The parchment slipped free, and in that instant she found herself free, as well. She whirled, flushed with temper. “How dare you touch me in such a manner? And…and steal…”
“Do not speak to me of stealing,” he said in a dangerous tone. Was that a flicker of amusement in his gaze? Impossible. Nothing about this situation was funny.
Lucinda trembled with finely controlled rage. “Fine. Keep the letter. But know, Mr. Montclair, that I will protect Ravensbrook and my servants with my life, if necessary. I will never allow this estate’s monies to pass through your covetous hands.”
Any suspicion of amusement fled. “You care nothing for your father’s last wishes, then.”
“My father trusted too easily. He has been duped before.”
“He was too quick to see the good in someone, you mean?”
“Exactly! So you admit you deceived him?”
“I see he did not perceive his daughter to be the selfish, spoiled young lady you are.” He slipped the letter into his jacket pocket. “Have you always behaved like this, Lucinda?”
She did not like the dark way he said her full name. “I am merely trying to protect myself and everything I hold dear. I wish for you to leave. I can handle everything well enough on my own.”
“You have made it clear to me that you are an immature young woman who lacks respect for others. Peter was right. You do need a guardian. Unfortunately for both of us, I am his choice. I will be your guardian, Lucinda, you may be sure of that. And you will come to treat me with respect.”
“Respect is earned, Mr. Montclair.”
“It is also learned, Lady Lucinda.”
She did not like the steady, hard look in his eyes, and decided it was time to make her exit.
He spoke softly, just before she closed the door. “I will leave for the solicitor in one hour. If you wish to come, you will be ready.”
Lucinda jerked the door hard, and its slam reverberated down the hall. The gall of the man! The utter cheek. Trembling, she stalked to her room and slammed that door, too.
She stood there, shaking. She had lost. Worse, she felt embarrassed and humiliated. An ache gathered in her throat. She’d been right from the start. He was a savage, through and through. What would he do to her—or to Ravensbrook—once he gained full control of both?
In an hour, the solicitor would read the letter and her fate would be sealed.
Tears welled and she stumbled to the bed. It wasn’t fair! None of it. Father’s death, living under Riel’s boot for the next two years… Why did it have to be? Why?
Lucinda wept softly, in abject misery. Father’s death was bad enough. She could not suffer through Riel’s domineering rule over her life, too. And Ravensbrook. What did he intend to do with Ravensbrook, once the full financial reins fell into his hands?
* * * * *
Riel wondered what he had gotten himself into. He owed Commodore Hastings his life, but becoming a guardian to his daughter seemed like a stiff sentence to pay in return. Lucy was as fiery and strong-willed as they came. Clearly, she did not want him to be her guardian. Worse, the idea of him taking over Ravensbrook’s finances seemed to have pushed her over the edge. She distrusted him completely. But why? Why would she hate him, when she barely knew him?
He thought through their confrontations; two of which he had resolved by force. A technique which had clearly inflamed her hatred for him. But what else could he do? Allow her to run off with Peter’s letter and burn it?
Never. His jaw tightened. With his last breath, the Earl of Ravensbrook had begged Riel to watch over Lucy. To protect her. Riel had sworn on his life that he would. Lucy was mistaken if she thought she could run him off.
He frowned, and analyzed each of their confrontations again. Perhaps he was handling her the wrong way. Instead of telling her the way things would be, perhaps he should suggest the ideas first. Instead of treating her like an unruly new sailor, he could treat her like his first mate. He could listen to her views.
Lucy was upset about her father’s death. Maybe that, in addition to all the changes in her life that Riel represented, was too much for her to handle right now.
As Riel gathered the necessary items for the visit to the solicitor, he decided he’d try to be more understanding. If Lucy agreed, they could go about his guardianship as a partnership. Provided, of course, she agreed to behave like an adult.
He would make Lady Lucinda realize that cooperation would be much more pleasant than war.
* * * * *
Lucinda rode soberly to town in Montclair’s black carriage. Riel glanced at her several times, perhaps wondering why she rode so placidly across from him.
Probably waiting for her next histrionic fit.
Lucinda averted her face and silently looked out the window. A sick knot clenched in her stomach as she slowly accepted the fact she could do nothing to change her future. Riel would become lord over her. And how would he treat her, after the way she’d just treated him? It didn’t bear thinking about. He’d proven how dangerous he could be; twice, in as many days.
He could not become her guardian! Lucinda swallowed, and tried hard to prevent her distress from showing. Riel could not suspect how frightened and hopeless she felt right now. She could not bear it.
Even worse, what would become of Ravensbrook and her beloved servants? What did he intend to do with her family’s home during the two years he would be in charge?
How could her father leave her fate and that of Ravensbrook in the hands of this man?
The carriage drew up in front of the solicitor’s house. If only she could stop this meeting from taking place! But short of ripping the parchment from Riel’s pocket, Lucinda could think of nothing she could do to stop it.
Her gaze slid to that jacket, wondering if the note still resided in the same pocket.
“After you.” Riel stood aside, so she could enter the house first. His black gaze held hers, as if he knew what she was thinking. Flushing, Lucinda looked away and followed the butler into the stately mansion.
“In here.” The servant bowed, and Lucinda entered a lushly appointed office. A Persian rug covered the floor, the chairs were of the finest black leather, and the desk shone. Law books filled the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
“Lady Lucinda.” Portly Mr. Chase stood up behind his desk, beaming. His smile wavered when he took in Lucinda’s unhappy face. “My dear.” His hand closed around hers, a shade firmer than his usual, tepid shake. “I am so sorry for you loss. Your father was well loved and respected in this community.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. From an unknown source, she summoned enough strength to straighten her shoulders. “As you know, that is why I am here today.”
“Of course, my dear.” Mr. Chase’s gaze swung to Riel, and he put out his hand. “I am Thomas Chase. You might be…”
Riel’s hand engulfed the other man’s in a firm shake. “Gabriel Montclair, Baron of Iveny.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance. Why don’t we sit?”
When Lucinda sat, she realized her chair and Riel’s touched arms. A silly thing to notice, but it disturbed her, as did everything about her enforced relationship with the Baron…if indeed he was a Baron. Baron of Barbary perhaps, she thought darkly. Or perhaps Lord of the Pirates would be more apt. Although clean shaven this morning, he still wore his long black hair in a tail, and now that she was nearer to him, she could clearly see the faint indentation in his ear lobe where an earring must have hung, long ago.
His dark eyes caught her staring, and she narrowed her gaze. Much as he might fool everyone else, he would not fool her. Not ever. She knew very well what sort of a man lived beneath his finely tailored clothing. Truly, a brigand of the worst sort. Hadn’t he treated her roughly? Hadn’t he physically forced her to succumb to his wishes? Twice. Never mind her own questionable behavior. A true gentleman would never have responded in such a manner.
Averting her gaze, she sat ramrod straight and folded her
hands in her lap. “Mr. Montclair has a letter addressed to you from my father.”
“A letter?” With alacrity, Mr. Chase accepted the parchment.
“I was with the Earl when he died,” Riel said in a low voice. “The letter states his final wishes.”
The solicitor frowned. “His final wishes? I have his last will and testament on file.”
“As I understand it, that document will remain the same. This is an addendum until such time as Lady Lucinda marries, and can take over running Ravensbrook on her own.”
Mr. Chase nodded, and broke the seal. Silence ensued, except for the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Each tick sounded like a hammer striking a nail into Lucinda’s coffin. Why did she have the dreadful, absurd feeling that her father’s letter would bind her to Riel for eternity?
Surely, she was being fanciful. Melodramatic, as Mrs. Beatty had often chastised her in the past.
It was only for two years. Right? Lucinda wished her stomach would stop roiling.
“I see.” Mr. Chase lowered the letter and adjusted his glasses.
“May I see it?” Lucinda requested.
“Of course, my dear.” When the solicitor handed it over, she quickly read the note.
Mr. Chase,
Please add this letter as an addendum to my will. In the event of my untimely death, Gabriel Montclair has agreed to assume guardianship of Lucinda until her twentieth birthday, or until she is married, whichever comes later. As you know, I love Lucinda dearly, but she can be a headstrong young lady. By this, I mean occasionally hot-headed and impulsive. She needs a steady influence and guiding hand to help her choose a suitable husband. Riel is that man. I trust him with my life, and I also trust him with Lucinda’s, as well as with the responsibility of running Ravensbrook until Lucinda is married.
Please forward the monthly stipend to his hand to distribute as he sees fit for the running of Ravensbrook and everything that entails, including Lucinda’s wardrobe. If extra monies are needed on occasion, Lucinda and Riel must petition you together for them. If it seems prudent to you, advance those sums to Riel, as well.
After Lucinda is married, my original last testament will take over.
Thank you, my good friend, and God bless you.
Peter Hastings, Earl of Ravensbrook
Tears filled her eyes as she read her father’s last wishes. Truly, he had trusted Riel Montclair completely. Why, however, she still could not fathom.
And he had loved her very much to the end.
Still, it did not take away the sting of his descriptions of her being hot-headed and impulsive. Lucinda was honest enough to admit they were true; at least, on occasion. And thus Riel was to be her guardian. Her father had supposed he would be a steadying influence in her life.
But Riel did not steady her at all. He unsettled her, and had from the first. And her father hadn’t seen her in two years. She was nearly eighteen, and had matured a great deal in her father’s absence.
Her behavior to Riel being the exception, of course.
She certainly did not need a guardian. The panicky, sickly feeling boiled up again as she cast a quick glance at Riel’s profile. The blunt angles of his face looked cut from stone, and his personality reflected an equally unyielding nature.
She bit her lip. This was wrong. All of it. It should not be happening. Her father should not be dead. This…this man should not be taking over her life.
At least her father had put a limit on the amount of Ravensbrook’s money that Riel could access. Still, each month he’d fully control how the monthly stipend was spent. Could he be trusted to use the money as her father had intended? At least his possibly grander, fortune-hunting desires would be squelched; unless he had some other plan afoot that she could not yet imagine. Still, she did not know how he would run Ravensbrook, or treat its servants…or herself.
The lurches of her stomach made her feel sick.
“Very well.” Mr. Chase cleared his throat, and Lucinda’s thoughts returned to the gleaming study, which smelled faintly of orange oil. She realized he wanted the letter back. With reluctance, she returned it.
“All appears to be in order, Mr. Montclair. I will take care of the necessary paperwork. Perhaps you will return at the end of the week and sign the documents?”
“That would be fine,” Riel said.
Lucinda did not reply. But a small, unexpected bit of hope bloomed. Apparently, the agreement would not go into effect until Friday. But on Friday, when Riel signed those documents, her fate would be sealed. She would be forced to submit to his leadership in every aspect of her life…including his guidelines for a suitor. In fact, for all intents and purposes, Riel would choose her husband.
She bit down hard on her inner lip to keep from moaning in protest. Three days of freedom remained. Surely, within that time she could discover a way to escape from her impending doom.
“At that time,” Mr. Chase continued, “I will deliver the monthly stipend into your hand, Mr. Montclair, so you may pay estate expenses.” He smiled. “Frankly, I will be glad to see an end to that task.”
“May I have the account books in advance? I leave for my ship at the end of the week, and would like to understand how the estate runs before then.”
“Of course.” Mr. Chase retrieved several leather bound ledgers. “When will you return, Mr. Montclair?”
“Within two weeks. I need to oversee repairs, and then ready my ship for dry dock.”
“You own your own ship, Mr. Montclair?”
“Riel. Yes, a merchant ship.”
“You would put your livelihood on hold to care for Lady Lucinda?” Mr. Chase gave a jovial laugh. “That is most self-sacrificing, Riel.”
“I owe the Earl a deep debt. It is the least I can do.”
“Very well. I will see you on Friday.”
“Mr. Chase.” Lucinda sat forward on her chair. “Father’s funeral will be tomorrow evening at Ravensbrook. If you can come, I would be most pleased.”
“Of course. Of course.” Mr. Chase nodded once, as if bestowing a great favor upon her.
“Also,” her fingers smoothed her black crêpe dress with suddenly nervous fingers, “I will require an advance on my clothing stipend to pay for more black gowns.” The last thing Lucinda wanted to do was beg Riel for dresses. She hoped Mr. Chase would give her the money now. In the past, he had been amenable to any requests she had made. All reasonable, of course. She had no wish to squander her father’s money…her money, now.
“Certainly. I have saved a bit from last Season, and will advance that to Mr. Montclair, as well.”
Lucinda slid a dismayed glance at Riel. “Please, may I have the money now? I must commission the gowns immediately.”
The solicitor glanced at Riel. “Very well.” He pulled a metal box from a drawer and counted the money it contained. “Forty pounds. Enough for a dress or two, eh?” With a chuckle, he handed it to Riel.
Lucinda gritted her teeth in annoyance. Apparently, she would have to beg Riel after all. Adopting a small, pleasant smile, she turned to the man beside her.
“If you would be so kind, Mr. Montclair? Please. Give the money to me.” She couldn’t help the faint, hostile note in her voice. “I will give it to the seamstress in the village so she can begin work today.”
How she hated begging him for money. And this was just the beginning. Her spirits sank still further. He had all but gained his objective. In three short days—unless she somehow discovered a way to extricate herself from this distressing quagmire—he would win the permanent victory.
What triumph he must be feeling. What satisfaction.
Lifting her chin, she forced herself to meet his dark, pirate eyes. But instead of the triumph she’d expected to see, she saw soberness. As if he fully realized the great responsibility he had taken on.
He rumbled, “How many black gowns do you have?”
“This one.”
He nodded. “One more can be made.”
“One!” Lucinda sat a little straighter. Here it was. The beginning of his authoritarian rule. “One will not suffice. I need at least two. Preferably more.”
Mr. Chase laughed loudly, clearly feeling uncomfortable. “I’m sure you can come to an agreement later.” He stood and extended his hand. “I’ll see you both on Friday, then.”
A clear dismissal. Equally clear, Mr. Chase would be no champion for her. He wanted to wash his hands of the mess and return to his comfortable life.
She followed Riel into the bright sunlight and the awaiting carriage. She settled herself inside, properly arranged her skirts, and waited until the driver shut the door. Anger and frustration seethed in her bosom. A jerk, and they moved toward the seamstress’s house.
“Is this the way it will be?” she said grimly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean are you relishing this? From now on you can squish me under your thumb, and deny my every wish.”
“Is this only about the dresses?”
“No! And well you know it.”
His dark eyes held hers. “Rest assured, you will be provided with all you require.”
She glared. “I cannot live off a few garments in a canvas bag.”
“I understand that you will need more black gowns, Lucy. But one extra will serve for now. You will need new dresses for the upcoming Season, as well. Your mourning period will be finished by then.”
“I realize that,” Lucinda managed to speak in a reasonable tone. “However, I do not think two new black dresses would be extravagant. I have no intention of spending all of my clothing allowance now.” In truth, the idea that buying too many gowns now might crimp the number of gowns she could purchase for the Season had not entered her head.
It would have, however, once she’d given it more thought.
“We will commission one gown for now,” Riel told her. “Then I will study the ledgers and see how many more can be made.”
The Pirate's Desire Page 5