Redeeming the Rogue

by Donna MacMeans

  “What are you doing?” he heard Evans snarl.

  “We’re losing pressure,” Briggs answered. “I’m sending a signal down to the boiler room.”

  “Make it quick.”

  Now that Briggs had mentioned it, the Irish Rose wasn’t forging ahead with her earlier power. A good sign that Ben had gotten the engine crew to the stern lifeboats. The controls for the engine room were located next to the bridge door. Briggs pushed it open while moving the levers to signal for more steam. Rafferty took advantage, stood, and aimed his rifle.

  “Put your hands up, Evans.”

  Evans had one gun aimed down the passageway and another aimed at Briggs. “Don’t threaten me. You’ll lose the good captain.” His lips turned up at the corners. He shifted one gun from the passageway to Rafferty. “I see you found me guns. Did you find me money as well?”

  “Your guns? I thought you were behind the Garfield . . .” Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. There was only one person who would orchestrate both the smuggling and the assassination attempt. “Toomey,” Rafferty said. “It is you, isn’t it?”

  “In the flesh, lad.” He grinned. “And let me say what a pleasure it has been using your ship to transport the means for an uprising the likes of which have never been seen. Heads will roll. Blood will be shed. Hopefully, Ireland will be free, but I’ll be a rich man either way.”

  “Rich? This isn’t just about home rule?”

  “The Americans are a generous people. I’ve collected enough for guns and a bit more for my efforts.”

  “What about the bombings? Was that for profit as well? Or for the blood in the streets?” Rafferty asked. He should just shoot the bloody bastard, but Briggs was still in Toomey’s sights.

  “Ack. I’m sorry about your family, lad. It wasn’t personal. They were causalities of war. But you . . . your demise will be sweet. You, I take personal.”

  Briggs made a quick lunge. Toomey fired and ran down the stairs. Rafferty fired as well, but too late. Footfalls pounded the passageway. Rafferty dashed over to Briggs. “Are you hurt?”

  “He got my arm.”

  Rafferty took a look. Blood seeped from Briggs’s arm but didn’t pump in a gushing flow. “Do you keep medical supplies about?”

  “In the kitchen, but I’m not sure where.”

  Rafferty got him to his feet. With Rafferty in the lead, they followed the passageway to the dining saloon. Rafferty grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the sideboard and poured it on the wound.

  Briggs hissed between his teeth. “Waste of good whiskey.”

  “The burn will do you good, old man,” Rafferty said. He grabbed some dinner napkins from a drawer and fashioned a bandage. “You’ll be able to impress the ladies with your scar,” he said while wrapping the bandage on his arm.

  “Only Jane,” Briggs replied.

  Rafferty handed him the loaded revolver. “Now take this and find your wife. I’ve sent everyone to the stern lifeboats. Once you’re in, cast away. Get as far away from the boat as you can.”

  “What about you?” Briggs asked.

  “Toomey’s not going to get away again, and his guns aren’t going to make port. It’s personal between us.” He smiled and extended his hand to Briggs. “You’ve been a good friend. I’m glad you found Mrs. Summers in your sunset years. Living to be lonely is no life, I’m thinking.”

  Briggs shook his hand. “I’m proud of you, lad, but don’t be stupid. Get off the Rose as soon as you can.”

  “Aye, that I will.” Rafferty grabbed a couple of napkins and his rifle, then started after Toomey.

  For a small steamer, the Irish Rose was too big to search for a single man floor by floor. Rafferty had the advantage of knowing the ship inside and out. He figured Toomey had three choices: the guns, the money, or a lifeboat. If he were Toomey, he’d go for the money first.

  Rafferty took the stairs cautiously, descending into the belly of the ship, mindful that a bullet could fly at his ears at any time.

  As he approached the hold, he could hear Toomey talking to himself. “Which one, which one. Here it is. Miss Mary O’Sullivan.” A light shone from the hold; he must have taken a lamp in there with him. Then he heard the sound of prying wood. A sound he was very familiar with after having opened so many coffins himself.

  Rafferty struck a match and lit the cloth napkin until it crackled. He threw the rifle into the passageway, followed by the flaming napkin. Then ran like the devil himself up the steps. He cleared his way to the top deck and was running toward the rail when the cargo in the hold exploded. He was propelled into the air, over the rail, and into the peaceful waters of the Chesapeake Bay.

  Twenty-Nine

  ARIANNE WAS STANDING BY THE EMPTY BERTH IN the Baltimore Harbor when she heard the explosion. Everyone stopped and looked toward the horizon, toward a distant plume of black smoke. “Phineas!” she said, alarm catching in her throat. “What was that?”

  He shook his head. His Adam’s apple rose and fell, then he turned toward her, desolation in his eyes. “Maybe he wasn’t on board.”

  But they both knew. If the Irish Rose had indeed left without Rafferty, he’d be standing right there beside them. Given the time the Rose had departed, the ship should have been in the vicinity of that explosion. For anyone on board that vessel, the likelihood of survival was slim.

  Her heart fell to the bottom of her rib cage. Her throat constricted. Breathing the hot July air was nearly impossible. Her vision became unfocused. He couldn’t be gone. Not Rafferty, not...

  Her world turned black.

  Vile ammonia fumes burned a path up her nostrils, waking her with a start. Phineas knelt beside her, patting a moist cloth to her cheeks. He smiled. “Better now?”

  “What happened?” She was sitting on the ground, propped against the wall on the shady side of the customs building.

  “You fainted, most likely from the heat . . . and the shock.”

  The shock. Oh yes, she remembered that. Rafferty was gone. She was better off unconscious.

  A man on a high platform with an expanded telescope called out. “There’s a boat! Two boats! No, three lifeboats!”

  Survivors! With Phineas’s help, she scrambled to her feet. Dear Lord, let Rafferty be safe.

  TWO HOURS PASSED BEFORE THE LIFEBOATS WERE TOWED back to the harbor. The tugboat, Shadow, had set out immediately to search for survivors. After transferring the passengers and crew from the lifeboats, the tug’s captain had surveyed the explosion area looking for more survivors—one in particular—but none were found.

  Arianne studied the passengers on the deck of the Shadow as it pulled into port. Spotting Mrs. Summers immediately, she raced to her old chaperone as soon as the passengers were released. If anyone would know if Rafferty survived, she would. Even before Arianne could ask, however, she knew the answer by the red-rimmed eyes of her friend. Rafferty had not been found. He had saved them all by getting them to lifeboats in time to escape the blast, she said, but he himself was not so fortunate.

  As Phineas noted, neither was Toomey. He’d learned in New York that Evans and Mary O’Shay’s gentleman friend were one and the same. Captain Briggs confirmed it when he told his version of the events. Rafferty had temporarily saved England from a violent uprising and satisfied his own goal of revenge for Toomey at the cost of his own life.

  The consolation offered by her chaperone, that Rafferty had spoken of his love for Arianne, was of little comfort. She knew he loved her. It was the reason he let her go.

  She had been so miserable yesterday without him. William wanted her to pack to return to London, but everywhere she turned she was beset by memories. His words replayed in her mind. This is your home. This is sanctuary. Suddenly, it occurred to her that he wasn’t speaking of the legation, he was speaking of himself. And he was right. Rafferty was her sanctuary. It didn’t matter if he had a title. It didn’t matter if he had property. She loved him for him alone. When Phineas returned from New York, she insisted he take
her with him to the harbor, but the Irish Rose had already sailed.

  Now Rafferty would never know how much she loved him. He would go to his eternal rest believing he wasn’t good enough—which was so very, very wrong. He was the best man she knew, would ever know. She’d been a fool not to marry him. She’d been a fool to believe property was as important as the possibility of living with the one you love. She’d been a fool with no hope of redemption.

  A MONTH LATER, ARIANNE STILL WORE BLACK.

  William had tried to convince her that she was not a widow. Two weeks was ample time to be buried beneath oppressive black veils. No man would approach her while she was in such deep mourning.

  What he failed to understand was that she didn’t particularly want anyone to approach her. She didn’t wish to speak to anyone. She didn’t care to witness the enthusiasm of the other passengers embarking on a trip to London. She didn’t want to think at all about her wardrobe, or her manners, or her brother, or her life for that matter. She’d lost Rafferty without any hope of ever seeing him again. She’d never hear his soft brogue in her ear or hear his talk of selkies and mermaids. She’d lost everything in life that mattered.

  William thought that as long as she planned to shut herself away in isolation from the world, she might as well do it in London instead of swamp-ridden Washington. It didn’t matter to her. Nothing mattered to her. Kathleen packed her clothes away in trunks. William sent a cable to Lord Henderson that they were leaving, and suddenly they were on this ship, this four-stack new luxury liner, bound for England.

  William even booked passage for Mr. and Mrs. Briggs in hopes that Mrs. Briggs could lift her spirits. Arianne could have told him the futility of that occurrence. There was only one thing that sparked her interest on this voyage. She wanted to have the opportunity to say good-bye to Rafferty.

  She stood at the rail as the liner left the harbor. Amazing how the water no longer held a claim on her. Without an inclination to live, she had nothing to fear in death. She brought a bouquet of forget-me-nots laced with ivy sprigs. Touching the delicate blue flowers, she remembered the night Rafferty wore them on his lapel to her state dinner. Did he know then that the flowers meant true love? She remembered chuckling to herself, thinking how inappropriate he looked—yet she was the inappropriate one. Even then they were fated to be together. She’d just been too caught up in class issues to recognize it. A tear gathered in her eye, and she brushed it away. She hoped Rafferty would recognize the sprigs of ivy as the symbol for matrimony so he’d know, if he could see such things, that she had said yes to his proposal.

  Captain Briggs promised to tell her of the spot where the Irish Rose exploded. After silently telling Rafferty of her everlasting devotion, Arianne tossed her bouquet into the water, saying good-bye to her true love.

  “I still can’t accept that he’s gone.”

  Arianne’s heart lurched. “Phineas!” She lifted the veil from her hat. “Where have you been?” Tears, never far from her eyes these days, fell again in well-worn tracks down her cheeks. She grasped his hands in her black gloves. “I’ve missed you so.”

  He smiled into her eyes. “I had some matters of unfinished business to attend to. Rafferty would have wanted to make sure the boys were taken care of.”

  “Yes. He would have wanted that.” She sighed. “I should have seen to that myself.”

  He squeezed her hand. “You were too distraught. Sometimes, just breathing in and out is enough for one day.”

  Tears flowed anew. He was the only one who understood. He placed her hand in the crook of his arm and guided her toward the bow of the ship.

  “I can’t believe you’re on this crossing,” Arianne said. “I never got the opportunity to thank you for all you did for me that day. Once you delivered me to William, you just vanished.”

  Phineas shrugged. “Rafferty would have haunted me to the end of my days if I hadn’t seen you safely home. North German Lloyd is the only line sailing from Baltimore to England. I suppose we both decided at the same point it was time to get on with our lives.” He stopped their promenade and faced her, his voice sober. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but Rafferty loved you more than I believe he thought was possible. I had never seen him react the same way, or care as deeply, about anyone as much as he did you.”

  She dropped her gaze. “I know.” A teardrop fell to her bodice. She plucked a handkerchief from her reticule and glanced back up. “I loved him too. Only I discovered too late how very much. I wish . . .” She looked toward the water. “I wish I could turn back time, do it all over again. I would have said yes to his first proposal.” She laughed lightly and dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief. “I should have insisted he marry me when we met in Lord Henderson’s office. Wouldn’t he have been shocked then?”

  Phineas smiled down at her. “That’s good to know.” He patted her hand, then raised his voice to normal tones. “I’m not traveling alone, you know. There’s a gentleman here who I think you know.” He spun her around.

  “Lord Henderson!” She clasped the handkerchief to her lips a moment and smiled. “This is a surprise. When did you arrive in America? Why didn’t you come to the legation?”

  He kissed her cheek in greeting and patted her hand in sympathy. “I arrived about two weeks ago. I left England the day I heard that Rafferty had been implicated in President Garfield’s attempted assassination.” He grinned. “I knew Rafferty had some unique methods of solving mysteries, but I couldn’t believe that allegation had merit. Still, I thought a treason charge was serious enough for me to personally intercede.” Like Phineas, he took her arm, and the three of them walked farther down the promenade deck.

  “I’m sorry you arrived too late,” Arianne said. “Rafferty would have appreciated knowing you believed in him.”

  “Obviously you believed in him,” Henderson said. “You could have knocked me over with one of my wife’s ostrich plumes when I received the cablegram that you were going to pretend to be his wife. I thought you cared too much about your reputation to become involved in such a public display.”

  “He asked me to marry him, you know,” Arianne said with a soft smile. “I think Rafferty was more concerned about my reputation than I was.” She was too concerned about property issues at the time. She gave herself a mental shake. She’d grown through this whole experience, but at a terrible cost.

  The day proved to be a beautiful one to be on the water. The movement of the boat, coupled with a slight breeze, added comfort to the early August afternoon. Smaller vessels harnessed the wind in a dance on the water on both sides of the liner. People jostled for position along the rail to watch the harbor’s retreat as they sped down the wide Chesapeake.

  The breeze pushed at their backs as she and Lord Henderson approached the stern. A man in front of them left his coveted position at the rail. Her gaze was drawn to him, but she wasn’t sure why. His left arm, encased in plaster and stabilized in a sling, wouldn’t fit in his jacket; thus the loose material wanted to lift in the wind. He had to hold it in place with his right hand, which was bandaged as well. The poor man. She wanted to tell him to throw proprieties to the wind and not wear the contrary garment. He moved with a slight limp and kept his gaze down as if to watch his feet. His concentration reminded her of Rafferty. He’d had that same determination when he was learning to dance. So much so that . . .

  The stranger stopped in front of her and sniffed. His head lifted. A smile spread on his face. Through the cuts and abrasions, she could see a light shimmer in his eyes. He cocked his head. “Hello, darlin’.”

  She froze, afraid to believe her eyes. She pressed her handkerchief to her open mouth. “Rafferty?” she whispered. Then her voice came out a little louder. “You’re alive? How can that be?”

  He squinted his eyes a little. His lips tilted in that half smile she remembered in her dreams. “I’ve asked myself that question a number of times, and all I can say is—” She crashed into him. “Umph! Careful, darlin’, the b
ones are still mending.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his neck, his jaw, his cheek. His bandaged hand slipped along her jaw, before he tilted her chin and captured her lips. The kiss lasted longer than decent by society’s standards, but she didn’t care. It could have gone on forever. He pulled back and stroked the side of her face with his fingers. “I missed you.”

  Lord Henderson stepped beside them. “Lady Arianne, I’d like to introduce you to Sir Michael Rafferty.”

  “Sir Michael Rafferty?”

  “It’s not exactly official yet,” Rafferty said. “I received this cablegram from the Queen.” He fumbled in his pocket for a paper. “Something about gratitude and risking my paltry life for the good of the Crown. I believe there’s some sort of presentation in store. You might have to help me with the proper etiquette.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Tears slipped from her eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

  “I should have been,” Rafferty said softly. “They tell me the explosion threw me a long distance away from the lifeboats. They missed me in all that nasty debris. I held on to a life preserver long enough for a fishing boat to pull me from the water.”

  “He was unconscious,” Phineas said. “They took him to St. Agnes. That’s where I found him.”

  “You!” She should have brought her fan so she could have smacked him with it. Of course that would have meant she had to let go of Rafferty, and she wasn’t ready to do that. “Why did you keep it a secret from me?”

  “I don’t think Phineas left Rafferty’s side the entire time he was unconscious,” Lord Henderson said.

  “And then I told him not to tell you,” Rafferty added.

  That hurt. She glanced up, the question in her gaze.

  “You were free. As a widow, there could be no questions of a certain nature,” he said quietly.