Moonlight Surrender (Moonlight Book 3)

by Ferrarella, Marie

  Duncan turned to look at her. Beth had taken his confession in silence, but there was no condemnation written across her brow.

  “So there you have it, my life spread out before your feet. Do you wish to trample it with those delicately fashioned shoes?”

  Is that what he was expecting from her? Had some other woman voiced her contempt for him because he had been born on the wrong side of the blanket?

  “No,” Beth answered quietly. She raised an encouraging smile to her lips. “How did a privateer come to be living in a manor like this?”

  It amazed him how easily she passed over his story, as if it was no more than that. As if there was no oppressive weight to it.

  “I saved Sin-Jin’s wife’s life, though she was not that at the time.” He spread his hands wide. “It was another matter of debts being paid and repaid. I am a great believer in repayment of debts.” He owed Samuel more than he could ever repay, but he could try in some small measure. Duncan took a deep breath, pushing the memory all away into the past once more. “Sin-Jin and Rachel wanted to live in America, but there was the manor to see to. He left that for me to do. So now me and mine live here, reformed men all.”

  He reached over and snared a curl that had come loose from its pins. He toyed with it, winding it about his finger, his eyes on hers. “Have I satisfied your curiosity, Beth?”

  “Yes,” she lied, her breath gathering once again in her throat.

  He had satisfied her curiosity about his origins, but had not even begun to explain why it was that he stirred her so; why he managed, with but a look, a promise of a touch, to arouse emotions so violently within her.

  That was something, she knew, that would have to go unexplained. Curiosity had killed the cat, and Beth had no desire to join its legions.

  Though the way he looked upon her now did give her pause.

  Suddenly alerted, Beth gathered her skirts together and rose abruptly.

  “I must see to Sylvia,” she announced. “I have not seen her since last night.”

  “Samuel tells me that she has been well taken care of,” Duncan called after her.

  “That is what I’m worried about,” Beth tossed over her shoulder as she hurried out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Beth hurried from Duncan’s room, her skirts whooshing along the floor, announcing her passage. Suddenly, she had need to turn to a familiar face.

  Where had Sylvia gone to?

  She had not looked upon the other woman since last night, when they had brought Duncan in. What had become of her since then? The woman was such a mouse, it seemed odd that Sylvia had not sought her out before now. Beth hoped that nothing bad had befallen her.

  Determined to find an answer to this puzzlement, Beth went in search of Sylvia. The first to cross her path was Jacob.

  He brightened immediately when he saw her approaching, ready to be of service once again.

  “Is there anything you require, mistress?” He wanted nothing more than to prove himself to her, to win but a small corner of her regard and esteem.

  “Yes.” The emphatically voiced response echoed down the long, darkened halls that were somber even in the brightest of days. With the weather so dreary, the halls were cast into mournful shadows. “Have you seen Mistress Sylvia?”

  Jacob looked at her blankly. The name meant nothing to him.

  “The older woman who came in with me last night,” Beth pressed.

  Enlightenment washed over his face. “Oh, the one who’s taken such a fancy to Samuel, you mean?”

  Beth blinked, astonished. “Has she?”

  She couldn’t envision Sylvia raising her eyes from the floor long enough to take a fancy to any man. The woman always kept to herself, guarding her person and most especially her maidenhead as if it were the Holy Grail. She feared having anything to do with any man. She had even been shy with Philippe Beaulieu, and everyone knew, Beth thought, that a warmer, kinder man God had never created.

  Beth was convinced that Jacob had made some mistake. Yet Jacob appeared to know who she was asking for by this description.

  “Oh, yes, mistress. Like two peas, they’ve become, sharing the same pod.” Suddenly realizing that he had said too much, Jacob closed his mouth abruptly. His two large lips flapped against one another like freshly laundered sheets spread out on a line to dry in the April wind.

  Beth stared at him, completely stunned. “What do you mean, the same pod?”

  “Mean?” Jacob cleared his throat, his eyes lowering to the floor as if he were searching for some response there. He looked as guilty as a cutpurse caught with his hand around a pouch. “I mean nothing.” A weak smile spread his lips. “Always talking too much, Samuel says I am.”

  He began to shuffle away from Beth, hoping to get away before she questioned him further. It was not his place to tell her anything.

  “He’s right, you know, but that’s only because I never know when to stop.” And he should have ceased now, Jacob thought, by the look of the shocked expression on Beth’s face.

  She could sooner believe that women had been granted a say in their government than she’d believe that Sylvia had taken up with a man. Her expression softened and she placed a supplicating hand on Jacob’s arm. She felt the muscle there tighten.

  “You can tell me, Jacob,” she prodded softly. “Did they share the same room?”

  The young man looked torn between telling the woman he clearly worshipped what she wanted to know and keeping a confidence he knew he should. Loyalty to Samuel won out of his eagerness to please her.

  “You’d best be asking the lady that yourself, mistress.”

  Frustration mounted within her. Beth maintained a rein on it. “And that I shall. But where is she?”

  A hint of the patience she was losing was in her voice. Were there no straight replies in this Godforsaken place? Was everything here a huge riddle, spun for their enjoyment and at her expense?

  Jacob’s shoulders eased as if he felt the inquisition had passed. “With Samuel, I’d wager. The last I saw of them, they were going into the weapons room.”

  “I see.”

  Sylvia, who averted her head and shivered whenever someone swatted a fly, who fainted at the sound of discharging pistols, was in the weapons room. The world had indeed turned upside down.

  “And that would be where?” Beth prodded, when Jacob said nothing further.

  He could easily tell her, but that would be sending her away. He meant to keep her company a moment longer, if he could.

  “Come, I’ll show you.”

  “Please.” It was not so much an entreaty on her part as an order.

  Jacob, his ear trained for instruction, did not miss the intent. He took her down the hall quickly, the sound of his boots preceding him.

  “There.” Jacob waved a large hand toward the open doorway, but took not a step further. He valued his peace and his head, both intact.

  Beth looked in. She found Samuel and Sylvia with their heads together, the gray one inclined against the dark one with flecks of white in it. They were whispering to one another over broadswords like two young children suddenly discovering that their bodies had been newly reformed for procreation.

  She stared in silence for a moment, unobserved and speechless.

  When Beth finally stepped into the room, she was aware that Jacob had remained without. Obviously, chivalry did not extend itself to incurring Samuel’s wrath, she thought vaguely.

  But she didn’t need Jacob at her side. She needed Sylvia there. Preferably within a coach, its horses galloping towards Portsmouth. They needed to make plans to be gone.

  Another sound, almost like a giggle, pierced the air. “Oh, you,” Sylvia tittered, as coquettishly as any girl a third her age.

  “Sylvia,” Beth cried, unable to decide whether she was bemused or amused. What she was, however, was plainly confused. This was not the Sylvia she knew.

  Sylvia sprang away from Samuel with an agility that surprised Beth. A look o
f guilt flowering on the woman’s broad face. Her hand flew to the bosom that had been heaving for another reason only a moment before. “Beth, you startled me.”

  Beth’s gaze never wavered, her expression unreadable. “And you me.”

  Sylvia flushed and looked down at the floor, her silence saying far more than any words could.

  Could it possibly be? Beth thought. Sylvia? Her Sylvia? And Samuel?

  Samuel was quick to step forward, his body shielding Sylvia’s as much as he was able. “Tis all my fault, mistress.”

  “And what fault would that be?” Beth asked, feeling her way around the subject slowly. She did not know if what Jacob said was mere speculation on his part, sheer gossip, or the uncoated truth.

  Samuel glanced over his shoulder to offer Sylvia a smile. She had been a surprise for him last night, one of those pleasant ones that did not happen often at his advanced state in life . . . one he valued.

  He turned toward Beth again. “Why, keeping her from you all this time, of course.” Samuel’s expression was as innocent as that of a babe on its first day. “I’ve just been showing her around the manor.” His smile broadened, spreading freshly shaven cheeks. “There are a great many rooms in Shalott.”

  Beth looked at Sylvia. The woman’s shoulders were hunched, as if huddling from any censure she might garner from Beth, but she was clearly smitten with the old rogue. Beth felt a smile creeping to her lips. Who would ever have thought it?

  “Might I have a word with her, Samuel?”

  “But of course.”

  Sweeping a hand before him and bowing grandly, he then stepped away. With his back turned to the women, Samuel pretended to occupy himself with a set of matched pistols that were hung in a case upon the wall, a gift from the King to the fourth Earl of Shalott.

  Beth crossed her arms before her. Her expression softened and Sylvia smiled hesitantly. One would think, Beth mused, that their positions were reversed, and that she was the chaperone.

  “How are you faring?” Beth asked gently.

  Sylvia slanted a look toward Samuel and all but sighed her answer. “Wonderfully.”

  Amusement lifted Beth’s lips as she arched a brow. She nodded at their surroundings. “Weapons, Sylvia?”

  Like a child caught in a lie, Sylvia drew herself up. “A mind should always be open to an education, Beth. I have always told you that.”

  Now Sylvia was playing with words. “You have also said that a woman’s education should extend only to gardening, needlepoint, and reading poetry.”

  With a stubbornness that had been foreign to her nature until this moment, Sylvia insisted, “Weapons are far more exciting.”

  Beth looked at Sylvia knowingly. She lowered her voice to keep Samuel from overhearing. “You mean Samuel, don’t you?”

  To Beth’s utter surprise, the woman laughed behind her hands. There was not even a hint of a blush. Only pleasure splashed her cheeks. “Yes, there’s that, too.”

  “Sylvia, what’s come over you?”

  In reply, Sylvia sighed deeply as she laced her fingers together. “Love, I think.”

  Beth stared at Sylvia dumbstruck. Finally the word struggled to her lips. “Love?” Her eyes narrowed.

  There was not a trace of hesitation as Sylvia replied, “Yes.”

  Was she mad? Had she eaten or drunk something here that had affected her mind?

  “In one day.” Beth’s tone, far from amused, was now mocking.

  Sylvia turned on her, angry at the show of disbelief. “Romeo and Juliet knew immediately.”

  Beth attempted to lay a gentling hand on the woman’s arm. Clearly the woman was ill. But Sylvia shrugged her off.

  “A play, Sylvia. ’Tis but a play.”

  Sylvia had spent her whole life shut up with books. “Works of fiction are based on life.”

  Beth took a breath. There was no point in arguing with the woman. The madness would pass. It was up to her to take the lead. As always.

  “When the rains cease, I have made arrangements for us to be taken to Dover.” Sylvia’s expression, rather than become contrite, only grew more obstinate. “Or would you have me leave you here?”

  Sylvia addressed the row of muskets upon the wall behind Beth, unable to look at the expression on Beth’s face any longer.

  “Perhaps, until you are ready to return.”

  She could not believe what she was hearing. Beth opened her mouth, then shut it again. It would be hypocritical to remind Sylvia of her duty, or of the fact that her mother had placed Beth in her care. Not from the first moment had Beth ever thought of Sylvia as anything but a person she had to protect.

  With renewed patience, Beth asked gently, “You are that taken with him?”

  Sylvia thought of last night, of the comfort she had found in a man’s caring arms. And the passion. That was something she had only dreamed about. Something that she had always thought had passed her by on the steadily narrowing path to old age.

  “Yes, oh, yes.”

  Mystified, Beth only shook her head. “Then I wish you well, though I truly believe that it’s madness to remain here.”

  Perhaps it was only the work of the rain, she mused. Many acted in a disoriented fashion after being trapped within a house, waiting out an endless storm.

  Yes, she reminded herself, but it had only been a single night.

  Apparently, she glanced at Sylvia’s face, a very productive, interesting night.

  “Is there anything else?” Sylvia asked, impatient to return to Samuel.

  “No.” Beth shook her head. “We’ll speak more later.” The words had hardly left her lips before Sylvia had flown back to Samuel’s side.

  She was completely oblivious to Beth’s presence.

  Well, whatever Sylvia chose to do or not to do, Beth had her path clearly cut out before her, she thought. She needed to reach Paris as soon as it was possible. With or without Sylvia at her side.

  Perhaps it might even be better this way, she decided, as she crossed the threshold, leaving Sylvia to her newfound adventure. Without Sylvia at her side, Beth would not have cause to worry about her. There would only be herself to watch out for. It would be a comfort, leaving Sylvia here, safe and secure.

  As she left the room, Beth heard the sound of soft laughter. She turned to look and realized that it was floating from between two rows of armor. She could not see either Sylvia or Samuel, but she could well imagine why Sylvia was laughing.

  A shaft of envy touched Beth as she closed the door once more.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The rains continued for two more days and nights. During that time, the different members of the household took it upon themselves to make certain that Beth was never bored or without diversion.

  Evenings were the best, when they all gathered together after the day’s work.

  Even when she was away from Duncan, Beth never found herself at a loss for sources of entertainment. The conversations she had with Hank, or Samuel, or any one of the handful of people whose names she had learned, were edifying as well as amusing. Beth had long ago learned the benefits and joys of leaving her mind open to a myriad of influences. The former privateers who lined both sides of the table each night as they partook of dinner were as lively a group as ever she’d hoped to encounter.

  Far from the bedraggled band of thieves and cutthroats she would have imagined them to be, Beth discovered that they were all eager to earn their way on the manor. Some farmed, others tended the livestock, still others worked within the house itself.

  As she listened to them tell their tales to a willing new set of ears, she learned that, to a man, they had been driven by despair to feed and clothe their own by any means possible, fair or foul. If that meant cutting a purse now and again, or ramming the side of a ship for precious cargo, so be it.

  But none of the privateers welcomed the dark title of “thief.”

  This new turn in their lives suited all but the most restless of the crew. Those, Duncan had been
quick to make clear, were free to leave whenever they desired. If they remained, they earned their way, same as always, but in a different fashion, one that did not run afoul of the Crown.

  As for Duncan, this was the bargain he had struck with Sin-Jin, and stand by it he intended to, until such time that the wanderlust moved him again.

  As of yet, it had not urgently wished in his ear.

  He was content enough to remain here, the whole of his extended family fed and taken care of, with a roof over their heads and their needs met. It was, he told Beth, a good life.

  She believed that he truly meant that, and was impressed.

  Not only with stories was she entertained, but with slights of hand and bits of “magic” that had her laughing and begging to be shown the trick of it.

  Duncan placed his long, tapering fingers to one side of his plate and leaned back, studying her as Hank made a coin appear from behind her ear. Beth seemed, Duncan thought, to be fitting in well here.

  Again he wondered how she would fit against him. The thought was never far from his mind. Each time he looked at her, he burned a little more intently, longed a little harder. He supposed, in a way, it was a sign that he was mending.

  He wanted her to remain for a little while longer, he thought. But the rain had ceased as of late evening, and that meant she would be pulling at the bit, eager to go at first light. He could not keep her with feeble protests of needing her to tend to his wounds. He was recovering amazingly well. The sling he wore to house his injured arm was more for her sake than his. Strength had returned with speed.

  As it should have, he thought.

  He smiled at Amy as she took away his plate. “Excellent, as always, Amy.”

  “Of course it was,” Amy retorted, but it was easy to see she was pleased at his words.

  He rose, his chair scraping along the smooth floor. Duncan made his way to Beth. Hank was on one side of her and Jacob on the other, each vying for her attention.