“Does it?” Bladed stepped aside, to reveal the garments hanging askew on the various pegs, along with several items that had been piled in a heap. “When you opened the trunk, in what condition were the contents?”
“There were simply tossed about, as if they had been thrown in with little if any care.” Jean Marc studied the vanity, where the ladies accouterments had been placed with precision. “You are correct. And the jewels remain, in the open, which means theft was not the motive.”
“Upon my word, do you believe someone entered this accommodation without permission?” Mr. Hinson toyed with the folds of his cravat and shuffled his feet. “But no one, other than you two, has asked about Mrs. Vanderley, and I knew naught of any trouble until you arrived.”
“Are you sure no one has been in here?” Blade walked to the door, set wide the oak panel, and inspected the bolt. “A piece of wood is missing, and it is recent damage, as the exposed area is clean. And the plate is scratched. Someone forced open the lock.”
“Oh, no.” The innkeeper twiddled his thumbs. “I run a respectable establishment, which is difficult in Port Royal, and if word of this gets out I could be ruined.”
“Relax, Mr. Hinson.” Jean Marc scratched his cheek. “We have reason to believe this was a targeted attack on Mrs. Vanderley.” He ushered Hinson to a small table. “Have a seat.”
With ruthless attention to detail, Jean Marc explained the true circumstances of Charitye’s condition and the assault that left her without any knowledge of her history, and the innkeeper grew more startled with each passing minute. His reaction was enough to convince Blade that Hinson had nothing to do with the crime. Given the rich clothing and accessories, as well as Charitye’s wealthy connections, he believed the motive for her attempted murder was as old as time.
Money.
“So Mrs. Vanderley had no visitors, and you saw her with no one?” At the bed, Blade picked up a sheer robe that he would kill to see her wear. “Where did she take her meals?”
“She broke her fast in her room.” Hinson scrunched his face as he gazed at the ceiling. “Otherwise, she ate in the dining room, alone.”
“I don’t like this.” Blade glanced at Jean Marc. “Why would a lady of her position travel on her own to Port Royal?”
“I don’t know, but I want to get back to Fair Winds.” Jean Marc rested fists on hips. “Because if the blackguard trails her to my home, he could harm my wife.”
Sunlight filtered through the foyer window, bathing the entry in a warm glow, as Charitye descended the stairs. Dressed in a borrowed gown, with her hair piled in loose curls atop her head, thanks to Miss Hannah’s handiwork, she began to feel like her old self.
As Dr. Sampson assured her, the temporary loss of her memory resolved itself in random bursts, reflecting various shards of her past, intermingling seemingly insignificant details, such as her preference for lavender, with important facts, such as her ownership of a business on the island. Although she did not recall the nature of the business, or its name, she just knew she owned a company.
The more unsettling revelation revolved around her marital status. For good or ill, she knew, without doubt, she had a husband. In her mind, she could picture his face, yet the aspects of her union eluded her.
Did she love him?
Did he love her?
Did they have children?
“What are you doing downstairs?” Maddie appeared from a side hall and folded her arms. “Dr. Sampson gave explicit instructions that you were to remain abed and rest, and I intend to enforce his orders.” She clutched Charitye’s elbow. “Let me escort you back to your room. Are you hungry? I was just coming to check on you and see if you wanted to take dinner.”
“But I am fine.” Charitye patted Maddie’s hand. “Please, do not fuss over me, because I am better, and I simply cannot spend another hour in bed, as it is lonely. And moving about inspires more reminiscing. Indeed, I am remembering more and more particulars of my life, so you need not worry about me. And I should be helping you, because you are with child.”
“Nonsense, as I know what I am doing, and I will indulge you, if you promise not to overexert yourself.” Maddie led Charitye down the hall. “What say you join me in the back parlor, until Dr. Sampson arrives, because he said he would stop by to assess your condition?”
“That sounds wonderful, and then I will return to my chamber, because I would not be an imposition.” She held tight to her newfound friend, as they navigated the sumptuously appointed home. “Are you originally from Port Royal?”
“No.” Maddie opened a door, to reveal a charming room decorated in pale blue and white damask. “You take the chaise, because I cannot get out of it, and I will sit on the sofa. Shall I ring for tea?”
“If you want.” On the wall, Charitye noted several family portraits done in an unusual style. “Are those your children?”
“Ah, yes. That is Jean Marc’s work, as he is a painter.” Then Maddie snorted, as she settled herself. “Well, he fancies himself a painter, but I doubt you will ever see anything of his hanging in a museum. It is one of the quirks I love most about him, and there is another collection that hangs in our bedchamber, but those are of a personal nature not fit for public viewing, if you take my meaning.” She giggled. “Men are such strange creatures, are they not?”
Miss Hannah entered the parlor. “You rang, Mrs. Cavalier?”
“Yes.” Maddie nodded. “Miss Charitye and I will take tea, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Miss Hannah smiled. “And I will bring some of that shortbread you favor. Is Mr. Cavalier joining you for dinner?”
“He promised he would return in time, so we will hold the meal, if necessary.” Maddie hugged her belly and inclined her head. “And did you remember the cherry compote and marzipan he favors?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The housekeeper gazed at Charitye. “And shall I prepare a tray for Miss Charitye, or will she dine at the table?”
“I will dine at the table,” Charitye responded, as Maddie frowned. “Because I am convinced a little polite society would improve my disposition.”
“Well, I do not know how much polite society lives in this house, but I can promise interesting company.” Maddie laughed. “Then we will be four for dinner, Miss Hannah.”
“Yes, Mrs. Cavalier.” The housekeeper half-curtseyed and exited.
“If I may ask, how did you meet Jean Marc?” Charitye still struggled to reconcile the scarred man with the ghostly white eye with the delicate, refined lady. “Forgive my impertinence, but you seem so different.”
“Well, inasmuch as Blade rescued you, Jean Marc saved me from certain death.” Maddie averted her stare. “I was traveling from Boston to Port Royal, when my ship was attacked by a band of pirates. They set fire to the Trident, leaving me to face a watery grave, as I could not swim. Indeed, Jean Marc plucked me from the quarterdeck, without a moment to spare. In exchange for passage to Port Royal, we made a bargain, and I agreed to serve him. During the voyage, we fell in love.”
“How charming.” Maddie considered her own hero and his strange tendencies. “So, he was in trade, and he assumed a position in your family business?”
“Oh, you could say that, but it was not that simple.” Maddie furrowed her brow. “You see, men like my husband, and Mr. Reyson, are far more complex than the average male. Jean Marc was not to the manor born, and he bore more scars than the physical one that marks his beautiful face. Indeed, he tried to intimidate me, when I first boarded his ship, but I saw through his rough exterior to the man beneath, desperate for love, yet so sure of his unworthiness, and I could not resist him.”
“What a fascinating history you have, and how I envy you.” How easy it was to fall prey to such a lure, as Charitye pondered a future with Blade. “When did you know that Jean Marc was the man for you?”
“At the time, it was when he returned to me, after initially leaving me in Port Royal. In fairness, he was convinced he was doing the right thing b
y me, but, in the end, he could not abandon me. We married that night, on the beach, beneath the moonlight, surrounded by his crew.” Misty-eyed, she cast a half-smile. “But in hindsight, I realize he owned my heart as I owned his from the moment we met, in the middle of the ocean. He was fated to be mine, because no other woman would see the qualities in him that make him an incomparable husband, father, friend, and lover, and I could not have done better.”
“I wish I had your determination.” Instead, Charitye wallowed in a sea of uncertainty. “But, at the moment, nothing seems clear to me.”
“Yet, he has sparked something inside you, something you never knew existed, something unshakeable and strong?” When Charitye nodded, Maddie sobered. “He inspires feelings you cannot ignore, even though you only just met in dire circumstances.”
“Yes.” Charitye scooted to the end of the chaise. “And I cannot explain it, but I know I cannot simply walk away, when my heart tells me I must explore the possibilities.”
“Do you want my advice?” Maddie quieted, as the housekeeper returned, bearing a tray, which she sat on a table. “Thank you, Miss Hannah. That will be all.” She waited until the servant shut the door, and then she lifted the teapot and poured two cups of the steaming brew. “Go after him. Throw caution to the wind, and take a chance on love and a life you may never know without him—oh.”
Maddie winced, as she set down the pot.
“Are you all right?” Charitye stood and went to her hostess. “Is it the babe?”
“I think so.” Mattie bared her teeth and groaned. “Can you help me return to my room, and have Miss Hannah send for Dr. Sampson?”
“Of course.” Charitye supported Maddie as she rose from the sofa, and then she doubled over.
“Oh, no.” A puddle formed on the carpet at her feet. “My water broke.”
“Wait here, and I will summon someone to carry you to your suite.” Charitye tried to retreat, but Maddie clung like a second skin.
“No.” She gasped for breath, as she took a tentative step. “Do not leave me. With your assistance, I can make it.”
It seemed as though ages passed, as they traversed the parlor, and when they neared the door Charitye tugged the bell pull. In the hall, they moved even slower, as another series of agonizing pains invested Maddie’s petite frame, and she leaned against the wall for added support.
“Mrs. Cavalier, what happened?” Miss Hannah rushed to Maddie’s side. “Oh, my poor child, hold onto me.” To Charitye the housekeeper said, “Run to the kitchen and fetch Obadiah, and tell him to hurry, because Mrs. Cavalier’s babe is coming.”
Charitye rushed into the foyer, just as the front door swung open, and Jean Marc and Blade, along with Dr. Sampson, entered the residence.
“Jean Marc, you are needed in the hall, near the back parlor.” She pointed. “Mrs. Cavalier is having the baby.”
“Merde.” Without doffing his coat, Jean Marc stormed past her, with Dr. Sampson in tow. Mere seconds later, he returned, with Maddie in his arms, and carried her upstairs.
“Jean Marc, is there anything I can do?” Blade asked.
“Take care of your woman.” At the landing Jean Marc turned right, and a frenzy of activity trailed in his wake.
Charged with emotions she could not control, Charitye flung herself at Blade. As always, he held her, and she inhaled a shaky breath.
“Are you all right?” He nuzzled her temple, and she turned into his brief but oh-so-delicious kiss. “What happened?”
“I know not, as we were just talking, in the back parlor.” Again, she pressed her lips to his, and he did not deny her, much to her relief. “She poured our tea, and then she collapsed.”
“Let us return there, because I have news, and there is nothing for us to do but wait.” With an arm about her waist, he turned her to the hall, and she retraced her steps. “What are you doing out of bed? Didn’t Dr. Sampson tell you to rest?”
“Your concern for my health is commendable, and I wonder if it is owing to a sense of responsibility, given you saved me.” Ensconced in the back parlor, with the door shut, he drew her to the sofa and sat beside her. “Since that dreadful hour, we have been much thrown together, and it would not be unusual to have formed an attachment, however fleeting.”
“What are you saying?” He offered her a cup of tea, but she shook her head, and he returned the cup to the tray. “Get to the point, Charitye.”
“I feel safer in your arms,” she murmured and bowed her head.
“Bloody everlasting hell.” Without hesitation, he pulled her into his lap and tipped her chin, bring her gaze to his. “What troubles you? What do you want to tell me?”
“I want to know you,” she responded in a whisper.
“I know that.” He frowned. “This morning—”
“No.” Steeling her nerves, she shook her head. “I mean I want to know you, as a woman knows a man, because when I am with you—even when I am not with you, I feel something, a connection, and I think it was no accident that you were there to rescue me. I believe it was fate that brought us together, and I suspect you know it, too.”
Gazing into his eyes, she prayed for some sign of acceptance, a hint or clue that he welcomed her assertions, yet he remained silent. An ear-piercing wail shattered the calm, and she uttered a plea for Maddie and the babe’s safety, but Blade seemed nonplussed by the situation.
Until he claimed her mouth in a searing affirmation.
Licking and suckling her flesh, he plunged his tongue between her lips, and she mimicked his movements. Another earth-shattering scream echoed through the house, but Charitye scarcely noticed, because Blade angled his head and deepened the kiss. When he tugged at the bodice of her gown, she fretted not, because he did not frighten her, but as he grazed his teeth to her bare nipple, she gave vent to a strangled cry, and he chuckled.
“You like that?” he inquired, between inexpressibly delicious licks and laves of her tender flesh. Then he suckled hard, and she feared she might swoon. Just as she found her footing, he lifted his head. “It is quiet.”
“Is it?” She sighed. “I hadn’t noticed.”
No sooner had he restored her gown and set her aside than Jean Marc burst into the parlor.
“Maddie is fine.” With his shirtsleeve, he wiped his brow. “And I have a son.”
Chapter Four
A sennight later, Blade sat in the study, reading through the agreement his men unanimously voted to accept the previous evening. Determined to secure a full pardon, so he could begin a new life with Charitye, he set the parchment on the desk, dipped the quill in the inkwell, and signed his name to the pact.
“So it is done.” He sat back in his chair, and for the first time in a long time he coveted hope for a life he never thought possible. “A year from now, I will be a free man.”
“You cast off tomorrow, with the tide.” Jean Marc dropped a ball of wax and pressed a heavy seal to complete the concordat. “Be sure to keep this letter with you, in the event you are boarded. While there are no protections during the initial period of reparations, it helped the Marooner avoid an English gaol.”
“Sophia was with him when he was overtaken, was she not?” Despite Jean Marc’s enthusiasm for Blade’s growing relationship with Charitye, he worried about putting her in harm’s way, because he would never forgive himself if something happened to her. “And she aided in securing his freedom?”
“To hear Leland tell it, she threatened a Navy captain, in his cabin, and would brook no refusal.” Jean Marc pounded a fist to the blotter. “Much like my Maddie, Sophia is spirited, and I wager Charitye is made of the same stuff.” Just then, Maddie walked into the study, and he scowled. “Mon Chou, what are you doing out of bed?”
“My love, there is nothing wrong with me, and even Dr. Sampson says I am in fine fettle.” She folded her arms, in a display of high dudgeon. “Our son is fed and sleeping, and now I would like to take a nap.”
“Then why—oh.” Jean Mac tugged at
his cravat. “Go upstairs, and I will be right there, as I have almost finished my business.”
“Do you promise?” She pouted, and Blade bit back a snort of laughter, because it was great sport to see Jean Marc outmaneuvered by his wife. “Because I cannot rest easy without you.”
“Yes, my sweet.” He blew her a kiss. “Have Miss Hannah help you undress, and I will be there before you crawl between the covers.”
“All right.” She turned but paused at the door. “If you do not keep your word, I will return.”
“Maddie, I will be there.” Jean Marc rolled his eyes, and Blade chuckled as she strolled into the hall. “Enjoy your peace of mind while you can, because once they insert themselves into your life, nothing will be the same.”
“Did she travel with you, before you met the yearlong requirement?” Blade shifted his weight. “Because I am not sure I want Charitye aboard ship until I have been pardoned.”
“Mon Ami, Maddie and I married in the middle of my atonement, and she spent the last six months with me aboard the Morass, on the run. Trust me, do not let her delicate stature fool you, because she is every bit as lethal as the most merciless pirate, maybe even worse.” From a bottom drawer, Jean Marc pulled a chart, which he spread atop the desk. “Sail close to the shore, because you might avail yourself of an accommodating cove or inlet, should you spy a British ship in your wake.” He pointed to the forelands, which marked the entrance to the Potomac estuary. “This will be your most dangerous course, because you will have no escape once you navigate the river. But women of quality offer men like us a measure of respectability, and the cleanup and refit of the Thunder Child will aid in your ruse.”
“Along with the load of sugar I am to transport to your distillery, in Norfolk.” Blade scanned the cache of papers, which defined him as a proper merchantman, en route to deliver goods. “I only hope it works.”
“Just remember that part of the scheme is looking and acting as if you belong, as if you are one of them.” Jean Marc compressed his lips. “People rarely question that which they see every day. Rather, they note what is new and different. Did you decide on a name for the Thunder Child?”
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