The Scandal of the Deceived Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hanna Hamilton

  Amelia and Anna snapped their heads in the direction of the newcomer’s voice. Standing in the doorframe was one of the largest men they had ever seen. His face was crisscrossed with scars, some of which glowed in a sort of purple hue. He grinned at them. Surprisingly, he still had all of his teeth. He had brown hair and piercing blue eyes that could kill on the spot.

  Yet, despite his ferocious countenance, Amelia detected kindness in those eyes. The spindly web of wrinkles around them spoke of much laughter and gaiety. Was this a killer? Yes, probably. But, he was also a man with dreams, a heart and she assumed a great sense of humor. On the spot, Amelia decided that he was ten times the man Lord Airey Templeton French was. “Good afternoon, ladies.” He offered a rather comical bow. “My name’s First Lieutenant Jake Farrows and I am at your service.” His accent was strange. It still had something of the Home Counties to it, but it was diluted with something else. Amelia’s mother would refer to it as colonial. “What’s the matter? Do I scare ye?” He guffawed.

  Jake looked down. “Oh, I see.” He quickly wiped the blade of his sword that was still dripping with blood on the fabric of his breeches that were equally stained and sheathed it. “That’s better. Sorry about that. We had a bit of a fight up there. It’s all good now…you can come with me.” He held out a calloused and grimy hand and smiled again.

  “Take us where?” asked Amelia.

  “To my captain of course. He will know what to do with ye.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Amelia who had had her back pressed against the planking of the ship up until now. She gradually tried to slide off the bed. It was not possible. She had to sooth Anna for a moment who would not let go of her.

  “Don’t worry, young lady. The captain won’t hurt ye…purrs as a kitten, he does,” said Jake kindly.

  “What about you?” Amelia was still suspicious of the huge man who had hands the size of plates. If he wanted to, he could crush a woman’s skull with them.

  “Ol’ Jake ain’t gonna hurt anyone. All the hurting’s been done already.” He hooted laughter again. “Come on.” When he saw Anna’s reluctance, he walked up to her. “I understand; a pretty girl like ye must have been scared with all that shooting and swordplay up and abouts’. Let ol’ Jake give ye a hand.”

  Anna recoiled. Amelia still wasn’t sure what to make of him. Conflicting emotions coursed through her. Should she hit him on the head with the stool in the corner of the cabin? She discounted that notion the moment it came to mind. Jake’s skull would probably shatter the sturdy piece of furniture like a feeble twig on a stone.

  But to her surprise, she didn’t need to. Miraculously, the burly seaman had lifted Anna into his arms and carried her as if he were going to step over the threshold of their new home. “Watch yer head, blossom. It gets awful tight inside a frigate. Ye will feel a lot more comfortable on board the Triton. We have far more space than on this old tub.”

  “The Triton?” asked Amelia.

  “Aye, that’s our ship. The captain’s very proud of her too,” said Jake, carefully maneuvering his precious cargo out of the cabin. He took a few moments to study Anna’s shivering frame. “Ye are mighty pretty, lass,” he crooned.

  “Might I have the name of your captain?” asked Amelia, completely abashed by the huge sailor’s mellifluous manner.

  “Captain Jonathan Mitchell,” said Jake, at the same time whispering some more soothing words to Anna.

  “He wouldn’t happen to be Black Joe, would he?” Amelia shuddered by just mentioning the name.

  “Aye, one and the same. You English sure did come up with a strange name for him. He’s the nicest man I know and the greatest of friends. You’ll see.” With those words, he vanished up the stairway and through the door above. “Ye coming?” he shouted.

  Amelia did not share his enthusiasm in the least. But she had no choice. She would have to face the captain at one point or another, and she would be damned if she left poor Anna at that pirate’s mercy no matter how sweet she was told he was.

  Swallowing deeply, she mounted the steps and exited the stern of the ship where the cabins were situated. At first, the sunlight blurred her vision, making her sneeze. Raucous laughter followed this action. It took her a few moments for her vision to adjust.

  While this was happening, she couldn’t come to grips with all of the noises around her. Nothing sounded like there had been a fight. The banter was jovial. The only thing betraying this assumed peacefulness was the odd groan from the wounded men.

  As her vision slowly came into focus, she could make out the silhouette of a man. From her first impression, he was tall and had broad shoulders. More focus - his face came into perspective. The man standing before her was not just tall; he towered above her. What struck Amelia the most was the tuft of fiery red hair on his head. It distracted from his handsome, chiseled features that boasted both masculinity and limitless virility – Amelia felt her mouth slide open a notch.

  “Captain, this is…” Jake set Anna down. After making sure she was stable on her feet, he scratched his head.

  “You forgot to ask their names, didn’t you? Trust you, Jake, to lose all brain function when in the presence of women.”

  The handsome man, who was also the captain, chuckled and along with him, many of the men. Amelia could not believe that the man standing before her held any kind of command. His frowzy blue coat showed distinct signs of wear and tear on the shoulders and around the wrists. His face was covered in black smudges as if he had been the one firing the cannons. A cursory glance at the prisoners huddled on the other side of the deck proved her point. Captain Wimple was still meticulously turned out.

  “Your names, please?” he asked in a throaty baritone that was as sticky as molasses and captivating. It was so rich that it distracted from the curtness of his request.

  “Anna Titbits, Your Honor.”

  The men burst out laughing, forcing Anna to blush. “And you?” The captain’s unyielding gaze swerved to Amelia. The color of his eyes was blue like the sea and the sky.

  “The Honorable Amelia Carlyle. My lady’s maid and I sought passage on the HMS Capricorn to British America…we are to be received by my betrothed, Lord Templeton French, son of the Duke of Brandon.” Amelia could’ve bit on her tongue for mentioning Airey. Why did I just do that? I loathe my betrothed.

  “The both of ya? Lucky man, this Temple Frenchie fellow,” said the captain, grinning.

  His men broke out into raucous laughter once again. They shouted lewd suggestions that the British had more than one wife to play with and that it was probably the reason why they were so stiff all the time. Even the captain, who habitually displayed a taciturn demeanor, couldn’t help chuckling.

  For the first time, Amelia blushed because of a man. It was strange because she did not feel embarrassed – the feeling was something else – something unknown to her. She tried to stare the captain down, but she had no power over this man. He was a tower of self-confidence. It angered her that he had caught her out so.

  “Well, now that you have had your fun, might you do me the honor of introducing yourself?” It was all that came to Amelia’s mind.

  “SILENCE!” he shouted.

  The women shuddered at the power of the captain’s voice. In a heartbeat, the ship’s deck fell deathly silent. Amelia and Anna found themselves looking at the sailors all around them. They had turned from a rowdy mob into a collective displaying perfect discipline in less than a heartbeat.

  “Captain Jonathan Mitchell, at your service, ma’am.” He even managed a small bow.

  Amelia gulped. This man had such power over her. She had never felt such sensations before. They alternated between fluttering brush strokes against her insides and heady rushes of heat skirting the underside of her skin.

  It took all of her willpower to control herself. There is no need to be afraid of this man, she thought, completely misinterpreting her feelings. He is a despicable Yank and a traitor. She scanned the ship. Probably hal
f the men here are British subjects that betrayed their country. Amelia referred to the many desertions in the Royal Navy that had taken place since the beginning of the war in 1812.

  “What do you have in mind…with us…the crew?” asked Amelia, fearing her fate more and more as the minutes ticked by.

  “The crew has the choice to join the American Navy. Those that do not wish to do so shall be imprisoned for the duration of the war. And the officers will be treated as their rank suggests. Anything else?” Captain Mitchell’s eyes darkened.

  “I see…and what is to become of us?” Amelia indicated with her hand to Anna.

  “I don’t know yet.” With those words, Captain Mitchell turned on his heels and started to issue orders.

  The ship’s crew jutted into motion, running this way and that. Armed American crewmen began to shepherd the captives into groups, dividing those men that wished to join the American cause and those that preferred to remain loyal to the crown. Jake took Anna by the hand and walked over to Amelia. “You best come with me.”

  “Where to?” asked Amelia.

  “To the Triton…” Seeing her questioning gaze, Jake elaborated. “Our ship – now, come along.”

  “What about our things?”

  “They will be transported aboard for ye. Let’s be quick. The captain wants to get underway.”

  A cacophonous shout came from the direction of the Triton. It was Captain Mitchell again, bellowing orders. Amelia wondered how he had gotten aboard his ship so quickly.

  “He’s an impatient bastard, he is. But the finest man there is,” said Jake, hurrying them forward toward a gangplank that had been set up for the transportation of the booty.

  Chapter 7

  New Acquaintances

  En Route to the Chesapeake Bay, United States of America, December 1813

  There was a knock on the door to Captain Mitchell’s cabin. He looked up irritably from his thick leather-bound logbook.

  “COME!”

  The wooden door creaked open. It was Jake, his second in command. “We should make landfall on the morrow, Captain.”

  “Good, good.”

  Jonathan Mitchell did not feel the same happiness that every seafaring man would at the prospect of returning home. Despite starting off as it usually would, his voyage had taken on an entirely different turn.

  It had been successful, to say the least. After first running the coastal blockade put into place by the superior British fleet, the Triton had sailed to the Caribbean Sea to harass British interests there. He and his men had managed to capture four merchantmen – his share of the prize money would be substantial.

  But nothing like the prize he would get when the HMS Capricorn sailed into a US port. She was the veritable catch of the voyage. Jonathan’s share that consisted of one-quarter of the value of the seized vessels and their contents would be his. But that was not what was on his mind.

  The dark-haired angel that had serendipitously fallen into his lap clouded his mind. She was everywhere. When he slept, he dreamt of her. During the day when he was walking the deck and speaking encouraging words to his men, she was there also.

  At night, Amelia was a figment of his imagination that was so apparently real during the day. She hardly ever spoke to him, and when she did, she hurled insults at him. Jonathan had never known that he was so many things all at once. She had called him a traitor, cad, scoundrel, scallywag, rogue, thief and an abductor of women. And that was just to name a few.

  But no matter the abuse, he felt drawn to her in ways that he had never thought possible. She was beautiful, yes. Jonathan couldn’t get enough of her black hair that billowed in the breeze gently as if floating to heaven. Her face was a treasure map of delights. He would make an effort each day to get close enough to her so that he could uncover yet another enchanting aspect about her.

  These approaches invariably ended with her hurling abuse at him. Yet, it was worth it all the way. Just that morning, Jonathan had seen that she had slight indents on her cheeks when she laughed. Naturally, her mirth had ended the moment she had sensed his presence. But he also loved the way she looked when she was furious. There was something animalistic about her when she vented her passion about something.

  Jonathan only hoped that he could uncover more about her mind. In the past week, she had barely uttered a word during dinner. It was only thanks to Anna and Jake that there was some semblance of a conversation during supper. All Amelia did was scowl at him when he spoke. Why does she hate me so? This confused Jonathan immensely.

  “Captain, cook says that we will be having beef this evening.”

  Jonathan looked up with a withering gaze. “Isn’t that a little extravagant, Jake?”

  Jake shrugged. “We are close to home, and he thought it would be a good idea to slaughter a bullock or two in celebration of our successful voyage…I don’t see what the matter is with that. It’ll make the men happy.”

  “You don’t do you. Well, let me tell you something. The closer we get to the coast, the more dangerous it becomes for us. The Royal Navy is everywhere. All it would take is for one of their ships of the line accompanied by one of their faster razees to ensnare us. The bastards are gradually beating us at our own game.”

  Jonathan referred to the way the British had adapted their naval tactics since encountering the superior American frigate that was both faster and more powerful than its British counterpart. The American frigate could outgun the British one and out sail an eighty-nine-gun ship of the line, leaving the British helpless.

  However, they had developed a vessel called the razee that was formally a ship of the line, albeit cut down in terms of the number of decks (razeed). She was fast too. USS Chesapeake, a similar ship to Jonathan’s, had been captured recently. Instinctively, he knew that more would soon follow. America was just not powerful enough at sea to face the British.

  “I expected more from you, Jake. You have your head so far up that lady’s maid’s skirts that you don’t know starboard from portside anymore,” snapped Jonathan.

  Jake looked ashamed. “I am sorry, Captain. It will not happen again.” He made to leave the cabin.

  “Jake…” Jonathan fisted his hands.

  He was in the wrong and he knew it. Just because his friend was more successful with Anna, it did not mean that he was shirking his duties. On the contrary, Jake showed more enthusiasm than ever, if that was even possible.

  Jonathan could have pounded his desk with his fists. He was behaving like a stupid boy with his first crush. He had never been close to a woman before – he never wanted to. He didn’t know if he could because of the cruel way in which his mother had died. Jonathan had always considered love as a vulnerability. It opened a person’s heart thus weakening their resolve.

  Men like that always suffered and in the worst cases lost their lives. He had sworn that he would never be the man his father was. His father’s love had been so strong for his mother that he had thrown himself into the flames in an attempt to save his wife – he had died trying. Jonathan shuddered at the thought. War had ruined his childhood and hardened his nature.

  Jonathan pressed his lips together. He decided that he would stop fawning over Amelia. He would treat her cordially and with aloof respect. She was a very valuable bargaining chip after all. The woman would fetch him and his crew a pretty penny when she was ransomed to the British.

  “I am sorry, Jake,” he said before the other man had the chance to leave the cabin. “I was speaking out of turn. Serve beef – the men deserve it.”

  Jake wavered at the door for a moment or two. “Captain…”

  Jonathan looked back up from his logbook. “Yes?”

  Jake took a tentative step into the cabin. He knew of his friend’s moods from the many years they had worked and served together. Before the war, he had been the foreman on Jonathan’s estate in the State of Virginia. It was where he had grown up and where his father before him had occupied the same position under Jonathan’s father.


  Their friendship had developed out of scarcity. Jake was the only man Jonathan respected and appreciated. He had no other friends amongst his own kind that was the elite. He found them tedious, arrogant and cruel. In Jake’s case, he thought of the other foremen that frequented the taverns as barbaric. Jonathan and Jake were in some ways one and the same, albeit from different social classes.

  “May I speak plainly, Captain?”

  Jonathan frowned. “Why of course. Don’t you always.” He smiled for the first time since Jake entered the cabin.

  “All right, Jonathan,” he started, reverting to the way he addressed him when they were alone together. “You like her…”

  “Who?”

  Jake chuckled. “Amelia. I must say she is a beautiful woman. And might I add, an ideal counterweight to your strong personality.”