Addicted to the Duke
Page 6
“Agreed. Jacob will ensure we have the right crew.” Jacob was his sergeant at arms from his military days. The war with the Turks had forged a strong bond between the men. Now he worked as Alex’s captain on the Angelica.
“We also have a plan to persuade Fredrick neither of us have left England. It should take him a while to work out we have left, giving us the precious time we need to find the earl before his men do.”
Stephen thought for a moment. “Getting them back into England alive will take a great deal of skill and luck.”
“I didn’t have the heart to tell Hestia and her aunt that finding her father wasn’t the end of the matter. That’s all they think I have to do.”
Stephen for once wasn’t even interested in the ladies on the bed, who were putting on quite the show.
Alex added, “Although my ship, the Angelica, is well armed, I’m worried about being outgunned by whomever Fredrick sends after us should we find her father first. I’m sure he knows many of the pirates operating in the Mediterranean, or else his trade wouldn’t be so regular.”
“Ah, you want me to send my fleet with you. It’s in harbor at Portsmouth.”
That’s where he would rendezvous with the Angelica.
“We would not need nor want you to set sail for a few weeks at least. Unfortunately we have to find her father first. I shall pay you, of course.”
“Of course you’ll pay. You can start by paying for tonight.” He winked and nodded toward the ladies on the bed.
Alex glanced at them and for a moment got lost in the beautiful bodies entwined on the bed. He was not averse to bedding several women simultaneously, but after his ordeal in Turkey he could not abide another male being in the room at the same time.
“Thank you, Stephen. I understand what an imposition this is. No one must learn of our plans. I want to be ready to leave London in the morning. Shall we use the next hour to organize where we should meet? I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from your pleasures.”
“You know I’ve never liked Fredrick or the trade he indulges in. Exposing his dishonorable behavior is all the thanks I need.”
Alex nodded, not willing to discuss Fredrick’s trade. He knew the damage opium could do, but he also knew the release it could offer. His use was prescribed by Foxhall and only involved a dash of laudanum every now and then. He was always in control now; never again would he come under its thrall. He had weeks where he did not need any laudanum, but when the darkness came, it was the only thing to keep the nightmares at bay. Foxhall prescribed it to help him sleep, and it worked.
He shook his head to clear it. “I suggest you meet me in Mallorca around the end of September. If I’m not there within three weeks I’m likely not coming and Fredrick has won.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll ensure he doesn’t live to enjoy his title.”
“Don’t do anything that could ruin you,” Alex warned.
“There are many ways to kill a man like Fredrick that do not involve me directly. He has many enemies in his line of business.”
That was the one thing Alex had never done—trade in opium. He had never been the perfect son his father wanted, but at least his father died without knowing the depths he’d sunk to.
He might like to use laudanum every now and then, but he knew what becoming enthralled in the sweet release could do. A man would do anything to get his hands on opium—anything! He knew what he’d once sold to get more of the drug and it had cost him his soul.
“I will wait for you. Even come looking for you if I have to.” Stephen looked longingly at the bed. “Come, let’s enjoy what may be your last night in London. It’s hard to remain unmoved by the beauties cavorting so.”
“You stay and enjoy the ladies. I’m not really in the mood if I’m honest. I’m worried about Hestia and all I have to organize to get us safely out of England.”
“Us. You’re taking her with you?”
The shock in Stephen’s voice grated. “What else am I to do? Fredrick can kill her at any time. Did I not mention that she inherits the money? Fredrick gets a title and the estate.”
“Christ. If you are worried, let me guess. If she dies he gets the money too?”
Alex nodded. “She’s safest with me.”
“She’s safer with you as her husband. It takes away Fredrick’s incentive for her to die.”
Stephen’s words jolted him. He was right
How did a man like him offer marriage to a woman of such goodness? Would he corrupt Hestia and bring her down to his level? He could not bear that. “I’m not looking for a wife.”
Stephen’s smile fled along with his gaiety. “We will both have to marry someday.”
“Not I. I have two brothers. Besides, I see no point. I’ve never fathered a child. I’m not sure I can.” While he had been careful with his many conquests, a man couldn’t be childless, not when he’d slept with the same woman for almost two years. He’d had a woman in Turkey while he was held captive.
Stephen looked at the women on the bed. “I try to be careful; the ladies I spend time with are well versed on how to protect themselves from getting with child. Perhaps both of us have merely been lucky.”
“I was in no condition to be careful in Turkey and I was with Tulay. Neither of us were careful but there was no child.”
“It could have been her.”
Alex swallowed hard. “The odds are not good. Anyway it does not matter. I don’t wish to ever marry.”
Stephen did not offer any opinion. He merely shrugged. “It is none of my business.”
Alex turned the conversation back to safer ground. “I wish I could simply challenge Fredrick to a duel, but if I kill him I’ll be exiled, and then who will help Lady Hestia? Better if we simply expose him for the conniving bastard he is.”
“I’m not sure what the earl will do when he hears what Fredrick has been up to. Hestia’s father is without issue. Fredrick is last in the Cary line.”
“True.” Alex drank his glass of brandy and tried to ignore the sounds emanating from the bed. “I shall leave you to your pleasure. Shall I take Edith with me or…?”
Stephen stood and began to remove his jacket. “No. I feel invigorated now that we have a plan to squash Fredrick. In fact, I’m going to sail with my fleet and be there when we ruin the bastard.”
Alex stopped at the door. “No one must know. Stephen, the longer we fool Fredrick the better. It’s not only the earl I’m worried about, it’s Hestia.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.”
Stephen merely grinned and began disrobing as Alex slipped out of the door.
Chapter 5
Alex smiled and bid the ladies an enjoyable night before heading out of the club.
He had to hope that returning to his estate with Hestia disguised as a man, while her maid impersonated the grieving daughter, and with Stephen staying in London until needed, would pacify Fredrick’s suspicions long enough to get ahead of any warning he might send to his men. Alex’s ship was large, and with extra sail, making it fast. But often large and fast did not outrun smaller and speedier ships, especially if they already had a head start.
Hestia would be on his ship again, and this time their enemy would likely chase them all the way to and from the Mediterranean. Danger would be ever present. The other difference was, this time she was a beautifully stunning grown woman on a ship with hardened sailors. Not a good mix.
On the carriage ride to his London residence he began planning ahead. Hestia was in danger, and he also worried what her father would think about him dragging her all the way to the Mediterranean again.
Four years ago she’d been but a child, six and ten, and dressed as a young lad so most of his men had left her well alone. Hestia had rebounded well from her treatment at the hands of Murad. She’d refused to wallow in embarrassment or self-pity. She’d helped on the ship considerably, repairing the sailors’ clothes, tending to their small scratches and wounds, and between those self-impose
d chores, he remembered with a wry smile, she’d followed him like a small, obedient puppy. His men teased him about her hero worship, and he’d felt flattered.
His smile faded.
Arriving back in England and handing her over to her father had brought him back to reality with a crash.
The Earl of Pembroke immediately saw the infatuation glowing in his daughter’s eyes. Unfortunately, he also knew Alex’s sordid history, having saved him from the clutches of Murad and the drug-induced haze he’d lived in for almost two years. The earl also knew what Alex had done while in captivity and how he struggled with his love for the opium pipe.
Alex shuddered in the warm night air as he walked up his front steps. He’d never forgotten the embarrassing meeting he’d had with the earl on Hestia’s nineteenth birthday.
“She’s not for you, Alex.”
Alex had tried to deny he’d known what his lordship meant. “Who, sir?”
Her father had placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “You know I think of you as the son I never had. You think you owe me, but you don’t. Our cards were squared when you returned Hestia to me. I owe you so much.”
With a growl Alex said, “You owe me nothing. I owe you my life.”
“Not true, son. Hestia means the world to me. She’s the only truly good thing that came out of my marriage.” He paused and looked into Alex’s eyes. “And I know you care for her.”
Alex had returned his stare without any comment, pain welling in his chest at what he knew was coming.
“If you do care for her, you will discourage this infatuation. If I thought for one moment you’d conquered your demons, I’d not hesitate to approve a match. But can you look me in the eye and tell me that your nightmares are under control? That it’s dead and buried—conquered? That you’d never in a million years hurt her?”
Alex had closed his eyes, hating himself. He stood paralyzed, his mind refusing to acknowledge the earl’s words, but in his soul, Alex knew he could never take Hestia into his world. He had never felt more of a failure.
His lordship hadn’t held back, his words slicing through his heart like a knife. “How you live your life is your own affair, but I know you are honorable, and I am pleading with you not to encourage my daughter. Promise me you’ll leave her alone.”
Alex had run his hand through his hair, overcome with self-loathing, and nodded. “I swear to you I’ll not encourage her.” He admitted that it was for the best. A lump of despair rose in his throat as he promised the earl he’d leave Hestia alone.
He was too flawed. Too imperfect.
And in the earl’s eyes, nothing had changed since then. Yet Alex had not smoked opium for almost two years. Since the year his father died.
His mouth firmed. He’d find her father and bring them safely back to England. Then he would have repaid his debt to the earl. More important, he could also seek revenge. Murad, if he was still alive, would pay for what he did to Alex.
He dismissed his valet and shrugged out of his jacket. He poured himself another brandy from the decanter by his bed and walked to the window.
He would admit to no one, much less himself, that he too was afraid. Not that he’d succumb to temptation, but afraid to face Murad. If Murad captured him, he did not have to worry about being turned into an opium lover again—Murad would simply kill him. Then who would protect Hestia and her father?
The worse scenario would be that Murad might tell Hestia his dirty, disgusting secrets. She’d be sickened if she knew what he’d done, and with whom, just to get more of the sweet mind-alleviating smoke.
With a sigh he turned from the window and walked to the writing desk. After pulling out a sheet of paper, he began a note to Jacob. The Angelica was docked at Great Yarmouth; he told his captain to ready her for a voyage to the Mediterranean and to pick him up in Portsmouth in a few days. He’d arranged for one of his trusted servants to deliver the note by horseback.
Alex drained his drink, and rather than sleep he rolled up his sleeves and made his way down to his study. He needed to ensure the estate business was well in hand before disappearing for a few months. He also had to send his apologies to Lord North for his absence. Lord North was expecting his support on a couple of votes likely to occur in the House of Lords while he was away.
As the sun began to rise he finished his last missive and wearily made his way upstairs to change into his riding gear.
Riding hard, he and Hestia could make Bracken Park, his estate near Bedford, by nightfall. Then they would wait until the next night and try to sneak away. It would take three days to reach Portsmouth on horseback, and he worried it might be longer if Hestia couldn’t keep up. To his mind it would be well on a week before they set sail. He hoped the Angelica could make up time on the seas. Fredrick likely sent his men back to the Mediterranean the day he arrived in England with the body. Plus his trading network in the Mediterranean would likely be looking for the earl too.
He hoped Hestia was not getting her hopes up. His driving need for this trip was to kill Murad. Her father could be dead by the time they arrived in Greece. If the earl was dead, then Hestia needed to marry immediately or she’d be Fredrick’s next target.
Thank goodness she was strong both mentally and physically. She had a stronger constitution than some men he knew.
Her treatment at the hands of Murad proved how resilient she was. But she’d been younger, and the young tended to recover quickly.
Hestia was a woman now, and to his horror his tired body quickened at the vision of womanhood she’d blossomed into.
He ruthlessly pushed his desire aside.
His mission would take all his skill and concentration. He had dangerous enemies in Greece and Turkey, plus if Fredrick guessed their plans…
Staying alive, keeping Hestia alive, meant he had to crush this obsession with her.
As he made his way downstairs to the stable it crossed his mind that the only thing he wanted to crush was her naked body against his.
Chapter 6
Exactly four days after their departure from London, they arrived safely yet exhausted in Portsmouth. Hestia deserved a medal for braving the discomfort. Yet excitement was doing a good job of trying to drive out her tiredness. Each nerve ending was screaming to be rubbed with kindness. However, the fact she would barely be able to sit for a week could not be ignored. She wanted to get to her cabin and stay in it for a week.
With the light from the many lanterns of each ship showering the port, she lifted her head and took in the humongous vessel in front of her. The magnificent seventy-four-gun ship dominated the docks. She read the ship’s name painted near the jib and smiled. It was aptly named the Angelica, like an angel—an avenging angel to be precise. It dwarfed the other ships also at anchor; it was as big as a floating castle. This wasn’t the vessel she’d been on before. It was far bigger and it bristled with deadly armaments. With a frown she thought they looked as if they were going to war.
There was movement on the deck. Men scurried like tiny ants over the two-hundred-foot hull with its double gun decks and intricate network of rigging that supported the three towering masts.
“Prepared for trouble I see,” she told Alex, who’d halted his steed by her side.
“You know better than anyone the pirates at work in the Mediterranean. If your father is in trouble, I thought it best to be prepared. Those waters are dangerous. I’m not taking any chances.”
A shiver danced like ice-cold rain over her skin.
“Let me help you down,” Alex said as he swung from his stallion as if their four-day journey had only been to the nearest village and back. She hated how he looked so fresh and relaxed, while she felt as if she’d been trampled by a herd of bulls. Bloody big bulls.
Too tired to care if she gave herself away, she simply let him lift her off the horse, and as she slid down the hard length of him, not even the feel of that muscled body could rouse anything other than gratitude for the fact he was holding her up.
“I shall try,” she said, the words themselves an effort. With that she let go of his shoulders and took one ginger step. Her bottom burned from saddle sores and her legs felt like they would give way at any moment. And then they did, and she dropped to her knees.
“Jacob,” Alex yelled. A man raced down the gangplank. “Send the lad to take care of the horses while I help Mr. Appleton on board. He’s had too much to drink.” His words were obviously a story for those listening.
“I’m not sure I can act drunk,” she whispered back.
“You’re doing a fine job of it. Just lean on me.” With that he pulled her to her feet, wrapped a strong, dependable arm around her waist, draped one of her arms over his shoulder, and half dragged, half carried her onto the ship.
As soon as her foot hit the solid planks of the deck, memories flooded her and tears sprang to her eyes. Her exhaustion fed her emotions and she hated how weak and fearful she felt.
She couldn’t quite believe she’d agreed to this journey. Lady Hestia Cary was about to set sail on the high seas with the Duke of Bedford to the one place that held terrible memories for both of them. Sometimes her father’s selfishness left little room in her heart for love.
Even in her exhausted state that thought was unfair, because her father had no idea what Fredrick had done. She just wished that for once she would matter to him—or to anyone besides her aunt. Since her mother died, Aunt Eliza was the only person who cared what happened to her.
Her aunt loved her, she was sure of that, but that was partly because Eliza had no one else. Hestia wanted to marry for love, but she prayed she would not end up like her aunt—all alone. Spending her life alone scared her even more than never finding love. Over the last twelve months she began to understand why her mother agreed to wed her father even when her mother was wealthy in her own right and they did not suit.