“I am afraid that I gave her little choice, Sir Jacob. Once I gazed into those violet eyes, I could not rest until I had made her mine,” Dante said, much to Rhea’s embarrassment.
“A real beauty, lad. Love him, girl?” Sir Jacob demanded, his beetling brows lowering over those bright blue eyes that seemed to miss nothing.
“With all my heart, Sir Jacob,” Rhea answered without being at all coy, much to Sir Jacob’s delight.
“Ah, a fine woman you’ve got, Dante,” he said. His bony fingers held Rhea’s chin tilted up to the light so he could examine her face. “Too pretty, boy. You’ll have to keep her with child if you intend to keep her by your side,” he said with a sly glance at Dante.
“I already have,” Dante admitted. Rhea would have sworn that even he was slightly embarrassed by the old man’s blunt talk, especially when Dante glanced over toward an old woman sitting in one of the winged chairs close to the window, where the light shone on her embroidery.
Sir Jacob caught Dante’s meaningful glance and waved his hands dismissingly. “Don’t be mindin’ Essie, she’s half deaf, won’t hear a word we say. Don’t suppose she even knows we’re here. She’s always falling asleep this time of the day. Comes in here to do a bit of sewing and ends up snoring,” he said with a loud guffaw which seemed to prove his point, for the little lady sitting so demurely in the chair didn’t move. Then, her nodding head, its white curls covered by a finely starched mobcap, dropped lower as she dozed.
“Who is Essie?” Dante asked quietly.
“My cousin. Or is she my niece?” Sir Jacob asked himself, a puzzled frown on his finely wrinkled brow. “Gettin’ so old I can’t remember anymore. Well, whatever, she’s a harmless old biddy. Now, who are these young gentlemen here?” he demanded, leveling that hawkish gaze on Francis and Alastair.
“Sir Jacob, this is Alastair Marlowe, my good friend and a former member of my crew aboard the Sea Dragon. And this young gentleman is Francis Dominick, Lord Chardinall, my brother-in-law,” Dante made the introductions.
“A pleasure, Sir Jacob,” Francis and Alastair said simultaneously.
“And a pleasure it is to be meeting you both,” Sir Jacob said, pumping their hands. “Dominick? Know the name. Any relation to Lucien Dominick? Used to see him in London when I went calling on the duchess. Thought there for a while that me and Merton were going to have to call each other out, both of us courting Her Grace like we were, and both being hot-blooded. Then she called us both fools, and that was the end of it.” He laughed. “You’ve got the look of her, girl. Any kin to you?”
“She was my great-grandmother,” Rhea responded quietly. She could hardly wait to write her father about this old reprobate.
“Well, imagine that,” he said, shaking his head. “Great?” he added with another shake of his head as he realized just how young Dante’s wife was. “Lord, but I’m gettin’ old. Ah, here’s Oliver with tea. There’d better be a bit of brandy for Lord Jacqobi, Oliver,” Sir Jacob questioned, but the butler wasn’t fooled.
“Indeed, Sir Jacob, and I brought along your medicine too,” the officious Oliver added with a stern glance. “You know what the doctor said about taking it every day.”
“Bah, he’s a fool if there ever was one. Why, I was considered old even before he was born. Reckon those extra years have added to my intelligence, and I oughta damn well know by now what’s best for me,” Sir Jacob snorted, winking at Francis. “A glass of brandy a day, that’s what did it. ’Tis good advice, young fella, and if you follow it, why, you might live to be as old and smart as I am,” he said with a laugh, which was a horrifying thought for a lad who had yet to reach his twentieth birthday.
“Come, come. Sit down, now. Over here, we’ll leave Essie to her napping. Doesn’t have much to say anyway. Not so far away from me, girl. My eyesight is one thing that’s let me down. But then, it never was very good,” he said with a grin, then frowned when he saw the amount of brandy in his glass. “I’m going to get rid of you one of these days, Oliver,” Sir Jacob warned the butler, who looked almost as old as his employer.
“Indeed, sir, whatever you think best,” was Oliver’s unruffled response. Dante could remember hearing that very same threat when he’d come to see Sir Jacob years before. He shook his head. Some things never changed.
Rhea sat down between Francis and Alastair on the sofa, facing the room, while Dante settled into a winged chair positioned at an angle next to the one Sir Jacob was lowering his thin body into, the tray with the brandy close to his elbow.
“Now, I want to hear about everything. I do not want you to leave one single thing out about what has happened to you during all the time you were away. You told me precious little in those brief, businesslike letters of yours through the years,” Sir Jacob complained. “Want to hear about pirates and some of your exploits at sea, boy. The bloodier the better, eh?” he said, picking up his now empty brandy glass and casting an accusatory eye on an innocent Francis before generously refilling it. “Now, what was I saying?” Sir Jacob questioned, tapping his fingers impatiently on his knee.
“You were complaining about Dante’s correspondence with you throughout the years,” Rhea reminded him gently and sent Francis a warning glance.
“Oh? Ah, yes. Fine piece of business, that. Eh, Dante? Reckon Miles will be fit to be tied when he discovers you bought back all the Leighton lands he stole from you,” Sir Jacob said with a wicked grin. “Enjoyed helping you, boy. Yes, sir, a real pleasure, that,” he said, rubbing his hands together just like some smug villain eyeing his stolen booty.
Rhea’s questioning eyes met Dante’s smiling gaze. “Sir Jacob was my surrogate. He made all the arrangements for the purchase of my lands. Did Miles ever become suspicious?” Dante wanted to know.
“No. Too smart for him. Sometimes I dealt with him directly; other times, when I thought he might wonder why I wanted so much land, I got some of my friends to purchase it, then bought it from them. Miles was too busy worrying about trying to keep Wolfingwold to be worrying about any plots I might be hatching right under his nose. Heard that Miles lost quite a bit of money, nearly went bankrupt, he did. Don’t suppose he would have sold the land otherwise. Just like him to hold on to it for spite.”
“That was certainly a stroke of luck,” Francis commented, missing the exchange of glances between Dante and Sir Jacob. Both of them knew that Miles had lost his money in several schemes of Dante’s which had been falsely represented to Miles, and which established the need for Miles to sell the Leighton land he had held on to for so long.
Dante coughed, clearing his throat as he said, “I understand that there were several other people who became involved in Sir Miles’s business ventures and suffered staggering losses themselves. I want you to know that I feel a responsibility to make good those losses,” Dante startled Sir Jacob by declaring.
But Sir Jacob snorted. “No need, boy. No need. Warned them, I did. Quietly, of course, so as not to raise Sir Miles’s suspicions. Thought I should, especially seeing how you had warned me against investing in that West Indies plantation, and in the bank, but some of them wouldn’t listen. Thought me a foolish old man. Well, by God, I proved them wrong,” he said with a satisfied grin. “Was it Harry Seacombe you were thinking about?” Sir Jacob demanded. “Harry was always a fool. Thought he knew best. Reckon he deserved what he got,” was the old gentleman’s unsympathetic comment. “I warned him personally not to invest, but he went right ahead and gambled his savings. Listened to Sir Miles’s advice and not mine. You don’t need to be feeling guilty about Harry or his family,” Sir Jacob told Dante.
“Harry Seacombe?” Rhea questioned.
“Aye, Bess’s late husband. I wrote to you that he had died, didn’t I?” Sir Jacob demanded of Dante, then glanced back at Rhea. “Don’t reckon it would have mattered at all seeing what you brought home with you, boy. Don’t reckon Bess would’ve had a cha
nce, if that’s what she was hoping.”
“Bess Seacombe is Sir Jacob’s granddaughter,” Dante explained to Rhea. She understood now how Dante had known so many things about the happenings in Westlea Abbot and Merleigh. Sir Jacob Weare had kept him informed all these years. Rhea wondered how many questions Dante had asked in his letters about his former fiancée. Had he ever entertained the thought of a reconciliation with her?
“How are things between you and Bess?” Dante asked.
Sir Jacob shrugged. “Not much different than they always have been. She never would listen to me. Hardheaded female, if you ask me, and she has gotten what she deserved.”
“She is too much like you, Sir Jacob,” Dante contradicted him. “You have always adored her, and part of her problem was that you spoiled her.”
Sir Jacob stared hard at the younger man. “Aye, perhaps I’m to blame. And maybe she has suffered for her mistakes,” he said. Then, glancing at Rhea’s golden hair, which seemed aflame with the sun shining on it, he added, “And I imagine she will be beside herself once she catches sight of your wife.” Sir Jacob spoke wisely, for he knew his Bess.
“She has already met Rhea,” Dante said.
“Oh? Didn’t waste any time, eh?” He chuckled. “Hotfooted it over to Merdraco, I’ll wager. Had a good excuse on her tongue too, I’ll bet.”
“We also met your two great-grandchildren,” Dante told him.
“Oh? Don’t get to see them as much as I would wish. May have to change that. The girl, what’s her name? Pretty little creature, eh? Looks a lot like Bessie when she was that age. Going to be a real beauty one of these days. I’ll have to see that she gets a good dowry. Can’t have one of mine going around in rags, and she won’t make a good match otherwise. What’s the lad like?” Sir Jacob wanted to know, and apparently he was indeed interested in Bess’s children as well as Bess, for his next question was, “And how did Bess look? Not ill or anything, is she? Looked a bit haggard last time I saw her,” he said, a remark which would have annoyed Bess no end.
“The girl’s name was Anne, and the boy is Charles,” Rhea said, surprising not only Sir Jacob but Dante as well. “Anne is a very lovely girl. The boy seems rather quiet. I don’t believe he said a word while he was at the lodge.”
“Knew it! That lad needs a man around to teach him proper. That Bess will spoil him. Run his life, she will, unless that girl gets herself another man who’s willing to take the boy under his wing,” Sir Jacob said unhappily, thinking it was a pity that Dante had wed. Privately, he had thought that there might still be a chance for Bess when Dante returned. And Dante certainly would have shaped up young Charles. Aye, ’twas a pity, for Bess needed a man too, and Dante had certainly become one, Sir Jacob decided with a nod of approval. But as he eyed Rhea Claire, he shook his head. Ol’ Bessie wouldn’t have had a chance at all, no, sir.
“I thought Lady Bess was one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen,” Rhea admitted generously, swallowing her resentment of the other woman and the influence she probably had over Dante because of their previous relationship. Even if it had been over for years, Rhea knew the power of a first, all-consuming love. That was the way she felt about Dante, for he had been her first lover. But it must surely be different for Dante because she was not the first woman he ever had loved.
Francis glanced at Rhea, thinking she was too kind for her own good. He hadn’t met this Lady Bess, but he hardly thought a former fiancée and the woman she had lost out to usually got along. But then, Rhea was different, and if she decided she liked Bess Seacombe, then nothing bad would be said of the woman in her presence.
“If you like, Dante, we could invite Charles over to play with Conny and Robin. They are of a similar age,” Rhea suggested.
“Who?” Sir Jacob demanded. “Never heard those names before. You got sons, boy?” Sir Jacob asked, his gaze narrowing as he looked at Dante sitting there so calmly, sipping brandy.
“A son. But Robin is Lord Robin Dominick, Rhea’s young brother. And Conny is Constantine Magnus Brady—at least I think that is correct.” Dante glanced at Rhea doubtfully.
“Constantine Magnus Tyrone Brady,” Rhea corrected him.
“Ah, yes, a name almost longer than he is tall,” Dante said with a grin. “He is my ward, and the former cabin boy aboard the Sea Dragon. He was orphaned at a young age and has been aboard my ship since he was about six. I’m beginning to think that we have done Devonshire a disservice by ever allowing those two to put their heads together.”
“Mischievous, eh?” Sir Jacob said with an appreciative chuckle.
“Alastair and Kirby had to rescue them from a pack of village boys yesterday when we were in Merleigh,” Rhea said with a smile of remembrance. Kirby had complained all the way back to Merdraco about the rotten tomato that had splattered his breeches.
Sir Jacob suddenly looked concerned. “Good Lord, you didn’t bring them with you, did you?” he demanded.
“No, we left them at the lodge. They wanted to do some exploring, but now that I think of it, I fear we may have made a big mistake. I only hope Kirby can keep them out of trouble,” Dante said.
“I thought I heard you mention the name of that little bandy-legged salty-tongued valet of yours. Been with you all this time, eh? Don’t know why you’ve put up with him all these years. Always was an irritable little man,” Sir Jacob reminisced good-naturedly.
“He’s always been by my side. He stood by me when I didn’t deserve it, and he’s stayed through all the bad times, even when he must have thought he would get blown to pieces. But stay he did. I really don’t know what I’d do without Kirby,” Dante admitted.
“Aye, reckon you can’t buy loyalty like that,” Sir Jacob agreed, then slapped his knee, surprising Alastair into nearly spilling his brandy. “A son? What’s this? Are you a father?” Sir Jacob demanded, glancing between Rhea and Dante. “Ah, why, you sly devil. No wonder you’re sitting there so calmly while that handsome gent sits next to your wife,” Sir Jacob pronounced, causing Alastair much discomfort as the captain’s pale-eyed stare centered on him for a moment.
“Christopher Dominick Leighton was born in March, at Camareigh, and is the most beautiful son a man could have. But then, his mother is the most beautiful wife a husband could wish for,” Dante said, bringing a rosy blush to Rhea’s cheeks.
Sir Jacob laughed deeply. “Oh, you haven’t changed at all. Still a sweet talker with the ladies. Not surprised at all that you’ve got a son, only surprised that you haven’t more of them hanging on to your coattails,” he said, laughing heartily at his own quip.
“Only this lady,” Dante corrected him. “And only a son by her,” Dante said, gazing ardently at Rhea.
“A love match!” Sir Jacob exclaimed. “Excellent! Excellent! Does this old heart of mine good,” he said. “So you didn’t marry the lass for her dowry. Seeing how much money you’ve spent on getting back your land, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be left with much, Dante,” Sir Jacob asked, his former jocularity disappearing. “’Twill not be easy, my boy. I’ve been hearing some shocking things about Merdraco. You know if you need any help at all, I’ll be more than willing to assist you. Would’ve helped Bess, but she’s too damned proud to ask, much less accept anything I might offer. Don’t be the same, boy. I’ve got plenty of money, and I don’t have all that much time left to be spending it,” Sir Jacob offered.
“Thank you, Jacob,” Dante replied, touched. “But you may keep your money, and I hope you have many more years to spend it in. I am quite well off. I had the good fortune to discover a sunken treasure, which, after dividing it with my crew, left me a very wealthy man. I have already let it be known that I shall be hiring men to work at Merdraco.”
“Oh? And how did that go?” Sir Jacob asked suspiciously.
“Better than I thought, Sir Jacob,” Dante told him. “It would seem there are quite a few men around
these parts who are willing to put in a day’s work. Most of them seem to think working for me might be better than continuing with their…former employer.”
Sir Jacob scratched his chin, eyeing Dante carefully. “Reckon you be speaking of Jack Shelby?” he asked, and at Dante’s nod, he continued gravely, “The man’s no good, Dante. And he’s gotten meaner and madder as the years have passed. He still blames you, boy, for Lettie’s death. He won’t rest easy once he finds out you’ve returned to Merdraco. It has me worried, lad, that it does,” he said in a grieved voice. His gaze was troubled when it lingered on Rhea.
“He already knows I have returned. In fact, we have already come face-to-face, and I am afraid that I did not endear myself to him,” Dante admitted. “If it is the last thing I do, I shall make him pay for the destruction he wrought at Merdraco.”
Sir Jacob shook his head and sighed. “He’s a powerful man, Dante. You know he’s the leader of the Sons of Belial? He’s got a gang of cutthroats standing behind him, and it causes me no end of concern to hear you talking about going after him.”
“It is either that or have Shelby strike a blow against me when I am least expecting it. I have no intention of letting him do that,” Dante was saying when the door to the salon opened to admit Oliver with a fresh pot of tea.
At about that time, the old woman started mumbling as she woke from her nap. With a slowness that was painful to watch, she got to her feet. Without even being aware of the group sitting just beyond her, she started to make her shuffling way to the door. About halfway there she dropped her embroidery. Before Oliver could make a move to assist her, for he was filling the teapot with boiling water, Dante had gotten to his feet and was at the woman’s side, the embroidery in his hand.
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