A Ravishing Night With The Mysterious Earl (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Olivia Bennet

  “I am not lying, I assure you. I have never been particularly good with making new acquaintances. I think it would be better if I waited until some of the sailors had departed for land, more for my own sake than anyone else’s.”

  Ben frowned. “Are ye sure someone hasn’t said somethin’ to ye? There are lads on board who like te tease an’ speak afore they think. If any of ‘em have said aught to you, you let me know and I’ll have a word. I’ll not have any bullyin’ going on, not on this ship.” He paused. “And, besides, yer a good lad. Ye work hard. Yer quiet. Ye don’t cause no trouble.”

  “Thank you, Ben.” Jemima dipped her head and returned to peeling parsnips, though she could feel Ben watching her as she worked. Even in the steamy heat of the kitchen, she always kept her cap upon her head, using the shadows of the peak to make her features harder to decipher.

  As long as she continued to work hard, and not cause a fuss, she hoped that would be enough to keep her secret. They would not be looking out for a young lady, but her enduring success relied upon her staying quiet and keeping her head down. If she could do that, then she might just survive this voyage.

  In truth, it was not quite what she had expected. She had hoped for adventure and freedom, but, being stuck in the kitchens, she could not even admire the passing seascapes. And she certainly did not feel free. Not yet, anyway.

  But that will come. Freedom will come, when I find the right town.

  She scraped the parsnip trimmings into a barrel and forced herself to focus on that thought.

  It has to.

  * * *

  Peter paced the floor of the drawing room at Cowden Manor, his cheeks red with anger, his breath coming in furious gasps. He had been away on business for several days and had returned home to his estate to find a note waiting. In it, the news had been revealed that Lady Jemima had disappeared without a trace, and nobody could find her.

  He had ridden to Cowden Manor the instant he had read the letter and had arrived to find the estate in turmoil. Search parties were being organized, and the local constables were attempting to piece together a map of where she might have gone. They had been at this for seven days already, judging by the date on the note, and had yet to come up with anything. Peter could not understand what was taking them so long.

  “Lord Beaurgant, you received our letter at last?” The Duke of Cowden entered the drawing room, looking very ill indeed. His face was pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath his eyes. It did not look as if he had slept a wink in a single one of the past seven days.

  “I came as soon as I heard,” Peter replied. “I was away for some days, so I only received the note this morning.”

  “I did wonder what was keeping you.”

  “Have you made any progress?” Peter ignored the somewhat sly remark, choosing to focus on his runaway bride instead. After all, she could not have gotten. far. He did not think young ladies particularly intellectual in logical ways of thinking, and it seemed outrageous to him that she should have somehow outsmarted everyone.

  The Duke shook his head. “We have been sending out search parties each day, and we have sent word to all of our friends and families in as many towns and cities as we could think of. Alas, nobody has seen or heard from her. It is as though she has vanished into thin air.”

  “Did she leave a note of any kind?”

  “She did. It was a short note, written in haste. We cannot decipher anything from it, other than she has chosen to run away from her home.” The words caught in the Duke’s throat, a bitterly sad expression washing over his face. Peter could not abide weakness in others, and he did not think it proper that the Duke should be showing such emotion at a time like this.

  “She will be found, sir,” he urged. “She is to be my wife, and I will not stop until she has been safely returned. Are we certain there is no foul play involved?”

  The Duke nodded. “The constables do not think there is anything amiss. Apparently, they have seen such cases as this before, but they have assured me that the missing person is always found.”

  “Why do you think she ran? Did the letter say anything on that matter?” Peter had a feeling about it, but he wished to have it confirmed first. If she had absconded because of him, that would only make her capture more thrilling to him. Truly, he would pursue her to the very edges of this country if he had to. He would not be deterred, no matter where she went, or how fast and how far she tried to run.

  The Duke looked sheepish. “She did not say directly, but I believe it had something to do with your upcoming nuptials. She did not take the news well, and she has always been a rather headstrong young lady. I think this may be her way of rebelling against our decision, as she cannot see what is best for her. Certainly, if that is why she has run away, it only serves to highlight her irresponsible nature.”

  “I will bring her back to you, sir,” Peter promised. “I must speak with the constables, to see what they have learned. From there, I will scour all of the places that she might have visited. There has to be someone on the roads that has seen her pass by. She cannot have disappeared like a phantom in the night. It is not possible.”

  “I would be grateful for your assistance, Lord Beaurgant,” the Duke replied. “You see, this news has struck the Duchess in a rather dire manner. She collapsed two days ago, from the stress of it all. The physician was called, but he said there was nothing he can do. It is an affliction of the mind. She will not rise from her bed. She barely eats. I believe only the return of our daughter will cure her of this ailment.”

  “You have my aid, sir. I will do whatever I have to, in order to retrieve her. Not only for my sake, but for yours, and that of the Duchess. She will be revived of her ailment in due course, once Lady Jemima is found.” Peter gave a stiff bow and exited the room, heading for the driveway, where he had spotted the constables on his way into the house.

  He would get to the bottom of this, one way or another. Already, ideas were starting to circulate in his mind, as to where she might be. He had underestimated her, and no mistake. He had thought her to have the mind of any ordinary young lady, and he had been wrong. Lady Jemima was remarkable in every way, and her brain was no exception.

  You are an exceptional creature.

  He grinned at the prospect of her capture. Already, he anticipated the feeling of triumph. It would be like lining up the sight of his gun to the back of a fox’s head and pulling the trigger. There was no sensation like it, in this world. And he knew that trapping and capturing Lady Jemima would beat every single kill he had ever made in his blood-sports, for he would have her alive at the end of it.

  Although, that did not mean that she would be allowed to continue without repentance for what she had done. Once he did have her, he would ensure that she was suitably punished for running away. He would break her. He would make her obey.

  And he knew that would become the most remarkable sensation in all the world.

  Chapter 10

  As the Evening Star sailed on towards its first port of call, which was due to be the Spanish port town of Cádiz, on almost the southernmost point of the exotic country, Simon called upon Captain McMorrow for a report.

  “Is everything well, My Lord?” James asked.

  Simon nodded. “I simply wanted a discussion about the crew and our current voyage. I have not seen that new fellow since he boarded. I trust he is settling in well, for you know I hate to have any trouble onboard my vessels?”

  “I have spoken with Ben, and he is pleased with the young man’s work. I don’t believe there’s any unrest, though I can look further into it, if you have some concerns?”

  Simon smiled. “No, I am happy to take your word for it—and Ben’s. He is a good man, though I cannot say the same for every sailor here.”

  “Unruliness runs in the veins of men of the sea, but I have always run a tight ship for you, My Lord. I do not plan to change that, anytime soon. If there is someone you have issue with, you must let me know.”


  “I do not, as such. I simply cannot afford any disruptions upon this voyage.”

  “There will not be any, My Lord. You may rely upon me for that.”

  Simon smiled. “Well, then, would you care to partake in some Port? I loathe to imbibe alone, and I have a taste for something sweet.”

  “I would never say no, My Lord. We may pause in Portugal, if you would like, so we may replenish our stores?” James flashed him a mischievous grin. “Faro is very nice at this time of year, and it is already on our current course.”

  “That sounds like an excellent plan, Captain.” Simon crossed to the far table and plucked up a half-empty decanter of rich, maroon Port. He poured two small glasses and brought them back over, handing one to James whilst both gentlemen took up their seats beside the wood-burning stove. It had become something of a tradition between the two of them, to sit and talk throughout the night, sipping a delicacy.

  “And our voyage is going well?” Simon asked, as he took his first sip. The warming, spicy liquid ran down his throat, soothing his tense muscles.

  “It is, My Lord,” James replied.

  “It has been such a long time since I visited Spain. I am rather looking forward to it.”

  “As am I, My Lord.”

  Simon settled into a comforting quietude, the conversation flowing easily. The two gentlemen were of such an acquaintanceship that they did not have to fill every silent moment with unnecessary words, saying only what they wished to. Here, Simon truly felt at peace, which was not an easy thing to find in the world he had come from.

  * * *

  “Are ye sure naught’s the matter?” Ben turned to Jemima as he finished cleaning up the day’s pots and pans.

  Jemima nodded. “I am certain.”

  “Only, ye’ve been quieter than usual, which is sayin’ a lot. Ye don’t say much at all. Has someone threatened ye? I know what the lads ‘ere are like. They don’t always take fondly te new folk. They can be a little rough, especially if yer aren’t used to their ways.”

  “I am quite well, thank you,” Jemima insisted.

  “Well, if that changes, ye know ye can tell old Ben. I’ve got domain over these kitchens. If anyone tries to worry ye or gets in yer way, all yer have to do is say the word and I’ll protect ye.” He paused, offering her a kindly gaze. “Ye remind me of me own brother. He weren’t long for this world, but he were very like you. I wouldn’t want to see ought happen to ye.”

  “If anything happens, I will be sure to let you know.” Jemima smiled back, grateful to have an ally aboard this ship. Indeed, in the last few days, her evenings had been spent in a cold fear, but the daytimes were not so distressing. Working alongside Ben, she had found a sense of peace and purpose in her tasks. Tasks that made her temporarily forget the terrors that night would bring.

  “Then, I’ll be off.” Ben set down his apron and went to the door. “And remember, anything happens, ye tell me right away.”

  “I will.” Jemima longed to call him back and reveal the unsettling nightly visits that Harry continued to exact, but she could not. If she told Ben about Harry, then she would have to reveal the reasons why he had targeted her. Harry knew something about her. He did not know for certain what she was, but Jemima could guess at his suspicions. And she could not risk her true identity being discovered.

  However, as Ben left her alone in the kitchens, she started to wonder if she might be placing herself in even more danger by not admitting the truth. Perhaps, Ben would not tell a soul, if she implored his silence.

  But I cannot take such a chance.

  That realization kept coming back to her. Ben’s own employment would be under jeopardy if he knew a lady was working on board the Evening Star, and loyalty only went so far in such circumstances. And she could not ask Ben to risk his employment for her.

  She went to the door and locked it, before retreating to her cubby hole beneath the cabinets. She folded back the blankets, to make sure she still had the knife at her side. Comforted by its cold blade, stowed under her pillow, she gazed up at the moldy roof. She had come here to seek freedom, but doubts were beginning to creep in. Her honor was at stake here, threatened by Harry, and she did not know if that was worth evading Lord Beaurgant for. There were certain things that she knew she would not be able to endure.

  * * *

  “Little pig, little pig, won’t you let me come in?” Jemima’s eyes flew open at the sound drifting in through the galley door. Harry had come to visit her again. She did not remember falling asleep, but darkness had crept into the kitchen. Night had fallen without her ever realizing it.

  She reached under her pillow and grasped for the blade, clutching it in her palm.

  “I know you’re in there,” Harry went on. “You can’t hide from me forever. One of these days, you’ll leave this door open, quite by accident, and I’ll finally get my answers.”

  No, you will not. I will never make such a mistake.

  “I will be waiting for that sweet evening.” Harry chuckled darkly. “You may count on that.”

  She listened to him walk away, but she could not settle. Perturbed, she slid out from her hiding place and went to the door, in order to double-check the lock. It held in place. Even so, that did not bring her much comfort. What if Harry was right? They were to be at sea for a lengthy while. What if, one evening, she did make an error?

  “I knew you’d come.” Harry’s voice, close to the door, made her leap back in fright. “I can hear you breathing in there.”

  Jemima staggered back against the workbench, clamping her hand over her mouth so he wouldn’t hear how ragged her breaths had become. She watched the handle turn as he tried to gain entry, but the lock held fast, keeping him out.

  “No matter, I can be very patient went I want to be,” Harry said. “And with such a mysterious morsel to uncover, I can wait the entirety of this voyage if I have to.”

  She heard him walk away again and stooped to make sure that he truly had gone. She could see no tell-tale shadow beneath the door, letting her know that he had actually departed this time. Collapsing onto the floor with her back against the workbench, she stared at the door, the knife still in her hand.

  She would stay here all night, if she had to, rather than risk Harry somehow finding a way in. If he did, he would have the sharp end of her blade to contend with.

  Chapter 11

  Peter rode directly to London, in the hopes of gaining some assistance in the search for his absent fiancée. Too many days had passed already, and he resented the idea that she had been granted such an excessive lead in escaping him.

  Not that he was too worried. He always got what he wanted, in the end. Regaining his bride was simply a matter of time and patience, which were attributes he had in spades.

  He had thought long and hard about where she might have disappeared to, but he had not come up with a suitable conclusion. However, he had some reason to believe she might have run away to this very city, to lose herself amongst the throngs of people who resided here.

  I will find you, Lady Jemima.

  He pressed on through the dirty streets, with clouds gathering overhead, scented with imminent rain. After half an hour of riding, he came to a halt outside Mivart’s Hotel. This would be his base of operations whilst he searched for his missing bride-to-be. For, if he had to wrangle her into submission, he at least desired to do so in comfort.

  Having the ostlers deal with his horse, he went inside the elegant townhouse to reserve chambers for himself. He was reasonably well-known in these parts, and the gentleman at reception greeted him with a cordial smile.

  “We have a suitable suite for you, My Lord,” he said.

  “Very good, thank you.” He took the proffered key and made his way up to the second floor of the building, moving along the hallway until he came to the given chambers. Letting himself in, he breathed in the clean scent of the room, and walked directly to the window. There, he pulled back the gauzy curtain and looked out upon the busy
city.

  Are you here, Lady Jemima? Where are you hiding?

  He had already deciphered his plan of action, for he had acquired the names of several of Lady Jemima’s acquaintances who resided here. If anyone knew of Lady Jemima’s whereabouts, it would be them. He had only to persuade them of his urgency in discovering her.

  To his mind, ladies were fickle creatures, and almost anyone’s loyalty could be purchased for the right sum. Before the week had come to an end, he was certain he would have his bride-to-be returned to him, whether she liked it or not.

  * * *

  “Land ahoy!” the cry went up from the crow’s nest of the Evening Star, audible even to Jemima, in her galley prison.

  Ben set down his knife and looked out through a crack in the wall planks; the only glimpse into the outside world. “It would seem he is right.”