by Donna Hatch
He drew a steadying breath and painted on a smile as Aunt Livy introduced him to a blond debutante dressed appropriately in white. The girl offered a blatantly hopeful smile which somehow restored order to his world. Cole caught himself before he rolled his eyes. If he survived this night, he would have to forge a stronger resistance against his aunt and her machinations.
Perhaps he should return to piracy. It was less hazardous.
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CHAPTER 4
"Did you meet anyone interesting at the Sinclair's ball last night?” Uncle Willard asked as he entered the parlor.
Alicia realized she'd only been staring at the book in her hands instead of reading it. “I danced a set. And I have decided that I will never marry Mr. Braxton. He was horrible."
She shivered as she remembered the repulsive feeling of his hands upon her body, his foul mouth on hers, the way he trapped her, and made her feel so dirty. She pulled her sleeves lower over her wrists to cover the bruises and wished for a way to feel clean again.
He frowned. “He'd be willing to pay all my debts if you please him."
"No, Uncle. Nothing you say will make me marry him."
He stared at her in surprise.
"Surely you can't expect me to marry a man who will make me miserable. I can't believe you are forcing this upon me."
"If you don't marry soon, I will lose everything."
Alicia knew he only spoke the truth. She bowed her head. “I need a little more time."
"One of my creditors has given me until the end of the month or he will seize the estate."
Alicia pressed a hand over her eyes. She knew that threat truly existed. Someone in the line had forgotten to renew the entailment which protected the property from just such a situation. By the time the lapse was discovered, it was too late to remedy it.
"And another creditor threatened to throw me in debtor's prison. I have five weeks to repay the loan in full before he acts. If you fail to find a husband before then we will all go to debtor's prison.” He looked ill. “I hear the guards have special treatment for young ladies. You and Hannah would be at their mercy."
Alicia turned cold at the thought of Hannah being subjected to the same treatment she'd nearly suffered from Mr. Braxton.
"Choose a husband. We are counting on you to marry before the month's end."
Alicia closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.
* * * *
Cole Amesbury took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. A fat, healthy pheasant dropped without a twitch.
"Nice shooting, Nephew,” Uncle Andrew praised from behind him. “I see a life of ease and lechery hasn't softened you yet."
Cole grinned. He had earned his reputation as a dead shot in his youth and still took pride in his skill.
"The population is so large that it's hardly sporting,” Uncle Andrew added. “Don't have to step two paces before we find game now."
Cole shouldered his gun and watched the dog run out to retrieve the bird. “Oh? Was hunting less than ideal before?"
"Poachers nearly decimated the game. Ten years ago, we'd hunt a whole day and see nothing worth shooting.” Andrew patted his dog's head and handed the kill to a waiting servant.
"What happened? Caught them and sent them to Newgate?"
Andrew chuckled. “No, of course not. I found out my worst poacher was the twelve-year-old son of one of my tenants, a widow with five children. I took him two dozen chickens and offered him a reward to keep the poachers off my property.” He winked at Cole.
Cole laughed. “You're a soft touch, Uncle."
Uncle Andrew shook his head. “No, lad, not really. Putting that boy in gaol would not have helped the matter. Giving them chickens provided them with needed food, and I won not only his undying loyalty, but that of all the tenants.” He winked again. “Word spreads."
Cole remembered aloud an old proverb his childhood nurse used to say; “Give a man a fish and you've fed him for a day; teach a man to fish..."
"Exactly. They raise the chickens, sell some, sell the eggs they don't eat, and eat the chickens too old to lay. That boy has a family of his own now. He still watches out for my land. And he's the first to pay his rents. Nary a poacher has stepped foot onto my land since. I may have a hunting party to keep them under control. The deer are becoming pests. The gardener complains that they trample the gardens."
Cole walked in companionable silence next to his uncle, who limped with an old wound. Cole's favorite horse, a white Lipizzaner stallion named André, grazed near Uncle Andrew's roan in a stand of trees where they left them. At Cole's whistle, the stallion came to him. It had taken a great deal of time and trouble to acquire the beast, but Cole's determination, some creativity, not to mention a considerable expense, had won him this beautiful animal. Cole stroked André's neck, admiring the horse's graceful lines before mounting.
Andrew glanced sideways at him. “Want to go swimming?"
Cole returned the grin. “Not going to let me forget that, are you?"
The waters of the pond lapped at the edges, bringing memories of childish games and dares with his brothers and sisters. Cole's family had visited this estate every few years for as long as he could remember. He and Jared, his younger brother by fourteen months, had combined more mischief than Cole cared to admit. His sisters had no use for younger brothers. Grant had always been a solitary creature. Christian usually had a sketchbook or an easel in hand or was torturing the pianoforte. That left Cole and Jared to terrorize the country. He was always surprised when Aunt Livy and Uncle Andrew invited them back.
He loved the country, and this tiny town in the Midlands provided a welcome reprieve from his travels. On the surface, his life seemed complete. Yet, a wistful whisper suggested his life lacked ... what? Purpose? Meaning?
Inexplicably, Alicia Palmer's face crept into Cole's thoughts. He cursed his stupidity. Calling out that Palmer boy over a woman who later proved unworthy of the trouble had been one of his more brainless acts. But tempers had flared and Cole had seen himself as the lady's defender. Later, when they met to duel, Cole had nearly called it off. He'd been wrong to challenge a mere boy who lacked his skill with arms. And as an officer in the Royal Navy during the war, and his subsequent acts as a pirate with his brother Jared, he'd developed a definite dislike for bloodshed, which eventually overshadowed even his insatiable need for danger. But Vivian had demanded he defend her honor, and foolishly, he had obliged. He later realized how wrong he'd been about her.
He had absolutely no doubt Alicia Palmer would be worth any risk. He wondered again what had happened to her brother Armand. He knew the answer to that question mattered a great deal.
Lost in thought, their arrival in front of the stables surprised Cole. After overseeing André's care, Cole parted with his uncle and strode into the house, stripping off his riding gloves. He handed them along with his hat and coat to a servant.
"Is that you, Cole?” His aunt's voice echoed through the foyer. “In here, dear."
Normally, she preferred to sit in her parlor, a room that made him feel like a clumsy oaf among her frills and dainty furniture, but today her voice led him upstairs to the drawing room.
He found her frowning in concentration over her needlepoint. Cole liked this room. It was full of light and filled with sturdy furniture. He poured himself a port before he took a seat beside her. Stretching out his legs, he sipped absently at the drink, staring at the squares of light on the floor cast by the window panes.
"Good day hunting, Cole?” she asked after several minutes of silence.
"Landed a pair of pheasants.” He closed his eyes and rested his head against the chair.
"What is it, dear? You've been so quiet today. You hardly said a word at breakfast. And now ... it's not like you."
This threatened to grow too serious. He preferred their usual banter. He dredged up a grin. “You often tell me I need to be more sober. I'm accommodating you for a change."
&n
bsp; "I only want you to sober enough to find a wife. Not lose your good nature."
"Now my nature is bad?” he quipped.
She refused to take his bait. “You are not yourself. Are you troubled about something?"
He sighed. “No, just facing one of my many demons."
"Anything I can help you with?"
For a moment, he wished for his childhood days when he could tell her anything. But that was no longer possible. If she truly knew him now, she'd be shocked and disappointed.
He shook his head in reply to her question. “What did you do this afternoon, Aunt?"
"I called upon Miss Palmer.” Aunt Livy's face clouded.
Cole glanced at her, pleased at the unexpected opportunity. He'd been tempted to ply her for information, but he knew the moment he brought up any girl, Aunt Livy would never quit until she saw him happily wed to the poor chit. Now he could satisfy his curiosity without Aunt Livy being aware of his interest.
With the correct amount of polite boredom, he asked. “Have a pleasant visit?"
"Their situation is most desperate. Some of their servants have had to take other posts. She seemed subdued today. Perhaps her grief still weighs upon her."
"You mentioned her parents died recently?"
Aunt Livy leaned in as if to divulge a great secret, and Cole suppressed a smile. Even if the servants hovered nearby, he doubted she knew something they didn't; servants had their own web of gossip. Often, if he needed information, his valet, Stephens, knew all Cole required.
"They were in a carriage accident. Only the girl survived. Even the coachman perished."
"All in a single accident?"
"Tragic, isn't it?"
"Odd."
"Their youngest daughter, Hannah, had remained home due to an illness, so she was spared the accident, thankfully. I called upon Alicia Palmer once she had mended enough from her injuries to receive visitors, but she was so wrapped up in her own grief that I failed to provide any consolation. I believe she blames herself for surviving the accident that claimed her parents."
Cole nodded pensively as a kinship for the young lady awakened. It prodded an uncharacteristic surge of protectiveness. Strange, he couldn't seem to rid himself of that annoying flaw with regard to that girl.
But at least now he knew how Armand had died. He paused. Armand had been in the carriage accident, had he not? Aunt Livy had not mentioned his name.
He opened his mouth to ask about Armand's death, but Aunt Livy cut in. “Would you care to spend more time with the very available Miss Palmer, Cole?"
Cole frowned and almost waved farewell to the opportunity to learn more. “I humored you the other night at the ball. Give me a reprieve, Aunt."
She snorted in a decidedly un-ladylike manner and grinned. Finally. “Since when do I take advice from you? Perhaps if you weren't so wicked, I'd stop pestering you."
Wicked? If she only knew half of his sins. “Perhaps if you'd stop pestering me, I'd stop being so wicked."
She patted his hand. “Yes, yes, and if I didn't care, I wouldn't pester."
"Then I shall endeavor to remove myself from your good graces."
"Cole.” A rare look of tenderness crept into her eye and she banished the momentary lightheartedness. “You survived the war. Does marriage seem that much more terrifying?"
"Any sane bachelor would answer with an emphatic ‘yes’ to that question."
She chuckled. “Your brother Grant and I had a similar discussion last Season. It will be even more difficult to find him a wife than you."
"Impossible.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I will marry someday, Aunt, if only to put an end to your meddling."
His attempt to draw her back into their comfortable banter failed, and worse, her voice quieted. “You've been home from the sea almost two years. I think you've punished yourself enough."
He shifted, not meeting her eyes. “You speak nonsense."
"This life you've lead since your return from the Peninsular war. The risks, the women—"
Cole summoned a practiced, lazy grin and looked directly into her eyes. “Punished? Don't you know that a life of debauchery is the perfect reward for a returning war hero?"
Aunt Livy fixed her penetrating gaze upon him, but he ensured that his practiced façade remained firmly in place. She pursed her lips and shook her head, her attention turned back to her needlepoint. “Perhaps I shall invite Miss Palmer for tea. For a time when you will be home."
"I don't think she likes me, Aunt Relentless."
"I'm not relentless, I'm determined. But if she doesn't like you, then she must already know you too well,” Aunt Livy said mournfully, slipping back into their familiar banter and safer ground. “We shall have to find you a wife who will be less discerning."
Relaxing, Cole grinned. “Quite right."
Aunt Livy glanced up at him. “The Hancock's dinner party is tomorrow. And we've already accepted. All three of us."
He made a face. “Why must you insist I attend all of these pointless exercises?"
"To find you a wife, of course. How else are you going to do it?"
"Perhaps I don't wish to do it yet."
"Good. It will take time to cajole some poor girl to take you."
Cole chuckled. “You are the sharpest-tongued old woman who's ever lived."
"Thank you, dear. Now, go be useful and tell the cook I wish to have lobster bisque for dinner tonight."
"No one else gets away with ordering me about, you know."
"You ought to visit more often. It's good for your humility."
Cole kissed her cheek. All the way out the door he muttered about bossy women loudly enough for her to hear. Her laughter followed him into the hall.
Alicia's brave, grief-stricken face flashed into his mind. Intrigued at how truly genuine he found Alicia Palmer, Cole anticipated their next meeting with mingled excitement and dismay. Against his better judgment, he knew that there would be a next meeting. Even if he had to arrange it.
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CHAPTER 5
Alicia paraded about the sitting room adjoining her boudoir wearing a pale amber moiré.
"Oh, dearest, this one is your color. It makes the gold flecks in your eyes dance, and oh, your skin simply glows. And how slender and graceful you look. I fear I shall be quite dowdy next to you.” Elizabeth affected a pretty pout.
"Ha! The day you look dowdy is the day I sprout wings.” Or become beautiful. She turned to Hannah who wore a creamy white that complemented her fair skin. “Lovely, Hannah."
Hannah smiled shyly.
They spent the afternoon trying on dresses Elizabeth brought them while Elizabeth's maid measured both Alicia and Hannah. They enjoyed tea and scones, chatting happily while Witherspoon made the alterations. When the gowns were completed, Alicia swallowed her pride, thanked Elizabeth for the gowns, and bid her goodbye.
That evening, feeling like a princess in a green silk creation, Alicia came downstairs with Hannah, but when they came across Uncle Willard's path, her joy dimmed.
Willard eyed their gowns. “Where did you get those?"
"Elizabeth let us borrow them, Uncle."
He nodded in approval. “Where are you going?"
"The dinner party at the Hancock's, remember? We've already sent our acceptance."
"I'd forgotten. I'm sorry but I cannot attend with you. I have an appointment."
Robert miraculously arrived downstairs looking neat and clean, and even had managed to sober up enough to drive Alicia and Hannah to Elizabeth's dinner party. Male cousins could only loosely be considered an appropriate escort for young ladies, but they had no one else. And Robert had tried to take on the role of her protector whenever he was not too foxed. Uncle Willard had lost his own phaeton in a card game and the family coach had been sold. They bid good night to Uncle Willard.
The one horse that remained of the enviable horse flesh that once filled the stables pulled Robert's carriage. They rode in com
fortable silence.
Robert cast a sideways glance at them. “How pretty you both look tonight."
Alicia smiled. “You look dashing, Cousin. I hope you will exercise restraint tonight. We depend on you to drive us home."
"Yes, Mother,” he mocked.
She sighed. Since Armand's death, Robert's drinking had become alarming. She feared he would kill himself with it.
They passed through the darkened countryside under a clear, starlit sky. Robert turned the carriage down the Hancock's drive. Light poured from every window of the Hancock's home. As the carriage rolled to a stop, footmen hurried to assist.
Inside, Elizabeth and her parents greeted them warmly. “The other guests are gathering in the drawing room."
Charles, Elizabeth's brother, clapped Robert on the shoulder. “Come join me at billiards?"
"Really, Charles, you ought to stay with the rest of the guests,” Elizabeth scolded.
"We'll be out later, Lizzy."
Robert followed Charles down the hall while Elizabeth and Alicia exchanged looks of disapproval. Hannah nervously smoothed her dress. Elizabeth linked her arms through theirs and drew them both into the drawing room. The guests had divided into smaller, similar age groups. Catherine, in all her glory, sat next to her friend Marie, holding court with the young Mr. de Champs and the dark-eyed Captain Hawthorne.
"Sorry,” Elizabeth whispered. “Mother insisted we invite the Sinclairs."
Catherine waved to her, a false smile pasted upon her face. “Alicia, Hannah, come join us.” She perused Alicia's gown, but her composure seldom revealed any emotion except contempt.
Hannah looked frightened. Poor Hannah. She always became dreadfully shy in the company of others. She would be terrified in London, if she made it there. Alicia drew her sister with her and glided over to them with all of the grace of a queen.
The gentlemen quickly jumped to their feet and made room for them, Mr. de Champs fetching a nearby chair. Next to the raven-haired beauty of Catherine, Alicia felt plain and drab, but at least she was impeccably dressed, thanks to Elizabeth.
Alicia greeted each in turn. Catherine's friend, Marie, smiled kindly. Alicia often suspected that Catherine had befriended Marie because of the girl's plainness; next to her, Catherine's beauty shone. Or perhaps Catherine liked Marie because she did not view her as a threat. But Alicia clearly posed no threat, either. Catherine, the beautiful daughter of a wealthy baron, was clearly Alicia's superior in many ways. So why did Catherine dislike her so much?
