Seduced by the Pirate

by Andersen, Maggi

  When she finally tucked the sleepy Malik into the truckle bed in her bedchamber, she found herself wide awake. Tomorrow seemed to loom large in her mind.

  A soft tap at the door sounded, and Jack slipped inside.

  With a sigh, she held up the blankets. He stripped off, his clothes and joined her, taking her in his arms.

  “Sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing her neck.

  His warm body against hers, she slipped her arms around his back, loving his strength and the muscles beneath his smooth skin. She tried not to think this would be the last time they’d be together intimately.

  “My love,” he murmured, and framing her face with his hands, pressed his mouth to hers.

  They made tender love and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  Lydia woke to daylight, the space beside her empty. A chambermaid bearing chocolate and warm rolls entered the room. On seeing Malik, who was still asleep, her eyes widened. She placed the tray on the table and left without a word. Was she doing the right thing bringing him here? There was no answer to that. Only that she could not have left him behind.

  She dressed in a demure, apricot silk gown and was dressing her hair when Jack knocked.

  He swept off his tricorn hat with a grin and bowed. She put a hand to her mouth. He wore a coat of aqua silk, a darker blue waistcoat, his breeches were fawn colored with silk stockings, and his low-heeled black shoes. A large emerald dressed a finger, and an emerald and diamond brooch was pinned to his coat. The gold ring in his ear was gone.

  “Jack!”

  “You look very fine, madam,” he said.

  “Not quite as fine as you.” She was struck by how well the clothes suited him.

  He chuckled.

  Malik nodded approvingly. His red coat and breeches were grubby and showing signs of their long, rough journey. First chance she got, she would purchase some new clothes for him.

  Pleased nothing had come of their encounter with the man on the street the night before, they left the inn and climbed into the chaise Jack had hired to take them to Bromley Court in Buckfastleigh.

  Through the window, Malik watched the villages and farms of thatched-roofed, whitewashed cottages and the verdant countryside pass by as the carriage wound its way over the final lap of their journey. Lydia longed to ask Jack what he had planned. She had never actually obtained a promise from him to leave her and Malik at the gate and drive on.

  It was well past noon when they entered the market town of Buckfastleigh and crossed the stone bridge over the River Dart.

  She pointed out the medieval spires of Buckfast Abbey in the distance. “It’s not far now. Will you please leave me at the gate? I know my cousin will take us in.”

  “You can’t be sure of that, Lydia.”

  She wanted to yell at him, to force him to agree. She feared he was walking into a trap, that even a man of Jack’s courage and ingenuity would fail against the harsh laws which ruled England. But a glance at Malik’s frightened eyes rendered her silent. It would be futile to argue with Jack, anyway. He was like a rock when he made up his mind. His strength of will had kept him alive through the years, after all. But still, she wished he would see the sense of it. If he left now, he could return to Mousehole and be back at sea before anyone was the wiser.

  Her pulse raced as the carriage approached the ornate, wrought-iron gates of Bromley Court. Lydia sat forward, wondering what awaited them. Would Charles be lenient? Was he the kind man she remembered? Or had he changed? He was about to be married when she was here last. She’d never met the lady. Would the baroness look down her nose at her? Lydia could no longer be called a gently reared young lady. She was as disreputable as Jack. And what would the baroness make of Malik? If she ordered him gone, Lydia would go with him.

  “We need to tell the same story,” Jack said. He went on to outline what he thought they should say.

  She nodded, fearing suspicion might still fall on him. That the ruse wouldn’t hold up. The horses were reined in, and the coachman had words with the gatekeeper. Then they were through the towering gateposts, winding their way up the long driveway bordered by gnarled oaks. Ahead was the rambling Elizabethan mansion, the home of her cousin. Charles was ten years older than her, but she’d always liked him. They hadn’t seen much of each other after he’d gone away to university. And then her uncle died, and Charles inherited the barony.

  When her father grew ill, Charles had written to kindly offer her a home with him and his future wife, but her father’s dying wish was that she remain with Alex and accompany him on his travels. Unfortunately, she’d honored his wishes—which brought her back to the present predicament she found herself in.

  In a matter of hours, she and Jack would part forever. She clutched her hands together as her heart ached with the pain the impending loss.

  The carriage pulled up in the turning circle before the front entrance. A footman emerged and put down the step.

  Holding Malik’s hand, Lydia stepped down as Graham, her cousin’s footman, greeted her, surprise writ large on his face.

  A sharp bark sounded, and a silvery body raced at great speed to greet them. Lydia spun around. “Hugo!”

  The dog joyfully leaped up at her, almost knocking her over, while Malik darted away with a cry.

  “He won’t hurt you, Malik,” she called. “Come and give him a pat.”

  When Jack patted the dog’s silky head, Malik cautiously did the same.

  Charles’s butler, Pease, stepped onto the porch. Before he could greet her, a man shoved him aside and ran down the steps. “Lydia!”

  “Charles, how very good to see you.”

  He came to kiss her cheek. “Caroline is away visiting her sister. She will be sorry to…” His eyes alighted on Malik. “But who is this?”

  “It’s a long story, Charles. I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Stirling. He has very kindly escorted me home. A long journey and we’re rather tired.”

  Discovering Jack was not her husband, Charles recovered quickly. He shook Jack’s hand. “How do you do, sir? I am exceedingly grateful to you. Please come in, you must be parched. Such a warm day.” He turned to Lydia. “Alex didn’t come back with you? Couldn’t you get him to leave his beloved jungle?”

  “Alex died, Charles,” Lydia said, her voice trembling, and to her horror, she burst into a torrent of tears.

  “Oh, no. Oh my lord,” Charles murmured. He nodded to Jack who stood quietly by. Taking her arm, her cousin led her into the house. “You shall tell me all about it when you have had time to compose yourself.”

  In the salon, Malik discovered a ginger cat by the fire. He rushed over to stroke it, but it arched its back and hissed at him. Confused, he retreated to Lydia’s skirts while she sat with a glass of wine and relayed the story which she and Jack had agreed upon. Jack had been in Africa on a hunting expedition, and when Alex was stabbed by the slave trader, he had rescued her and brought her back to England.

  “How fortunate you were on hand, sir.” Charles shook his head. “I don’t approve of the slave trade. Poor Alex. He should not have stood up to them.” He glanced at Malik. “It was because of the lad?”

  “Yes, but also, he was protecting me,” Lydia said quickly.

  “Still, you should not have brought him home to England, Lydia.” He sighed. “I suppose he can stay. We’ll make a good page out of him. I’ll send him to the staff quarters.”

  “No!” Lydia rose to her feet and put her arm around Malik, fearing he would understand what was said. “He is very much attached to me.”

  Charles’s eyebrows rose. “But my dear girl, you cannot raise him as your own. Haven’t you already caused enough scandal?” He suddenly became aware of Jack, who she thought remarkable in his restraint. “My dear, sir, you must forgive us quarrelling in your company. What are your plans?”

  “He is about to leave, aren’t you Jack!”

  Charles stared at her. “There is much you are not telling me. I should like to hear more of
it.”

  Before Jack could answer, a servant came in. “Milord, Lord Pleasance is here to see you.”

  “Oh?” Charles glanced at her. His manners got the better of him. “I shall receive him in the library, James.”

  Apparently, Lord Pleasance disregarded the order, for a thin man in cream silk and lace, a curled white wig upon his head, entered the room.

  “My lord.” With a frown of dismay, Charles quickly rose to greet him. “How fortuitous! Allow me to introduce my cousin, Miss Bromley, to you. She has just returned from Africa.”

  “Africa?” Lord Pleasance looked down his thin nose at her. “Well, my goodness Miss Bromley! You must have some fascinating stories to tell.” He bowed but his gaze flickered to Malik.

  Lydia sank into a curtsy.

  “Please meet Mr. Jack Stirling,” Charles said. “They met in Africa while Lydia was staying with her brother, Alexander, a botanist studying the country’s flora. Mr. Stirling has kindly brought Lydia safely home to us after Alexander sadly met with a terrible fate.”

  “Please accept my sympathy for your loss.” Lord Pleasance bowed low and waved a square of lace-edged linen. “How dreadful! But to go to that heathenish country, one would expect to be in terrible danger.” He shuddered delicately. “But you did not accompany the Bromleys in their travels, sir?”

  “No. Safari.”

  Lord Pleasance looked taken aback by Jack’s brief reply. “What were you er, hunting?”

  “Lions,” Jack said. “Bagged a couple.”

  Lydia frowned a warning at him, but he ignored it. He obviously hadn’t taken to this man.

  Lord Pleasance dabbed the handkerchief on his cheeks as if he’d become slightly faint. He sat on the sofa and accepted the glass of wine offered him by a footman with obvious relief. After a deep sip, he turned to Jack. “How courageous of you.”

  Jack shrugged. “The lions will attack the bearers before they get to me.”

  Charles coughed.

  Lydia’s lips trembled. She refused to meet Jack’s gaze.

  “Well, that is fortunate, at least.” Lord Pleasance edged forward on the sofa next to him. He studied Jack’s face. “Stirling, I don’t think I know the family…?”

  Lydia’s body went rigid.

  Jack shook his head. “I doubt you would, sir. They are all dead.”

  Pleasance nodded, but looked skeptical.

  A few moments later, he took his leave.

  When Charles returned from seeing the fellow off, he took his seat again. He glanced at Lydia. “You are very pale, cousin. Shall I call for more wine or a hot drink?”

  “No… I am a little nervous.”

  “I have nothing of importance to do today,” Charles said, tapping the arms of his chair with his fingers. “We shall have more of that excellent claret while you tell me all.”

  Lydia shook her head.

  Jack held up his hand. “I think Charles deserves the truth, Lydia.”

  As she sank down again, Charles nodded. “I am all ears. But first, Malik, if you will? He gestured to the bell cord and made the motion of ringing it.

  Malik rushed to obey.

  “Pretty lad, isn’t he,” Charles said. “And smart by the looks of it.”

  The door opened and more wine was called for.

  “Now, please begin,” her cousin, his brown eyes alight with curiosity, sat back in the brocade chair.

  Jack’s fingers stroked the scar on his temple. He talked of being press-ganged into the navy, of their ship being attacked by pirates.

  Lydia almost jumped to her feet. She sent him a pleading look.

  Jack merely smiled at her. “I and many of the crew had no redress but to join them or be left for the sharks. I have been a pirate since. I am captain of a fine ship.”

  “A pirate? Then I gather you do not have a Letter of Marque,” Charles said, showing remarkable composure. After all, he was entertaining a dangerous man in his salon.

  “I do not,” Jack said flatly.

  “He rescued Alex and me from the Voudon,” Lydia rushed to say. “And then when Alex was struck down, Jack came to get me. He has put his life in danger to bring me home.”

  “Why didn’t you just return home and sort this out when the fleet returned to England?”

  Jack frowned. “They would believe the words of a pirate? I could not put a case before them when I had no knowledge of who I am. I lost my memory. I still don’t remember what happened before that day.”

  “Jack never recovered from the knock on the head.” Lydia’s voice trembled, and she put a hand to her breast where her heart beat madly. “Do you think if the truth is revealed, Jack would be pardoned?”

  Charles frowned. “Difficult.” He glanced at her. “You are on intimate terms, I gather.”

  She flushed.

  “That is not your concern, Bromley,” Jack said, half rising from his seat.

  Charles urged him to sit again. “I have no interest in it. Apart from being relieved that Lydia has found love when her father and brother worked so hard against it.”

  “Oh, that is generous of you, Charles.” Lydia felt hot with relief.

  “But it really doesn’t matter what I think.” He formed a steeple with his fingers. “We must decide what to do. But first, you must tell me what you both want.”

  “Thank you,” Jack said. “If you would be so good as to provide me with a night’s accommodation?”

  “Happy to,” Charles said. “And more should it be necessary. But I’m sure you’re aware of how dangerous it is to remain here overlong.”

  “I am quite prepared to leave this minute, should you wish it, Baron.”

  “Call me Charles. And no, you are safe within these walls. We shall enjoy a good dinner, and a game of whist, and who knows? Tomorrow might bring a better way forward.”

  Lydia came to kneel beside his chair. She kissed his hand. “Thank you, Charles.”

  “Nonsense. As I’ve said, I confess to being intrigued.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jack rose early the next morning, having decided to return to Mousehole immediately. He had no intention of bringing condemnation down upon the baron’s head. A decent fellow by all accounts. Better that Jack go and allow Lydia to settle into her life again.

  But as he put forth his plan to Charles alone in the breakfast room, the baron stopped him. “Something occurred to me during the night. I’d like to explain it to you after breakfast.”

  But as they settled in the library with coffee, the rattle of a carriage sounded outside.

  A moment later, the butler announced Lord Pleasance and another gentleman, a Mr. Stapleton.

  Jack was on his feet. “If you can direct me to another way out, I’ll take my leave.”

  Charles shook his head. “Don’t go dashing off. Through that door is an antechamber. Wait there.”

  Jack strode to the door. He stepped inside while leaving it slightly ajar. He heard Charles instruct Pease to show the men in.

  “My lord,” Pleasance’s voice came clearly through the door. “I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Stapleton. He was the estate manager for the Earl of Chesterton for some years.”

  “How do you do. Please be seated gentlemen,” Charles said. “How may I help you?”

  “Where is Mr. Stirling?” Pleasance asked. “I had hoped to find him here.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “Something nagged at me after I saw him yesterday. He reminded me so much of someone. I racked my brains during the night. I think I have the answer!”

  “Oh, and what is that?” Charles asked in his smooth, cultured voice.

  “I should very much like Mr. Stirling to hear it. Is he here?” Pleasance asked again.

  Before Charles could deny it, Jack opened the door and walked into the room. “Good morning, Lord Pleasance.”

  Pleasance smiled. “Ah, here you are, Mr. Stirling.” He turned to Stapleton who stared at Jack open mouthed. “Didn’t I tell you so?” Pleas
ance said in a pleased voice.

  Stapleton shook his head. “The likeness is amazing, milord. The eyes especially. A Chesterton undoubtedly.”

  Jack took a seat and crossed his legs. “I am afraid you leave me somewhat bewildered, gentlemen.”

  The door opened, and Lydia poked her head in. “May I enter, or are you discussing business?”

  “Business of a kind, Lydia,” Charles said. “Come in, my dear. You should hear this.”

  Lydia stepped inside. “Please be seated gentlemen.” She cast an anxious glance at Jack.

  “I doubt you would have heard the story, Miss Bromley,” Pleasance said.

  “I shouldn’t think so, my lord. What story would that be?”

  “The moment I saw Mr. Stirling here, I knew I’d seen him before or someone very much like him. It made me toss and turn on my bed until I arrived at an answer. You, sir, are the image of the Earl of Chesterfield,” he said to Jack. He turned to Charles. “You knew the earl, did you not, Charles?”

  “Yes, of course, but I don’t see…” Charles said doubtfully.

  “Why he has the earl’s face and build and his dark blue eyes.” Pleasance nodded. “Which are rather unusual, I must say. I brought Stapleton to confirm it. Knew the heir as a boy didn’t you, Stapleton?”

  Stapleton nodded, his eyes fixed on Jack.

  Charles raised his eyebrows. “You may be right,” he said cautiously.

  Jack glanced at Lydia who had gone very pale. “I’m afraid I don’t know of the earl.”

  Pleasance moved to the edge of his seat. “You don’t know the story? It’s quite a mystery!”

  “A mystery?” Jack grew more interested by the minute, although a glance at Lydia told him she was struggling to hide her consternation. “I should like to hear it.”

  Pleasance crossed his legs. “The earl’s son disappeared. Quite some years ago now. In Plymouth.”

  “The earl’s son?” Lydia asked, mouth agape. Jack frowned at her.

  “Yes. The earl’s gone now. And the earldom with it, sadly. No male heir left in the family to claim it.”

  “Is it known what happened to the son?” Jack asked.

  “Ran away from his mother’s funeral and disappeared. Not heard from again. Of course, the earl moved heaven and earth to try to find him. Had agents making all sorts of inquiries. Sadly, nothing came of it. The lad should have been spared the funeral, but his father insisted. Heart-broken he was. Lady Chesterton had died in a riding accident. His son, John, had been with her.” He paused and looked at Jack. “Strange how similar the name is to you, is it not? Jack and John.”