Once Upon a True Love's Kiss

by Julie Johnstone

  "Is capable of speaking for himself," the marquess snapped.

  Tobias wasn't intimidated. He steered the conversation back to the Regent to arouse the man's anger. "And what does lofty Lord Underwood have to say about the Black Regent?"

  Underwood's gnarly fist tightened around the handle of his cane. "He will get his comeuppance, as will you for ruining my son's happiness. Pray, explain where you've been all this time?"

  Tobias accepted his sword from Barrett. He stepped back and swished his blade through the air. "I owe you no explanation, and my lady is no longer your concern."

  "Be that as it may," Markwick said, "you deserted her."

  Tobias aimed the tip of his blade at Markwick's chest. "Careful, old friend."

  Underwood thumped his cane on the grass. "Where have you been, Blackmoor?"

  Markwick was calm and held still. With his sword still aimed at Markwick's chest, Tobias said, "Trying to stay alive." He cut the button off Markwick's waistcoat.

  "Enough!" Underwood shouted. He turned to Walsingham and Barrett. "Is this not supposed to be a duel? A fair fight?"

  Barrett conferred with Walsingham, then offered instructions. He ended with, "Take your places, gentlemen."

  Tobias lowered his sword. Markwick nodded. They both turned their backs.

  Walsingham shouted, "Ready! Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One."

  In the stillness of the Downs, a lone whimbrel sang and waves crashed against the shore not far away.

  Barrett nodded to both men. "You may turn."

  PRUDENCE'S HEART THUNDERED IN her chest as Pye, Quinn, McHugh, and another brawny pirate named Lucky Ned, navigated the river and rowed the longboat ashore. Dawn had already begun to rise over the Downs by the time they arrived.

  Was she too late?

  "There. Ahead of us," Pye said, pointing across the bow.

  Prudence strained her eyes against the bright prism of light cresting over a sloping hill. There, dark silhouettes blotted out the intensity as two men pummeled each other in a retreating-and-advancing path of steel, blades clashing and sparking. Nothing about the duel suggested Tobias and Basil were merely playing their parts in a scheme to ensnare Lord Underwood.

  "Hurry," she ordered, keeping her voice low.

  Within moments, the longboat's keel struck the riverbed terminating all forward motion. Oars plunked quietly against the hull as Quinn eased over the side and into the water to secure the boat to shore. Beside herself with worry, Prudence chose not to wait for a dry foothold. She hiked up her gown and slipped into the icy, knee deep water, slogged ashore, dropped her skirts, then ran as fast as her feet could carry her. The blundering fools were going to kill each other. And for her! They deserved what they got for acting so childish, though it pained her to imagine the outcome.

  One of the figures—Tobias, if his size was any indication—bowed backward, then rallied to push Basil away. Her heart clenched, ice hardening in her veins, tightening her chest more than any corset, and still she ran, giving no heed to the men behind her who labored at the river's edge.

  The choreography of muscle and bone, the sheer verve and vitality of Tobias and Basil gained her a new respect for how honor and glory were embraced on the field.

  Dear God in heaven, protect both of them!

  Basil followed a feint with a parry to get past Tobias's defenses. The tactic worked as she ran up the hill. Tobias was forced back, making him display exceptional skill and nimble wrist play to rally, counter-disengage, pass, parry, lunge, and coulé. As the duel continued, and steel braced against steel, there seemed to be no end to the brilliant swordsmanship the two men performed at a dazzling, brisk pace.

  They were well matched, just as Tobias had once told her when relating his days at Eton. And for good reason. They'd been trained by the same master.

  The hilts of their swords locked. Tobias applied pressure, forcing Basil to brace himself, digging his heels into the ground. Basil's tactic didn't work. He spun, almost losing his balance.

  Fearing the outcome of the heightened blood rush, Prudence shouted, "No!" as Tobias outstretched his arm.

  Bang!

  Her heart leaped, first at the sound and then again with one look at Tobias. His arm had dropped to his side, and his body was jerking. He collapsed to the ground.

  "Tobias!" The scream ripped from her throat as she ran to his side, sprinting so hard she almost felt as if she were flying.

  Male voices shouted, but she paid them no mind. She dropped to the ground, scooped Tobias into her arms, panicking when crimson stained his shoulder and oozed down his arm.

  A man she didn't recognize materialized before her. "Let me tend him. I'm Dr. Crosley, the duke's physician."

  She blinked, not recognizing the man until he winked ever so inconspicuously at her. It was the same man she'd been told had escorted Tobias from the Fury.

  "I will not leave. You cannot make me," she vowed.

  The physician nodded, concentrating his efforts on the second bullet wound in as many days, lifting Tobias's shoulder to peer beneath. "The shot went through. 'Tis a good thing. Less chance of infection."

  She swallowed, her throat dry and rough. "Will he live?"

  Tobias groaned, glanced around, then struggled to raise his head. "If you wish it, my dove."

  Relief surged through her, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Tobias! Heaven help me, I thought I'd lost you again." She embraced him. "I do wish it, my darling, with all my heart."

  "Your Grace, this is highly unorthodox," Dr. Crosley protested. "You must allow me to attend my patient."

  "Not now, Crosley," Tobias complained.

  "Captain," he whispered, "this is serious business. Let me assist you."

  "I've been through worse."

  "Worse?" Prudence swallowed the lump that threatened to suffocate her. She couldn't bear to think of Tobias suffering, but she wanted—no, needed—to know what he'd been through. "Go on, doctor."

  "Quit frightening my wife." His blue eyes fastened to hers. "You do still want to be my wife, don't you?"

  "I've never wanted anything more," she said. "My heart is yours. It always has been."

  "Even after all that has happened?"

  "Yes."

  "Even… now?"

  "Especially now," she said, waving the doctor closer so he could bandage Tobias's injury.

  "You see, Crosley?" Tobias tipped his head toward the sun.

  "I see. I see. Victory in its purest form. Well done," Dr. Crosley said. He cleared his throat. "Now, sir, allow me—"

  "That will be all," Tobias's air of authority wouldn't be breached. "This moment is ours." The disarming plea in his eyes captivated her. "Can you ever forgive me, Prudence?"

  Though she abhorred Canterbury tales, his lies had been responsibly motivated. His role as son and duke had called more loudly than selfish desires of the flesh. "I've already forgiven you. You might not have won this fight, but—"

  "I've lost nothing. Look," he said, staring past her, lifting his bloody finger to point at Basil.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Underwood was completely surrounded by Captain Walsingham, Basil, and Lords Barrett, Standeford, and Landon. Underwood's dignified posture combatted his pained violence. The irrational tempest raging in the older man's mind made her shiver. A smoking gun dangled from his hand.

  She'd been so immersed in Tobias's well-being that she hadn't been paying attention to anything else. Not even where the shot had come from in a duel fought with swords…

  "Father!" Basil's voice tore out of him as if chased by the hounds of hell. "Why?"

  Underwood's coldhearted stare pinioned her where she struggled to keep Tobias from standing. "Blackmoor and his forbearers have always believed themselves to be superior to everyone else. I did only what any noble man would do: deliver retribution."

  Basil's jaw visibly tensed. "That was not your battle to fight."

  "Do you think so low of me, boy? I broke him, t
hem, all of them. Forced my contemporaries to understand inherited privilege does not a man make."

  Barrett spit in Underwood's face. "My father took his own life because of you!"

  "You killed my father!" Landon shouted.

  Standeford clamped his teeth shut, clearly wanting to add to the list. Instead, he turned his back on Underwood and walked away with nary a sound.

  "Ha! Small thing that," Underwood said, sneering at Barrett and Landon. "It's a shame you're completely unaware of my genius."

  Landon lunged at the marquess, his anger barely under control. "You are a madman!"

  Walsingham ordered one of the men to pry Landon's arms off Underwood.

  The marquess cackled, his stony mask an effigy of contempt. "I'd be the richest man in all of Devon if that damned incompetent felon I'd hired had killed Blackmoor as planned." A vein throbbed in Underwood's forehead. "But you didn't die!" His rage intensified as Tobias began to rise. "You ruined everything!"

  "No, Father. You are wrong." Basil's disgusted stare lingered on his sire.

  "Presumptuous pup. If it weren't for me, you'd be dead right now. Blackmoor was about to strike you down."

  "You are wrong again," Tobias shouted, struggling to rise, using Prudence for support. "I, unlike some, am incapable of taking an innocent man's life."

  Underwood shook violently. Failure fractured any residual decency he had left. He started toward Tobias, surprising Walsingham. "You lie. I saw you wield your sword."

  Basil took action, placing himself between his father and Tobias and Prudence. "I won't allow you to come between the duke and duchess again."

  Underwood wrenched his captive arms free with unusual strength, then turned to his son. "Markwick? You misunderstand my purpose! With Blackmoor out of the way, the duchess was yours. All you had to do was woo her, play to her weaknesses, her loneliness and shallow longings." He inhaled a deathly, eerie wheeze. "Your marriage to her would have made my revenge complete. With Davis's survey and Blackmoor in our hands, we had everything to gain."

  "Except honor," Basil said, a terrible bitterness in his tone. "You do not know me at all. Nor do you know Lady Blackmoor. She isn't weak. Never has been. The duchess is the strongest, most courageous woman I know."

  Basil's praise gave Prudence a thrill. She'd worked long and hard for admiration she'd thought never to win. At the same time, her heart broke along with the fragile thread linking father and son.

  "You disgust me, Father," he said simply.

  "Ha!" Underwood clucked. "I can see my first mistake was in siring a weak son."

  "I think we've heard quite enough, Marquess," Walsingham said, intervening.

  Underwood ignored the captain and directed his rage at Tobias. "I'll make you pay for this!"

  Tobias finally spoke. "No, you won't." He nodded to Barrett.

  Barrett slipped his hand into his jacket, then produced foolscap bearing a red seal. He handed the parchment to Walsingham. "Added to Underwood's confession, everything you need to prosecute the marquess is in my father's letter."

  Walsingham opened the foolscap and read the contents. He glanced at Barrett, Tobias, and then Underwood. "My condolences, Lord Barrett. I shall have the local magistrate determine the marquess's fate. You can count on it."

  "Justice is all we've ever wanted," Barrett said, as he and Landon took Underwood by the arms, escorting the fiend back to his carriage, where they forced the marquess inside, none too gently.

  The revenue officer folded the parchment and slid it into his coat. He faced Tobias, Prudence, and Basil. "Your Graces, Lord Markwick. My duty is complete. If you are ever in need of my services, do not hesitate to contact me." He clicked his heels and bowed his head before stepping into the carriage. Within moments, the driver whipped the horses into a run and the vehicle raced across the Downs onto Chudleigh Road.

  Basil bent to retrieve his discarded sword. His shoulders slumped as he sheathed the blade in the belt at his waist. No matter what Underwood had done, he was still the earl's father. Eyes cast down, he approached Tobias and Prudence. The miserable expression on his face tore at her heart. She'd been set to marry this honorable man, and he had united with her husband who had shown up and stolen her from him.

  He cleared his throat and eyed the men who'd been his friends all his life. "Gentlemen."

  Barrett released an exhausted sigh. "My condolences, Markwick. Losing a father, no matter how it's done, is extremely difficult." He turned to Landon. "I believe our friends will be able to sort out their grievances like level-headed men now." He bowed his head, quickly assessing whether or not Standeford would return. The lord was stationed by their horses, his head down. "This has been hard for Standeford. I'm sure he'll agree we owe you a debt of gratitude we can never repay, Your Grace. The past cannot be undone, but today you've restored our fathers' dignity." With that, he and Landon sketched bows at Tobias before walking to their horses, mounting, and riding away.

  "Why was I so blind to the misery my father caused?" Basil's voice filled her with unease. It wasn't every day a man lost the woman he'd set out to marry and his father, too.

  Tobias cleared his throat. "You had no more control over your father than I had in allowing you and my wife to believe I was dead."

  She was done being silent. "A penance you shall have to serve for the rest of your life," she said sharply in Tobias's direction.

  Basil reached out his hand to touch her, then dropped it. "If I had only known—"

  "Neither of us could have known, Basil." She gave him a sad smile.

  "Unless I had been truthful to begin with," Tobias added bluntly. He looked down at Prudence affectionately and squeezed her hand. "The future is all we have."

  Basil cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, what can I do to atone for the misery my father has caused? I realize nothing can undo what he has done, but I would like to try."

  "There is something…" Tobias said as Pye, Quinn, and McHugh sauntered forward, finally making their presence known.

  Basil eyed the men curiously. "Who are these men?"

  "Friends," they said in unison.

  Tobias winced as Dr. Crosley, apparently done waiting to minister aid to his bullet wound, began cutting away his sleeve.

  "Hold still," Prudence ordered.

  "Shot again, eh, Cap'n?" Pye asked, his tone insinuating there'd been many other times.

  Tobias sucked in a breath. "I thought I gave you specific instructions not to allow my wife out of your sight."

  "Aye, aye. You did, Cap'n. But—"

  "Captain?" Basil rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, his expression incredulous.

  "It's my fault," she said, moving to stand beside Tobias's men in an effort to throw Basil off topic. "I ordered them to bring me here."

  Tobias's eyes lit up, and he gave a soft chuckle. "Ordered them, did you?"

  "That's the woman I fell in love with," Basil commented wryly.

  Tobias frowned at Basil, then narrowed his gaze on Pye.

  "Pulled a gun on us, she did. Ordered us to bring her here. Said we'd suffer pain o' death, if we didn't."

  "That doesn't surprise me," Basil admitted. "Lady Blackmoor has a keen eye and an unmatched trigger finger."

  "Is that so?" Tobias asked.

  "They are not so far off mark." Prudence smiled. Never before in her life had she felt as exceptional as she did now, surrounded by pirates and the men she loved. "Basil taught me."

  Robust laughter burst from Tobias. "It's settled, then."

  What was Tobias up to now?

  "Settled?" she asked.

  Basil scratched his head. "Nothing has been settled. These men apparently think you're a captain, though I cannot imagine why. And there is still the matter of finding a way to atone for my father's sins. If you know of anything I can do to regain my good name, don't hold back. I will do whatever it takes to right my father's wrongs."

  Tobias looked down at Dr. Crosley's makeshift bandage, then flexed his arm
. "Anything?"

  "Yes."

  "I have a ship in need of a captain. You don't get seasick, do you?"

  "Not that I'm aware." Basil's eyes widened in alarm. "Wait. What ship?"

  "The Fury. Have you ever heard of the Black Regent?"

  The Pirate’s Duchess: Epilogue

  The sudden DISAPPEARANCE of the BLACK REGENT gives rise to speculation that the smuggler is no more. In light of this HISTORIC occasion, Lady O., to whom Trewman's Exeter Flying Post owes a great debt of gratitude, has promised a CELEBRATION of unequaled size. Revenue officers have happily CONTRIBUTED spirits, figs, coffee, and tobacco as a measure of GENEROSITY to Exeter and the forbearance of its inhabitants.

  ~ Trewman's Exeter Flying Post, 8 April 1809

  Exeter, Devon

  15 July 1809

  PRUDENCE GAZED ON HER HUSBAND, HER heart heavy with emotion. Filled with more happiness than she'd ever dreamed of experiencing, she inhaled the aroma wafting from her bowl of turtle soup. Her stomach roiled. She swallowed hard and pushed the bowl away, filled with an urgent need to flee to her chambers. Instead, she took a deep breath and dabbed her mouth with a napkin.

  Oblivious to her discomfort, Tobias dipped his spoon into the savory broth and sat back with a contented sigh. The very idea that he'd swallowed the soup sent on another pang of nausea churning through her. Irritated that her body mutinied against her before she could relay her wonderful news, she focused on the brilliant light shimmering from the beeswax candles that illuminated the china and crystal on the table before them.

  This wasn't how she'd imagined the evening would go at all.

  "Are you unwell?" Tobias asked when she didn't attempt to raise her spoon.

  "I—"

  "Your Grace," Coburn, the family butler said, appearing beside them with a silver plate bearing a note with a unique waxed seal—helmet and plume. It was distinctly Chloe's.

  With bated breath, Prudence snatched the letter. "It's from Chloe." She clasped it to her heart, smothering her alarm. "Whatever do you think could be wrong?"

  "If it's from Lady Chloe… anything."