished convicts was your first mistake, but believing that cur was your second.”
“You did not come to my trial, so what was I to think?”
“I was busy.” His lips brushed hers lightly. “Arranging to keep you from being sent so far away.”
“But Captain Currie said …” Her eyes widened. “He said Townsend.”
“Carr must have sent them after you.” Galen drew back the tarpaulin and stared at the shore that was only a few boat lengths away.
“Yes.”
“Because he is jealous.”
“Of me?”
Galen nodded. “You were right that he was using me. My sense of duty to my family became his tool to manipulate me. He fears that if I turn my attention to you, then he will no longer be able to depend on my coming to his rescue.” He laughed. “I don’t want to come to anyone’s rescue any longer. I want to live a quiet life with the woman I love.”
Her smile faded. “But I have been convicted and sentenced to be sent to Australia for seven years.”
“My family has a hunting lodge far to the north in Scotland. We will go there until we can have the mockery of your sentence overturned.”
“Mockery? You know about it?”
He glanced at Jasper who sneezed and sneezed.
“You!” Phoebe cried. “Jasper, how could you be so daring?”
“Lord Townsend was busy arranging to hire this boat and horses to get us away from here.” He pointed to the shore where a lad waited with three horses. “I sneezed, and Johnson wept.” He laughed. “I never thought anyone would think he was an old woman.”
She smiled, trying to reconcile her butler with the woman in the gallery. It was impossible.
“Captain Currie wants to implicate you as well, Galen. That was why he allowed me out of the hold.”
“He overplayed his hand there.” He chuckled. “My alibi is legitimate.”
“Almost.”
The boat gently struck the riverbank, and Galen handed her ashore. She looked at where the Trellis was vanishing into the night. So close she had come to losing everything. She gazed up at Galen. Some things—like this wondrous love—were just too precious to risk.
“I love you, too,” she whispered, slipping her fingers through his.
“It is about time you said so.”
“I thought you knew by this time, and by this …” She gave him a teasing kiss. “What happens if you cannot get my sentence overturned?”
“Then we shall be banished to Scotland for seven years until you can reenter the Polite World.” He gave her a rakish grin. “I almost hope it isn’t overturned. Then I shall have you all to myself for the next seven years.”
“Only seven years?”
“Forever.” He locked his hands behind her waist. “You shall be my Lady Midnight.”
She drew his mouth toward hers. “Yes, and all my midnight adventures shall be with you.”
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2001 by Jo Ann Ferguson
Cover design by Neil Alexander Heacox
ISBN: 978-1-5040-0915-7
Distributed in 2015 by Open Road Distribution
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www.openroadmedia.com
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