“And Admiral Cockburn assigned my ship, the fastest in the fleet to hasten after you.” Clearing his throat, Schiffer unrolled the missive with the orders scribed by the admiral. “By order of His Majesty the King, you are herby required to release the prisoner, Britannia LeClair, into the custody of the Duke of Ravenscar.”
Drake entrusted his hat into the hands of one of the officers from the Hastings. “Please lead me to the lady’s berth at once.”
“Below decks is no place for a man of your station, Your Grace.” Sands gestured to the quarterdeck stairs. “I bid you remain at the helm with me whilst my man fetches the lass for you.”
“I will not be mollycoddled. And Miss LeClair had best be in good health.”
“I assure you she is fine. In fact, she dined with me this very eve.”
“Do you make it a habit to take the evening meal with convicted criminals?” asked Schiffer.
“N-n-no. But Miss LeClair seemed an unusual case. When her jailor—ah Mr. Gibbs—brought her aboard, she insisted she had received no proper trial.”
Drake’s fingernails bit into his clenched fists. “Good God. It took you a fortnight to ask her what had happened?”
“I—”
“Enough. Lead the way, sir, and pray I do not find anything amiss.”
The stench of excrement and filth wafted from below as they approached the stairs. Drake swallowed his gag reflex and ignored the urge to cover his face with a kerchief. If Britannia was suffering these conditions, he would not allow her to see him repulsed.
On the second level, they stopped outside a door. Something scurried on the other side.
“Mr. Baldy, unlock the door,” commanded Sands.
A man with a full head of hair and a pock-scarred face sauntered forward with a fist full of clanking keys and held up a lantern as the door swung open.
Britannia stood in the center of a tiny room, shielding a child who was peering from behind her cloak. Chin held high, she threw her shoulders back as if she were the last defense between her and a crowned prince. “You told me you would allow me until the morrow to make a decision!”
Sands took a cowering step back.
After giving the captain a scowl, Drake moved into the light. “Britannia.”
“Drake?” She drew her hands over her mouth, stepped forward, then back again, her eyes brimming with tears. “Your Grace. I-I…you’re alive!”
Drake turned to the others. “Leave us. I require a moment alone with Miss LeClair.”
Tears streamed down her face as they waited for the men to go up top. And then he opened his arms. “My love, I cannot believe we found you.”
“I am astounded to see you here. They accused me of stealing my miniature—that was my crime—thieving a picture that has belonged to me since my birth.”
“I know, my darling. But I’m here to take you home now.”
“At the inn—I was terrified. There was so much blood, and then Mr. Gibbs refused to let me see to your wounds. A-a-a-and I thought you might be deaaaaaad.”
Britannia’s body shook as she sobbed into his shoulder. Drake, too, couldn’t help the tears welling in his eyes as he clutched her tight to his body. At long last, he could protect his ballerina from harm for the rest of his days. “I’m never letting you go. I love you. I’ve loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you when you were but a silhouette performing in your traveling clothes.”
“I-I-I.” So overcome with emotion, the dear woman couldn’t manage to utter a comprehensible word. But she needn’t say anything. Drake’s soul brimmed with love, enough for the both of them.
“Excuse me, sir,” said a tiny voice, accompanied by a tug on Drake’s overcoat.
Trying to catch her breath, Bria wiped her face on her sleeve and turned toward the child. “J-Johnny. This is the D-duke of Ravenscar, you call him Your Grace, not sir.”
The boy’s bottom lip quivered. “Are you taking Bria away from me, Your Grace?”
“No!” She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around the child. “You must come with us. I will take care of you, I promise.”
Drake looked between the two. “Britannia?”
She stood, taking the boy by the hand. “This is Johnny. He is a foundling and he was sentenced to fourteen years transportation for stealing a loaf of bread merely because he was hungry.”
“Christ.”
“Please. I cannot leave him behind.”
“Of course not.” Drake looked at the lad’s eyes. Hell, his damned heart twisted. Who could resist eyes of the innocent and angelic? “Perhaps Mr. Schiffer can find him a position on the HMS Hastings.”
Bria pursed her lips and gave a nod, clearly not in favor of the cabin boy idea. “As long as we can take him off the ship, you and I can discuss his future after.”
“Can I discuss it, too?” asked Johnny. “I reckon I might be interested in my future.”
The boy had gumption for a tike no higher than Drake’s waist. “Come. I’ll have the crew aboard the Hastings draw baths for you both.”
“Must I have a bath?”
“Yes.” Britannia took the boy’s hand and followed Drake to the main deck.
“There was nothing in the order that mentioned the boy,” said Captain Sands.
It didn’t surprise Drake to come up against resistance. “Do you often ferry small children to penal colonies?”
“If their crimes warrant it. I’m no judge, I merely provide transport.”
“Merely is a good descriptor, though I might have chosen barely.”
Sands jowls shook with his snort. “Nonetheless, I am duty bound to see that boy is delivered to Botany Bay.”
“What if he were to die en route?” asked Drake.
“Then I’m out ten quid.”
“Merely ten pounds? For a human being?”
“For transporting a criminal over the high seas and delivering them to the governor in Australia.”
“I’ll pay the boy’s fee.”
“But what will I tell the governor?”
“I’ll double Johnny’s bounty and you can tell the governor what you like.” Drake signaled to Captain Schiffer. “Shall we sail home to England, sir? We need passage clear to Robin Hood’s Bay, mind you. The detour shouldn’t be a bother. After all, you’re no longer facing the challenge of sailing to Australia and back.”
On the Hastings, Bria enjoyed the freedom of a small cabin with a narrow bed, a table and a chair, a chest and a mirror on the wall. The captain’s valet had brought in a wooden tub for her bath though it was only filled with a few inches of water—a precious commodity on a ship. She didn’t mind. The valet had also given her a bar of soap scented with lemongrass.
Though a tad cramped in the tub, Bria was in heaven. She drew the soap to her nose and inhaled, clearing the stench from the Lloyds from her nostrils. The past weeks of terror melted away as she relaxed. No, she wouldn’t soon forget her ordeal, but the shock of her abduction and the horrors that followed paled in comparison to the thrill of seeing Drake alive and in her arms. He’d wielded his power and took command of a navy ship and sailed to her rescue. She still couldn’t believe he’d found the Lloyds in the middle of the sea.
Britannia loved Ravenscar—the duke—Drake—the man. He came for her. He fought for her. He loved her. If only they could spend the rest of their days together. But doing so would only bring them more misfortune and Bria could never burden the man she loved with Beaufort’s threats or with the scandal of her birth. Too much adversity prevented her from remaining in England. Yes, they were sailing to Peak Castle, but she wouldn’t stay—doing so would be inordinately selfish and she couldn’t risk putting Drake in danger any longer. For the love of God, he’d been shot—nearly killed.
How could she let such a thing happen again? Her only option was to take Johnny back to France. They’d be safe there. And the boy was young enough to earn a place at the Paris Opera Ballet School.
But until she had to go, Bria i
ntended to savor every moment with His Grace.
The door cracked open. “May I have a word?” asked the man who consumed her thoughts.
“Ack!” Crossing her arms over her chest, Bria sank lower in the tub. “I’m bathing.”
“I promise to keep my eyes averted.”
“What if one of the sailors or Johnny—?”
Drake stepped inside. Closing the door behind him, he looked at her with the intensity of a man starved. “Forgive me. I could stay away no longer.”
A flutter of yearning spread low in her belly. Oh, how she loved this man. And he grew more handsome every time she saw him. “Is Johnny settled?”
“He’s fit right in. The lad is exploring with Captain Schiffer’s cabin boy. Buggie is twelve and Johnny is following him like an enamored puppy.”
“After his ordeal on the Lloyds, the lad deserves to have some fun. He’s such a sweet child. I cannot bear to think of how difficult things have been for him.”
Drake sauntered forward, making her ache for him all the more. “Not unlike your beginnings, I imagine.”
“Far worse. You forget I lived in relative comfort until the age of fourteen.” A slow grin spread across Bria’s lips as her gaze slowly meandered up his body. “Your beard combined with your scar makes you look dangerous.”
The corner of his mouth ticked up. “You reckon? I think I look like a pirate.”
“I like it.”
He stroked his fingers along his jawline. “It is not exactly the fashion, but I swore I wouldn’t shave until I found you. It served as an ever-present reminder of my purpose.”
“You did?” Her heart twisted. It ached, melted, and pined. Oh, how she’d missed the intensity of his stare—blue eyes that, had she not been sitting, would have made her grow weak at the knees. “For me?”
“Only and always for you, my darling.”
He sat beside the tub. “I wish I could join you.”
“Scandalous.”
Leaning forward, he pretended to peek around her crossed arms. “A scandal worth exploiting.” He grinned as he reached down and grasped the sponge. “Allow me to wash your hair, my lady.”
Relenting, she fished for the soap and handed it to him. “You are shameless.”
“When it comes to you I have no shame. Now lean forward.”
Bria covered her face with her palms while Drake sopped up water with the sponge and drizzled it over her head. “Have I ever told you how much I adore your hair?”
“Just my hair?”
Gentle but strong fingers began massaging the soap into her scalp. “It is only the icing on the cake.”
“Sweet cake?”
“The sweetest.”
He helped her rinse, then swirled the sponge around her back. “Britannia, you must know how much I love you.”
“I do. I love you as well but—”
“I want to marry you.”
Curving her back, she drew her hand over her mouth. If only it could be so. If only rules and society were different. “But you cannot.”
“What say you? I can marry whomever I please.”
“Aren’t dukes supposed to marry highborn women from reputable families?”
“Theoretically, yes. But Moses brought no tablets down from Mount Sinai commanding all dukes to marry daughters of peers and gentlemen. Besides, you are the daughter of a British monarch and a baroness.”
“An illegitimate daughter, mind you.”
“So, who gives a fig?”
“The whole of London society.”
“Oh, just them.”
“Aren’t you worried? Won’t you be ostracized?”
“The British aristocracy places far too much importance on how things look.” Drake swirled warm fingers across her back. “Will people gossip? Yes. Will the papers have their heyday? Yes.”
Bria closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. “But what about Chadwick Theater? Won’t ticket sales plunge?”
“Possibly.” He kissed her temple. “But people will not be able to stay away from talent. And I have every intention of continuing the success of our first Season.”
“With ballet?”
“And opera.” Drake grinned irresistibly, while his tongue tapped the corner of his mouth, his eyes growing dark and seductive. “But I don’t want to talk about the theater right now. I want you to agree to be my wife.” Grinning irresistibly, his kisses nibbled from her ear to her neck and finally around to her mouth.
As their lips met, her heart broke. Drake had so many lovely dreams, but he was forgetting one critical factor. “I want to marry you more than anything, but…”
“But?”
“How easily you forget I was kidnapped, falsely charged and shipped to Australia by my own grandfather. What might he try next? Not only am I not safe, I fear for your life as well.”
“Believe me, your grandfather will never again come near you. I don’t care if I have to make an appeal to the crown, he has behaved despicably and without cause.”
“All to protect the honor of his family name.”
“He is a deceitful prig. And his henchman is worse. I intend to have Gibbs brought up on charges.”
“Do you think he will be convicted?”
“There is enough evidence against him.” Cupping his hands on her cheeks, Drake kissed her again, slowly, seductively. “Agree to marry me right here and now. I’ll die if you go back to France”
Right there. Soaking wet without a stitch of clothing on her body, he rendered her powerless to resist. “One more thing,” she whispered, all thoughts of France vanishing.
“Anything.”
“You won’t like it.”
“How do you know unless you ask?”
“Very well. I want to take Johnny as my ward. I have a little money now. I can see to his education and ensure he grows up to be a fine man—not a thief.”
His smile grew warm and filled with love. “You have really grown attached to the lad, have you not?”
“I feel it is my duty to protect him.”
Drake let out a long breath. “Then I must have a condition of my own.”
“Yes?”
“That Johnny must become a ward of us both. Once a woman marries, by English law, her ward becomes her husband’s ward.”
Bria threw her arms around his neck. “Oh Drake, I love you more with each passing day.”
“Then we have only one more thing to settle.”
“And what would that be?”
“Do you want to have a scandalous elopement and wed aboard the Hastings, or shall we wait and marry in the chapel at the castle?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Drake wasted no time making the wedding arrangements with Captain Schiffer. Thank heavens. If Bria had to spend one more night without being in his arms, she’d burst.
She stood in front of the looking glass and pressed her hands to her stomach. There she stood, about to marry a duke with only her ratty old costume to wear, not to mention the skirts were scandalously short. One of the sailors had come up with a handful of hairpins, so at least her hair was tidy. She had no rouge or face powder, nothing to improve her appearance.
And yet, when she’d argued all these points, Drake repeated three words: “I don’t care”.
“Bria!” Johnny burst through the door and charged inside with Buggie, the cabin boy on his heels. “Look what we have for your wedding.”
No matter how excited and adorable the child appeared, as his guardian, she mustn’t abide his audacity—not to mention hauling a friend into a future duchess’ cabin without so much as a knock. “I beg your pardon, but before you show me one single thing, I insist you go out to the corridor and knock. A young man never bursts into a lady’s or anyone’s chamber without first requesting permission.”
“But—”
Bria thrust her finger toward the door. “Do it, I say.”
Johnny rolled his eyes at the older boy. “Bleeding hell.”
“And witho
ut the colorful language,” she added before they skulked away, shutting the door behind them.
An impatient rap sounded. “May we please come in, milady?” asked Johnny, followed by a considerable amount of giggling.
“May we come in, your worship?” Buggie barely contained his laughter while his voice resounded through the timbers. The troublemaker.
“Your magnificence,” the younger miscreant chortled.
“Oh, please.” But Bria had asked for their sauciness. She cleared her throat. “Enter.”
Again, the door burst open. “Buggie told me one of the sailors makes flowers out of paper.” Johnny thrust his arms forward with an enormous grin. He held at least a dozen paper roses that looked as if they’d been made from castoff letters. “Now you’ll have a posy to hold for your wedding.”
Bria took one and held it up. It really was a work of art and if not for the ink, the flower would have looked like a real rose. “These are splendid.”
“I knew you’d like them.”
“I do. Very much.”
The boy grinned as if it were Christmas morn. Then he nudged Buggie. “Go on. ’Tis your turn.”
The older lad shoved a bundle of lacy cloth into Johnny’s hands. “You do it. I’m not accustomed to speaking to girls.”
“All right then.” Giving Bria a bow, the lad held up the lace. “This is the captain’s tablecloth. He said you could use it for a veil.”
“It’s good as new,” added Buggie. “And no one will be the wiser.”
“Why, thank you.” Bria imagined gravy stains accompanied by a spot of red wine or two, but she shook out the cloth, grateful to have something to cover her costume. “You’re right, it looks new.”
“You’ll have to give it back after the ceremony,” said Buggie. “The captain needs it on account he is hosting the wedding feast in his cabin.”
“I don’t mind. Thank you for being so very thoughtful.” Swinging the cloth around her head and shoulders, Bria performed a pirouette. “A bride always wears something borrowed when she’s married. This is perfect, and I doubt anyone will know it is really a tablecloth.”
Johnny beamed. “I think it’s beautiful.”
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