Pleasures of a Tempted Lady

by Jennifer Haymore

  Chapter Eighteen

  Will arrived home at dusk, exhausted from a long day. He’d ridden nearly all the way to Manchester today in order to find the first mate who had come highly recommended by the Endeavor’s architect. Clifford Halliday hadn’t been happy to have his holiday with his family cut short, and he’d been expensive, but if he was as skilled with oceangoing steamships as the architect had claimed he was, he was worth every penny. After much haggling, he’d agreed that after spending one last night with his wife and seven children, he would join the Endeavor’s crew in Liverpool early the following morning.

  The Endeavor would be ready to launch in two days. Not perfectly outfitted, but stocked well enough, and with a competent crew. Will didn’t want to delay their departure any longer. He had a sick feeling in his gut that Caversham was close.

  As he neared the house, the feeling tightened and condensed into a hard ball. Usually, when he arrived home, a single lantern was lit in the entryway for him. Tonight, lights blazed in all the windows of the house.

  The coachman met him at the stables, taking the reins. The look on his face confirmed Will’s worry that something had happened.

  “What’s wrong, John?”

  “It’s Miss Donovan and Master Jake, sir. They’ve gone missing. I went to Liverpool to fetch you—”

  “I wasn’t in Liverpool today.” Why hadn’t he thought to inform the household where he was going?

  “Yes, sir, the dockworkers told me you’d headed out to Manchester. By that time it was too late to pursue you there, so I came home to await your arrival and your instructions.”

  “You did the right thing. Come into the house.”

  Within a few seconds, he was striding into the house, closely followed by John. Thomas met him in the entryway and flung his little body into Will’s arms. “Papa! Meg and Jake are gone. Gone! And they didn’t even say good-bye!”

  He knelt down to comfort the boy and looked up at Benson, who’d appeared in the doorway to the parlor. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Miss Donovan took Master Jake riding, and they didn’t return. However, I don’t believe they were taken, sir. I believe she left of her own accord. I found this in her room, addressed to you.” He held out a piece of folded stationery.

  Will closed his eyes. So, she’d left on her own. She hadn’t been taken against her will by Caversham. The ball of fear in him tightened into something else, something bitter and painful.

  Taking the letter from the servant, he looked down at Thomas. “Go with Benson, now, lad. It’s past bedtime for you, isn’t it?”

  “I was waiting for you.”

  “I’m glad you did. But now it’s time for bed.”

  Benson took Thomas’s hand and led him away. After asking John to stay close, Will rose and walked with leaden legs into the parlor.

  Will sank down on the sofa and turned the letter over in his hands before he broke the seal.

  Dearest Will,

  I’m sorry. But please understand, I cannot put you or my family in danger any longer. Please don’t follow me. Please understand that the farther away Jake and I are from you and Thomas, the safer you’ll be.

  I will never forget the time we spent here. It meant everything to me.

  Meg

  He read the short letter three times, then crumpled it in his fist and tossed it into the fire. The fire was almost completely out, but it only took a few seconds for the paper to spark and flare into bright flames, and another few before it was reduced to ash.

  “And that’s what I think of your heroic efforts to keep me out of danger, Meg,” he murmured to the hearth.

  He rose, went upstairs, and kissed his son good night. Then he left the house, returning to the stables, where John had begun to rub down his tired horse. “Saddle the gelding,” he ordered. “I’m returning to Liverpool.”

  “Returning to Liverpool, sir? But why?”

  Because, thought Will, where else could she possibly have gone?

  Night had descended rapidly, but streetlamps lit the footpaths, and the roads were still busy with workers heading home for the evening.

  Deep in her thoughts, and murmuring answers to Jake when he pointed out various features of the brick architecture that seemed to dominate Liverpool’s streets, Meg heard a muffled noise behind her—just odd enough that it popped her out of her reverie. She bowed her head and walked faster, squeezing Jake’s hand, not daring to glance back.

  But it couldn’t be Will! How could he have found her already? She’d been so careful…

  The footsteps—several of them—came closer, and within seconds, men boxed her and Jake on all sides. There was no way out. She stopped in the middle of the footpath and looked up at the man facing her—a dark stranger wearing a menacing look.

  The voice came from behind her, smooth and rich yet full of venom. “Why, it’s the lovely Miss Donovan. Fancy meeting you here. In Liverpool, of all places.”

  Oh, God. Tears squeezed unbidden out of her eyes as she closed them. It wasn’t Will—it was Caversham.

  For God’s sake, how had he found her? Gathering Jake, who was squirming to get a better view of his father, into her arms, she dodged under the arm of the dark man blocking her path and ran into the busy street.

  But she was too slow. In seconds, Caversham had grabbed her arm and yanked her back onto the footpath.

  She glanced around. Pedestrians were scattered about, and the traffic was thick. What would happen if she screamed?

  Caversham jerked her around so she was looking into his pale face, into his cold blue eyes and the swoop of black hair he oiled straight and parted severely in the center. His face was narrow but sculpted, and his top lip so thin it was nearly invisible, especially when it was curled in anger, like now.

  His blue eyes glinted at her. So like Jake’s… and yet so different. Narrow and hateful as opposed to wide and innocent.

  So many people would agree that she’d done wrong by taking Jake from him. So many people would think that hanging was a just punishment for her. But they didn’t know this man.

  And there, right in the middle of the street with dozens of onlookers, he slapped her so hard, the breath whooshed out of her and spots scattered in her vision.

  Jake cried out as she bent forward, and he slid out of her arms. But he was just as afraid of his father as she was, so he buried himself in her skirts as if he could make himself invisible in them.

  She fumbled for him, trying to soothe, trying to keep him as calm as possible, even as her jaw throbbed and she tasted blood in her mouth.

  “Pardon me, is there a problem here?” A man had stopped just behind Caversham and was glancing warily from him to Meg.

  “Indeed, there is,” Caversham said. “But I am taking care of it. Thank you for your concern, good sir.”

  The man glanced at the brutes, at Caversham, then nervously back to Meg. She bit back the “Please, help me!” that was looming on her tongue. All she needed was to bring yet another innocent into this.

  It was difficult, though. She knew she must look horrid, with blood dripping down her chin and an expression of terror on her face. But the man glanced back at the thugs again and then turned to Caversham. “I believe you’ve injured this lady.”

  “You’re quite mistaken, sir,” Caversham said. Responding to the nod of his head, his men moved forward. One of them held a gun partially concealed by his coat. He pointed it at the man, who stepped back shakily, raising his hands in a gesture of defeat.

  “I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Oh, no,” Caversham said. “Neither do we. Go along now, and we’ll take care of this.”

  With one last guilty glance at Meg, the man hurried away.

  “Well now, that was awkward.” Caversham gestured behind them, and Meg realized a small black carriage was parked a few yards back on the road, its coachman and the horses poised for movement. “Why don’t we go into my carriage and talk this through.”

  It wasn
’t a question, it was a command. But once he had her out of sight of the public, what would he do to her?

  Jake whimpered and burrowed deeper into her skirts. Caversham glanced down at him and rolled his eyes heavenward but didn’t comment.

  Meg struggled to gain some control over her fear so she could speak. Finally, she murmured, “How did you find us?”

  Caversham’s lips twisted into a mocking smile. “Why, it was almost too easy.” Taking her arm in a bruising grip, he said, “Come. Let’s walk a ways, and I shall tell you.”

  Not having any choice in the matter, she took Jake’s hand and allowed Caversham to drag them along the footpath.

  “It begins with you, my dear. Your foolish plan to escape to Ireland.”

  “How did you—?”

  Caversham waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, please, Miss Donovan. Do you really think yourself so sly? Sarah told me years ago that you have family in Ireland. Knowing I might need to use them someday, I found that they all live in Cork, and I’ve kept a close eye on them ever since. When you disappeared from the Defiant in Irish waters, it was clear to me where you intended to go.”

  Meg nearly groaned. Even after all these years, she’d still underestimated Caversham.

  “But alas, when I searched there, you were nowhere to be found. Which left me with two possibilities: either you perished in that nasty squall or you had gone to England instead.

  “The heroic Captain Langley cleared up that confusion quite rapidly. I have known for years of his close ties to your family. First, he arrived in London out of the blue—a very odd appearance when my sources say the Crown had engaged him to search for smugglers along the Cornwall coast. Then, only a few weeks after his odd appearance, he left London suddenly and without any sort of explanation. When his builders in Liverpool began scrambling to complete work months early on his steamship, I knew without a doubt that all these strange behaviors must have something to do with you.”

  Meg shuddered. She should have predicted Caversham would find out all about Will. She’d been so stupid.

  “I sent the Defiant on her merry way back to the West Indies for her next shipment while I hurried to Liverpool via coach,” Caversham continued. “I intended to catch you when you boarded Langley’s steamship. However, one of my spies saw you today at the packet offices buying passage to New York and then inquiring about inns in the area. By the time you left the Angel Inn tonight, we were already outside devising a plan to break in to your room. How easy you made it for me, Miss Donovan—you have eliminated the potentially embarrassing situation of me having to face your lover.” He gave her a cold smile. “It seems you have used Captain Langley very poorly indeed. You seduced him, didn’t you? You allowed him to think he was being the gallant and protecting you when you had plans to leave him all along. Either that or you knew I was close and you were making one final attempt to throw me off your scent.” Lifting his thin, long nose into the air, he sniffed several times. “Alas, all your efforts were useless. Even in the stench of this city, I could smell your nearness. I’m like a hound, you know. Nay, better than a hound. I was so very close to you in London. Just a day or two behind, was I not? Even with the bit of confusion with your sister, it was only a matter of time before I caught up to you once and for all.”

  “Confusion with my sister?” she whispered.

  “Ah. You didn’t hear about that?”

  Weakly, she shook her head.

  He held tighter on to her arm but continued to walk at a leisurely pace. “My keen nose led me to your twin at her home in St. James’s Square. Unfortunately, for a time, I believed she was you.” He shrugged. “It was a minor inconvenience.”

  She groaned softly.

  “Really, Miss Donovan, you never mentioned how very identical you and your twin are.”

  “We’re not identical at all,” she said instantly, and then regretted it. It was never wise to naysay Jacob Caversham.

  He drew her to a stop and politely inclined his head, once again gesturing back to his carriage following behind them at a snail’s pace. The brutes were back there, too, watching Meg closely, clearly daring her to try something.

  “Now,” Caversham said graciously. “My carriage, if you please?”

  “What do you intend to do with us?” she grated out.

  “Why, I intend to raise my son to be a gentleman.”

  Yes, like you, Mr. Caversham. Such a fine gentleman.

  “And you”—Caversham’s voice lowered, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in the semblance of a smile that made her blood run cold—“I’ll deal with you once we’re out to sea.”

  “Deal with you” meant that he planned to kill her, certainly.

  He leaned forward, a gleam lighting his blue eyes in the darkness. “You know, Miss Donovan, Sarah once told me your deepest fear.”

  She closed her eyes. He’d always known her deepest fear; had used it to threaten her over and over. And now he was about to do it again, although this time she had the sinking feeling he intended to make good on his threat.

  “I suppose it makes sense, since you would have drowned that day so many years ago had I not found you,” he continued. “I gave you eight extra years of life, but I think that’s enough. I think the best thing to do—the right thing to do—is to put you back where I found you. In the middle of the ocean. No land, no ships, no hope in sight.” His smile widened. “Now, my carriage, if you please.”

  “No, thank you,” she said, her tone as brittle as glass. “I believe I’d prefer to stay here. On dry land.”

  Caversham raised a single thin black brow. “What? You reject my hospitality? Come, Miss Donovan. I’m afraid you have little choice in the matter.”

  She hefted Jake onto her hip and looked him in the eye, realizing that drawing the attention of the nearby pedestrians was her last hope. “I’ll scream.”

  He gave her a pleasant smile. “You’ll regret it if you do.”

  She knew he spoke the truth. And yet, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—go willingly into that carriage and certain death.

  She lunged off the footpath and onto the road, running as fast as she could, calling out, “Help me! Someone, please help—”

  One of the brutes caught her arm, spinning her around to face him. She recognized the butt of the pistol a split second before it smashed down on her head.

  It wasn’t easy to find information about a single woman and child in a large town in the middle of the night. Where the hell had she gone?

  Late that night, frustrated and empty-handed, Will returned to his quarters on the Endeavor and fell into a brief, restless sleep. At dawn he rose and began the search again.

  His first stop was at the docks, where he scoured through the ships that took passengers and were leaving the area in the next few days.

  And, finally, he found something.

  The clerk at the offices for the Black Ball Line said he’d seen a woman and child of Meg’s and Jake’s description last evening, just before he’d closed the office. They’d purchased passage on the William Thompson bound for New York this morning.

  Will rushed straight to the ship, which was scheduled to have sailed ten minutes ago but hadn’t yet. Once there, he yelled up to the seaman tying off the shrouds. “Good morning, lad.”

  The boy tipped his hat. “Mornin’, sir.”

  Will met the boy at the top of the stair leading to the deck. “I’m looking for a passenger on your vessel.”

  “Oh, aye? We’ve only a few this sailing.”

  “A lady—Miss Donovan, and a young boy.”

  “We’ve no ladies or lads aboard, sir. Sorry.” He turned away.

  “Wait!” Will called. “Are you sure?”

  “Dead sure, sir. There’s two couples what’s married, and six gentlemen on their own.” He frowned. “Though the cap’n did say we had a party that didn’t show.”

  “Who?”

  A sailor toward the bow called out an order, and the boy gave Will an apologet
ic look. “Sorry, sir, but I couldn’t say. You ought to ask the cap’n.”

  He would. A seaman tried to stop him, but he talked his way past the man and found the captain on the bridge. The man looked him up and down disdainfully. “We are about to sail, sir. Please disembark immediately, unless you intend to purchase passage to New York.”

  “Forgive me for delaying your departure, Captain.” Will knew how annoying that could be. “My name is William Langley. I need to know the name of your passengers who didn’t show today. It’s of the utmost importance, I assure you.”

  The captain’s round face relaxed. “William Langley? Are you the Navy commander who distinguished himself at Gramvousa a couple of years ago?”

  Will gave him a tight smile. “Yes. That was me.” God, how depressing was it that his one claim to fame involved such carnage?

  The captain clapped him on the back. “Well, welcome aboard, Captain. It’s men like you who’ve kept the heathens from overrunning civilized society. I’m George Maxwell. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

  “Er… thank you.”

  “Now, what can I do for you?”

  “I only need a minute or two of your time. I’d like to see your passenger list.”

  “Well, then, you shall see it. It’s below.” He turned to the nearest seaman, a lanky young man who was all sharp points and angles. “Oy, Ogilvy! Go fetch the passenger list for Captain Langley here.”

  “Aye, sir.” The man ambled off.

  Maxwell squeezed his shoulder. “Tell me about it.”

  “Tell you…?”

  “About Greece. Gramvousa.”

  “Oh.” Will swallowed. “Well, not much to tell, really. We went in and occupied the fort, while the French patrolled the surrounding waters.”

  “And how did you rout the pirates?”

  Will met the man’s eager gaze. “We killed them,” he said flatly. “All of them.” And Will himself had done a fair share of that killing after Briggs and Pratt had been injured. Briggs would carry that scar on his face for the rest of his life. Pratt had died in Will’s arms.