Hold Your Breath 03 - My Captain, My Earl

by K. J. Jackson

  His feet barely solid under him, Jason doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

  “We be far ‘nough we be walkin’ from ‘ere.”

  Jason looked up. Dappled moonlight shone through the thick trees above, and he could finally make out the figure before him. A sailor, definitely, but he did not recognize the thick man. “Who?”

  “Roland, matey. Cap’n Kat be rewardin’ me with Rosewater—that be the ship ye came from, no?”

  Jason nodded, the long-past memory racing into his mind. “Yes.”

  “I carried ye ‘board the Windrunner before I gots me ship.”

  “You were part of Captain Kat’s crew?”

  “Aye, matey. Ye ain’t be thinkin’ we leave a mate to the rope, are ye?”

  Jason shook his head. “No…yes…I do not know what to think. Where did you come from?”

  “I be hearin’ they be hangin’ a pirate here. Come to see and found it be yer arse. Easy ‘nough to get ye out. Plus, easy pickin’ now we be here.”

  Jason looked over his shoulder past the hills they had crested. Putrid rising smoke was thick behind them. “Is the town burning?”

  Roland shrugged. “Cap’n weren’t used to pillaging, but I don’t be havin’ no reservations on it. Me crew be join’ us soon. But I be getting you to an English outpost. It be where ye headin’ to, ain’t ye, boy?”

  “Yes. But Captain Kat.” He cringed at his own words coming off his tongue. But he could not leave her. He had vowed to protect her, and dammit, he was going to keep that vow.

  “We have to go back for her, Roland, they have her.” Jason stood, starting back through the jungle. “I cannot leave her. I have to go back for her.”

  Roland grabbed his arm before he took three steps. “She be gone, boy. Gone with her father. Ye be the last one to get.”

  “No. She would not leave me, Roland.”

  “That she did, boy. She threw ye to the wolves to save her skin. She left and the lass did not look back. I seen her meself on the cap’n’s ship.”

  “No.”

  “It be the truth, matey.” Roland shrugged. “Ye can go back and look. But ye be findin’ no Cap’n Kat in these parts. And we be leavin’—with or without ye.”

  Jason eyed him. Seconds passed. And then Jason nodded.

  They moved onward, and Jason refused to look back at the rising smoke.

  { Chapter 11 }

  London, England

  September, 1821

  The power of the wealth and titles gathered in the Primrose drawing room at Curplan Hall was impressive.

  The Duke and Duchess of Dunway sat next to each other on a mauve settee, while the Marquess of Southfork poured two brandies. The Marchioness of Southfork stood from a side chair for the third time in five minutes, pacing to the window that faced the graveled drive to the estate.

  Concentrated power, yet none of them knew why they had been gathered so.

  The duchess watched her friend stop at the window. “Your aunt did not give the slightest indication for our gathering, Reanna? I am beyond curious. When she left England after your wedding, I had thought never to see her again. Beyond you, she said there was no other reason to set foot on English soil again.”

  “It saddened me, of course,” Reanna said, turning from the window. “But I also gathered her memories of London were not necessarily good ones. The viscount only lived for two years after their marriage—there was such an extreme disparity between their ages—and there were no children. I guess I could not expect her to stay here on my account, but I do miss her presence. There is no one I would rather face a full drawing room with, than her.”

  The duchess nodded. “She is the epitome of grace and propriety. I know I step lightly around her. The slightest glance from her and I always sat a bit straighter, spoke with perfect cadence. Which makes this even stranger. Pulling us together on such late notice borders on rudeness. She gave no indication why we are here?”

  “Still, no.” Reanna shook her head, attention going back to the drive. “My aunt arrived in London, made the request for this meeting here at Curplan, and that was the extent of our conversation. I do believe she knows she is being mysterious, but was not willing to let the slightest clue slide. She did say she would be down within minutes.”

  At that, the marchioness’s Aunt Maureen, Lady Pentworth, walked into the drawing room. The woman’s mere presence commanded the room, not only because of her statuesque bearing, but also because her personality demanded it. She stood in the middle of the room, perfectly coifed, and bypassed all pleasantries.

  “Please, sit, Lord Southfork, Reanna.”

  The marquess shifted a quick glance at his wife, his cheek rising in amusement. He was not one to be ordered about in his own home. But he was also one to give his wife anything she desired, and right now, she desired to help her aunt. Killian was not about to spoil that. He picked up the two full glasses of brandy, handing one off to the duke as he passed him.

  Killian sat on a wingback chair and Reanna joined him, sitting on the edge of the matching chair next to him.

  “First, I thank you for your kindness in my sudden and abrupt request for you to gather, and to extend the invitation to his grace and her grace.” Maureen inclined her head at the duke and duchess. “I appreciate everyone’s willingness to attend. Thank you, Reanna, for bringing this impressive group together.”

  “You are welcome, Aunt.”

  Reanna’s aunt paused, her right hand landing flat over her stomach, smoothing the crisp silk cloth. “Second, I must apologize for my lack of earlier details, but before I continue, I must ask each of you for your utmost discretion. I do not wish to offend, but I must be assured of absolute silence beyond this room on what I am about to speak of.”

  Both the duchess and Reanna leaned forward, eyes wide at Maureen. The duke caught Killian’s eye above their heads. Killian shrugged at him.

  “It is agreed?” Maureen asked, eyebrow arched.

  Four heads nodded.

  “Thank you. I will be blunt as to why we are gathered here.” Maureen turned her attention to her niece. “Reanna, you have a cousin.”

  “I what?” Reanna’s head jerked back, shock evident. “I have a cousin? But how…”

  Maureen stared at her, silent in her patience.

  “But, Aunt Maureen, you are my only relation.” Reanna’s mouth dropped open. “That could only mean…”

  The duchess began to stand, grabbing her husband’s hand. “These are private matters, we should excuse—”

  “Please, your grace, stay,” Maureen said, stopping the duchess in place. “I apologize for the unseemliness of the situation, but it is imperative that all of you have the knowledge that I am to share. I have a crucial favor to implore of the set of you, but the history must come before the request. At this point in my life, I have little to hide, and what I have to tell you causes me no shame. It should, but it does not.”

  The duchess slipped down to her seat. Silence covered the group.

  Reanna pulled herself from her shock. “So you have a child, Aunt?”

  “Yes. I have a child. A child I had believed to be dead.”

  “The viscount’s?” Reanna asked.

  “No.”

  Reanna nodded, eyes growing wider. “How? Why?”

  “A year after I married the viscount, I had an affair with a sailor, a first mate on a ship that had come to port in London. I was young and disillusioned with what marriage entailed. How the man and I came to meet and what we did bears no interest upon this situation. What does, is that I became pregnant. The viscount had refused to touch me after our wedding night, so it was evident the babe was not his.”

  She paused, taking a breath, and then continued on, her voice a staccato in the concise tale. “I left London for an extended stay with my sister to hide the pregnancy.” Her eyes went to Reanna. “Your father agreed to keep the pregnancy a secret and then find the babe a good home. I was frightened, and it was t
he best solution, so I agreed. But as my pregnancy progressed, I changed my mind. I could not give up the babe. My lover, Reginald Dewitt, was near your father’s estate. He had followed me to Suffolk. I had decided to run off with him, leave England, my husband, and start a new life with Mr. Dewitt and our baby.”

  Maureen’s eyes veered out the window, and for the slightest second, she looked grave. She cleared her throat, but her voice refused to yield to emotion. “But it was not to be. I do not know how your father knew what I was going to do, but he did. Soon after my baby was born, he took her. It was a hard labor, and I was near delirium. Hours later, he returned. He told me my baby had died. Stopped breathing. I was sure he had murdered my baby.”

  Reanna’s hand went over her mouth, her skin blanching. Killian’s fingers instantly went to the back of her neck, rubbing.

  Eyes on her good friend, the duchess cleared her throat. She looked to Maureen. “But he did not?”

  Maureen shook her head, sadness twitching the outer corners of her eyelids. “No. No he did not. It was a baby girl, and she lived. Reanna’s father brought her to Mr. Dewitt and told him the baby was his to do with as he pleased. Told him I wanted nothing more to do with him or the baby.”

  “A lie?” the duchess asked.

  She gave a crisp nod, elbows out as she clasped her hands in front of her belly. “One that destroyed me. Mr. Dewitt left England with the baby, and I never knew what happened to him. When I went to the house where he was staying while I was pregnant, to tell him our baby had died, he was gone. I assumed he had changed his mind about me and left. I never imagined what had actually transpired.”

  “Aunt, how do you know all this?” Reanna found her voice, but leaned noticeably into Killian’s hand.

  “It is precisely why you are all gathered. I have only just learned that my daughter lived. Mr. Dewitt contacted me. He named her Katalin and took her to the Caribbean. They have lived there all these years. But they are now journeying here as we speak.”

  “You have never met her?” Killian asked.

  “No. This will be the first time since I held her in my arms as a newborn.”

  “Why now? Why did he contact you?” Killian’s eyes narrowed.

  Maureen took a moment to look at each of the four individually before she spoke. “This is when I must ask a prodigious favor from the four of you.”

  “Whatever you wish, Lady Pentworth,” Killian said. “You are the one true relation to Reanna. So anything we can assist with, it is yours.”

  “Thank you, Lord Southfork, that is kind. Now that you have heard the past, I must please, once more, be assured of the utmost in discretion from all in this room.”

  Killian glance about at his wife and friends. “You have it.”

  “I appreciate your blind willingness, Lord Southfork, so I will get right to the point. My daughter, by way of her father, has lived an unusual life. She grew up on the ship her father captained, the Windrunner. In the past several years, she had taken over as captain of the Windrunner, since Mr. Dewitt’s health has deteriorated.”

  “A captain? A woman?” An awed half-smile crossed the duchess’s face.

  “What sort of a ship did she captain?” Killian’s look of concern was obvious.

  “It is debatable—privateering or pirating—I am not assured either way.”

  Reanna coughed. “She is a pirate?”

  “Was. It is past. Two years, past.” Maureen waved her hand. “And she was a captain, not necessarily a pirate. The Windrunner sailed with various letters of marque, I am told. Regardless, privateering or pirating, I do not know that it matters. It does not to me. What does matter is that there is a very specific threat upon her. There are some that know she captained the Windrunner, and those same intend to harm her with that knowledge. They intend to accuse and bring her to trial for piracy.”

  Killian gave a low whistle.

  “You understand the danger. I intend to save her from that.”

  “So Mr. Dewitt and Miss Dewitt are the additional guests you had mentioned that would be joining us here?” Reanna asked.

  “Yes. I could not save my daughter when she was born, but I intend to do so now.”

  “How?” The duchess was teetering on the edge of her seat, the pink flush on her cheeks showing her obvious excitement.

  “Quite simply, I intend to marry her to the highest ranking peer I can find,” Maureen said. “It is crass, but being a peer affords one the privilege of peerage—certain protections both legally and socially. She has already agreed to the plan. While I do not aspire to a love match, I do aspire for a man that will regard my daughter enough to defend her against such damning allegations as piracy. Beyond that, I only wish a man that will, at the very least, be kind to her.”

  “And that is where, I presume, the four of us come in,” Killian said.

  “Indeed. She, first, needs to be polished into a lady I can present to society. I have hopes for the upcoming little season. I am told she has adequate looks and she is smart. That will help. Subsequently, she will need to be introduced to the right eligible bachelors. I am assured that between the four of you, you will be able to discern not only appropriate gentlemen, but also ones that have characters above reproach. I want her untouchable.”

  Killian stood, his hand not leaving Reanna. “Your candor is appreciated, Lady Pentworth. We will do whatever we can to help.” He glanced down at the duke and duchess.

  Aggie nodded with enthusiasm. Devin gave him a crisp incline of his head.

  He turned to Maureen. “When shall we be expecting Miss Dewitt and her father?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  ~~~

  Katalin took a deep breath, staring at the ragged edges of her fingernails, pulling at the frayed edges to smooth them. She looked at the thick double doors in front of her. They had arrived at this place, Curplan Hall, an hour ago, and she was still disconcerted.

  The oppressiveness of London—she had never been in a city such as it. The frenzied busy. The smells. The squalor they passed along the docks. The people yelling and hawking.

  Then there was the long carriage ride. She had never ridden in a coach for any length of time. Ships were the transportation she was accustomed to, and she walked everywhere on the island. As plush as the carriage was, it was jarring traveling on these roads. Not to mention that the small space of the coach was suffocating.

  And then they had arrived at this beautiful castle. Beautiful and intimidating.

  Katalin and her father were shown to their rooms, which were just as impressive as the exterior. She was sure her mouth had been agape since she had arrived.

  As if she wasn’t nervous enough.

  So now she stood just steps away from meeting the mother she never knew she had.

  “You will do fine, lass,” her father bent to whisper in her ear. “Remember what is at stake, and you will do fine. Remember that all of this is a veneer. A veneer that we need. Do not forget what is at stake, daughter.”

  Katalin nodded, her eyes not leaving the dark grain of the wood before her.

  The wood moved and her father ushered Katalin into the drawing room.

  Four steps in, the one person in the room turned to them.

  Katalin froze.

  Her breath stopped as she stared at a face that mirrored her own. Her face, but with the lines only years of living could add.

  Her mother.

  For a split second, Katalin saw a wave of emotion cross the woman’s face. So much so, Katalin was afraid her mother would faint.

  But the moment fleeted, and in the next instant, her mother straightened to an impossibly correct posture and approached Katalin, her face nothing but a mask of assessment.

  Silent, not hiding her inspection, her mother stepped close to Katalin, her deep blue gown swishing. She was as tall as Katalin, had dark glossy hair with a splattering of grey coifed into a perfect chignon. Stopping in front of Katalin, her mother’s eyes ran up and down Katalin’s body. />
  Katalin forced herself not to fidget from the oddity of it. This was her mother—a mother that never knew Katalin existed.

  Shouldn’t she be happy to be reunited with Katalin?

  Shouldn’t she be hugging her? Smiling?

  Instead, her mother’s face was blank, slightly pinched. Katalin immediately discerned this woman would allow no emotion to creep onto her face.

  Her mother gave a crisp nod. “You are me, save for your father’s hair. It is just unique enough—the mix of red and blond—for it to create interest.”

  She slowly walked around Katalin, her eyes continuing the assessment. Katalin became acutely aware she was being inspected like a cow on the selling block.

  “But our similarities are too strong,” her mother said. “I will have to invent a branch of the family to explain the resemblance.”

  She stopped in front of Katalin, leaning in to inspect her face closely. Satisfied, she straightened and then reached up with both hands to cup Katalin’s breasts, weighing them through the grey muslin dress Katalin wore.

  Shocked, Katalin jumped backward, curving inward as her arms flew up, covering herself.

  Unaffected, her mother dropped her hands. “Fortunate. You are larger than I in that area. We will have to use them to our advantage. That dress does little to accent them, nor is it in fashion. The dressmaker will arrive tomorrow to remedy that issue. And the scar on your arm is unfortunate, so the dressmaker will also have to be inventive on covering it.”

  She gave another quick glance up and down. “You are also trim. We will have some work to do, between your wardrobe and hair, but garnering initial glances by suitors should prove advantageous to our goal.”

  Katalin’s mother finally acknowledged the other person in the room, looking to Katalin’s father. “Her skin is not as light as I would like, but it is acceptable, Mr. Dewitt. You did well by keeping her out of the sun. All things considered, her appearance will do us favor in attracting courters. But I will reserve raising my low expectations until I see her before others. You did say she was smart? A quick learner?”

  “Maureen—”

  “Time is of the essence, Mr. Dewitt.” She cut him off before his word was fully out. “We cannot afford nonessential conversations. Is the girl a quick learner?”