The Slide Into Ruin

by Bronwyn Stuart

  He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. Several times. Wickham also had information about Montrose’s other ship, a ship that had not been seen in some time, and Darius needed its whereabouts. “Death is too quick. I want him to flee on a ship going nowhere and endure the shame and the humiliation that I did. It’s the only way to bring him to his knees. Deklin’s most recent letter changes things as well. The Persephone never made it back to Boston. She should have completed her journey to China and have been back at anchor by now. We have to discover where the ship is now and who took it.”

  “Do you think it ever left London’s docks?” Marcus asked. “It’s like the blasted ship just disappeared.”

  Deklin shook his head. “We both know that can’t happen. I’ll lay odds that Wickham knows where it is, whether that be on top of the ocean or below it. When he’s on his knees and begging for mercy, he may give us the information we need. I hope for his sake that the Persephone’s crew still lives.”

  “And then after that? Let’s say it’s all that easy: we collect the debts, we find the other ship and repair the Persecutor. Then what?” Marcus asked.

  “After that, I don’t particularly care what happens in England. Knowing my sire is on his arse is good enough for me. However, if the ship is lost and he had a part in it, I’ll run him straight through the heart.” He really didn’t want to kill his sire. Revenge on a man with no pulse was pointless. It might be petty but Darius didn’t care. He’d spent years being degraded before he’d finally earned his place in the world but he remembered each flogging, each whipping, as if it was yesterday, as if it had been his father holding the whip.

  He would never forget what Wickham had set in motion that day. He’d vowed to ingrain the same memory on his worthless sire if he ever got the chance. He fervently prayed the Persephone was in one piece so he didn’t have to make good on his words.

  Now that he finally did have the chance to bring down an earl, three scraps of girls, two scared boys and one dead duke might bring it all crashing down.

  He could not let that happen.

  Rapping on the ceiling, Darius then lifted the flap and called a new direction to the hack driver. When he sat once again, Marcus had a bushy brow raised in question.

  “We’re going to pay a visit to an old friend. Perhaps Anthony Germaine can search in a few places we don’t have access to. He owes me a favour.”

  Marcus laughed and made himself more comfortable. “I don’t think this is what he expected when he became indebted to you for finding his sister.”

  “He should repay me a thousand favours for that mess with Daniella,” Darius replied with a chuckle. “As long as he doesn’t see us coming, he’ll do what I ask.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “If there’s one thing that man holds above everything and anyone else, it’s his own neck. Put a knife to it and he’s ours.”

  The pirate in him crowed.

  The good and decent captain cringed.

  Chapter Seven

  “Are they still out there?” Eliza asked her two brothers as they stood at the windows peering through the glass at the still countryside. The snow had stopped falling the day before but the chill in the air was thick and the wind icy, forcing them all indoors even more so than usual.

  Eliza liked to walk in the snow but with Darius’s sailors all around the house, hiding behind bushes and high in the trees, she hadn’t stepped foot out the front door in four days. She was supposed to feel safer with them watching and protecting but she didn’t. It felt more like a wolf rested on their doorstep and one step outside would result in the loss of a limb. Then there was the fact that she hadn’t even asked for Darius to set a watch on them. They were going to attract even more attention if anyone did come to call.

  Lucky, she supposed, that scandal was so firmly attached to her name. It meant they hadn’t had a single tea caller in two years. It wasn’t as though her actual violation of society’s dictates was all that bad really, at least not in Eliza’s opinion. But the immediate countryside wasn’t exactly humming with the gossip of rakes or jezebels. In the absence of any larger scandalous happenings to anyone else, Eliza’s disgrace was surely still the topic of conversation at fetes and morning teas. There wasn’t a lady’s salon within a fifty-mile radius whose walls hadn’t heard the story of how the Duke of Penfold’s daughter was no longer chaste. Of how she threw herself at a man, attempting to trap him into marriage, a lowly earl’s grandson then, an heir now. The tales spread swift and fast and all who heard it had believed it.

  That was really the worst part of the whole nightmare. Her father believed the lies. Her friends cut her from their lives and society shunned her from their ballrooms. Total and utter disgrace. At the time, she’d cried buckets of tears over the whole affair but most recently she was glad to still be at home rather than the other side of England married to a man she would have ended up loathing.

  If any single one of the rumourmongers actually knew her, really knew her, they would have known she had no desire to marry at all. She was needed at home just as much then as she was now. She could not let her siblings be raised without love, without security, without a roof over their heads.

  Well, half a roof anyway since most of it had caved under the weight of the recent snowfalls.

  Darius hadn’t come back to check on them but she added that to the list of things she was sort of grateful for. Every time he came near her, he touched her. Impersonal for the most part, but his big hands were strong and sure and she secretly longed to place her well-being in them. But he obviously had his own business to take care of and it didn’t involve them. She wondered how the letter had affected him and the reason he was there. Had he taken the bait? Would he leave them be until his employer came to collect his unwilling bride? She figured the ocean voyage from America and the time to organise a wedding should buy them the time for her brother to come of age.

  “I counted eight but there could be more,” Nathanial said. He had taken Darius’s words very seriously, staying awake all night long with that blasted pistol in his hand. He’d seemed to have aged five years in four short days.

  “You need to sleep, brother. It won’t do us good to have you come down ill.”

  “I will,” he assured her, whilst trying to smother yet another yawn.

  Eliza rose from her place on the settee where she attempted to darn Ethan’s socks with freezing fingers and only a short length of thread. “You really must—”

  Her words were cut short when there came a tapping on the French doors that opened onto a small terrace leading out to the overgrown gardens. It was the door Darius’s men had been coming and going via, delivering game and firewood.

  Eliza didn’t bother to open the door. Her brother had found some of the spine he would need to be a duke so she let him go. She hadn’t been able to gainsay him on anything but rather than grating, it was welcome. He would require more than words and a title if he and the estate were to once again thrive.

  “Hullo,” Nathanial said in greeting before stepping back to admit Darius and one of his men. She remembered him from the other day, the heavily bearded one who delivered the Christmas tree along with a stern warning about opening doors for strangers.

  “Penfold,” Darius acknowledged him with a slight nod. His gaze found Eliza and something about his expression caused her anxiety to rise. He was not there to check on their welfare or take tea. She’d bet money on it. If she had any.

  No, he was there to spell either their doom or give them the few more months they needed.

  She stood so he didn’t tower over her so much but his presence made her uneasy. Despite the fact his cheeks and throat remained smooth, erasing the rough woodsman appearance, revealing a most handsome man, she still got the feeling she was the cowering prey and he the predator. She twisted her fingers together lest they betray her nervousness. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

  “I must speak with you alone,�
� Darius told her, flicking a glance at her siblings and then back to her. “Please.”

  “We do not keep secrets from one another,” she told him, holding her hand out to stay the children when they made move to rise.

  Darius didn’t argue, he merely handed her a piece of paper to read.

  She scanned the document. Twice. Did the room tilt a little or did she? Her anxiety levels rose to fever pitch as a piece of her plan fell into place. “This is what Ethan gave you?”

  He nodded but still he didn’t speak.

  “Shall we take a turn in the garden?”

  If she thought his brows rose before, they were almost lost in his hairline now. She very nearly could have laughed if she wasn’t so close to nervous hysteria. He offered his arm; she took it, needing his warmth just for this one moment.

  “You’ll freeze,” were the first words he spoke to her once they were out of earshot of the others. He shrugged off his overcoat and draped it over her shoulders. His scent enveloped her as the heat from the heavy fabric enclosed her in a bubble of safety and bliss. A bubble that could pop at any moment and leave her where she’d been five minutes ago. Cold and alone.

  She was always so cold. But there were pressing matters at hand. “You said my father didn’t owe you money.”

  “I did not. You asked, I evaded.”

  “I get the feeling you might be quite good at that.”

  Darius chuckled. “Do you understand what the letter means?”

  “How could I not? I am to be purchased by this Montrose fellow and my father’s debts will be paid with my dowry? How long will it take to get word to him?” Her breath held as well as the thumping beat of her heart for his answer. How long did she have until she was to possibly sell her own independence to save that of her siblings?

  “It’s rather more complicated than that.”

  All at once her pulse galloped and Eliza was afraid that she’d made a fatal mistake along the way. Perhaps her father had lied about it all? His final torment? “Is he already married?”

  “He wasn’t when I left Boston, no.”

  “Do you think he won’t have me?”

  “Because of the scandal?” Darius answered her question with a question.

  “What do you know of that?” He couldn’t possibly have found out so quickly. But then again, the town bordering their lands was filled to the brim with gossiping ladies and men whose tongues loosened with pots of ale or coins pressed into greedy hands. There was nothing you couldn’t buy in these parts.

  “Very little. It has been difficult to sort the lies from the truth. Will you tell me about it?”

  Why did he push her? More importantly, where did his suspicions lie? She did a little evading of her own. “What is your part in this? How did my father know you were coming when you only purchased the land around the same time he ended his life?”

  Suddenly it seemed he couldn’t face her as he applied gentle pressure to her elbow to get her walking again. He looked right around them as if worried they might be overheard from the shadows of the overgrowth they used to call a garden. “Deklin Montrose is my employer. I was sent here to make men like your father and my sire repay the monies they owe.”

  “But I’ve not even heard of Montrose.” She breathed deep, tried to remain calm so her voice didn’t rise over the many and varied deceptions. “How could my father owe him money? How do I know you’re telling the truth now when you’ve already lied so much?” She was the worst kind of hypocrite talking of his lies but she had to inject just enough suspicion of his story so she could wait for Montrose to come to England to collect her. Nathanial would be duke by then and she wouldn’t have to go anywhere, be forced into anything. She could cry off and be no more damaged than she was now.

  In her mind, she had it all figured out. She would find a nice farmer in need of a few coins and pay him for a faux marriage, collect her dowry, pay the man a small portion of it to keep quiet and then give the rest back to her brother. Once the estate was profitable, they would repay Montrose all they owed and perhaps more for his trouble. He might be angry, or he might see it as a blessing.

  Who wanted to marry a spinster heaped in scandal for her dowry anyway?

  “I never lied to you, Eliza. Not directly. Your father, along with Wickham and another man called Derbing, purchased a share in a ship that was to carry cargo from America to England and then sail on to China before returning to Boston. The goods—mainly fabrics—were sent and arrived in London but Montrose never received the rest of the payments from any of the men. Not one farthing for any of it. Now the ship and all hands seem to have disappeared without a trace. They never made it to China and they didn’t make it back to Boston either.”

  “I don’t believe it. What would my father want with fabrics? He was a duke. He didn’t have to dabble in trade.” This part of the story, she hadn’t heard. She hoped her father was uncomfortable in hell.

  “Oh, but he did.” They stopped once again and Darius motioned for her to sit on a low stone bench.

  Eliza sat, letting the coldness seep through her petticoats to numb her to the soul. So much information, so much to wade through. It all sounded half-credible but her father was a duke. If society discovered he was doing more than investing, he would have been a laughingstock.

  “Your father was already in very deep to a lot of men for his gambling, Eliza. Wickham and Derbing made terrible friends and worse companions. I wouldn’t be surprised if they talked him into it. Montrose tried to get them to pay. The gentlemen must have believed themselves immune to prosecution or financial obligation because they vehemently refused. Each man was sent word six months ago that we were coming to collect.”

  “And if they couldn’t pay?” Her stomach pitched and she wondered if she would retch or simply faint. She had hoped the story she’d heard, second hand, had been grossly exaggerated by the circumstances it preceded.

  “I was to report them to the law here but with no concrete proof other than a few signatures, there was little use.”

  “So you threatened them?”

  He met her gaze and was calm but for the twitch in his jaw. “I did no such thing. Not yet. Derbing had already won my grandfather’s house in a bad hand of cards so he repaid his debt with the deed and a small amount of gold. I hadn’t been able to locate Wickham until I saw him here but your father was next on my list.”

  “But you were going to come into his home and threaten him weren’t you?”

  He nodded, the gold in his eyes sparking fire. “You’re damn right I was. If the men had no intention of paying, they should never have invested. I should also like to know what happened to the ship and the hands on board. None have been heard from in more than fourteen months.”

  Eliza stood and began to pace. Her thoughts were in chaos, her breaths shallow, her steps jerky, angry, frustrated, scared.

  The information in the letter she’d so painstakingly forged had been new to him. Darius hadn’t known of her father’s intentions at all. The duke had lied when he’d told her sister that she was to be sold for the debt, not Eliza, not the disgraceful wanton with scandal hanging over her. She’d only written the letter to save Gabriella and gain them the time needed for Nathanial to turn another year older. She’d stupidly martyred herself for no good reason.

  “I knew nothing about the states of their finances before I arrived here, Eliza.”

  “Would it have made any difference?” she cried, furious that he tried to placate when she had every right to be angry. She sat and half-faced him on the stone. “If you wait a few months, we shall get your money for you.”

  He shook his head. “No you won’t. Even if I gave you five years, you wouldn’t find that much money.”

  “How much?”

  Darius shook his head and dropped his gaze. “It’s too much.”

  “But the dowry would cover the debt? That would be the end of it?”

  He scuffed his shoe on a patch of dirt emerging from the snow. �
��Not nearly.”

  Eliza made a frustrated sound and jumped to her feet again. “You need to be more forthcoming. How am I to know what to do if I don’t have all of the information upfront? If I marry your employer to discharge this debt, how do I know there won’t be more to come? More demands? Will he hold it over my head for the rest of my life that I owe him more than I can ever repay?” What had she done? She’d tried to pre-empt an outcome and it had gone very, very badly.

  “You won’t be marrying Montrose.”

  That gave her pause, gave her hope. She stilled. “I beg your pardon?”

  “The debt is no longer owed to Montrose. It is owed to me.”

  “I still don’t understand. Speak plainly, please—I can handle the truth.”

  “Since it was my father who started this farce, I repaid to the debt to Montrose from my own purse. Deklin is my friend as well as my employer. Any monies outstanding are now mine. Derbing gave me the house, my father is giving me the runaround and evidently your father was to give me you.”

  “I am a person, not a commodity. I can’t be simply given to you.” Oh God. Oh God. The bottom fell out of her stomach and she battled to stay upright.

  Darius shook his head, still unable to meet her eyes. “No, you can’t be given or sold. It has to be your decision but money owed is money owed, Eliza. I have a ship to rebuild, a house to repair and a life to return to in America. It took most all of the funds I had at my disposal to repay Deklin. I have not much left on which to live or feed my men.”

  “But what of me? My brothers and sisters? If I marry you, what will become of them? My aunt and uncle are diabolical and cannot be left in charge as their guardians. I won’t have all of my hard work to save them come to nothing.” Her breaths came shallow and fast as her fists clenched in her skirts.

  It would all be for nothing, all of it. Oh, what had she done?

  “Eliza, calm yourself. This isn’t the end. Your siblings will be as safe as will you be.”

  He reached out a hand to her shoulder but she shrugged him off and backed away like the frightened animal she was. She didn’t need his gentle touch or his warmth or his well-meaning assurances. “We’ll never be safe. My father has condemned us all to men like you who think you can trade girls like we are currency. I won’t stand for it. I’ll die before I sell my body, my soul or my future for my father’s mistakes.”