Her eyes welled with tears. “Don’t say that, Papa.”
“Sweet girl, it’s true. I have made some terrible choices. I hope that if I confess my indiscretions and try to make things right, you might have a chance to repair the damage I caused and forgive me. You should know the truth. You have to know the truth.”
There was nothing to forgive. Was the medicine was once again interfering with his mind? After setting the glass back on the table, she tucked the covers around him. She didn’t want him to see her cry.
“It’s been almost thirty years, and time has tempered my hatred,” he added. He reached for Keelan’s hand, and she enveloped his with hers. “Keelan, you should know, you will not be left alone.”
She smiled through her tears. “Oh, Papa—”
He interrupted. “I must tell you something extremely important. A secret…a treasure which I kept from you and your mother for far too long.”
Papa wasn’t making sense. “A secret treasure, Papa? To what do you refer?”
His voice faltered. Her father looked at Uncle Jared. “Please…leave us.”
“We want to stay with you,” her uncle objected. “We are family, George.” Uncle Jared grasped his brother’s other hand in his own and patted it. “We want you to know we are right here beside you.”
Her father lifted his head and raised his feeble voice a bit louder. “Be gone, I say! This is a private matter I must discuss with Keelan.” He dropped his head to the pillow and closed his eyes, breathing raggedly.
Keelan glanced between him and her uncle then rose and gently guided her aunt, cousin, and sputtering Uncle Jared toward the door.
“Please, I’ll come get you as soon as he is through speaking to me. We must honor his wishes.”
Doreen snatched her fan from the chair and hooked her arm through her mother’s.
“Come, Mama, I’ll walk with you to find a comfortable seat, then I’ll get us both a drink.” She left without a backward glance. Uncle Jared took a single step then another, before expelling a breath and following his wife and daughter. Keelan gently closed the door then moved her chair closer to her father’s bed.
“Papa, try to conserve your strength.” She gently stroked the hair from his forehead.
He sighed. “’Tis the way things go, my dear. There is no stopping it. My life has been cursed. Ever since I…all because that Irish bastard stole her from me, I have lived a cursed life! Cursed!”
“Papa, why would you say such a thing?” She softened her voice, hoping to ease his distress.
“I would have cherished her forever, but she fell under his spell and broke my heart. I have hated and punished them long enough. And that bloody ship—all those souls lost.” He scrubbed his hand across his face in anguish. “Now, God is punishing me.”
His fingers shook as he reached for her hand, his voice sounding like dry sticks blown across a barren field.
“Keelan, I need to do what I can to make things right for you. Listen…carefully.”
A fit of coughing followed, and she gave him another drink. “Papa, please rest a moment. Try not to talk for a while.”
He shook his head. “I must. Keelan, something of significant value awaits you at Wind Briar. It has been hidden away all these many years.” He gasped a ragged breath and tried to continue, but his voice faltered and hissed out in a rough whisper. She leaned closer to hear. “You have kin in Ireland. You must find them.”
“Ireland?” Keelan’s jaw dropped. “But…”
He pointed a bony finger to a wooden box on the nightstand, “That box, get it for me.”
She reached for his wooden valet box and handed it to him. Rather than take it, he ran his trembling fingers along its side. “There is a small compartment…” His quaking hands would not cooperate, and he dropped them to the bed. “Keelan, there is a latch release by the hinge in the back. Press it.”
His eyelids drooped. She turned the box over in her hands, found the latch and pressed it. She heard a tiny click, then a drawer glided from the right side of the elegantly carved box. Inside, she found a bag of coins and a large egg-shaped locket.
“That’s him. The seducer. The man who stole my darling’s heart,” her father whispered harshly. He spoke between short gasps. “At the time, the repercussions of my actions…didn’t matter as much as punishing that Irish lord who…seduced the woman I’d loved since I was a young man. But now as I face the portal of death’s realm…those potential repercussions terrify me. I ask your forgiveness, Keelan.”
“Forgiveness?” She tried to understand him, but his words made no sense to her.
“Remember the ring I gave you? Look at it,” he urged. “On the side is a family crest… It is your family crest.” His breathing became more labored as he demanded his withering body to draw yet another murky breath. “What you do with the information I am about to confide, will either ruin you or save you, dear girl.”
She pulled the ribbon holding the signet ring from around her neck and peered at it more closely.
“The crest belongs to your family,” he breathed.
“Papa, this is not our family crest. It is—”
“It is yours!” he stated adamantly. “Not mine, yours! It’s your father’s crest. The locket belonged to her. He had gifted it to her. I took it. I was jealous, angry, and spiteful. She was mine! My own love. But he seduced her. Warped her mind against me…” He pointed to the red ribbon holding the ring. “That same crest is on the locket.”
The signet ring showed her family crest? Keelan was puzzled. Her father had never mentioned any other kin. She studied it again. The crest showed a lion in each corner. Three bundles of wheat crossed the middle. Above the crest was a knight’s helm. She turned her attention to the locket half. The outside case indeed bore the same crest, although larger.
Her father’s words chipped away at her composure like a ticking clock chipped away the time. What was he saying? Was she adopted? With shaking hands, she turned the locket piece over in her palm then sucked in her breath. The locket held a tiny portrait of a young man, perhaps ten or so years older than she. There was no denying this was kin. Although he had black hair, he had the same long, slim nose. His expression was impish. Amusement glittered in his eyes even though he wasn’t smiling. If it wasn’t for the color of his hair, the man could have been her brother.
“Your Uncle Fynn must have suspected the truth. He wrote and demanded a meeting, but died en route, I was told.” He gestured to the ring and locket. “Both belong to you,” he whispered.
Wait, her Uncle Fynn? What was Papa saying? Uncle Fynn was Captain Conal O’Brien’s uncle, not hers. During the conversation at the breakfast table, the two merchant captains had mentioned Fynn Ahern’s name. Uncle Jared had denied that it was familiar to him. Yet, there had been something suspicious with Jared’s manner then. He’d been lying.
Papa’s next strangled words fell like stones. “Keelan…” He dragged in another short breath. “You must understand…you are not really my daughter.”
Not my daughter.
“Child, please listen,” he rasped. “Go back to Wind Briar and search through the old wooden trunk in my library. Inside you will find…there’s a letter…” He exhaled loudly and struggled for another rattling breath. “Daniel?”
A figure rose from the dark corner of the dimly lit room. The valet had been so quiet that she did not even know he was there. She smiled sadly. Of course, Daniel would be there to see to his master’s every last need. The valet had always been a most faithful servant to her father. He walked to the bed and nodded a greeting. Keelan stared numbly at his cheek, where a tear’s path still glistened.
“Yes, milord?”
“Daniel. There should be enough coin in the box for the journey. Take it. See her safely home,” he breathed.
When Daniel opened his mouth to respond, words seemed unwilling to come. He nodded. “I will, sir. I give both you and Miss Keelan my oath.”
Keelan sw
allowed tightly as she fought back her own tears. She wanted to reassure Papa, so he would rest easier. As it was, his arm flailed as if he were batting away an invisible demon.
“Papa, I’ll return home to the country estate and seek your trunk.”
He focused on her once more. “Keelan, the contents are of…great, great value… to you…” He struggled with the next words. “I couldn’t give my Catherine the child she wanted…she so wanted a child for us… It seemed a fitting punishment for the man who stole so much from me.”
Keelan racked her memory. Where was this old chest? The library? Was it the one by the foot of his bed? His next words jerked her mind back to the present.
“Your mother…and your father…”
“Good Lord!” Keelan gripped her father’s hand tighter. Keelan’s heart lurched in her chest.
Her mother? Like an earthquake deep beneath the surface, the meaning rumbled through her consciousness. She stared at her father. No…she stared at the man who was not her father. A loud ringing echoed through her ears. It pierced her mind and shattered her thoughts. Her mother…what had she done? Taken a lover?
His gaze left her face and seemed to roam around the room as if he were seeing it for the first time. It was a moment before he focused once again on Keelan. “Oh, Keelan! How I loved her. He stole her from me!” He shook her hand with each word. “Don’t cry. My next trip to London, I shall bring you some bright ribbons for your hair. Would that cheer you?”
Tears streamed down her face; Keelan understood he was fading into a realm where past and present swirled together as one.
“Papa…”
“Don’t cry, Keelan. I know it was wrong, the way Catherine acted.” He twisted in agony then flopped an arm across his forehead, somehow, even in his broken state, reliving the torment the secret had caused.
“It wasn’t the right decision but after the deed was done, it could not be undone.”
Keelan heard the blood rushing through her head. Her heart pounded and tried to beat back the word thundering in her head. But her mind screamed it louder.
Bastard.
Not adopted, but an illegitimate child.
Her mother was an adulteress. Catherine had an affair with a man, a married man with a family, and had become pregnant with his child. Catherine and George had been childless, so they kept Keelan and raised her as their own.
In a sudden burst, he grasped her arm and searched her face, as if hoping for some confirmation she’d understood him. His voice echoed throughout the bedchamber. “Please forgive me, but I have named Jared as sole beneficiary of my estate.” He pointed to the miniature. “I had to make sure you would have no other choice but to locate the man in the locket.” His voice lowered again to a whisper. “Your real father…should know you…your mother too, would want it…” He thrashed his head side to side. “I loved her. I have always loved her. I still love her.”
He collapsed onto his pillow and drew another jerky breath. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear his voice. As Keelan leaned over him, a faint plea stirred the air like wind through the sheer silk curtains.
“There is nothing here for you, Keelan. Find your family. Tell them I am…sorry for keeping you… Promise me, Keelan. Promise.”
“I promise, Papa,” she choked. This new information strengthened her decision to leave Charleston with Landon. She hadn’t wanted the burden of the plantation. Now, she was free of it. As heavy as her heart was for Papa, the encumbrance crumbled and fell away. As for finding her real father, she could call upon Landon for help. They could sail together to England.
George Grey turned his head toward Keelan. “Light a lamp, child. I can’t see your face.”
Tears continued to stream unchecked down her cheeks. She stared at the brightly burning oil lamp at the bedside of the stranger she had called “Papa” for the last nineteen years.
“The lamp is lit, Papa.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
It wouldn’t be long now.
Doreen left the chamber, and Everett closed the bedroom door behind her. At his instruction, the young lady had administered the last bit of the “medicine” to the commodore a few seconds ago.
Keelan excused herself to her bedchamber, promising to return.
When her father died, Everett would be there to comfort her. She’d see then that he’d make a good husband, wouldn’t she?
“Commodore.” He reached down and shook the old man’s shoulder.
George opened his eyes. He winced and Everett leaned in close. He wanted to make sure the old man heard his next words.
“Your niece just gave you a potent dose of the serum that has been slowly poisoning you over the past several months,” Everett whispered harshly.
George’s eyelids flew open and they stared at him in shock.
“Why did Doreen do it, you’re wondering?” He took a deep breath but couldn’t contain his shudder. “I am a healer, not a killer, like you.” He stared at his hands. “Still, my fingers are coated with blood, even though I had Doreen do the deed. She didn’t know, of course. She believed she was giving you medicine.” He stared hard at the commodore. “Have you heard of Rachel Hornsby? Jeremy Garrison? Martha Garrison? Emmett Garrison?”
George shook his head, a confused frown on his face.
“They were my family, my parents and younger brother, my fiancée… sweet, sweet Rachel. You killed them. You sunk their ship and you killed them.”
The pain in the old man’s eyes could not affect him. It was too late for that.
He continued, “I vowed to her, my Rachel, that I would serve you the same dish you served me.” He leaned closer. “You have been dining on it for months. Now you know what it’s like to lose the people you love.”
The old man’s brows furrowed, as if he was trying to decipher his words. An understanding began to dawn across his features.
“Yes!” Everett nodded. “First, I removed your wife, nephew, and sister-in-law. Then before we left England, I hired a man to kill your older brother. It took longer than I anticipated, but it was accomplished quite successfully.”
He wanted to see the old man’s expression when the final most horrendous realization occurred.
“And now, your beloved daughter is my betrothed.”
The old commodore’s eyes widened. He struggled to raise his head. “No!” he rasped, the fear choking his voice.
“Oh, yes indeed. You were there when she chose me, remember? Although we had a little tiff tonight, I will still make things work to my satisfaction. She will become my wife.”
The old man’s mouth opened in a silent scream. Bony hands reached to claw at him, but he was now well out of reach.
“Papa?” Keelan knocked then opened the bedroom door. “Dr. Garrison, how is he?”
He gestured for her to come closer, and she approached the bed and kissed her father’s forehead.
He gave her a sympathetic smile. “He’s nearing his end now, my dear.” He draped his arm over her shoulders. “Speak to him, let him know you’ll be fine so he can…let go.”
Grey’s eyes twitched frantically between him and Keelan. He made a low choking sound. She quickly grasped his hand.
“Papa, I’m here. It’s all right. I’m here.” Her eyes welled with tears.
The commodore’s lips cracked as he tried to form words. “Keelan…I…he is….” A slight whimper escaped from his mouth.
The old man’s chest rose and fell, and rose and fell, then stilled. Keelan wept softly, still holding his hand. Everett squeezed her shoulder in sympathy. “I’ll go inform Mr. and Mrs. Grey that he has passed on.”
Keelan nodded and blotted her face with a handkerchief.
He stepped into the hall then pulled out his watch. He gently opened it to stare at the small portrait wedged inside the lid.
“For you, Rachel, my love,” Everett whispered. He snapped the case shut. If Keelan Grey thought she was going to elope with Hart, she'd thought wrong. She'd never arri
ve at that ship.
He’d make sure of it.
Tales have been told about events in Charleston in the waning days of July, 1811 that set the course for the destruction of Twin Pines and the decline of the neighboring plantation owned by Leon Pratt. There were whispers of manipulations by a pirate to draw certain merchant captains into positions of weakness and easy plunder. Captain Gampo’s spies where everywhere and word was that he had targeted Ahern and Hart’s merchant fleet as his next prize.
The next episode of Keelan Grey and Landon Hart’s journey begins in Hart’s Passion, the second Pirates and Petticoats novel.
Join them as Dr. Garrison and the pirate, Gampo, band together to destroy Hart, and steal his love, Keelan.
Hart’s Passion
Pirates & Petticoats Novel Two
Charleston, South Carolina
June 1811
If they were going to steal it, tonight would be the perfect time.
The moon was nothing more than a sliver in the sky, leaving the night nearly as dark as pitch. A single sentry strolled along the street in front of the warehouse. He passed the main doors and continued until he reached the far corner. He yawned, stretching his arms out wide. Removing his floppy hat, he scratched his head vigorously and then jammed the hat back on. After a lazy glance up and down the street, he pulled a bottle from his pocket and took a swig before he leaned up against the wall and yawned again.
A dog barked in the distance, provoking a shouted curse from one of the city’s sleepy residents. The sentry sank to his haunches, tipped the bottle to his mouth and then rested his head against the wall behind him. Once more he looked up and down the street. Finally, with a bored sigh he sat on the ground and placed his bottle within reach before resting his arms on his knees. Within minutes, his head slumped onto his forearms. The gentle sea swayed against the pilings with the easy rhythm of a rocking chair. The street was quiet except for the gently breaking waves and the soft snoring of the sentry.
Hart's Desire (Pirates & Petticoats Book 1) Page 23
