"I can't, Papa." She took a deep breath and delivered the news that she had been aware of just before she left Heaven. "I carry Captain Lucifer's child."
Her father turned pale and dropped to the bed. "Good Lord, Catherine."
Bravely she announced what she felt she must. "I love Captain Lucifer, Papa. I love him with all my heart."
He stared at her for what seemed like eternity and she wondered if this would be the first time in her life he would turn away from her and not offer her comfort or help.
"Catherine," he said, standing and opening his arms to her.
She went to him and released her tears as she had done when she had been a small child.
He hugged her to him and stroked her hair. "I had no idea. I am so sorry. You must hurt terribly. We will go home at the end of the week. I don't wish to see you suffer any more grief and pain."
"Thank you," she sobbed, having thought she couldn't hurt any more than she had the day she left the island. But knowing she carried Lucian's child and that she would never share the joy of raising their son or daughter with him broke her heart.
"Don't worry, Catherine," her father comforted. "I will take care of everything. No one will ever hurt you again.
"You'll be safe in Yorkshire and together we will face this crisis. You'll see, everything will be fine just fine."
o0o
Everything wasn't fine and would never be again, Catherine thought, looking at the dozen or more calling cards on the entrance hall table.
Men had been stopping by the Abelard town house all morning, leaving their cards, requesting a visit and sending flowers with suggestive notes.
Dunwith had handled each one appropriately, accepting their card and closing the door in their startled faces. After the first vase of flowers had been delivered and Catherine turned pale reading the note, she had seen him disposing of the flowers that followed and sparing her the hurt.
"My lady," Dunwith said, entering the entrance hall. "Dulcie has tea prepared for you in the drawing room."
She smiled, holding back a tear. At least now she understood the reason for her teary state. Her pregnancy had heightened her emotions, causing her to cry all too frequently. "Thank you, Dunwith. I don't know what I would do without your support."
Dunwith nodded in his usual expressionless manner and waited to escort her to the drawing room. She hurried off with him, afraid that another caller would knock and request to see her.
Dulcie waited for her in the blue drawing room. The heavy drapes and dark furnishings seemed so drab compared to the bright, fresh colors of Lucian's island home.
"Sit m’lady, the tea is hot and cook prepared fresh scones with cream for you," Dulcie instructed having fussed like a mother hen over her since her return.
Catherine obliged her, sitting in the comfortable wing chair near the empty hearth.
"If you're cold I could have a small fire started. The late spring rain has brought a chill with it," Dulcie said, moving the tapestry stool in front of Catherine and lifting her feet up on it.
"That isn't necessary. I'm comfortable," she said, though she now found the clothing she once wore restrictive. She had omitted several undergarments when dressing, particularly her boned corset, since her clothes had begun to fit snugly due to her expanding waistline. She missed the sarong she had often worn and thought how comfortable it would be as her pregnancy advanced.
Dulcie prepared her tea, handing her the china cup. Catherine glanced up as she took the cup and caught a sorrowful look in the young woman's eyes. "You know, don't you, Dulcie?"
Dulcie dropped her stare to the carpet. "I'm sorry, m’lady. I promised your father I wouldn't let on, but —"
"It's all right, Dulcie. I'm glad you know I'm going to have Captain Lucifer's baby. I'll need all the help and support I can get. I fear I have no knowledge of the birth process."
"Don't you worry, m’ lady," Dulcie ordered. "I know all there is to know and I'll be by you every step of the way. I'll take care of you. No one will hurt you. No-good, wretched pirate."
Catherine smiled. "He wasn't that wretched."
Dulcie looked at her with surprise. "Truly, m’ lady?"
Truly, Dulcie, and one rainy day in Yorkshire we'll share tea and I'll tell you a few pirate tales I've learned."
Dunwith entered the drawing room as Dulcie bobbed her head in excitement.
"My lady, a visitor to see you and he is most insistent."
Catherine sighed. "Who is it?"
"The Earl of Brynwood —"
The cup fell from Catherine's trembling hand before Dunwith could finish.
Dulcie blotted her mistress's hand and her rose-colored day dress where the tea had spilled and stained her skirt.
"I shall tell Lord Brynwood that you are indisposed."
Catherine released her held breath. "No, Dunwith, send Charles in. I wish to see him."
Dunwith nodded and left, returning in a moment with Charles.
"Catherine." Charles greeted her with a generous smile, walking over to her and taking her hand to kiss the back. "It is so good to see you again."
"It is nice of you to call, Charles." She couldn't help but stare at him, curious to see if there was any resemblance to Lucian. She could fine none.
He perched on the end of the chair opposite her. "I have heard all the dreadful rumors about you since my arrival yesterday and I had to stop by to extend my support during this trying time."
"Thank you, Charles. You are a true friend," she said noticing his eyes. They were dark brown like many men, but they appeared cold, almost as if his look belied his words.
"As you and your father have been to me since my arrival at the Brynwood estate. You both made me feel accepted into the small but prominent social circle of north Yorkshire."
"Nonsense, Charles. We were glad for your company and for your support of my father during his troubled time."
Charles dismissed her appreciation with a casual wave. "I never believed a word of that rubbish. Your father is too fine a man to even think of treason."
"Yes, he is a good man," she said, wishing Lucian had believed in her father's fine character as easily as Charles.
"Your father has offered his help to me in a most pressing matter and I immensely appreciate his assistance."
Catherine's interest was piqued. "What does my father help you with?"
Charles gladly related his troubles to Catherine. "My cousin, Lucian Darcmoor, has appeared to have returned from the grave and has laid claim to the Darcmoor estates and title. Your father is helping me in my attempt to secure the properties."
Catherine hid her shock behind a forced smile. "Have you seen your cousin Lucian?" His name trembled from her lips.
"No, he has arranged for a solicitor in London to handle all of his financial matters. I heard he doesn't even plan to live on the estate, but stay on the south sea island he has made his home these past many years."
"I'm sure my father will do everything he can to see that you retain the property," she said, though in her heart she wished Lucian victory. He had been robbed unfairly of his family's estate and he deserved to have his lands and title returned to him. She only hoped his decision to remain on his island never changed. She wouldn't want him to travel to Yorkshire and possibly catch a glimpse of his child.
"I have a hearing to attend tomorrow. That is when I shall learn what the courts have decided," Charles said nervously.
"I wish you well, Charles."
"Charles," her father said, entering the room. "Glad you stopped by. I have a few matters to discuss with you."
Charles stood. "I was visiting with Catherine. She looks well."
"Yes, she does. You must come and visit with us when you return to Yorkshire," he insisted. "We leave at the end of the week for home."
Charles laughed. "You have confidence in my victor tomorrow."
"Of course I do," he said. "No doubt in my mind."
Catherine stirred in her s
eat unable to listen to a conversation about matters that, if they turned out as her father predicted, would cause Lucian more pain. "I'll leave you two to talk."
"Nonsense, Charles and I shall take tea with you and then go off to my study to talk," her father said.
"That sounds delightful. I would love to have tea with Catherine," Charles agreed.
Catherine forced another smile, not caring for the gleam in her father's eyes.
Aunt Lilith waltzed into the townhouse in mounds of purple flounce announcing they were late and Catherine must hurry.
Catherine shook her head at her aunt. The woman didn't look nearly her more than fifty years, nor did she act it. Short and round and full of life, she defied polite society yet was accepted cheerfully by them. While most women wore modest wigs her aunt refused to cover her own hair, insisting it was her best asset. Her shiny brown hair bore not a trace of gray and was piled artfully on the top of her head unlike any style Catherine had ever seen, yet on her aunt it looked stylish.
"Come, Catherine, don't dawdle. Gwen and her guests are waiting," she said, and waved a commanding hand at Dunwith. "Fetch her cape so we can be off."
Catherine had taken pains to wear a dress that would conceal her expanding waistline. She couldn't wait to leave London so she could alter some of her clothes to more comfortably accommodate her changing shape.
Tonight she had, with the help of Dulcie, managed to alter the shape of her gown enough that no one would notice the slight bulge of her stomach. Besides, she had chosen a dark green gown with a matching shawl that would help conceal her shape. Though becoming to her fair features and silver hair color, it was bland in design and wouldn't draw attention to her.
"Are you sure you want to wear that dress, Catherine?" her aunt remarked, eyeing her from top to toe.
"Yes, Aunt Lilith. I'm quite comfortable and we are late," she reminded.
"Oh, dear, you're right. We must be off or Gwen will have a fit." She hurried Catherine into her long cape and out the door.
"Tell Father I'll be home early," she called to Dunwith as she was rushed down the front steps.
"Tell my brother she will be home late," her aunt corrected as she hustled her into the carriage and ordered the driver to make haste.
They arrived only moments before supper was to be served and with only moments for a fast introduction to the other guests.
Catherine stood beside her aunt and smiled pleasantly as William Bacon and his wife, Margaret, the Earl and Countess of Sheffield, were presented. Then a young man named Benjamin Bond greeted her with a lopsided smile while the Baron and Baroness Harthington bid her a warm welcome. After that she lost track of the various names until . . .
"And lastly, Catherine, I am pleased to introduce a newly arrived gentleman, Lucian Darcmoor."
Lucian stepped out of the shadows from the corner of the room and approached her. Her heart hammered violently in her chest, her breath caught in her throat, her knees turned to rubber and she thought for certain she would faint. No resemblance to the pirate Lucifer existed. He wore mostly black evening clothes, from his black stockings to his breeches to his coat, but his shirt was stark white. His hair was neatly tied back, and though it was till long, its fiery color was lost in the drab confines of the house. He needed the sun and sea to bring it to life.
"My lady," he said, and took her hand to place a gentle kiss on the back.
"Dinner is ready, my lady," the servant announced.
"Lucian, as long as you have Lady Catherine's hand will you be as kind as to escort her to dinner? Gwen asked, and sent Lilith a conspiratorial wink.
"I would be delighted," he said, and hooked Catherine's arm over his. He leaned over as they walked out of the room and whispered, "Easy, angel, you wouldn't want to faint and cause a scene."
Chapter Twenty-six
Lucian watched Catherine through the entire meal. Being seated across the table from her, he could easily study her. He didn't care for her pale complexion or the dark half circles so evident beneath her eyes. He had thought her skin paled at the shock of seeing him, but as the meal progressed her face still retained a pallid color.
He hadn't been in London long, a mere day, when he had heard rumors of her capture and return by the legendary pirate, Lucifer. His plan had worked well, too well. He had realized too late that he had made a mistake in returning her to her father. She belonged to him. He loved her.
Minutes after sending her off he had reached that conclusion. He had gone mad waiting for Santos to return, gone made without her beside him, without her to love. If the Black Skull hadn't been in the midst of repair he would have sailed after her, attacking his own ship if need be to get her back.
Revenge no longer mattered. Catherine did. He had made a dreadful mistake. He had made her suffer for her father's sin. His fight was with Abelard, not her. He couldn't blame her for loving her father as strongly as she did; the man had been good to her when others hadn't been. She had offered him her love, a love he had realized was just as strong as the love she felt for her father and he, like a fool, had denied it. Denied the love simply because he was selfish and wanted every ounce of love she had to give.
And yet she had given freely of her love over and over again to him and he had ignored it, abused it, and tossed it aside as though it hadn't existed. His anger for Abelard had fueled his ignorance and in the end he had lost the most precious love of all.
Now he was back to claim Catherine and her love, to take her back to the island with him, marry her, raise a family and live out their lives together in Heaven.
"Catherine, you can't be serious," Gwen said, sitting at the head of the table with Catherine to her right and Lucian to her left.
"I miss my home," she said softly.
"But you can't leave London now," Gwen insisted.
"I've told her the same thing myself," Lilith argued. "But she's adamant."
"You're going back to Yorkshire?" Lucian asked.
"Yes," she said, casting a brief glance at him then turning to Gwen. "The country is lovely this time of the year. The flowers are bursting in full bloom, the fields are ripe for planting, and everything seems more alive and potent."
"I don't understand how a niece of mine can love a simple life," Lilith complained. "I had hoped she would have some adventure in her soul. Be daring and not predictable. I'm afraid Catherine will marry, a have a ton of children and grow old without ever experiencing the excitement of life."
Catherine raised her head and met Lucian's full brooding stare. Only they knew she had experienced an adventure of a lifetime. And only she knew that she would not have had it any other way.
"You look pale, Lady Catherine, perhaps you would like a breath of fresh air," Lucian said, and stood, giving her no opportunity to refuse.
Her aunt turned to her. "Are you all right, my dear?" She gasped. "My goodness, you do look pale. By all means, Lucian, do take her outside for a spot of fresh air."
Lucian stood behind her and assisted her out of her chair. He offered her his arm. She had no recourse but to accept it. They walked to the terrace doors running the full length of the dining room wall. He opened one, followed her through, and then shut the door soundly behind them.
They were finally alone.
The rain had stopped earlier in the evening and had left the city doused with a spring chill.
Catherine rubbed her arms.
"Are you cold?" he asked, stepping closer to her.
"No," she answered softly, her nervousness having produced the chill, not the weather.
"We need to talk, Catherine."
She turned around, still hugging her arms. "We have nothing to discuss. Your victory is complete. You have caused my father and me great suffering just as you wished. Now please go away and leave us in peace."
"Catherine," he whispered, and reached out, the need to touch her so painfully sharp that if he didn't he thought he would surely perish. His hand stroked her pale cheek. Soft and s
mooth she felt to his touch, just as he had remembered.
She sighed, released a small alarmed cry and backed away from him. "Please, Lucian, please leave me be." With her pitiful pleas spoken she dashed around him and back into the dining room.
Lucian returned to find the room in turmoil, servants running about and Gwen shaking her head, charging past him in a frenzy.
"She's ill, must get her home immediately."
"Who?" he asked as she passed by him.
"Catherine."
Lucian followed her to find Catherine looking paler and appearing as though she were about to faint. He pushed his way through the women who fluttered about her and bent down in front of her where she sat on a chair in the drawing room.
"What's wrong?" he asked, alarmed by her ashen complexion.
"I'm not feeling well," she said, and looked to her aunt. "Is the carriage ready?"
"Soon, dear. The driver was summoned to take your father out," Lilith worriedly informed her.
Catherine didn't think she could last five more minutes. She felt nauseous and light-headed and had no doubt that the upset of seeing Lucian had affected her condition."I'll take you home in my carriage," Lucian said, and stood. "Gwen, please see that my driver brings the carriage around front."
"It isn't necessary," Catherine protested, and stood, an unwise move. The room spun before her eyes and blurred.
"Catherine?"
She heard Lucian call her name and fear ran through her. Fear that he would fade away forever and that she would wake to find their meeting a mere dream. She called out to him. "Lucian."
He reached out to her, catching her as she fainted and scooping her up in his arms.
"Good gracious," Lilith said. "We must get her home. I feel positively guilty insisting that she come tonight. She had complained about not feeling well and I thought it an excuse to stay home."
"Follow me," he ordered the older woman, who continued to babble on.
He ignored his hostess as she bid him good night, his only thought of Catherine and seeing her home safely to bed.
Santos jumped down from the driver's seat atop the carriage when he spotted Lucian walking out of the house with Catherine in his arms. He rushed up him. "What happened?"
The Buccaneer Page 26
