The Pirate's Desire

by Jennette Green

  Lucinda and the Carlisles arrived at the rented townhouse on a warm London afternoon. Amelia’s family, while titled and owned land in the country, was not rich. One month of renting a townhouse in London was all they could afford. Lucinda had offered to pay for her room and board, but they would not hear of it.

  Amelia was terribly excited that Lucinda could stay with them. On the night of their first ball, she exclaimed, “I’m so glad you’re here! We’ll have such fun. And maybe some of the young men who flock to you will grant me a dance, as well.”

  “Pooh,” Lucinda said. “You’ll have your own string of suitors, just begging for dances.”

  Amelia rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Please. In a perfect world, that may be so, but we both know the truth. I can bear it. Now tell me, who do you think will be there tonight?”

  The girls giggled over possible lists of attendees while Effie and Amelia’s maid, Betsy, finished their upswept hairdos.

  Amelia wore a deep purple creation that complemented her light brown hair, while Lucinda wore aqua blue. She hoped the village modiste had truly made the silk gown in the latest fashion. If not, then Lucinda intended to order several additional new dresses during her stay in London.

  “Girls!” called Lady Carlisle. “We’re ready to go.”

  The Marquis of Elderidge’s house overflowed with fashionably dressed people.

  “Lady Victoria told me this is the ball of the Season,” Lady Carlisle whispered as they made their entrance. “Everyone who is anyone will be here.”

  “What a coup,” Amelia said under her breath. “And perhaps arriving late in the Season will deliver us a useful advantage.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “By now they’re likely bored with one another. We are fresh faces. Fresh fodder for the rumor mills. Look.” She nudged Lucinda’s shoulder. “They can’t help themselves.”

  Lucinda noticed the elderly matrons staring at them. They sat in chairs with their backs to the wall. Carefully coiffed gray hair jiggled as they bent their heads to one another, whispering assiduously.

  Despite herself, she giggled. “You are awful, Amelia. But perhaps you are right.”

  “Ladies.” Lucinda immediately recognized that smooth tenor and whirled.

  The Duke of Warrington was just as handsome as she remembered. He wore a crisply tailored, chocolate tailed coat, and buff breeches with highly polished shoes. He bowed over their hands, but lingered over Lucinda’s. His green eyes looked deeply into her own. A flash of mischief lurked in them. “Now the Season may begin.”

  Lucinda blushed, but beside her, Amelia snorted. “We’re wise to your tricks, cousin. Save your practiced charm for the dimwitted ladies.”

  “It is not flattery when it is the truth, cousin. Lady Lucinda, may I be the first to sign your dance card?”

  “Of course.” She hoped she sounded polished and sophisticated.

  “May I be so bold as to take two?”

  “I would be pleased, your grace.”

  “Jonathon,” he rebuked softly. “And may I still call you Lucinda?”

  Lucinda smiled, trying to appear both worldly and confident. She wasn’t certain how well she pulled off the fiction. “Of course.”

  A swarm of young men soon descended upon Lucinda and Amelia. Some were tall, and some short. Some were nice looking, some merely foppish. A few fumbled over their tongues in their eagerness to sign Lucinda’s dance card. Many signed Amelia’s, as well. A faint blush tinged Amelia’s cheeks when a stocky, but good looking, blond young man asked to sign her card before he asked to sign Lucinda’s. Lucinda felt pleased for her friend.

  The evening twirled away in a delicious progression of sparkling lights, sumptuous food, and unending dance partners. Lucinda was relieved to discover that her modiste had done her proud. The aqua silk gown matched, to the minute, the highest fashion.

  Lucinda had never enjoyed herself more. It was just what she needed after the long, uneventful months at Ravensbrook.

  The Christmas ball flitted through her mind. So did the man who had claimed the last dance. Riel was not in London and she was glad, she told herself. She did not miss him. Not at all.

  Lucinda forced the image of her dark guardian from her mind.

  Of all the men she danced and chatted with that evening, she liked Jonathon the most. He had a sharp wit—cutting, sometimes—but he was always unfailingly courteous to her. He’d claimed the supper dance, so Lucinda sat beside him during the evening meal.

  “This is not your first Season,” he said. With excellent manners, he cut a bite of meat.

  “No. I was seventeen last year, but halfway to eighteen. My father agreed I could come early with a friend of mine.”

  “And now you are a beautiful young lady, fully grown.”

  A blush warmed Lucinda’s cheeks.

  “Where is your saber rattling guardian this eve?” The Duke asked casually, but Lucinda sensed his sharp interest.

  “He is on his ship, fighting the French.”

  “I understand he is half French.”

  “Yes. How did you learn that?”

  Jonathon cut another portion of meat with swift, deadly slices. “I have my sources.”

  Lucinda eyed him with caution. “Why are you so interested in the Baron?”

  “I want to be sure you are properly cared for. That is all. If he is absent, perhaps I could be of assistance. I would be happy to warn off any threatening tigers.”

  Lucinda smiled. “And who would save me from you?”

  He chuckled sharply, as if her question caught him by surprise. In that moment, his teeth vaguely resembled fangs. “How right you are. But I will sheath my claws to assist a maiden in distress. I plead on my honor that you may trust me.”

  Now his teeth merely looked normal again. Lucinda decided she was becoming fanciful. “Thank you, my lord, but Lady Carlisle is chaperone to both Amelia and to myself.”

  “And what if a young man tries to whisk you into the garden? Will Lady Carlisle beat him with her reticule?”

  “No. But I would kick him. I assure you, my father taught me how to inflict grave bodily harm upon a man.”

  Jonathon chuckled again, but with clear delight now. He raised his glass. “Lady Lucinda, you are a rare treasure. You will enlighten this boring Season no end.”

  “Thank you…Jonathon.” Lucinda felt more at ease now. She had drawn a line and the Duke had laughingly agreed to toe it. See, Riel, she mentally told her absent guardian. I don’t need you after all.

  The rest of the evening passed quickly and enjoyably. Only one thing disturbed Lucinda. Although she had no desire to choose a husband this year, none of the young men she danced with came close to fitting the bill. Some appeared to be in love with themselves, and talked ad nauseam about their card games and other exploits, some were tongue-tied—perhaps she should give them another chance—and others appeared to be dandies or rakes, and again, full of themselves.

  Perhaps she’d judged them too harshly. Still, the only man capable of providing interesting conversation appeared to be Jonathon. It pleased Lucinda to dance the cotillion, the last dance of the evening, with Amelia’s cousin. The evening ended with laughing good humor.

  On the carriage ride back to the townhouse, Lucinda said to Amelia, “Well? Did you find any interesting men? What about the blond one?”

  “Oh, he was nice. He even asked for another dance after my card was filled. Perhaps next time.” Eyes glowing, Amelia looked out into the night. “What about you?” Her voice sounded dreamy.

  “Not so lucky, I’m afraid. I found fault with all of them, except for Jonathon. Perhaps I am too picky.”

  Amelia turned with an arched brow. “Do not get caught up on Jonathon. He is a rake of the first order.”

  “I know you’re probably right. But the others seemed…I don’t know.” Lucinda sighed.

  “Boring?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you looking for?” Now inte
rest sharpened her friend’s tone.

  “I don’t know. A man capable of talking of matters besides cards or fencing would be nice.”

  “You want an interesting man. A strong man?”

  That description instantly brought Riel to mind. “No.”

  Amelia smiled. “Of course not. Then who do you think you want, then?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps I’m being too particular. Maybe I need one of those card playing men, after all. They’d happily live at their club, and I’d run Ravensbrook as I see fit.”

  Amelia snorted. “And what of love? Doesn’t that enter your marriage equation?”

  “Love would be nice. But I must be practical.”

  “You want a man you can boss around?”

  “Must you be so vulgar, Amelia?”

  “I am asking a question. Do you want a man you can lead around by the nose?”

  Lucinda gasped at her plain speaking friend’s nerve. “I don’t know. I’d never thought about it before.”

  “Choose one of those men only if you want to be bored for the rest of your life,” Amelia advised. “For me, I would go for the spark.”

  “Spark is a bundle of trouble and maddening to boot. In fact, I would sooner tie a stone around my neck and jump in the middle of the lake,” Lucinda retorted at once, knowing her friend referred to Riel. “I will allow no man to rule me, Amelia. Never will I submit to one of those bossy, arrogant creatures. Of that, you may be sure.”

  “Mmhm.” Amelia had the audacity to grin. She gazed out the window again, doubtless dreaming of her blond-haired Prince Charming. Probably he was all goodness and light, contrasted with a certain pirate’s black charm.

  Amelia believed Lucinda felt a spark of attraction for Riel. Her friend couldn’t be more wrong.

  Lucinda crossed her arms and left Amelia to daydream of happily-ever-afters with her prince. Real life would never be so simple, but Lucinda did not say so. She didn’t want to crush her friend’s naive, romantic dreams.

  * * * * *

  May whirled by. Still Lucinda received no letter from Riel. To be sure, she no longer expected to receive one. How would the post find her in London, at the Carlisle’s rented townhouse? Besides, if Riel returned unexpectedly, he would likely dock in London. Perhaps one day he would arrive out of the blue and crash her wonderful party.

  Lucinda told herself not to think about her guardian. In fact, so far, Riel’s guardianship was working out just fine. He was never present! It was all working out for the best.

  Lucinda enjoyed every tea party, every fête, every supper and ball. Amelia did, as well. Lucinda thought she spied stars in her pragmatic friend’s eyes. Either those, or tears. The blond young man—Fredrick—paid Amelia intermittent attention. When he spoke to Amelia and danced with her, Lucinda observed him to be attentive and charming. At other times, especially when he was talking to another girl, he behaved as though Amelia were invisible. Frequently he looked right through Amelia when walking by with another girl on his arm. Lucinda had never witnessed her friend feeling such wide mood swings; by turns elated and then despondent.

  “If you ask me, he’s too much trouble,” Lucinda told Amelia in late May. They sat in Amelia’s room. Only a week remained of their stay in London.

  “But he truly likes me. When we are together, I can see the affection in Fredrick’s eyes,” Amelia sighed, with her elbows on the window ledge. She gazed—moonily, in Lucinda’s estimation—outside. The street lamps cast warm light into the dark streets.

  “He is not constant. It’s like he wears different personalities for different people. Maybe he does like you,” Lucinda conceded, “but he doesn’t treat you as well as you deserve to be treated.”

  “As Jonathon treats you?” Amelia’s tone sounded cutting. Clearly, Lucinda had hurt her feelings.

  “I’m sorry, Amelia. But yes, like Jonathon. He’s always charming and a complete gentleman. Never does he ignore either you, or me.”

  “At least Fredrick is not a rake.”

  “Isn’t he? Amelia, he chats up every girl in the room.” Lucinda bit the bullet and spit out the hardest words she’d ever needed to say. “He has even tried to flirt with me.”

  Amelia flew to her feet. Her gray eyes hardened to stormy ice, and she trembled. “Get out, Lucinda.”

  “I did not…”

  “Get out!”

  Tears stinging her eyes, Lucinda fled from the room. She hadn’t meant to hurt Amelia, but she had spoken the truth. She wanted to shake Amelia free of the strangling web Fredrick wove about her friend’s heart. Clearly, he was stringing Amelia along. Lucinda believed it would please Fredrick if every girl in the room fell in love with him. But clearly, Amelia refused to see this truth.

  Lucinda didn’t want Amelia to be angry with her, but she didn’t want to apply platitudes to salve her friend’s ego, either. Amelia deserved a nice young man, and Fredrick wasn’t one. But how could she make Amelia see that for herself?

  The days wore on. Amelia behaved in a stiffly polite fashion toward Lucinda. At parties, she boldly tried to claim more of Fredrick’s attention. Lucinda detected contempt in the blond man’s eyes. Did Amelia see it? If she did, she made no mention.

  Two nights before they were to go home, a horrifying scandal broke. It reduced these dramas to the petty standing they deserved. Terror swept through the gentry of London.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tension knit Riel’s muscles tighter, and his temper shorter, as May arrived and slowly dragged by. His heart told him he belonged with Lucy. An ineffable sense of unease nagged at him, accusing him that he was not where he had promised to be…protecting her.

  Why did he feel like some dark presence encroached upon her, even now?

  Riel threw himself into the multiple tasks necessary to captain his ship and accomplish the Royal Navy’s commands. He pushed Tradewind harder, faster, and demanded the impossible from his men. On several occasions, he reduced the Royal Navy’s Lieutenant Commander aboard his ship to silence by roaring at his men to comply, and be quick about it.

  Riel didn’t like himself, but he needed to return to London, and now.

  At long last, the Lieutenant Commander appeared satisfied with the intelligence they had gathered, and Riel set aloft his fastest sails and scooted for home. His gut told him it could be too late. His heart prayed it was not…and he prayed for Lucy’s protection.

  Again and again he swore to himself that next Season he would not leave her side for one moment. Was she all right now? She had to be.

  During that swift passage from the French coast to London, Riel read and reread his letters from Sophie and Lucy. Worry for his great-aunt bedeviled him, too. He knew she had been unable to travel to London, and so he knew Lucy lived with the Carlisles now.

  Only reading Lucy’s letters eased the knot in his stomach—and then only for a few moments. They made him smile. Clearly, she had tried to write prim and proper missives, but she couldn’t prevent her feistiness from sparkling through. He especially liked the way she’d closed her letters. His humble servant? His obedient servant. Riel chuckled softly at that thought, imagining the wicked gleam in her eyes when she’d penned it.

  He missed her; and more than he had expected.

  Spray hit his face now as Tradewind leaped and plunged through the waves, heading for London. Soon. He estimated docking by six that night.

  Not soon enough for him. Not soon enough at all.

  He climbed below to finish preparations so he could leave the ship the instant she docked.

  But it was seven o’clock before Riel finally leaped free of his ship and strode for downtown London. He had no idea where Lucy might be, but he had a few contacts. It shouldn’t take long.

  “Extra, extra!” chirped a grubby newsboy on a street corner. “Special edition, guv’nor.”

  Riel glanced down at the paper and stopped dead. Black headlines screamed, “Debutant Raped and Battered.”

  Riel ripped the paper fro
m the unsuspecting lad. “When did this happen?” he roared.

  Fright widened the boy’s eyes. “Don’ know, guv’nor. I canna read.”

  Riel fished coins from his pocket—double the price of the paper. “Keep the change,” he mumbled. Striding fast again, he flipped it open and read,

  A well-heeled debutant of the ton was abducted Wednesday night and raped. The dastardly attacker blindfolded the helpless woman. When finished soiling the lady of high station, he released her to wander the dark streets of London alone, hands tied, and blindfolded with a silk scarf. The kindness of strangers returned her home. Constables report the girl’s clothes were soiled, and her mind apparently broken when they attempted to interview her. She could not tell them where she had been, nor who had taken her. For the protection of her family, the lady’s name has been withheld.

  Panic clamped like a vise around Riel’s heart. Was he too late? Had Lucy been attacked and raped?

  Where was she? He broke into a run. If Riel didn’t know for certain that two people were long dead, he would think this was a repeat of Morocco, twelve years ago. Not as deadly, but just as evil.

  A predator of women stalked London.

  Why hadn’t he listened to his gut? Why hadn’t he been with Lucy? He’d broken his promise to her father. He had failed yet another innocent woman.

  Riel ran faster, his breaths tight and nearly choking his lungs.

  Please let her be all right! Please.

  He would do anything…anything to learn that Lucy was safe.

  * * * * *

  Lucinda and Amelia sat close together at the sparsely populated ball. Lucinda tried to ignore the trickle of fear sliding through her nerves. Is was the last ball they could attend this Season. Surely the rapist wouldn’t show up here, of all places. The legendary Bow Street Runners must be hunting him by now. This logic didn’t relax the unease she felt.