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

by Olivia Bennet

  I’ve fabricated a tale that should ensure our rapid return to Westport. The Flight of Fortitude has sailed ahead of us, but we will not arrive long after. A day, perhaps, depending on the delivery of cargo.

  I have reason to believe that the young lady you seek is aboard our ship, although she is using the pseudonym of Miss Jemima Barton. It can’t be a coincidence. How many other young ladies can there be, who have boarded ships under the guise of a young man? They do not suspect a thing.

  However, there is one more thing that I must tell you, which you won’t want to hear. His Lordship is in a courtship of sorts with Lady Jemima. They plan to wed when they reach England, by sailing from Westport to Gretna Green, where they will elope. You have to be at the port, if you hope to stop them from achieving that. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.

  I hope this reaches you in time. If it doesn’t, I will do what I can to find you, so that you can stop them from marrying.

  Yours Sincerely,

  H.

  Rage boiled in Peter’s stomach as he let the words sink in. He detested the Earl of Burhill, and he detested the very mention of the name—Simon Fitzwalles. He despised his cousin more than he could possibly say, but to discover that Simon had stolen his bride, and planned to marry her himself, made him positively seethe with loathing.

  Have you not taken enough from me? He glared at the letter, wanting to bellow his fury into the grand foyer.

  Simon was the very gentleman who could have saved Georgiana that day. He had swum with all his might to save everyone else, but he had left Georgiana to the mercy of the waves. If he lived a thousand lifetimes, Peter would never have been able to forgive Simon for that. And now, he found that Simon planned to steal another bride from him?

  You may think again, Simon. You will not have her. I have worked too hard to make her mine.

  He had approached Captain Henry James McMorrow shortly after discovering Simon’s plans to become a merchant, and the two of them had agreed to enter a business relationship. Henry would keep watch over the daily business of the Evening Star, and report back to Peter at frequent intervals. Plus, he had asked Henry to work on his behalf, siphoning off quantities of the cargo and selling it at private auction, to make money for Peter.

  Naturally, Henry took his own share, but it was minimal, and had made Peter a much wealthier gentleman. It had been that very wealth that had helped him persuade the Duke of Cowden to let him marry Lady Jemima. And now, Simon had dared to threaten all of that, and leave Peter bereft, as he had done that day on the cliffs, when he had failed to save the life of Georgiana Starling.

  It had burned Peter up inside, to hear that Simon planned to call his flagship the Evening Star, for it had felt as though he were rubbing salt into a still-raw wound. Simon had never cared for Georgiana, so how dare he use her nickname to emblazon across the stern of his vessel. It twisted Peter’s stomach into knots, even now.

  Well, you will not succeed.

  Peter folded the letter back up and began to forge a plan in his mind. He would wait for the Evening Star to arrive, and he would reclaim his bride from the hands of Simon. If they did not cooperate, he would involve the port officials. Indeed, he would scream at the top of his lungs of this injustice, until Lady Jemima had no choice but to come with him.

  He had waited much too long for this moment to allow Simon to snatch her away at the last second.

  * * *

  The following afternoon, Peter could hardly breathe as he stood atop the wharf and watched the distant vessel edging closer. He could not see the name of it, but he was certain it would be the Evening Star. It had to be. His eyes narrowed, his mouth set in a grim line of determination, as he stepped down onto the docks and waited for that ship to come in.

  He smirked with satisfaction as it finally pulled into one of the wharves, the sailors leaping about in order to prepare the vessel for docking. He recognized the figurehead, which resembled a maiden, draped in cloth. Indeed, he would have known it anywhere, for he had always thought it resembled Georgiana. This was the Evening Star and he was about to seize his revenge.

  As soon as the ship had been tied off and the gangway had been lowered, he headed up the wharf and straight up the slope, onto the upper deck of the vessel. He marched towards the Captain’s quarters, knowing that was where he would find Henry, if not Simon himself. Without knocking, he barged into the room, in time to find Simon sitting at the table with Jemima opposite, whilst Henry was nowhere to be seen.

  Jemima scraped back her chair and stood up sharply, a squeak of terror rasping from her throat. Peter smiled at her with cold intensity. Her hair was short now, falling just shy of her shoulders, but he knew those eyes, almost as well as he knew his own.

  “No…no, you cannot be here,” she murmured, panicked.

  “Oh, but I am,” Peter replied, with a grin.

  Simon moved to stand between us, a puzzled expression on his face. “Cousin, what in heaven’s name are you doing here?”

  “I have come to claim what is rightfully mine.” He glowered at Simon. “You will not steal her from me, Simon. I will not allow it. She is betrothed to me, and I will have her.”

  Simon glanced back at Jemima in confusion. “You are mistaken, Cousin.”

  “No, I do not believe that I am. Ask Lady Jemima for yourself, if you do not think me honest. Do you see the fear on her face, Cousin? Do you think she would look so frightened if she did not know me?”

  Simon’s head whipped back around. “What do you mean, Lady Jemima?”

  Peter chuckled darkly. “My, my, it looks as if she has deceived us both. This is my future bride, Lady Jemima Livington, the only daughter of the Duke of Cowden. I have been searching for her for months now, and I will not be denied that which belongs to me.”

  Simon turned back. “Jemima? Is this true?”

  “My love, please let me explain. You must let me explain. I only lied because—” Peter did not give her the chance to finish, as he lunged past Simon and grasped her by the wrist. She cried out as he yanked her forwards, dragging her towards the door.

  “Unhand her!” Simon snapped, trying to wrest Jemima from Peter’s grip.

  “I suggest you stand aside, Cousin,” Peter hissed. “If you so much as touch her, or attempt to stop me, I will send for the port officials. They will not hesitate to assist me in my plight, for Lady Jemima is mine by rights. You have no claim to her, and if you continue to try and prevent me from taking her away, I will be forced to take drastic action.”

  Simon gaped at him in disbelief. “No, I will not let you.” Just then, a figure emerged from one of the nearby chambers. Simon looked to the gentleman in desperation. “James, assist me. Please, assist me in stopping this gentleman. He cannot be permitted to take her.”

  He approached, as though he intended to help, but Peter knew better. Henry McMorrow was his man, not Simon’s. Although, the poor devil was not to know that. Reaching Simon, Henry suddenly turned and struck him in the jaw, knocking him to the ground in one swift blow. “I am sorry, My Lord. I cannot do that.”

  Jemima screamed like a wound animal. “Simon!”

  Leaving Simon on the ground, Henry wrenched Jemima’s other arm into his grasp and helped Peter haul her out of the room and onto the upper deck. With the sailors staring in shock, they forced her towards the gangway and down onto the wharf. Peter already had a carriage waiting, to take them to Cowden Manor.

  However, he had one more surprise in store for Simon. One that would leave a suitably bitter taste in his cousin’s mouth.

  Chapter 33

  Simon stirred, his head pounding, and the taste of blood in his mouth.

  It took him a second or two to recall what had happened. As the awful memories came rushing back, he sat bolt upright, ready to spring to his feet and chase after Jemima and his cousin. He tore out of the Captain’s quarters, desperate to catch up to them.

  As he ran, he struggled to process everything that he had discovered
. His cousin was the gentleman that Jemima had run from. Jemima was a titled Lady—the daughter of a Duke. And James McMorrow was not his friend, but his enemy. Indeed, it appeared as though the latter was somehow in cahoots with Peter, though Simon had no idea how long that had been going on.

  In truth, the only person he could properly think about was Jemima. True, he felt a flicker of anger and confusion, that she had not trusted him enough to tell him the absolute truth, but he was certain she would have a feasible explanation. However, he would not be able to garner that reasoning from her, if he could not get her away from Peter.

  Sprinting down the gangway, he skidded to a halt as two men blocked his path. He did not recognize them, but they wore the dark uniforms of the port officials.

  “Excuse me, Sirs. I am in something of a hurry,” Simon said brusquely.

  The first man shook his head. “No, Sir, you are not going anywhere.”

  “Pardon?” Simon’s anxious gaze scanned the top of the wharf, to try and spot Peter, but he did not know how much time had passed since James had knocked him unconscious.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” the man repeated. “We’ve received a tip that you’re carrying contraband, and you can’t be permitted to leave until we’ve searched your vessel.”

  Simon’s frown deepened. “I am not carrying any contraband. I can show you the inventories, although I should like to do that later. There is something I must attend to first.”

  The second man grabbed Simon by the arm. “If you leave this wharf, you will be in contempt of our official request. We’ll have no choice but to have you arrested.”

  “You must let me past!” Simon snapped, trying to barge his way between the two officials.

  “You have one more warning, Sir. Attempt to leave, and we will have you arrested.” The first man put out his arms to stop Simon from progressing.

  “Let me through!” he demanded, shoving against the weight of the two men. He could not focus on their threats, or the outlandish claims that they had made. He needed to pursue Jemima, before Peter could do something that could not be undone. The idea of her being forced to marry that gentleman stuck like a fishbone in his throat. He could not allow it. He had promised her, and though she had lied, that did not affect his love for her.

  “Right, you’ve been warned. We’re going to have to arrest you.” The two men wrestled Simon into submission, wrenching his arms up behind his back as they frog-marched him along the wharf. He fought every step of the way, panic overwhelming him as he tried to break away. If he could not go after Jemima, there was no telling what might happen.

  I will save you, my love. I will save you, I swear it.

  But, for now, it had been taken out of his hands.

  * * *

  “Why am I here?” Simon paced the floor of his cell, rattling violently against the bars as he looked upon the clerk that had been sent from the magistrate. The port officials had brought him here several hours ago, ignoring his pleas to be released. They had not cared for his words, as they had handed him off to the constabulary, where he had been soundly thrown in prison.

  The clerk looked nervous. “You are to be charged for disturbance of the peace, assaulting a port official, and for bringing contraband goods into the country.”

  Simon slammed his fists against the bars. “I did not bring contraband into the country. That is a lie!”

  “The port officials have searched the Evening Star. I believe a gentleman named Captain Henry McMorrow led them into the cargo hold, where they unearthed several crates of opiates, and several crates of pistols and assorted weaponry. He claimed not to know anything of them, but that you often acquired private deliveries for your own ends.”

  Simon reeled back. “What? Those items do not belong to me. And who on earth is Henry McMorrow? Surely, you mean James McMorrow?”

  The clerk checked his papers. “Ah, yes, Captain Henry James McMorrow.”

  That villain has lied to me, this entire time.

  Simon had called him his dearest friend, and James, or Henry, or whatever he was called, had betrayed him. It was becoming ever clearer that the wretch had been working for Peter, though he did not know why. What could Peter have hoped to achieve from infiltrating his flagship? Did he wish to ruin Simon’s fleet? Or had he merely intended to keep watch over him?

  The two of them had always had a fractious relationship, after an unfortunate tragedy that had taken place in Cornwall, many years ago. Simon had been in charge of a boat that had capsized. Many of those aboard had not been good swimmers, and he had given everything he had to try and save them all. He had missed one young lady, named Georgiana Starling, who had sunk beneath the surface. He had struggled in vain to find her, but she had drifted too far away.

  Since that day, he had not forgotten her. He had not known her particularly well, but he had always felt the guilt of her death, weighing on his conscience. It was the very reason why he had named his flagship the Evening Star, for everyone had called her ‘Star,’ whilst she had been living. It had been his homage, so he could remember that day, and never let it happen again.

  Prior to that, he and his cousin had been much closer. They had been good friends, as well as relations, but all of that had changed after Georgiana’s death. Simon sensed that Peter blamed him for her passing, but he knew he could not have done anything more, under the circumstances. Nevertheless, he had allowed Peter to hate him, for that seemed to bring his cousin comfort. Now, however, he was ready to pin Peter to the wall. If he thought he could take Jemima away, and force her into a marriage she did not want, he was greatly mistaken.

  “That contraband does not belong to me. You must believe me,” Simon begged, knowing that every second he spent here was a second wasted. Jemima needed him, and he could not let her down now.

  “And yet, those crates were on board your ship, Sir,” the clerk replied.

  Realization dawned with sickening understanding. He had been framed. He did not know how it could have happened without his detection, but it evidently had. James…I mean, Henry, must have something to do with it. Had this been Peter’s plan, to use Henry to destroy his reputation and see him thrown into prison? Was Peter the man responsible for this, by way of his co-conspirator?

  “You must speak with Lord Beaurgant. Seek him out and speak with him. He knows something of this, I am certain of it. And arrest Captain McMorrow, too. He is responsible for this, not me.”

  The clerk nodded. “The Captain said you might say something of that ilk.”

  “He is guilty, not me! He is pretending to be innocent. He has framed me, Sir, I assure you. Please, see that he is arrested, for you have the wrong gentleman,” Simon gasped, frustrated and desperate to be free.

  “You will have to make your case in front of the magistrates. They will decide if you are guilty or not. Until then, might I suggest you stop clamoring, for otherwise you may annoy the guards.” The clerk shuffled his papers and turned away. Simon tried to call the fellow back, but he did not listen.

  Alone in the dank, grimy cell, Simon staggered back, his heart breaking inside his chest. Somewhere beyond these walls, Jemima was being held hostage, waiting for him to save her. She would be looking to the horizon, expecting him to ride to her aid, but how he could he do that from in here? How could he stop Peter, if he did not have his freedom?

  He slammed his fist against the filthy wall and roared from the very depths of his lungs. Peter and Henry had fooled him, and now he was to stand trial for a crime he did not commit. Only, that was not the worst of it. In framing him, they had stolen his chance to rescue the love of his life and enjoy a future of untold happiness. And he would be made to watch, as Peter bound Jemima to him for the rest of their days—clapping her in chains that he would not be able to break, no matter how much he wanted to.

  Chapter 34

  Jemima wept the entire way back from Westport to Cowden Manor, staring out of the carriage window as it retraced the same journey she had tak
en, over three months ago. The journey that had led her to Simon. It felt painfully cruel, to have to look at the same sights, and know she was being taken away from him, potentially forever.

  “I will never marry you,” she whispered bitterly. Lord Beaurgant sat across from her, a smug expression upon his face.

  “You will,” he replied, his tone casual.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You cannot make me.”

  “You do not seem to understand, Lady Jemima, I am the one who makes the decisions. I will have you as my wife, and you can either make it easy for yourself, or you can make it hard.” He held her gaze, his lips turning up in a sneer. “I could ruin your honor at this very moment, if I chose to, and then you would have no choice but to marry me. If I did not still need to appease your father, I would.”