by Merry Farmer
“I have no family,” Lady Malvis said, a sudden, deep sadness hanging over her.
“And what do I care for English landholdings when so much adventure awaits?” Lord Ainsley answered, much more cheerfully.
“I’ve told Lord Killian to put about the report that we were lost at sea,” Lady Malvis went on. “I don’t want anything to do with my former life anymore.”
“And I only want what my angel wants,” Lord Ainsley said, sliding his arm around Lady Malvis’s waist. “And Bernard, of course. He can have his way with me anytime he’d like.”
Martin’s brow flew up and he exchanged a baffled look with Lettuce.
“Well, if that’s what you want,” Lettuce said with a mystified shrug.
Rayburn marched up to join their group and said, “I’ll keep an eye on them, Captain.” He winked.
Martin shrugged. “Then the ships are yours.” He could use the profits from their sale to further establish his new lift. And he felt marginally better knowing that an experienced sailor like Rayburn would be there to help Lady Malvis and Lord Ainsley in their endeavor. He had the feeling that if Rayburn stayed aboard, most of the rest of the crew would as well.
With that settled, all that remained was to pack his and Lettuce’s things and to be rowed to shore. It felt strangely exciting to step foot on land, knowing he would be there for a while.
“Are you certain this is what you want?” he asked, gazing around at the busy port, people of all descriptions running here and there, causing a din that underscored all the differences of the life he was about to start from the life he had been living.
“Yes,” she said, taking his arm and beaming up at him. She hadn’t found women’s clothing to change into, but with the motley group of people on the dock, few seemed to care. “I am absolutely certain.”
“Then we should start by finding a priest,” he said, hugging her arm tight and walking on. “And then a home.”
“My home is wherever you are,” she said, smiling up at him. “I love you.”
“And I love you,” he said, walking on into the life he’d always wanted.
Epilogue
The best part of living in the tropics, as far as Letty was concerned, was winter. She smiled broadly, leaned back in the settee that had been set up on the porch of her and Martin’s townhouse, rubbing a hand over her round belly.
“I think I will be perfectly happy never to endure winter again,” she said with a contented sigh, glancing across the low tea table to her sisters.
“So will I,” Imogen hummed, patting her own stomach. “Thaddeus and I will be forever grateful to you for opening your home to us.”
“You’re our family now,” Martin said from the far end of the porch, where he, Imogen’s husband, Thaddeus, and Alice’s husband, Count Fabian Camoni, sat against the railing, glancing out over the sea and discussing whatever adventures men liked to talk about when they were together. “All of you are welcome to stay with us for as long as possible.”
“Cheers,” Thaddeus said, raising his glass of rum in salute. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer. Now, tell me more about this shipping empire you’ve begun.”
“It’s designed to strictly trade in goods not produced with slave labor,” Martin told him, returning to their conversation.
“Do you think his endeavor will work?” Alice asked as she worked diligently with glue and bookbinder’s linen to fasten all three parts of The Secrets of Love back together on one side of the tea table. She glanced up at Letty. “It seems as though everything in this part of the world is dependent on slave labor.”
Letty frowned for a moment, resting her hand on her belly as her babe kicked. “Slavery cannot last forever. Not when there is such condemnation of it. I believe men like Martin will lead the way into a new, better world.”
“I pray that it will be so,” Imogen said. Her smile returned and she shifted in her seat, finding a more comfortable position. “Have any of you heard anything from Father?”
“Not a word,” Letty laughed. “I am quite certain he believes me dead.”
“He does,” Alice said, sharing her laugh. “And to him, Imogen might as well be.”
“So he’s written to you?” Imogen asked, blinking.
Alice shook her head and blew on the spine of the book to dry the glue. “He wrote to Fabian shortly after we returned to Aegiria.”
“The bastard wanted money, no doubt,” Letty said, delighting in the fact that she could curse like a pirate in front of her sisters and they wouldn’t mind.
“Of course, he wanted money,” Alice said with a smirk. “And he was immediately informed that he wouldn’t get any.”
“Good for you,” Imogen said. “Now, let’s speak of more interesting things. What is this I hear of the new scourge of the Caribbean Sea? The dread pirate Malvis?”
Letty laughed so loud the men glanced over from their conversation. “By all reports, Lady Malvis and Lord Ainsley have proven quite a success on the high seas.”
“They’re a menace,” Martin added, coming to stand behind Letty’s settee and resting his hands on her shoulders. “Rayburn sends me regular reports. They harry any ship they come across and take far too many risks.”
“But they’ve become rich several times over,” Letty reminded him.
Martin hummed, his expression showing that he didn’t entirely approve.
“Come now,” Letty scolded him with a look. “You were a pirate once yourself. And the last I heard, Malvis and Ainsley had convinced Rayburn to make an attempt to circumnavigate the world.”
“Really?” Imogen blinked in surprise. “Will they do it?”
“I’m certain they will,” Letty said.
“They truly are believed to be dead,” Fabian said, sliding onto the sofa with Alice. “Ainsley’s title and lands have already been bestowed on a cousin.”
“I don’t think he’d mind,” Letty said.
“How do people know they’re dead?” Imogen asked with a frown.
“Lord Killian testified before a committee,” Fabian said, then frowned. “Though if you ask me, something strange is going on with him as well.”
“Strange?” Letty shook her head slightly. “What do you mean? I found Lord Killian to be honorable and sensible and not at all strange.”
“He returned to England after the ill-fated journey with an infant, a baby boy,” Fabian said. “He claimed to have been married on the ship and that his wife died giving birth.”
Letty’s brow shot up. “He was not married when I knew him.”
“It’s been a year,” Alice argued. “He could have married and sired a child within that time.”
“He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to marry or attached to any woman in particular at all, though,” Letty said, then bit her lip. Something must have happened. There had to have been some story attached to Lord Benedict Killian that she had yet to learn of. But there would be time for that later.
Martin came around to sit beside her on the settee, shifting Letty into his arms. “Enough about that time and those people,” he said, resting his hands on Letty’s belly. “I only want to think about the future now.”
“Yes,” Alice agreed, setting the repaired book down with a sigh. “Now that the two of you are well on your way to building your families, I suppose I should announce that Fabian and I are about to start ours.”
Sounds of delight rose up from all present.
“Alice, that’s wonderful,” Letty said, reaching across to squeeze her sister’s hand.
“I rather think so,” Alice said, beaming.
“It looks as though The Secrets of Love has steered us all in the right direction after all,” Imogen said.
“Many thanks to Caroline Herrington for planting the book at the house party and to Rani Ophelia Khan—I still can’t believe our dear friend is an Indian princess now—for giving us the key,” Alice said.
“Everything has turned out exactly as it should,” Letty said
, smiling up at Martin.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied, underscoring his words with a kiss.
I hope you’ve enjoyed Letty & Martin’s story! Huzzah for all three of the Marlowe sisters being saved!
If you’ve missed Imogen or Alice’s story, don’t worry, you can go back and read them. Just look for The Faithful Siren and The Holiday Hussy, which is currently part of the Once Upon a Christmas Wedding box set.
They’ll all be available individually soon. And what about Lord Benedict Killian? Are you wondering what happened to him? You’ll be able to find out this spring in The Substitute Lover.
To find out when The Substitute Lover and other books by Merry Farmer are released, please come join Merry Farmer’s Readers Group, on Facebook.
About Merry Farmer
Merry Farmer lives in suburban Philadelphia with her two cats, Torpedo, her grumpy old man, and Justine, the bouncy new baby. She has been writing since she was ten years old and realized she didn't have to wait for the teacher to assign a creative writing project to write something. It was the best day of her life.
Her books have reached the top of Amazon's charts, and have been named finalists for several prestigious awards, including the RONE Award for indie romance.
Browse other gorgeous books from Merry, including more in this series, on Amazon
Visit Merry’s website to sign up for her newsletter
Join Merry’s Facebook group
Follow Merry
On Bookbub
On Amazon
The Lady and the Privateer
by Amy Rose Bennett
Chapter 1
Somewhere off the coast of Mauritius…
June, 1816
At the age of seven-and-twenty, Lady Calliope Banks had never quite worked out why she, out of all the members of her vast, extended family, should be the current bearer of the ‘Winthrop Family Curse’. Whether it was real or imagined, her dearly departed papa, the Earl of Winthrop, had apparently been burdened with it, and had supposedly died because of it, nearly a decade ago when he’d walked into the path of a runaway carriage outside a London gaming hell one dark and rainy night. So surely logic would dictate that the new Lord Winthrop—a distant cousin—who’d inherited the title and the estate, should be the recipient of the curse too.
But no, the entire Banks family had decided around the time of Calliope’s disastrous London debut, that she—or Lady Calamity Banks as many of the ton had subsequently dubbed her—was now the ill-fated one. The family’s albatross. Indeed, Calliope had owned for some time that bad luck did appear to dog her heels, but she’d always reasoned that being a trifle unlucky was not the same as being ‘cursed’. However, right at this particular moment—clinging to the railing of a sinking ship in the midst of a storm as a pirate vessel befittingly named the Orpheus loomed ominously close by—Calliope was grudgingly willing to concede at long last that perhaps her family might be right after all.
Blinking against the lashing rain and pummeling wind, she managed to cast a sideways glance in the direction of her silver-haired uncle, Dr. Theophilus Bell, Oxford scholar and renowned ornithologist and zoologist. He was also currently clutching the railing of the listing merchant vessel, the Vestal, with a white-knuckled grip.
“We’ll be all right, Peewee,” he called over the roar of the tempest and crashing waves. Although the violent snapping of torn sails overhead and the terrible creaking and groaning of the ship’s timbers beneath their feet suggested otherwise. “Just you wait and see.”
Peewee. Uncle Theo’s pet name for her was a poignant reminder that he was the only person in the entire world who truly cared about her well-being. Even though icy terror careened through her veins, Calliope was touched by his attempt to reassure her. Indeed, his certainty was a welcome balm in the face of such danger. Swallowing past a boulder-sized lump in her throat, she merely nodded in acknowledgment; summoning a sufficiently loud voice suddenly seemed quite beyond her.
When the Vestal had been thrown off course in an attempt to out maneuver the Orpheus—and had subsequently run aground on a coral reef at the south-eastern corner of Mauritius—the Vestal’s captain had called for some of the crew to offload the paying passengers, of which there were half-a-dozen. At present, one of the Vestal’s jolly boats was being readied for them.
Thankfully, on the other side of the reef, the sea was less wild. And apparently it wasn’t too far to the shore. The thick swathes of scudding, stinging rain hampered visibility and Calliope assumed that the dark, hazy mass in the far distance must be Mauritius, home of the mythical dodo bird. Indeed, it was her uncle’s obsession with the long-lost, pigeon-like creature that had brought them to a place an entire world away from London and the quiet, studied elegance of Oxford.
Well, we’re not quite on Mauritius yet, Calliope mentally amended as she gazed longingly toward the rain-shrouded island. She trusted Captain Pickering—a master mariner according to Uncle Theo—knew exactly where they were, even though the Vestal’s hull was badly damaged, and she was no doubt taking on water at an alarming rate.
Lost at sea at the age of seven-and-twenty.
Lady Calliope Banks’s life over before it had really begun.
Would that be her epitaph?
No, better not to think about it, decided Calliope as she hoisted up her sodden, white muslin skirts and began to clamber inelegantly into the wildly swaying jolly boat with the assistance of Uncle Theo and the first mate, Mr. Holloway.
But as she unceremoniously plopped herself onto the slick wooden bench-seat of the boat, she was startled by a resounding boom, far louder than any of the thunder claps overhead.
“Thank God,” cried Mr. Holloway. “It’s the Andromeda. Captain Townsend will give the Orpheus the old heave-ho.”
The Andromeda?
Calliope’s gaze whipped to the Vestal’s starboard bow. Despite the appalling sea state, another vessel appeared to be bearing down upon the Orpheus, faster than a swooping eagle on a deadly mission to seize a fish. A second bone-rattling report shook the air around them as the Andromeda, a two-masted brigantine, fired another cannonball at the pirate vessel which had already changed tack.
Thank God indeed.
Calliope was momentarily prevented from observing any more of the nautical drama taking place before her as her uncle’s research assistant and fellow zoologist, Mr. Barnaby Lucas, tumbled onto the seat beside her, nearly upsetting the entire jolly boat. His elbow connected with her rib, winding her.
She scowled at the back of Mr. Lucas’s head and its plastered down cap of dripping dark hair as she tried to catch her breath. Trust him to barge on in ahead of her poor uncle. The man’s rudeness really was beyond the pale and Calliope really had no idea why her uncle tolerated his moodiness and ill manners.
Uncle Theo soon joined them, and within a matter of minutes, the sturdy row boat was full, and the crew were lowering them into the seething, turbulent sea with Mr. Holloway at the helm.
“See, I told you we’d be fine, Peewee,” declared Uncle Theo as their wildly pitching vessel bobbed toward the Andromeda rather than the shore. Once the Orpheus had taken flight, the brigantine had drawn closer, but not too close lest it also get tossed onto the reef. Mr. Holloway determined it would be safer to board the other ship than row to the island.
When Calliope offered her uncle a tight smile in reply to his effort to reassure her yet again, he grinned back and lifted a battered leather satchel strapped across his rotund belly. “Although I didn’t have time to save your art folio, I did manage to grab a few of my papers, our money, and your mother’s jewels.”
“Oh, thank you,” cried Calliope. She wasn’t sure if the rain or salt spray or tears were responsible for blurring her vision right at that particular moment, but in any case, her heart was flooded with relief and bittersweet happiness. By some miracle, if the jolly boat didn’t capsize and they did reach safety, she would be sure to give her uncle the biggest hug.
Since her mother, Cassandra, Lady Winthrop—who’d also been Uncle Theo’s younger sister—had passed away nearly six years ago, her mother’s diamond and sapphire necklace and matching earrings were precious keepsakes indeed. Thanks to her uncle’s thoughtfulness and quick-thinking, Calliope suddenly felt blessed.
And thanks to the timely intervention of the Andromeda, it seemed the Winthrop Family Curse had been chased off just as swiftly and as effectively as the Orpheus.
At least for today…
If it were the least bit socially acceptable, Calliope would quite happily hug the brig’s captain too.
Chapter 2
On meeting Jonathon Townsend, the captain of the Andromeda, Calliope just as swiftly changed her mind about wanting to embrace him.
Some, she supposed, might consider his rugged features handsome, but he certainly didn’t possess handsome manners to match. When the dark-haired Englishman’s insolent gaze raked over her disheveled form as she stood shivering and dripping on his ship’s deck, she felt a fiery blush engulf her entire face. Indeed, she rather suspected she’d turned as red as a lobster that had just been plunged into a cauldron of boiling water. Ever since the day of her ‘disastrous debut’, she was prone to blush hotly and it only served to make her embarrassment worse.
She could live with the inelegant scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks and her garish coppery mop of hair. But these horrid attacks of blushing… Oh how, she hated them.
And she was irritated by the fact Captain Townsend had triggered one just by looking at her like he wanted to toss her overboard. Or maybe strip her naked considering his cobalt blue eyes lingered on her bosom and then her legs far too long.
