The Wicked Heir (Blackhaven Brides Book 12)

by Mary Lancaster

  A faint frown creased his brow. “They are your only society? Apart from your uncle?”

  “And Crabby, my governess. Well, I am too old to have a governess now, so I suppose she is my companion. But she does not care how I dress, either. For one thing, her own gowns are always worse.”

  “I suppose they would have to be.”

  “I don’t see why,” Jess argued. “For while she may be my governess, at least she has a salary, while I have no money at all.”

  “Well, if the governess is wealthier than you, perhaps you should just grit your teeth and marry the cousin.”

  “Never!” she exclaimed.

  Captain Barnaby looked lazily amused. “You have taken him in dislike?”

  “I’ve never met him, remember?” she said. “Or at least, I might have once when I was a child, but I can’t recall him. In any case, he hasn’t been near his father in seven years, which doesn’t endear him to me.”

  “Or to his father, I imagine.”

  She sighed. “Well, it is difficult to endear oneself to my uncle, for he is a very grumpy old gentleman. I’m not surprised they quarreled, though I’ve no idea why or what it was about. But if I was lucky enough to have a father, I wouldn’t spend seven years away from him without a word, whatever he had said or done to me. And he must know that underneath it all, the old gentleman loves him.”

  “Why would you imagine that?” Captain Barnaby asked, as though fascinated.

  “Because I have lived with him these seven years,” she said bluntly. “I know him very well.”

  “But you don’t know the son.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Nor do I want to. And not just because I think he must be excessively cold and unpleasant, but because I can’t imagine he will like to come home and be immediately thrust into matrimony with me!”

  “Perhaps you underestimate your own charms.”

  She laughed. “It’s true, I do now have a gown to be proud of! No, I am sure he will wish to run as far from this arrangement as I do.”

  “Then you are saved,” Barnaby said.

  “No, I’m not. Because if my cousin doesn’t marry me, the old gentleman will leave the bulk of his fortune to an orphanage. Oh dear, I am talking too much. Do you think I could have another glass of champagne?”

  His eyes, which had hardened on her behalf, now glinted with ready laughter. “You could, but I really don’t think you should. Not if you want to maintain any discretion whatsoever.”

  Appalled, she thought hastily back over the conversation and decided she had given nothing away that could identify any of the players in her story. On the other hand, he was probably right. Her tongue had definitely become too loose. It might have been the champagne, or it might have been the captain’s oddly beguiling encouragement. She did like the way his eyes laughed, and she couldn’t recall anyone ever being quite so interested in her conversation. It was quite…flattering.

  “Before I finally escort you to the door,” he said, “do tell me your plan.”

  “My plan?”

  “To escape the cold and unpleasant cousin. You cannot persuade me that you don’t have a plan. One that does not involve dressing as a boy and running away to sea.”

  “I think I would like to be a milliner.”

  He blinked. “A milliner? Now you have surprised me.”

  “You needn’t say it like that. I assure you, I have made any number of pretty hats out of the most unlikely materials, for myself, Crabby, and the maids, even the vicar’s wife.”

  “I beg your pardon. Do you mean to begin as an apprentice?”

  “No, I mean to borrow money from my old friend Claud and pay him back when I’m successful. I did think to have an exclusive little shop in London, but now I think Blackhaven might be better.”

  “I’m afraid to ask why.”

  “Less competition. Though less potential custom, also. Still, I am told Blackhaven is always expanding.”

  “And your uncle would permit this?”

  “Well, no, of course he will not. I shall have to run away and then return to Blackhaven when he’s gone.”

  “Don’t you think he will worry?”

  “I think he will be mad as fire,” she said frankly. “But I will send him word that I am well.”

  Thoughtfully, Captain Barnaby rubbed the back of his head. “It seems excessive, just to avoid an advantageous marriage.”

  “I suppose I want to teach the old gentleman a lesson,” she admitted. “And prove I can live alone quite successfully.”

  “With money borrowed from a stranger.”

  “Claud is not a stranger,” she protested. “He is my best and oldest friend. In fact, we were betrothed when I was thirteen.”

  “Ah, I see! Then he is the real reason you do not wish to marry the cold and unpleasant cousin. Your heart and your hand are already spoken for.”

  Although she felt the heat spill into her face, there was enough mockery in his voice to annoy her. “I am not so naïve as to imagine any such thing,” she said with dignity. “I was thirteen years old. But I know he will wish to help me for the sake of our old friendship.”

  “And there is always the possibility that you will still want to marry each other, and then you need not consider the millinery, or the cousin, or your old gentleman.”

  Since this had been at the back of her mind, only half-acknowledged, she glared at him until he laughed and threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t eat me! It was just a thought. But nothing to do with me. I only wish you well.”

  “Thank you.” She rose to her feet.

  He stood at once, too, and strolled with her to the doors. As they closed behind them, blocking out most of the noise and raucous laughter, she cast him a quick, rueful glance. “I suppose you think my plans and I are all very silly.”

  “On the contrary, I rather admire you,” he said unexpectedly. “In fact, if you and Claud wish to run away in the next two or three weeks, I’ll give the pair of you passage to South America as my wedding gift.”

  “Now I know you’re making fun of me,” she said without rancor.

  A breath of laughter escaped him. “Not at all. I’ll be happy to do it. Providing I like Claud.”

  He paused at the pillar that blocked both the reception desk and the back hall from view, and she tilted her head to gaze up at him.

  “You’re a very odd person,” she said frankly.

  “I am,” he agreed. “But then, so are you, in a much more lovable way. Take care who you trust, little bird.” Without further warning, he swooped, dropping a kiss full on her parted lips.

  Heat and shock surged up from her toes. The sheer novelty of warm, firm lips pressed to hers made her gasp. And then, before she even had time to be outraged, it was over. With a flash of white teeth, he winked and strode across the foyer to the front door of the hotel.

  Anger and shame at his careless treatment fought with some other emotion she didn’t care to think about, let alone name. Her heart thundering, she hurried to the stairs and ran back to the suite of rooms hired by her uncle, praying she had not been missed.

  Chapter Two

  The man known as Captain Barnaby strode out of the hotel and half way down High Street before he let out the frustrated laughter that had been plaguing him. He should have kissed the girl properly or not at all.

  For a fleeting moment, he almost regretted the other girl, the one in the red dress attracted to his winnings. Antonia. But he refused to think of her either. She was most definitely in his past, and he preferred things to remain that way.

  Nevertheless, as he retrieved his hired horse from the livery stable and rode back to the less fashionable town of Whalen where his ship was docked, it was the young lady in the lilac muslin who crept determinedly back into his mind. He liked the ready way her clear, blue eyes would dance with humor. He liked the slight, charming upturn of her nose and the expressive quiver of the lips he had just kissed. He liked her trim figure, too, and the uncons
cious sensuality with which she moved. It all gave him notions he shouldn’t have in association with any well-bred young lady, let alone…

  He curbed the direction of his thoughts. She was a handful, an innocent with no idea of the dangers presented by men like himself. Neither, he suspected, had she any idea of her own beauty or charm. Her laughter was infectious, her open friendliness beguiling.

  Unless she was fooling even him and had an even more cynical and mercenary heart than Antonia. He doubted it, somehow, but ruled nothing out.

  Reaching the larger town of Whalen, less than five miles from Blackhaven, he rode more slowly toward the quayside where he had a room at the Harbor Inn while The Heron was being refitted. It had taken quite a pounding in the winter’s storms, and they had only just managed to limp back to England without having to stop for repairs. Even then, Barnaby would have preferred to land his cargo somewhere on the east coast, but Alban, Barnaby’s mentor and friend, as well as the ship’s owner, had been eager for him to come here.

  Barnaby knew why. Alban wanted him to investigate the disappearance of cargo.

  “Damn it, sir, I’m a sailor not a thief taker!” Barnaby had protested when Alban first brought the subject up.

  “Thief takers aren’t always careful to get the right man. They’re paid for bodies, whoever they catch to hang for the crime. You are not.”

  Barnaby had eyed him suspiciously. “You mean, you’ll pay me only if I get the right man?”

  “I haven’t said I’ll pay you at all,” Alban said peacefully. “Consider it part of your duties. I’d rather you dealt with any thief than left them to the law’s tender mercies. Probably.”

  Barnaby didn’t altogether believe him. But they were both reluctant to think their own men were involved in stealing from the hands that fed them. They were certainly ruffians for the most part, often with a string of chilling crimes to their names, but on-board, they had developed and proved their own rough honor, and Barnaby doubted any of them was involved in the thefts.

  “Is it even worth bothering about?” he’d demanded. “The amounts are trivial and hardly make any difference to your profits or mine.”

  “It’s not about the money. I like to be able to trust the people who work for me.”

  Barnaby could see his point. He had sighed and reluctantly agreed to land at Whalen and see what he could discover. So, after stabling his horse at the inn, he took a walk along the quayside. He could not resist pausing before The Albatross, not really to examine the state of the necessary repairs, but because his heart always swelled at the sight of her. She was the first ship he had sailed on as crew, the place Alban had first given him a chance. And now, with Alban retreating more from the day-to-day work—he had bought a luxurious yacht more suited to travels with his delightful, aristocratic wife—The Albatross was Barnaby’s first command as captain.

  But he wasn’t here to puff himself up with pride. Reluctantly, he dragged himself onward, touring the harbor and the various buildings lining the quayside, mostly warehouses, stores for the cargoes unloaded from the ships before they were distributed, and those awaiting transport elsewhere. One of the larger warehouses was Alban’s, and The Albatross’s cargo was in there. Barnaby tried the door which was securely locked and chained. On impulse, he walked around to the back, listening. He paused under each tiny window, gazing at it until he could see them clearly enough in the moonlight. Neither showed any signs of being forced open.

  Tonight would be a good time to steal, for tomorrow the cargo was being moved. And deliveries would begin of the goods going to South America when The Albatross was seaworthy once more.

  Shrugging, Barnaby walked on to the inn and fell into bed. His last conscious image was of the girl in lilac, a bold innocent in a den of iniquity. He imagined he could still taste her soft, surprised lips.

  *

  Barnaby had more than one reason for being in this part of the country. The thefts were the simpler reason. The other was to do with family, and that always complicated everything. He had no intention of obeying his father’s summons to dine, and yet despite the various inquiries he had sent out, which all agreed his parent was nowhere near death’s door, he needed to see it with his own eyes.

  He tried to talk himself out of it, but by the time he strolled past the warehouse, now a hive of activity as the contents were packed onto waiting wagons, he knew he would never be easy unless he looked once into the old man’s face. Even if his father never knew.

  He paused before the warehouse, watching the men heaving the crates and boxes. They called cheerful instructions to each other and joked among themselves, but there was no slacking, no furtive attempts to hide anything. Barnaby wandered among them, looking inside the warehouse, where the boxes in one area were being systematically moved. These were the spices from the east, expensive and aromatic. Later the same day, the bolts of silk would be moved, too.

  “’Scuse me, Captain,” one of the men said cheerfully, barging past him. He didn’t seem to mean disrespect. He merely had an injured leg which dragged. The limp made him clumsy.

  Barnaby stood aside. There were none of his own seamen among the workers here. They had all vanished to their own homes or taverns or brothels according to individual circumstances and tastes. Barnaby was sure none of them would steal so much as a handful of peppercorns. They might slit the throats of anyone who looked at them sideways, but that would be a different matter.

  Watching these other, unknown men work, he became aware that something wasn’t quite right.

  “Wait,” he called, striding out of the warehouse and over to the nearest wagon. The lame man who’d barged past him with the box had just heaved it onto the cart, and now turned to face him in surprise. “What can I do for you, Captain?”

  “The lid of that box isn’t straight.” He came closer, touching marks in the wood. “It looks as if it’s been opened.”

  “Don’t think so, Captain,” the man said, peering at it. “Probably just bumped and scratched a bit.”

  “Open it for me,” Barnaby instructed.

  “Captain!” the man protested.

  Barnaby looked at him. “If you please,” he said implacably.

  Muttering, the man took a tool from his belt and pried open the box. The distinctive smell of saffron assailed Barnaby, one of the most expensive of spices, one that would be worth stealing. And yet, gazing into the heap of threads like crimson hay, he couldn’t say for sure that any had been skimmed off. The box was not full, but neither was it even half-empty. There was nothing definite enough to make a fuss over.

  “Thank you,” Barnaby said. “Seal it up again—properly this time.”

  Perhaps his interest would be enough to deter any thieving, and no further action would be necessary. He thought of hanging around longer, aware he only wished to do so in order to avoid going to Blackhaven. And yet, if he left going until later, it might be too close to dinner, and his father would crow that he’d won.

  Barnaby let out a hiss of laughter. There was nothing like family to bring out the worst childishness in a man. He strode back to the inn and called for his horse.

  *

  Blackhaven seemed to bustle in a much more genteel manner than Whalen. The little harbor accommodated mostly fishermen. The better-dressed women at the market stalls were more likely to be the wives of gentlemen than merchants, and the shops on High Street catered largely for the wealthy and the fashionable. In the last ten years, the town had grown and changed beyond all recognition, due largely to the discovery of the healing properties of the springs in the surrounding hills. Some enterprising soul had piped it into the town, and now it was recognized by the ton as the Bath of the north.

  Barnaby decided to take up his post in the coffee house, which was directly opposite the hotel entrance. From there, he would see his father coming out or going in. Curiosity would be satisfied, and he could return to Whalen in time to supervise the departure of the silk. However, before he had even pushed
open the glass door, he paused, frowning at one of the tables inside.

  The man who sat alone there, reading The Morning Post, a cup of coffee at his elbow, was instantly familiar. A large man, rather fuller in the figure than Barnaby remembered, a little puffier in the face, but still an imposing man, handsome in his own way. Cousin Hector. He’d been inclined to bully Barnaby when they were young, although that had stopped abruptly when Barnaby had knocked the older boy down and made his nose bleed.

  Barnaby was not pleased to see his cousin here, and had no desire to speak to him. But he was curious. What the devil was he doing in Blackhaven? He was unlikely to be accompanying Barnaby’s father, who couldn’t stand him.

  He hesitated only a moment. In the end, he was damned if he’d give up seven years of anonymity just to be discovered by that toad, his cousin, who was so absorbed he hadn’t even looked up from his newspaper. Barnaby dropped his hand and walked across the road instead of to the hotel.

  The liveried doorman, a former soldier, let him in, and he strolled into the foyer once more. There was no sign now that last night’s disreputable but lucrative gaming party had ever taken place. Barnaby sat in one of the large, leather sofas, as though waiting for someone, and lifted the copy of The Gentleman’s Magazine from the table in front of him.

  From there, he watched people come and go, an interesting mixture of the lively and the frail, old and young, the sick with their healthy companions. In this place, all were well-to-do. Barnaby was surprised at his father staying in such an expensive establishment, but then, he would not lower his pride by staying at the new inn, let alone the disreputable tavern.

  He saw the girl in lilac first. She all but danced into the hotel just ahead of an older gentleman, whom she addressed over her shoulder with laughing patience. His first thought was a wordless jumble of beauty and attraction that made him want to smile. His second, more cynically, that the old gentleman must lap up such attentions, and she knew it. No wonder he wanted to leave her provided for. The mystery was really why she would not simply allow it. Was she holding out for more? Or had she told the truth last night?