Sea of Desire

by Christine Dorsey

  “After she tells us what she knows.”

  “I don’t know anything to tell you.” Merideth turned toward Jared.

  “ ‘Tis not what your father said.” Facing her, Jared bent till they were nose to nose.

  “Before you killed him.”

  “I did not—”

  “Out! Out, out, out.” Samuel Dayton rose and shooed at them as if they were troublesome children. “You must both leave. I can do nothing for you.”

  “Well, what in the hell am I to do with her?” Jared stood his ground; Samuel took a step back, but the expression on his doughy face was determined.

  “I don’t know. Perhaps Dr. Franklin will. Yes,” Samuel said, a smile creasing his face. “Dr. Franklin is who you must see.” As he spoke he walked forward, backing his guests toward the door. To his relief they seemed to be going.

  “But I was told Dr. Franklin isn’t in Paris.” Jared stopped his backward progress.

  “True. But he is in charge of the American delegation in France. He is the only one who can help you.”

  Letting out a frustrated breath, Jared reached for the doorknob. “Where can I find Dr. Franklin?”

  “In Passy, I believe,” Samuel said, continuing to inch them through the doorway. “He is using part of the Hôtel de Valentinois.” With that he shut the door.

  Merideth stared at the closed portal a moment. “What a rude man.”

  Jared looked down at her, arching his brow, but said nothing. After a moment he straightened his waistcoat, then offered his arm. “I suppose we shall have to go to Passy.”

  Merideth hesitated only a short time before placing her hand on his sleeve. “I suppose we shall. From what I’ve heard, Dr. Franklin is an enlightened man. I’m sure he will listen to me.”

  “I’m not taking you there to engage in another discussion like we just had. And for God’s sake keep yourself covered.” Jared reached down and yanked the cloak together. “I thought Dayton’s eyes were going to pop from his head when you leaned over his desk.”

  Merideth clutched the woolen material. “You paid for this gown.”

  “Tim chose it, as I recall, I supplied the cloak.”

  Merideth merely shrugged as they stepped out into the sunshine. She felt more confident than she had in some while. Surely the Dr. Franklin she’d heard so much of, who was respected even in England, would see that she was returned home safely.

  Chapter Nine

  The short ride to the village of Passy was pleasant enough. Captain Blackstone had rented a chaise, and Merideth appreciated the openness after the cramped, closed-in coach. Once they passed the Quai Conti, the area was rural. A gentle breeze held the fragrance of summer flowers, and Merideth couldn’t help taking a deep breath and leaning back against the cushions.

  “Why so pleased?” Jared inquired.

  Turning her head, Merideth studied the captain’s dark profile as he returned his gaze to the road ahead. Rays of sun slipped beneath the chaise bonnet and highlighted the strong angles of his face. A handsome face, Merideth admitted to herself, with its high forehead, straight nose, and curved, sensual lips. She was certain most women found him irresistible.

  But that was most women, not her, Merideth reminded herself forcefully when he twisted to stare at her, his green eyes questioning. “Have you decided to refuse to speak? If so, I’d have thought back at the Hôtel du Hambourg a much more advantageous time.”

  “I’m sure that would have suited you. However, I’ve no intention of remaining quiet while you spout lies about me. And”—Merideth tilted her head—“I think your countrymen should be aware that you were tried and convicted of murder.”

  “Tried and convicted? That sounds a tad less damning than your usual assertion that I killed your father. Are you having doubts? Perhaps my repeated denials are having some effect after all.”

  “If repeated denials were effective, I should be safe and snug in my own home rather than traipsing across the French countryside as your... your prisoner.”

  Jared’s smile was fleeting, but the trace of his dimple remained. “You forget, I’ve your own father’s assertion that you are in possession of the spy’s name.”

  “And you forget, I found you holding the gun that killed my father. Besides, if you didn’t do it, who did? There was no one else at Banistar Hall.”

  “The servants?”

  “They had no reason to hurt Papa. They are worse off with him dead than they were before. And not a one of them has the cunning to kill him and make it appear as if you did it.”

  “That is something, isn’t it,” Jared conceded. “I can think of only one person capable of that.”

  “Who?”

  “You.” Jared watched as a shadow crossed her face. She lifted her chin and turned away, but not before he noticed the glisten of tears filling her eyes. He had the strongest urge to reach out and cover her folded hands with one of his. Instead he snapped the reins, forcing the horse to pick up his pace.

  Not another word passed between them until they reached Passy. They found the Hôtel de Valentinois at the corner of the rue Basse and the rue des Vignes. A large stone mansion, it had wings projecting from the center, each of which ended in a raised turret supported by Tuscan columns.

  Jared drove the chaise to the left wing. At the door, which was answered by a wigged servant in livery, Jared was directed to a small building in the garden. As they approached along a brick path that wove among fruit trees and boxwoods, Merideth heard the sound of children’s laughter.

  They rounded a giant yew and Merideth got her first glimpse of Benjamin Franklin. He leaned against the side of a stone building, a plain brown coat covered his slightly stoop-shouldered frame. His long hair was frizzled, and he looked like a prosperous merchant. As he read from a parchment he held, he occasionally glanced up, laughing at the antics of two boys playing tag in a grassy area.

  “Dr. Franklin.” Jared called out the name as they approached. “A moment of your time, please. I’m Captain Jared Blackstone.”

  The older man glanced up and examined Jared and Merideth through bespectacled eyes. A welcoming smile brightened his face. “Ah, Captain Blackstone, the privateer. I’ve heard of your exploits.”

  “And I of yours,” Jared said, and the older man chuckled.

  “Oh, but that I could brag of daring adventures at sea, I’m sure I’d have all the young ladies’ hearts aflutter.” His sparkling eyes shifted slightly toward Merideth.

  The captain’s introduction of her was less than glowing, but that didn’t stop Ben Franklin from being gracious. His manners were charming, and Merideth decided she liked him despite his being a colonial.

  “What can I do for you, Captain?” Ben said when they were seated on wooden benches beneath the shade of a cluster of trees. Franklin had dispatched his grandsons, William Temple and Ben Bache, off to the house in search of refreshments.

  “ ‘Tis a matter of some delicacy,” Jared began.

  “Nonsense, we are among friends here,” Franklin insisted.

  “Lady Merideth is English, of course.”

  “Of course she is.” Ben leaned forward to pat her hand. “Would you care to remove your cloak? The day is quite warm.”

  “No. No, thank you. I’m very comfortable!”

  “As you wish,” Franklin straightened, turning his attention back to Jared. “Now I think we should conclude our business so that we can enjoy ourselves when Will and Ben Bache return.”

  Jared cleared his throat. “Let me begin by saying, I would not be bothering you if I could only determine the whereabouts of Daniel Wallis.”

  “Ah, Daniel.” Franklin waved his hand. “He’s about, I’m sure. Though, like you, I don’t know exactly where.”

  Jared shrugged, wishing Franklin knew where his cousin was, but deciding in his absence he had no choice but to proceed. “Little more than a fortnight ago Daniel approached me while I was in port at Morlaix. He is my cousin and... friend.” Jared hesitated using the
term “friend” to describe his relationship with Daniel. But they were cousins, reared in the same house.

  “At any rate, Daniel confided in me...” At this point Jared hesitated, his gaze straying toward Merideth, who sat, her expression guileless, on the bench beside him.

  “Do go on, Captain Blackstone. What did Daniel confide?”

  “He spoke of your negotiations with the Comte de Vergennes, the minister of foreign affairs, and of the attempts to form a French alliance for America.”

  “Yes, yes, that is my ultimate goal. But ‘tis hardly a secret.”

  “He also mentioned a plan underway in England to offer Congress some concessions and bring an end to the war... an end that would not include independence.” Since Franklin said nothing, only smiled at him, his eyes winsome, Jared continued. “According to Daniel there was someone, someone powerful in the American government, who was selling information about your negotiations with the French to England.”

  “My heavens,” Franklin chuckled. “That certainly sounds like some intriguing espionage.”

  Though slightly baffled by the older man’s reaction—Jared would have thought he would take this information more seriously—Jared continued. “The identity of this traitor was known by an Englishman willing to give us the information... for a price.”

  “That’s a lie!” Merideth sprang to her feet and faced both men. With her hands fisted and planted on her hips, the cloak opened, revealing the gaudy gown beneath.

  “Sit down,” Jared said, resisting the urge to grab the cloak and wrap it around her tightly.

  “I will not. You are telling lies about my father and I won’t have it.”

  “You will have it, for ‘tis not lies I speak.” By this time Jared was on his feet, nose to nose with his captive.

  “Lies, lies,” she taunted. “You don’t know the meaning of the truth.”

  Jared’s jaw clinched. “I’m not the one who—”

  “Children, children.” Franklin’s voice was like a gentle balm. “Contain yourselves. I assume the Englishman of whom you speak, Captain Blackstone, is Lady Merideth’s father?”

  “It was.”

  “He wasn’t a traitor.” Merideth turned her attention to Dr. Franklin, jerking away when the captain reached out to close the cloak.

  “Of course not, dear,” Franklin soothed. “But let’s allow the good captain to finish his story, then we shall hear what you have to say. I’m certain we can untangle this unpleasantness.”

  Jared wasn’t confident of that, but he saw no alternative to resuming his seat and his narrative. He noticed that Merideth also took her seat and pulled the edges of the cloak together, hiding the swell of her breasts.

  “Before my last cruise Daniel asked me to go ashore at Land’s End to meet with this gentleman. I was given a goodly amount of gold to ply his tongue, and set sail.”

  “And did you speak with this man?”

  “Aye. Lord Alfred and I met and he was very agreeable to the exchange.”

  Merideth opened her mouth, but Franklin’s hand on hers kept her quiet. “You shall have your turn.”

  “Anyway, Lord Alfred and I were about to conclude our deal when he began insisting that his daughter was in possession of the name of the traitor.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “My father was shot and killed,” Merideth said before Jared could respond. “By him.” She pointed her finger straight at Jared’s chest.

  Trying to remain calm, Jared looked away from the accusing eyes. “I did not kill Lord Alfred. Someone knocked me out from behind. When I awoke, Lord Alfred was dead and I was holding the pistol that shot him.”

  “A British court found the evidence sufficient to sentence Captain Blackstone to hang.”

  Franklin wrinkled his brow in surprise. “A fate you somehow eluded.”

  “He broke out of jail and took me hostage,” Merideth informed her host.

  “Goodness.”

  “She knows the name of the traitor,” Jared pointed out.

  “I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about.”

  “Her father said—”

  “Now, now.” Franklin motioned for both of them to resume their seats. “We do seem to have a dilemma here.” He rubbed his hand down over his sagging jowl. “First of all, let me say, I think you’re both telling the truth—”

  “But—” Their protests were voiced at the same instant.

  “The truth as far as you know,” Franklin said. “This entire incident is most unfortunate, not only because of the death of your father, Lady Merideth, but because it was all so avoidable.”

  “Avoidable? How?”

  “Ah, Captain Blackstone.” Franklin stood and paced across the grassy knoll and back, walking slowly. “Spies and traitors are part of every war. It seems to be a requirement. However, in this instance it matters not that the British know what I’m about. I actually welcome spies. The more the British and French know of each other’s plans, the better for me.”

  “But Daniel said—”

  “I’m sure he did. But I’m afraid he was taking his job as my aide too seriously. His orders to you did not originate with me.”

  “And the gold?”

  Franklin shrugged his stooped shoulders. “I’m barely allowed enough to keep body and soul together. There is no extra coin for buying information.”

  “Then Daniel must have lied to me.” Jared stood and gripped the back of the bench, wishing he were more surprised by the news.

  “He most likely thought he was doing what was best. There no doubt is a traitor. And Daniel wanted the information.”

  “But you don’t want it?”

  “No, Captain, I don’t. Now, it looks as though my grandsons have found us something to eat.” Franklin motioned toward the boys racing across the garden, a servant in their wake. “Perhaps we can sit down and enjoy some of this marvelous French food. I normally prefer my sustenance coming from the good earth.” He leaned forward and confided to Merideth, “but Ray du Chaumont, who graciously allows me the use of part of his home, keeps excellent chefs. I admit to being tempted beyond my ability to resist.”

  While the servant spread the food on a nearby table, Jared stood, hands clasped behind his back, staring out over the garden. His expression was dark, far too bleak for him to be contemplating the flowers and trees. As if an invisible clock dictated his actions, his fingers opened and closed, slapping against each other with dogged regularity.

  “Please, Captain, you’ll ruin my digestion. We shall discuss this further after our repast. Do sit down.”

  Seeming to have no choice in the matter, Jared took his seat. The wine was good, though he drank little. Beside him Merideth was talking freely, answering some question put to her by Franklin. He should pay heed to their conversation—politeness, which his mother had tried to drill into him, demanded it—yet he couldn’t. Franklin’s words kept drumming through his head.

  He cared little about spies or counterspies. He cared less about the information Lady Merideth possessed. Yet a man had died because of this... this useless information. A man had died and Jared was blamed.

  Obviously, not everyone held Franklin’s view on the matter.

  “Blackstone,” Dr. Franklin said, breaking into Jared’s thoughts. “I know of Blackstones, from Carolina. Thomas and John Blackstone. They are fellow members of the Royal Society. If I recall, John is doing some interesting studies on plant fertilization. I’ve read several of his articles.”

  “John was my brother. Thomas my father.” In all the concern over spies and traitors, Jared had almost forgotten his link with the philosopher from Philadelphia. Most of his family were very interested in the natural sciences. His father and brother were fellows of the prestigious Royal Society, as was Franklin. The members studied the sciences and exchanged information. “My father and brother spoke of you often. They admire you.”

  “And I them. When I read your brother’s paper on carbon dioxide support
ing plant growth, I wrote him expressing my agreement!” Franklin took a bite of cheese. “Do you share your family’s love of natural sciences?”

  “Nay, I fear the study of philosophies is not something at which I excel.”

  “Ah, but ‘tis not for everyone. From what I hear of your conquests at sea, you obviously excel there.”

  “You are too kind, sir.”

  “Nonsense, you do our country an immeasurable service. What we would do against the world’s greatest navy without privateers such as yourself, I do not know.”

  From there Franklin launched into a discussion on the merits of privateering. In spite of herself, Merideth found the topic of interest. Apparently Dr. Franklin made a study of maritime escapades; at least he seemed to know all about Captain Blackstone. The captain, contrary to the arrogant impression she had of him, appeared embarrassed by Franklin’s praise. Merideth found the emotion endearing till she reminded herself they were discussing victories over her own countrymen.

  Besides, with his dark sardonic looks, the captain was not someone who would be described as endearing.

  “Does your brother share your passion for the sea?” The question seemed innocent enough, simply part of the conversation, but Merideth noticed the stiffening of the captain’s broad shoulders. His hand, holding a fork balanced in his long fingers, stilled.

  “My brother is dead, Dr. Franklin,” he answered, and Merideth thought his voice unusually husky. She had the odd desire to reach out and cover his hand resting on the lace covered table. But, of course, she didn’t. Why did she constantly have to remind herself they were enemies? Especially when he shed his arrogant veneer and appeared vulnerable. Like now. She had a hard time remembering she was his captive. It was almost as if they were friends.

  Pushing aside those foolish thoughts, Merideth decided it was time she took matters into her own hands—at least as much as she could. Franklin’s two grandsons had finished their tea and wandered into the small building, to work on today’s edition of the single-sheeted newspaper Franklin published.

  “Dr. Franklin,” Merideth began, setting aside her napkin. “I do appreciate your hospitality, but I believe we have some important matters to discuss.” She saw the captain’s head jerk around, but she ignored him. “By his own admission, I was kidnapped by your countryman. A man, I might add, who, I repeat, was to be hanged for killing my father. Now, I realize you feel some loyalty to Captain Blackstone; however, as a humanitarian you must feel some compassion for my plight.”