Buccaneers Series

by Linda Lee Chaikin

  Earl Nigel was observing her with a cool, cynical twist to his mouth. He saw through her “illness.”

  She must make her plans carefully—not move too hastily. The best way to see her scheme fulfilled was to make friends with Emerald again … to have her at Foxemoore where she could watch her, to make certain she would not marry Baret. Illness was the master key that would unlock Baret’s attention.

  But she must watch Earl Nigel—and Lord Felix, too, who was adamant that she marry his stepson, Grayford.

  Lavender snuggled her small, jeweled hands deeper into the folds of the silk coverlet. Again, she wished that she were home in London at Buckington House with Baret. She glanced through her golden lashes at Earl Nigel, then at Lord Felix, whom she hoped was not her future father-in-law. She must convince Baret she had made a mistake with Grayford.

  The silence in the chamber made her uncomfortable, but being a master at poise, she lay quietly, her heart-shaped face pale, her dovelike eyes a tender blue, glancing from the hard-faced Earl Nigel to the dark, sultry looks of Baret. He stayed on the other side of the chamber, leaning back against a dresser, arms folded, watching her.

  The trade winds rattled the stiff curtain of wooden beads that divided the chamber from a small open terrace facing the sea. Baret loves the West Indies, she found herself thinking. I shall make myself love it for his sake. He will want to come here often. And we will have our own town house facing the warm, green-blue Caribbean. I won’t allow a mistaken marriage with Grayford to ruin our future.

  Unlike her cousin Emerald, whose reputation was now forever stained after the recent incident with Sir Jasper, Lavender told herself that she could wrap herself in pure white. And it was this that drew Baret, not just the fact that Emerald was pretty.

  She would be a duchess after the death of her invalid grandmother in London. Her title would influence Earl Nigel.

  For Baret, marriage was not only expected in London but inevitable. She was well aware that women other than Emerald hoped to marry the viscount. If the king received him with honors after what happened at Barbados, even more titled ladies would nurture the same hope.

  But competition would not distress her. Unlike the other hopeful daughters of London nobility, Lavender’s claim on Baret was well established, and she was certain of her plan to get him back. He would not deny her the marriage that was deemed rightfully hers—not if she could free herself from Grayford without appearing to have caused the broken engagement.

  If only he would not survive the war, she thought suddenly. Then I would be honorably free. Baret had already once promised to marry her. He had vowed that if she would allow him the liberty of a few years to fight Spain and search for his father, he would return to settle down at an appropriate time.

  She had kept her side of the bargain—except for the utterly stupid mistake of becoming engaged to Grayford. But in time …

  She must make certain Baret did not marry Emerald before she was free of Grayford. Her illness could help to accomplish this also, especially if Emerald came to Foxemoore to attend her. And I’ll be very sweet to her. Neither she nor Baret must know.

  Lavender felt secure and hopeful once again. Had he not come running to her side when he thought she had fainted with a relapse of tropical fever? Her condition added to her fragile beauty and to her hold on him. She smiled to herself.

  And so, while Earl Nigel watched her suspiciously, and Lord Felix probably worried that her health would not afford a soon-enough marriage to Grayford, Lavender was composed and confident. Her small hands rested sweetly under the coverlet. She opened her eyes again, as though stirring awake.

  “Grayford,” she whispered, as though he alone were on her heart. “Are you … here?”

  “Yes, beloved. Are you all right now? The doctor is on his way.”

  “What happened? Did I faint again? I felt so ill. I suppose it was this dreadful heat and the horrid talk of war. Oh! If only you didn’t need to fight. You and Baret both! What if something happens to either of you? What will the family do?”

  “Perhaps be better off,” came Earl Nigel’s sardonic voice, “Or is it you, dear, who would be better off?”

  “Father,” Felix snapped. “What’s gotten into you, speaking to her like this? You know how ill she is.”

  “Yes,” said Nigel. “We do indeed know, do we not, Baret?”

  Lavender feared to look at either the earl or Baret, for she read the thick irony in his grandfather’s voice. She looked up to Grayford instead, as if she hadn’t heard the cutting remark. She reached a small hand toward him. “Grayford?”

  “I’m here, Lavender. Unfortunately, I can’t stay—”

  “Quite unfortunate,” Nigel said. “Who arranged for you to be called back to your ship tonight?”

  Lavender closed her eyes. She had, but no one knew.

  “The Admiralty, Uncle Nigel—something to do with the plans to meet with Morgan aboard the Royale. It’s important.”

  “It’s quite all right, Grayford,” said Lavender weakly. “Do what you must. But if the governor would be kind enough to allow me to rest awhile before I return to Foxemoore …”

  Governor Modyford was swift to assure her of his hospitality. “Naturally, Lady Thaxton, you’re welcome to remain here and rest for as long as you like. If it proves beneficial, perhaps you should stay the night and return to Foxemoore tomorrow morning.”

  Mary Elizabeth also hurried to put her at ease, fluffing her lace pillow and saying, “If there’s anything I can do, m’lady Thaxton, please don’t hesitate to call on me or my sisters.”

  Lavender smiled. “Thank you. You’re all so kind. I’m dreadfully sorry and embarrassed. Governor, I hope this won’t ruin your dinner plans.”

  “Not at all, Lady Thaxton. Perhaps we can have something sent up to you. I’ll tell one of the servants to see to your needs.”

  Grayford still held her hand. “I’ll return as soon as I can. We can leave for Foxemoore in the morning.”

  “You mustn’t worry about me. Your duty to His Majesty is so important in the war. And I’m proud of you.”

  Grayford stood from the side of the bed, looking down at her. As he turned to leave the chamber, his gaze shot across the room to where Baret stood. Their eyes met and locked, then Grayford walked briskly to the door and went out.

  He’s suspicious of Baret, Lavender thought. But he doesn’t suspect me. It’s better this way. I’ll make everything up to Baret when we’re married.

  As the others began to leave the chamber to await the doctor’s arrival, Lavender called weakly, “Baret … can you stay a moment longer?”

  She saw Earl Nigel look at him, but Baret did not seem intimidated by his grandfather. He paused by the doorway.

  “Of course. What is it?”

  She tried to read his voice, but it was empty of emotion. He might have been a stranger speaking to her.

  “It’s about Cousin Emerald,” she murmured. “I wish her to return to the Great House with me. Do you think she will if you asked her?”

  Aware that his grandfather had also paused at the mention of Emerald, Baret turned to look at him. “I’ll only be a moment alone with her.”

  Earl Nigel’s dark eyes were sharp. “You know what I expect of you,” he said in a low voice. “If you want your plans to go forward smoothly with Morgan, you’ll keep them in mind.”

  Baret smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. Would I disappoint you? I know exactly what I want, Grandfather. And I’m not in the mood to toss my plans overboard now.”

  The earl looked thoughtful. “I’m glad to hear that.” He glanced toward Lavender’s bed, still looking troubled, then went out, shutting the door.

  24

  THE MAN IN BLACK

  Emerald began to pace as she waited and neither Baret nor Sir Cecil returned. I knew it, she told herself. She glanced across the outer salon at the arriving wives and daughters of council members and the planter gentry. Soon they would be coming to leave thei
r wraps.

  I can’t endure their seeing me now.

  As though jinxed by her expectations, she saw several daughters who were Lavender’s closest allies making their way to the wrap room where she waited. She must avoid them. Desperately she glanced about and in relief saw a draped doorway, leading perhaps into another chamber.

  She slipped through to the other side.

  It was a semidark alcove smelling of turpentine and tropical rot. Opposite the draped entrance, a heavy wooden door stood ajar. She supposed it led into one of the mansion’s main rooms. She could escape that way, but what would she say if caught wandering about the governor’s private rooms?

  I’ll wait here, she decided. The girls wouldn’t stay longer than it would take them to leave their shawls. They’d soon wander out onto the green or into the back garden, where it was cooler. Then I’ll slip out and leave.

  The girls entered—all of them daughters of Government House officials serving Modyford—talking in a rush. One carried a wicker basket of red-and-white flowers to make into nosegays.

  Cautiously, Emerald stepped away from the cracked drape. If they found her here hiding, what would they think?

  A girl was talking, her voice petulant and resentful. “And even if she married him, she’d never be invited to Whitehall.”

  “She would so! A viscount’s wife?” came a second voice. “Why, any woman he’d marry can have anything she wants. Why should the king care about her past? Mother says he himself has a mistress named Barbara.”

  “Men,” came a scornful new voice.

  A sigh followed. “I wish the viscount would marry me.”

  “He doesn’t know you’re even alive, Marian.”

  “If you ask me, I don’t think he knows any woman’s alive except Lavender.”

  “It’s no wonder Emerald’s father used to keep her locked up at Foxemoore—I’d be ashamed of her too!”

  Emerald froze, her fingers tightening against her satin skirts.

  “He wasn’t much better. The whole lot of ’em are bad seed, so I’ve been told, including that Lord Felix Buckington. I heard my father tell Mother that Felix is a smuggler.”

  “A smuggler!”

  “But Emerald is the worst of them all. Lavender says …”

  Emerald felt a sickening flutter in her stomach. She felt a strong impulse to place her palms over her ears. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, a small voice seemed to say in her ears. Step out. Let your presence be known. It is they who need to be ashamed for indulging in backbiting.

  Yet her feet remained riveted to the spot, her heart aching.

  “We all know who her mother was—some little Frenchie on Tortuga. Her mother always did have a loose reputation, even in France. But that’s not all. The madam—for that’s what she was—used to be a spy against England for France. And Emerald was born in the room above her mother’s gambling den. And she shot a pirate trying to protect her lover, Levasseur!”

  Lies! Emerald’s cheeks burned. Lies! For a moment she thought she might faint in the hot alcove. The smell of mildew and turpentine was nauseating.

  “Eventually her mother was hanged—for murder. Just the way they hang pirates at Port Royal. The ravens pecked at her for two days before they buried her.”

  “Do stop! We’ll be eating soon.”

  Vicious lies, again. How often had she heard the whispers about her mother, like snakes hissing their venom! Yet never had the charges been so ugly as today.

  “I don’t believe it,” another girl scoffed. “They wouldn’t let a woman hang for two days, even if she was a murderess.”

  “Indeed, well, you are quite wrong. Seems everyone in Jamaica knows the lurid tale except you, Catherine. But you’re forgiven, since you’ve only newly arrived. Why, Emerald herself tried to kill the overseer at Foxemoore. And if it hadn’t been for Sir Jasper, she’d still be in Brideswell. I’ll wager he’s sorry now he brought her to Spanish Town.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because the viscount found her in his chamber and shot him!”

  There came an excited gasp. Then a flurry of whispers.

  Emerald stood behind the drape, too humiliated to muster the courage to move. Her eyes shut tightly, as though by closing out the world of Port Royal she could eliminate the past.

  With great care, lest they hear her, she felt her way across the alcove to the door standing ajar. She glanced into the room beyond and saw that it appeared to be a study. Books lined one wall, and a sheaf of documents lay on the desk. A private office? She mustn’t be caught in here.

  She tiptoed to the opposite door and opened it a crack, peeking out. No one was in sight, though she could hear distant, muffled voices coming through the walls. She stepped out into a hallway.

  Swiftly Emerald moved past closed doors and still rooms until, at a corner, she unexpectedly came to the end of the corridor. A flight of steps wound to an upper floor. She was going the wrong direction!

  She was about to flee, but then the stealthy sound of a door opening behind her—opening as though someone did not wish to be seen—caused her to pause uncertainly and look back the way she had come.

  Was someone else trying to hide? The thought was troubling, for she could not imagine that anyone would have a reason as innocent and valid as her own. She noticed that a door she had passed moments earlier now stood open a few inches, as though someone was listening, waiting.

  Then suddenly, from far down the hall but growing louder, the angry voice of Lord Felix shouted, “I tell you, Thomas, the king will hold you responsible for any buccaneer attack against the Main!”

  There was no escape now, except up the stairs.

  Baret stood watching Lavender, feeling his blood pound, not with passion but anger. He wondered that so little stirred in his heart when he saw her except an odd sort of sympathy. Slowly he’d discovered she wasn’t the woman he’d been raised to think she was.

  They’d both been children in France when they were introduced. Even then, he’d felt responsible for her and protective. Through the years he’d mistaken that sense of duty for something much more exciting.

  He was angry with himself as well. His eyes narrowed. They were both to blame where Emerald was concerned, though he held himself more responsible for not trusting her. He had learned this afternoon that there was strong cause to believe Lavender had deliberately lied when she informed him about Emerald and Jasper.

  After Emerald had told him that she had been at the hacienda for two days instead of the several weeks Carlotta insisted upon, he had returned to Spanish Town to look more carefully into the matter. There a bulky woman, a house slave, had come forward to confirm Emerald’s statement, adding more information. Emerald had indeed withstood Jasper’s badgering insults and his bribes. She’d asked the slave for help to escape to the governor’s residence. She had even given brave testimony of her Christian faith.

  It was Lavender, who, upon learning that Carlotta was Felix’s daughter, bribed her to vow that Emerald had been unfaithful in exchange for release from Brideswell.

  Now that Baret was certain of the truth, he wondered how he could have been so stupid where Emerald was concerned. His only excuse was that finding her in Jasper’s chamber in satin and jewels had fed his jealous fears. And when Lavender, a woman he thought to be of high character, had sadly backed up the sordid tale, he had been in a mood to accept it—at Emerald’s expense.

  He frowned when he remembered the insult he had lashed her with. She had been brave and noble, and he had added to her suffering by disbelieving her story. First, she had undergone the brutality of Lex Thorpe! And now this! And he had not recognized her qualities!

  He walked to the foot of the bed. Their eyes met, and under his level stare, Lavender’s faltered.

  “You play a hard game for such a sweet frail thing. Anything to win, is that it?”

  He saw her wince and wondered if it was real or meant to soften his temper.

  “Baret, you mustn�
��t be cruel,” she said. “You mustn’t hate me when I love you so.”

  “I don’t hate you. I don’t feel anything at the moment but a wish to turn you over my knee and give you a good spanking.”

  She bolted upright, eyes flashing. “You wouldn’t dare. I’m a duchess.”

  “Ah, the real Lavender has regained her determination—and her health and strength,” he mocked softly.

  She wrung her hands, clasping them against her lace-shrouded bosom.

  He took hold of the dark wooden bedpost. “Tell me, m’dear, were you always this conniving in our past relationship, or was I too consumed with finding my father to even notice until recently?”

  “Baret!”

  “I beg your pardon! I’ve insulted you, my duchess!”

  “Stop it. You’re being dreadfully unfair and cruel to me.”

  “And you, dear heart, lied to me about Emerald and Sir Jasper.”

  “No—”

  “Yes. And now you think nothing of lying again. You bribed Carlotta to destroy Emerald’s reputation. And it worked … for a time. I believed you instead of her. I’ve hurt her,” he gritted, “but I actually hold myself responsible.”

  Tears welled in her blue eyes and ran down her pale cheeks.

  His gaze smoldered darkly. “Tears will do you no good this time.”

  “All right—I did lie—so I wouldn’t lose you—because I love you, Baret. I can’t lose you, I can’t.”

  He frowned. Her emotionalism troubled him. He didn’t want to see her plead. For a moment he stood watching her, and then came and sat by the bed. “Lavender, I don’t want to hurt you. I do care about you. But not in the way—”

  “Oh, Baret, if you do love me, you can’t marry—her!”

  A flicker of impatience crossed his face. “Don’t tell me what I can or cannot do, madam.”

  Her small hands formed fists, and she pounded them against her skirts.

  He smiled, his eyes mocking, yet amused. “Temper, duchess. Remember, you’re frail and quick to faint when it suits you. As for loving you, there were times in the past, when I was younger, when I thought I loved a girl with your name and face. But, you see, she never existed. I was away so much that I never really knew the real Lavender.”