He turned back to the open waters, took a breath and said, “Your real intentions for your father once he is free.”
Peggy knew this was coming. The moment she had let her true feelings about her father slip, she had seen the look in Luc’s eyes. He wasn’t stupid. He was a trained spy. Trained to pick up on the slightest deviation or hesitation in a person’s speech. Anything that would alert him to the true purpose of whomever he was investigating. And right now, she had no doubts that he was interrogating her. It was why she had avoided him for the last two days. She knew he wanted to talk about her slip, and she still didn’t know how she was going to reply to his questions.
Should she tell him the truth that she and Joc had every intention of killing her father once he was free of his kidnappers? Could she? She still didn’t know.
“Not here,” she said and then turned to him. “In the cabin. We’ll talk in the cabin.”
He nodded and held out his arm to her as if they were at a formal ball. She glanced down and then kicked up the corner of her mouth. “Really, Lord Stoughton? This is not a ballroom.” She glanced down at her clothes and then back up at him. “And this is not a ball gown. Don’t ye think it would be a bit silly to escort me to my room as if it were?”
He smiled back at her and her heart fluttered. “I don’t think it is ever silly for me to escort my beautiful wife somewhere. It is a privilege and honor to be seen with you.” He grinned, then bowed to her. “But I concede to your superior knowledge on the proper formalities for a husband to escort his pirate wife to their cabin.”
Peggy shook her head. “As long as it is not at the point of a sword, I think we’ll be fine, Lord Stoughton.”
Peggy hid her trembling hands by holding onto the hilt of her cutlass with one and by keeping the other clenched at her side. It was the real reason she hadn’t wanted to touch Luc; she didn’t want him knowing how upset she was.
When they finally reached their cabin, she walked to the center of the room and turned to face him. Her hand was still on her cutlass, and after he closed and bolted the door, his eyes dropped to her hand.
“Are we going to have another fencing match?” he asked.
She laughed. Or tried to, but it came out as more of a choking sound. Peggy shook her head. “No,” she said and pried her fingers from around the hilt.
“What. . .” she began but had to stop and swallow the dryness in her mouth. “What did you want to talk about?”
He stared back for so long she didn’t think he was going to answer. Then he walked past her to their bed, unbuckled his scabbard, and laid it on the bed. He then slowly walked over to the table and pulled out a chair for her.
“Peggy?” he asked.
She let out a breath, and unbuckled her own scabbard. Turning around she walked over and laid hers beside his, as if they were two lovers going to sleep. Taking a deep breath, she turned and walked over and took the chair he was proffering.
Once they were both seated, he just watched her for the longest time.
Unable to take the silence any longer, she blurted, “What did you want to talk about?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Do you know that you always revert to French when you’re nervous?”
She wanted to cry, but she didn’t. Instead, she bit her lip and nodded her head. “It was my first language. Joc and Eddie preferred it to English.” She laughed sadly and looked away. “I didn’t even know we were English until I was five. That was when they employed my first governess, who was appalled to learn that I did not know how to speak English. The daughter of an English ambassador and the ward of an English Earl, and I only spoke French. And according to her, not even proper French, but one of the lesser Creole dialects.”
He nodded but didn’t make any cutting retorts, for which she was grateful for. “What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked again, this time in English.
He took a breath and leaned forward. “Do you hate your father, Peggy?”
She wanted to jump up and run away. But she couldn’t. Not from this. Not any longer.
“Joc is my father,” she said and then quickly added. “And Eddie. They are the only family I’ve ever known. The only parents I’ve ever known. They loved me as if I was their own daughter. And I love them as my parents. I don’t know . . . I’ve never known my . . . Marcus Hennessey. He was just a man who came to see me every few years. And in secret. I didn’t hate him. I didn’t know him for most of my life.”
Peggy was trying to find a way to tell him what her father had done when he leaned forward and gazed into her eyes. “Then six months ago, your father killed the only man, the only parent, you ever knew.”
Her lungs stopped working. It didn’t surprise her that he had figured out the truth. He was a spy and trained to ferret out the truth.
“Yes,” she whispered, then again louder. “Yes, he murdered Eddie in cold blood.”
He started to get up, but she held up her hand. “Don’t. Please don’t come over here,” she said in French and caught herself. “Please Luc, don’t come over here,” she repeated in English.
“Why?” he asked and started to stand, but stopped at her look. “Why would your father murder his own brother?” he clarified.
Peggy took a breath. At least he wasn’t calling her a liar. “You know that my uncle Eddie worked for your Sir Walter.” He nodded his head. “Were you also aware that my father worked for Sir Walter and the Home Office as well?”
His eyes narrowed and he nodded again. Once again, she was not surprised he knew her father worked for Sir Walter.
“Well, on the day that my uncle was murdered, my father and Eddie had a huge fight. Apparently, the English government had revoked Uncle Eddie’s privateer’s charter. My father was sent here to put a stop to Eddie’s pirating, one way or the other. And when Eddie refused, my father shot and killed him.”
Luc sat forward. “You saw Marcus Hennessey shoot your uncle?” he demanded.
“I saw my uncle murdered right in front of me,” she replied belligerently.
His eyes narrowed. “And you saw your father shoot him?”
She hesitated and then looked away. “No. But there were witnesses.”
“Who? Thibeau?” he asked.
“Yes. But there were others as well,” she said and spun back. “A seaman from another ship saw my father with a sniper rifle and saw him shoot my uncle Eddie.”
He milled that over then asked, “And you believed this man?”
“Yes,” she said, then added, “but there were two crewmen from the Coral Sea who saw my father with a rifle, running away from the docks just after my uncle was murdered.”
“And you believe he did this on the orders of Sir Walter and the Home Office?”
“Yes,” she yelled. “Uncle Eddie refused to quit pirating, so my father murdered him on orders of your Sir Walter.”
Luc was silent as the ship swayed gently in the sea. A bird screeched overhead. And in the distance, she could hear the faithful being called to prayer.
“And once your father is free?” he finally asked.
Peggy turned to face him. Her heart pounding beneath her breasts. “I intend for him to pay for his crimes.”
He was silent for so long, Peggy began to shiver. Then he looked off to the side.
“Do you remember my brother? The Duke of Belfort?” he asked.
Startled and confused by the change of subject, she nodded.
He took a breath and let it out. “When he was eleven years old, our father murdered our sister in front of him. A week or so later, Gabe confronted him and ended up killing him.”
Peggy knew all this; she had read it in his file. But she didn’t want to stop him by admitting it. “Then I would say your brother got justice for your sister. The very thing I am trying to do.”
He looked at her and a cold chill washed over her. “Gabe wasn’t looking for justice, Peggy, he was looking for revenge. The same thing you are looking for.”
“So,” she said defiantly.
“Sooo,” he said slowly. “The revenge nearly destroyed him. To this day he is plagued by memories of having killed his own father. No matter how much our father deserved it. Do you think you will be able to kill yours without suffering a similar fate?”
Chapter 33
The night air cooled Peggy’s skin and the breeze from the city teased her nose with the scent of hundreds of cook fires. Luc had drilled her for more than an hour about the evidence she and Joc had gathered on her father’s guilt. He had not argued or even tried to dissuade her from their conclusion that Marcus had, indeed, murdered his own brother. But he had gotten the names of the two seamen who had seen Marcus fleeing the area after the shooting. Then he had gone off to question Joc and the other two witnesses.
Eventually, Peggy had lost track of time. The air in the cabin had become too restrictive, so she had come up to the deck and settled in her favorite place, the prow. She took her usual seat on the bowsprit and watched the waves as they rolled in from the open sea.
The look in Luc’s eyes had turned colder with each word she spoke. And bit by bit the love or affection he had felt for her had died until there was nothing left but a cold, empty shell. He was once again her enemy. Or if not her enemy, then her foe. Because he would do everything in his power to protect her father, and she would do everything in hers to carry out her vengeance against him.
As the moon rose, she tried to think of a way around the dilemma. Even if she gave up her vengeance against her father, Joc never would. And she couldn’t abandon Joc as her father had abandoned her. It seemed there was no way out for her. At least not one that kept her from losing Luc and the home and family she had always dreamed of.
Suddenly, a wet rock flew up from the water and landed on the deck at her feet. Startled out of her musing, Peggy jumped to her feet and reached for her cutlass. She stared down at the rock, then searched the waters around the ship.
Peggy wasn’t sure what she was looking for, maybe a small boat or a dolphin. But she couldn’t see anything but black waves. She took a step toward the port side of the ship when another small rock flew out of the darkness and hit her shoulder.
“Mr. Jenkins,” she yelled back at the officer on duty, “beat to quarters.”
“Don’t do that, you damn fool girl,” a voice from the darkness hissed. “Do ye want to bring those pirates over here?”
“Who’s there?” Peggy snapped and then leaned over the railing. She immediately spotted a man floating in the water and hanging onto their anchor’s chain.
“Captain Chevalier,” the man called up. “Now cancel your order before you rouse the watch on them gun boats the Pasha has watching you.”
“What’s the matter?” Jenkins hollered as he raced toward her.
“Man in the water,” she called back.
“Will you stop that hollering, girl? If I’d wanted my arrival announced, I’d not swum all zee way out ‘ere,” the man called up from the water.
By then three more crewmen were hurrying toward them. “Get a rope,” she called softly to them. She then turned and scowled down at the man.
What was Captain Chevalier doing swimming out to the Coral Sea in the dead of night? This did not bode well. Not at all.
“Mr. Jenkins, go roust Captain Malveaux and Lord Stoughton. They’ll need to know we have a guest.”
Peggy took a step back and watched as the crewmen lowered a rope and hauled the man up and onto the main deck. Heavy boots pounded from the quarterdeck then over to them. She didn’t need to look to know Joc and Luc had arrived.
The man that stood up was a tall, muscular man with shoulder length dark hair and a well-trimmed beard and mustache. Between it being wet and the sliver of moon illuminating him, it was bit hard to distinguish the color, but it looked to be a dark brown or black. And his eyes were black pearls shining from a strong square face. A very handsome face, with only one imperfection, a small scar cutting across his forehead and intersected one of his eyebrows, cleaving it in two.
Peggy had only seen the man once before, and that was when their ships had passed each other on the high seas. Chevalier had been at the helm, and Peggy had been standing beside Eddie on the quarterdeck of the Coral Sea.
So she hadn’t gotten a good look at the man. But the one before her favored the man she had seen. Of course, the man she had seen had been fully dressed. The one in front of her happened to be naked, save for wet smalls that hid nothing from her imagination.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Did ye lose your clothes, Captain Chevalier?”
He held up a bundle wrapped in an oil cloth. “No, ma chérie, I did not. I thought it better if I carried them.”
At her use of the man’s name, both Joc and Luc drew their swords. “What are ye doin’ ‘ere?” Joc demanded.
“I come to warn vous, and votre fille, Captain Malveaux. You no be wantin’ to go ashore in zee morn, when they come for you. It be a trap for you and your votre fille there.”
A tremor ran down her back. Both she and Joc had wondered about the likelihood. Their plan took the possibility into account. But hearing it confirmed was unsettling.
Joc took a threatening step toward him, and she saw Luc lay a restraining hand on his arm. Surprisingly, her papa stopped. Since breaking free of the brig, the two of them had become a bit too cozy for her liking.
“What trap?” Luc demanded over Joc’s cursing.
Chevalier looked around the deck at all the men gathered and then said, “I think it would be better if I told you that in private.”
Luc gazed around the deck and then looked at Joc before nodding. She felt slighted by the way he excluded her from the decision, telling her without words that he no longer trusted her.
She stepped up beside Luc and glared up at him. In a low voice she hissed, “This is still my ship, Lord Stoughton. And I still give the orders on it. Is that clear?” Peggy turned to the ensign, and in a louder voice, said, “Mr. Jenkins, take our guest to my cabin.”
“Aye, aye, Lady Peggy,” Jenkins replied and took hold of Chevalier’s arm and propelled him toward the quarter deck.
When she tried to walk past Luc, he laid a firm but gentle hand on her arm. In a soft voice, he said close to her ear, “No, Lady Peggy, thanks to our marriage, this is now my ship. Or should I say, mine and your papa’s, as we are half owners of it now. So we will give the orders. Is that clear?”
He turned loose of her and left her fuming in the middle of the deck. Damn him to bloody hell. She didn’t want to be captain of the Coral Sea. But she wasn’t about to allow anyone to run roughshod over her. Especially, not her husband.
When they arrived at the captain’s cabin, Luc blocked her way while Chevalier quickly dressed. She was becoming more frustrated by Luc’s high handedness, but also relieved that he still felt enough affection for her to protect her modesty. It was laughable, as she had spent the better part of her life on board a pirate ship and had seen much more scandalous sights than a half-naked man.
Finally, Luc opened the door and allowed her into the cabin, and she found Captain Chevalier, now fully dressed, seated at the table with Joc standing directly behind him. Her papa’s cutlass was once again sheathed, but his hand was gripping the hilt tightly, and he was glaring daggers at the back of their guest’s head.
She pushed past Luc and planted herself directly in front of Chevalier, with the table between them. “What are you doing on board my ship?”
She glanced up at her papa and scowled at him. He had the good grace to look away, as he knew why she was glaring at him. The terms of Eddie’s will left her his half of the Coral Sea as part of her dowry. And he had done so in such a way that it wouldn’t pass to her husband on the occasion of her marriage. The other three ships she now owned did. But not the Coral Sea. It seemed that Joc had not bothered to explain those terms to her husband. That she would correct as soon as they learned why Chevalier was sneaking onto her ship in the
middle of the night.
“Like I said, ma chére I have come to warn you and your-” he turned and glanced at Joc “-first mate? Or is it capitaine now?”
“Capitaine,” Joc gritted out.
“Très bien,” Chevalier said and nodded. He then turned back to Peggy.
“Why would you want to warn us about anything? You kidnapped my. . .” She choked a little, then finished. “Mon père.”
Chevalier nodded. “Oui. Yes, I did ma chère, but I had no choice.”
Joc punched Chevalier in between his shoulder blades. It barely moved the man. “Careful, my friend,” Chevalier warned in a low, deep voice. Or I will not help you find the girl’s votre père.”
“Joc,” Peggy warned. Luc stepped up beside her, and she took comfort from his presence, despite the tension between them.
“What do you mean, you had no choice?” Luc demanded.
Peggy was almost grateful for his high handedness this time, because the line of questioning was beginning to wear on her nerves.
“Just what I said, monsieur.” Chevalier cocked his head to the side and regarded Luc closely. “And who are you, monsieur?”
“Captain Lord Lucien Stoughton. And the lady’s husband,” Luc replied.
A quiver ran up Peggy’s arm and straight to her heart. At least Luc was still claiming her as his wife.
“Ah, then this definitely concerns you as well, Monsieur Stoughton.” Suddenly, Chevalier’s eyebrows came together as he stared up at Luc. “Are you, by any chance, monsieur, the same British army captain who charged Général Napoléon’s forces at Dresden in 1813?”
Peggy saw Luc’s back snap straight. “I was there,” Luc answered in a low, deep voice.
Chevalier regarded him closely then exhaled. “So was I, monsieur. So was I.”
Chevalier returned his attention to Peggy. “Do you by chance know Monsieur Guerrant, madame?”
To Save a Fallen Angel (The Fallen Angels series Book 2) Page 23