Hart's Passion (Pirates & Petticoats Book 2)

by Chloe Flowers

  Aunt Sarah patted her shoulder. “Keelan, please walk with us,” she prodded in a quiet voice. “Your uncle has arranged a luncheon at Rosewood’s boarding house.”

  “I’m not hungry now, Aunt Sarah,” Keelan responded, giving her aunt a small smile. “I need a few moments alone, then I’ll return to the town house.”

  And gather my things and go.

  The afternoon sun was obscured by a layer of gray which threatened rain. Aunt Sarah hesitated a moment. The older woman glanced around. Was she worried Captain Hart would appear from behind one of the large oaks lining the cemetery? Or Dr. Garrison would show up and cause a scene?

  He aunt had good reason to worry about both. Keelan had been entangled in two terribly scandalous events, one involving Captain Landon Hart and the other involving…Captain Landon Hart. First, there was an outing without a chaperone, then there was a kiss in the garden resulting in a broken engagement with Dr. Garrison, who’d taken the news badly and she couldn’t blame him.

  Although wildly handsome and devilishly charming, Landon Hart was everything her mother had warned her about ‘men of the sea’…men who could seduce a woman with a look and leave her the following day, off to the next port, the next woman, the next adventure. Keelan understood this; her mother became bitter and lonely while Papa had been away sailing with the Royal Navy.

  She didn’t want to live her mother’s life, married to a man who’s mistress was the sea, therefore, she’d reluctantly accepted a marriage proposal from Papa’s physician, Dr. Everett Garrison a few days before her cousin’s ball.

  Dr. Garrison was a quiet, practical man with a quiet, practical life.

  Still, her heart and body had wanted Landon Hart. If Papa hadn’t died that night, she’d have run away with him the moment he’d asked her. Of course, her uncle and aunt wouldn’t approve of her marriage to Hart, so she couldn’t tell them her plans.

  Aunt Sarah fidgeted with her bonnet ribbon a moment then said, “Don’t stay too long. I’ll ask Slaney and Daniel to wait for you. You shouldn’t walk home alone.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Sarah.” Her family was always vigilant. An assassin had murdered her mother and Papa’s brother and his family back in England. No one knew if the assassin would come to Charleston, or even the reason her family was targeted. She suspected it had to do with Papa’s court marshal. He’d fired on the wrong ship; it sank killing innocent passengers. After a huge uproar, Papa had been court marshaled, the family the main gossip topic for weeks.

  After a word from her aunt, Keelan’s maid paused and sat on a bench near the far edge of the cemetery to wait. Daniel, her father’s valet, joined her.

  Daniel had been Papa’s valet when he was home, and her tutor when Papa was at sea. He taught her not only to read, write and mathematics, but also how to defend herself. She was quite proud of her skills with a blade. She had Daniel to thank for that.

  They’d arrived yesterday from Twin Pines. After making a trip to the pier and back, Daniel had informed her Landon Hart’s ship, the Desire, was flying the blue flag signaling it was ready to depart.

  He was waiting for her.

  Daniel stood and held out a hand for the maid, Slaney, who took it, allowing him to help her rise to her feet.

  “It’s hard to believe he’s gone.”

  “Yes, mistress. I know you’ll miss him. As will I,” Daniel said in a low voice.

  “We all will,” Slaney added, blotting beneath her eyes with a handkerchief.

  “What will you both do now?” Keelan asked. Slaney and Daniel had been like family to her since she was small. With Papa at sea most of the time and her mother in Chatham, England, running their shop, Daniel and Slaney had practically raised her.

  “We’ll fulfill our obligation to the commodore and accompany you safely back to the country cottage in England, as promised,” Daniel said. “Unless you have decided to remain here, instead.”

  “No,” she interrupted. “I have no wish to remain on the plantation. You heard what Papa said. He’s left me nothing. His entire estate has gone to Uncle Jared. I no longer have Twin Pines as my dowry.” She wasn’t angry or upset at this sudden turn of events. In fact it was a relief.

  She had other plans involving Captain Hart, a wedding and a ship.

  “By removing you from his will, the commodore thought he was forcing you to act on his request to find your real father,” Daniel said gently.

  Although truly, it was unnecessary; her curiosity and longing to find out who she was and where she came from would have driven her to search for the man anyway. But Papa hadn’t known that. He hadn’t known her well at all.

  “I made a promise to find him, and I will.”

  “Then Daniel and I will be ready to join ye,” Slaney said. “Yer like a daughter to us both. We’ll not leave ye unless ye wish it.” She looped her arm through Keelan’s and gave her a secret smile.

  The words tugged her heart. “Thank you, Slaney. I can only hope the contents in the trunk Papa told us about will help my cause and not hinder it.” She looked up at the valet. “You heard what he said. My mother and that man…”

  Daniel’s eyes softened.“Yes, I heard. But the commodore said the man, your real father, would want to know about you.”

  She sighed, her heart and head in turmoil. It’s rare a bastard child is ever welcomed into a household. The scorn of her sire’s wife might be more than she could take.

  Slaney peered at her closely. “But what about Captain Hart? Ye fancy the man. Will ye leave him behind?”

  She chewed her lip. How much should she tell them? It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them. Her life was in such tumult now.

  “What about Dr. Garrison?” Daniel looked back and forth between Slaney and her.

  She might as well tell them everything. “I don’t plan to marry Dr. Garrison. Without Twin Pines as a dowry, I’m sure the doctor’s interest in me will drop drastically, even if I wasn’t born on the other side of the blanket.”

  Daniel’s voice carried a note of relief. “Begging your pardon, Mistress but I’ve never cared much for the man. He has a dark air about him sometimes; makes me wonder if he’s hiding something.”

  She gave him a quick glance, thinking about the doctor’s uncharacteristic behavior toward her the night the commodore died. “I have had the same concerns, especially recently. And sometimes I wonder…” A thick foreboding seeped into her thoughts.

  “I remember your mother’s funeral when Dr. Garrison introduced himself. The commodore had been grieved but robust, then.” Daniel jingled a couple coins in his pocket and stared pensively at his shoes.

  The shame of Papa’s court martial always lingered about his countenance, adding to his depressed state, but Daniel was right. He hadn’t been ill back then, only sad. He and Dr. Garrison became friends and spent many hours together, engaging in various activities to distract Papa from his grief, but still it consumed him. He ate less and lost weight. He slept more and became sickly.

  During the journey to America, Dr. Garrison suggested Papa regularly take a medication to help him regain his appetite and good health. A shudder skittered across her shoulders. She met Daniel’s gaze. “I’ve been wondering if he might be responsible for Papa’s sickness. Perhaps he recommended the wrong medicine, or made the wrong diagnosis.”

  Daniel was silent a moment. “It’s possible he made a mistake.”

  “Either way, I won’t marry him. I plan to wed Captain Hart instead,” she said. “I plan to marry him and sail with him aboard the Desire.”

  A startled look flashed across the valet’s face, but he recovered quickly. “Is that something which appeals to you?”

  Slaney smiled and hummed to herself. It truly was impossible to hide anything from her.

  “Very much.” Keelan plucked at a loose string on her cuff. “In light of recent events, I wonder if his offer will stand,” she murmured. What if it didn’t? What if he wouldn’t want to marry someone’s bastard?

&nb
sp; Daniel became thoughtful. “Mr. Hart doesn’t seem to be the type of man to let anything like this dictate his actions. If he changes his mind, we’ll simply book passage on the next passenger ship heading north, if you wish to do so.”

  Slaney harrumphed. “Well, a choice like that would brand him a fool, I says.”

  Keelan swallowed. Daniel made it seem like the decision had no real significance, but it wouldn’t be so easy for her.

  Sailing away with Landon had been the only thing keeping her own shadow of grief from blanketing her in darkness over the past two days. Also during that time, a niggling fear had been swirling in the back of her mind as well. Given her current requirements, would Landon assist her? Would he want any part of her quest to find her true father?

  “I’m glad you’ll both be with me. It gives me comfort knowing I’ll not have to make the journey on my own should things change between me and Captain Hart.”

  “We wouldn’t ever leave ye at a time like this, Mistress. We’ll help ye find yer Da,” Slaney squeezed her arm.

  “First, we must gather our things and take them to Captain Hart’s ship. The blue flag means he’s ready to leave port.” With fresh eyes, she took in the ocean in the distance and the infinite blue of the South Carolina sky. “We don’t have much time to pack our trunks, hire a livery and leave before Uncle Jared and Aunt Sarah return home from the luncheon.” Uncle Jared would try and stop them. He wanted her to marry and stay in Charleston. He certainly wouldn’t approve of her eloping with Landon Hart.

  Daniel nodded his agreement. “I’ll arrange for transportation to the Desire while you and Slaney have the trunks brought down.”

  “It shouldna’ take long,” Slaney said. “I haven’t unpacked much yet, seein’ how we just got to town yesterday.”

  “Good.” Keelan had a little more confidence now. A shiver of excitement shot through her chest. She tugged the red ribbon holding the signet ring around her neck. Papa told her it belonged to her real father.

  Four lions, a knight’s helm, shafts of wheat. What did it mean?

  Who was the man who sired her?

  What was her real surname, if not Grey?

  Who was she?

  CHAPTER THREE

  The man who murdered his family and fiancé was finally dead.

  Yet, Dr. Everett Garrison, after more than a week, still waited for the burden of grief to lift.

  But it didn’t.

  A brief swell of panic pushed against his chest. Once Commodore Grey was dead, things should have changed. The rock in his stomach should have disappeared, the sharp pain clenching his heart every time he inhaled should have subsided and the black emptiness filling his soul should have receded.

  Yet the morning light was still dull, his feet were still heavy, the air still empty, and his hands still stained with blood. No matter how many times he washed them, the blood returned.

  He had committed a heinous sin.

  Commodore George Grey undoubtedly deserved to die, but Everett was used to saving lives not taking them. If Rachel hadn’t screamed for vengeance in his dreams every night when he closed his eyes, he wouldn’t have even considered it.

  “Rachel,” he whispered in anguish. “Rachel…I miss you.”

  Everett didn’t bother to brush away the tears or dry his cheeks. Good God, how he missed her smile and adoring gaze. Her quiet words. Why was he still so tormented?

  He stared down at the letter on his desk.

  And now, the bank was unwilling to extend him any more credit.

  This presented a problem.

  In exchange for Dr. Garrison’s personal medical care, the commodore and his older brother, Jared Grey had given him money to set up a practice in Charleston. Instead, Everett had used it to fund his plan for revenge. The slow poison he carefully dosed to the commodore had been expensive to procure in a discrete manner.

  He tossed a bundle of papers on his desk. It had been worth every cent he paid for justice to be done. That idiot had given the order to sink the ship carrying his parents and brothers.

  And his fiancée, Rachel.

  It didn’t matter that the commodore had claimed to have mistaken the passenger ship for a devious French privateer. The commodore had deserved to be punished, and Everett had complained loudly and frequently to those in charge of his court martial. But, before justice could be done, the commodore’s friend, an aristocrat, had used his wealth and influence to whisk away the disgraced Navy commander and his daughter, Keelan, to Charleston, South Carolina and even purchased a small plantation for them. A place for them to hide…far away from the gallows in London where the commodore belonged.

  Everett slammed his fist on his desk. “Did he not deserve to suffer the same pain as I?”

  The man he’d hired in England arranged the carriage accidents killing the wives of both the commodore and his older brother last fall, after murdering the commodore’s nephew. According to the assassin, the women were low-hanging fruit, easy to pluck. Everett didn’t have the stomach to do it himself. He was a physician trained to do his best to preserve life, not take it. Besides, such things were best left to a professional. He had no desire to risk botching the job and getting himself hanged in the process of attaining justice.

  But the loss…the agony. He tried everything to relieve it. Brandy and opiates wore off, left him groggy and sick, and didn’t solve the problem, only delayed the execution of a solution. It was, however during one of those binges when he came up with the brilliant idea of hiring a man to exact revenge for him.

  Less guilt to deal with if they didn’t die by his hand. A deed he could live with, so he’d thought.

  Everett opened his desk drawer, cradled a pale lavender handkerchief, pressed it to his lips and inhaled. Rachel’s perfume grew fainter each time. Soon, like her, it would be gone forever.

  “The commodore needed to feel the same suffering,” he murmured into the scented cloth. “He had to understand that his transgressions had consequences.” He hadn’t expected he could actually go through with it. The first time he had dosed the commodore with a small amount of poison, the man complained of an upset stomach and went to his cabin. Everett had puked over the side of the ship. His hands quaked for an hour afterward.

  The assassin he’d hired in London had been thorough. He’d finally sent the announcement of the death of the commodore’s eldest brother, along with a letter requesting the last and final installment owed for his services.

  Everett returned the handkerchief to his drawer and then picked up the missive next to the one from the bank.

  He reread the letter from the assassin. His gut clenched. The words blurred. His heart thrummed in his ears, sounding like a drum of war signaling death to the enemy.

  Doctor Garrison,

  We agreed upon the notification of completion of the duties required of me, that payment would be available for me at your barrister’s office. Unfortunately, according to the documents your barrister showed me containing your signature, it appears you withdrew the funds prior to traveling to Charleston. This is not acceptable. I request you rectify this immediately. Should I not receive your payment in a reasonable amount of time, I will consider you in breach of our contract. In which case, I will contact a man in Charleston to perform the same duty for me, which I have so diligently performed for you.

  Regards,

  Munsford

  The problem was, Everett had to use some of Munsford’s funds to keep up appearances here in Charleston and to handle a slight problem in the form of Captain Landon Hart.

  The gaping hole Rachel’s death left in his heart didn’t shrink with time; it grew. If he didn’t find someone to fill it soon, it would continue to grow bigger and bigger. It would eventually consume him until there was nothing left but the edges of his soul.

  It seemed like poetic justice to have Keelan Grey be the one to fill the void.

  He’d not been prepared for the ripples Captain Hart had caused, though. Everett’s
scheme had been progressing well until Hart showed up at Twin Pines. He sat heavily in his chair, gripped the hair on each side of his head and rested his elbows on the desk.

  It had taken Everett months to court Keelan to the point where she’d agreed to marry him. Then the captain interfered with his courtship, distracted her, and made it difficult to gain her full attention and affection.

  Everett had been at the table one day when Hart explained the attack by Gampo’s ship which had crippled his. Apparently, Hart’s fleet and the pirate had some sort of ongoing feud. It only took a couple inquiries in the pubs near the wharf and a meeting with Gampo’s first mate to get a message to Gampo himself.

  The pirate and Hart had a history of clashes on the open sea. Gampo helped Everett develop a scheme to distract Hart. In exchange, he was supposed to find out if a woman named Marisa sailed with the fleet. How was he supposed to obtain that information? It was almost impossible. However, he had indeed tried. One bright morning he walked to the pier, up the ramp and asked the first mate. The man looked at him as if he was daft.

  “Having a woman aboard is bad luck, mister. Any sailor knows that.”

  He couldn’t very well approach Hart, his adversary, and ask him, could he? Surely Hart would lie to him. Gampo wouldn’t understand that, however. Unfortunately, he still had no information for the pirate, and that was disconcerting.

  Thankfully, the plan they managed to execute may yet generate additional funds. As soon as he found the right buyers for the cargo the men took from Hart, there would be enough money to pay the assassin.

  He hoped.

  The damned pirates had some sort of hard and fast rule on dividing things into “like shares.”

  Even after they stole the goods, Hart had gotten to Keelan, and she broke her engagement to him, dammit. Their plan could still move forward, but now, he would have to make a few adjustments.

  And it was going to cost him.