03 - The Wicked Lady

by Brenda Jernigan

  It was mid-afternoon the next day when Trevor's carriage stopped in front of the little brown building that held his office. He got out and stretched every aching muscle in his body. Damn, it felt good to be out of the carriage. He inhaled a deep breath of salt-tinged air. Oh, how he loved that smell.

  The clerk sat up quickly when Trevor opened the door of the little office. "Hello, Your Grace."

  "James, are you ever going to purchase some new spectacles so you don't have to get so close to your work?"

  "Someday, when I get the time." James rubbed his glasses with a soft cloth. "Did you hear the bad news?"

  "Unfortunately, bad news travels fast."

  "I think it's a bit odd myself," James commented as he replaced his spectacles. "Two ships going down at the same time. Not bloody likely. This hasn't been the first time you've had mishaps."

  "I've thought the same thing." Trevor marched past him and headed for his office.

  Rodney came out of Trevor's office and leaned casually against the door jamb. "So, I see you've left that pretty wife." He shook his head. "Damn fool, if you ask me."

  "Well, nobody asked you." Trevor said as he brushed past Rodney, frowning when his friend chuckled. "Have you found out anything?"

  "I talked to some of the crew members and they said both ships went down before they knew what was happening. As if they suddenly sprung a leak."

  "A big leak, wouldn't you say," Trevor said sarcastically. "I have a feeling someone is out to put Claremont Shipping out of business."

  "But who?" Rodney asked.

  "That, my friend, we are going to have to find out. You keep searching, and I'll do some looking myself. But right now, I must get replacement ships, and they don't come cheap."

  "I'm glad it's you and not I." Rodney stood. "I'll go with you."

  Trevor stared up at the familiar, tall wooden building that stood next to the water. He listened to the hammering and swearing as the craftsmen went about their daily jobs. He breathed in the scent of sawdust, new wood and tar as they entered the building, and looked for the manager.

  Jervis smiled as he spotted Trevor. Jervis put down his drawings and hurried toward Trevor and Rodney. "Ah, my favorite customer."

  Trevor skipped the pleasantries. "I think you have been providing me with faulty merchandise."

  "I think not." Jervis's smile quickly disappeared.

  "Then how do you explain that I'm in need of two frigates?"

  "That's not good news, but it was not the fault of my workmanship." Jarvis shook his head. "We are behind with our work load. Looking at nine months and that's working night and day."

  "That will not do," Trevor stated. "I need at least one ship in six months," he insisted. "I have cargo booked that I don't want to cancel." Turning around, he looked at a huge ship down near the dock. "Who is that frigate being made for?"

  "Isn't she a beauty? Measures 151 feet along the keel and she sets 31 sails," Jervis bragged as he folded his arms and gazed proudly at the ship.

  "Who's buying it?" Trevor asked again.

  "I am trying to sell her to Admiral Neils of the Royal Navy."

  "Forget it. I'll pay ten percent more."

  "She is expensive and big. Much larger than your other ships. Why the mainmast, with topsail and topgallant, rises 175 feet above the deck."

  "I can see that with my own eyes." Trevor shrugged impatiently. "However, you just stated that you were looking for a buyer -- now you have one. And one who has agreed to pay more, so don't try and talk me out it."

  Jervis rocked back on his heels. "Very expensive."

  "No doubt." Trevor frowned. "But she'll hold twice the cargo."

  "Sold!" Jervis smiled, evidently very pleased with the deal. "I'll go write up the necessary papers," he said and went to his office.

  "What a ship," Rodney finally said.

  "I agree. And she's sturdy enough to mount guns. We'll have plenty of protection in the future."

  Rodney nodded his agreement, then they turned and followed Jervis to his office.

  Trevor was quite pleased with his business, and his step was jaunty as he and Rodney made their way back to the office.

  As soon as they entered the front door, James informed Trevor he had a visitor in his office.

  He stared a moment at James. "Who is it?" Trevor demanded. It was too soon for Jarvis to come running with second thoughts. And, if he did have them, it was too bloody bad. Trevor had the bill of sale.

  "Don't know, sir." James shrugged. "Wouldn't say."

  Trevor's brow arched. He didn't like this at all.

  "Appears as if you're going to be busy. Perhaps I should be going." Rodney turned to leave.

  "No." Trevor stopped him. "Stay. Let's see who my mysterious visitor is."

  When they entered Trevor's office, he didn't have to ask the man who he was, or what he wanted. Every muscle Trevor had tightened. "What are you doing here?"

  "Just a friendly visit, mate."

  "I told you quite clearly that there would be no more money!" Trevor bit out as he moved around his desk toward Ned, who had the audacity to have his feet propped up on the desk.

  Ned jumped up and moved around to the opposite end of the desk, to a chair in the corner. "Who's this?" Ned Blume asked, cutting his eyes toward Rodney.

  Trevor didn't bother to answer. He took one look at Ned's dirty jacket and knew Ned had probably blown the money he'd gotten before on liquor. The liquor smell was still on the man.

  "Well, this here's private business," Ned insisted as he sat in the chair still eyeing Rodney.

  "Rodney, this is Hagan's father." Trevor gestured toward Ned, then addressed him directly. "Whatever you have to say to me can be said in front of Rodney." Trevor sat behind his desk.

  "Suit yourself." Ned shrugged. "How's my boy?"

  Trevor leaned forward in his chair, his arms placed upon the desk. "He's far better than when he lived with you."

  "And Kristen?"

  "Kristen is no concern of yours," Trevor ground out the words catching between his teeth. "She is now my wife."

  "Fine little piece you got there." Ned grinned.

  Trevor reached over the desk and grabbed Ned's jacket enough to jerk him out of his chair.

  Rodney came to his feet, also ready to fight. "Want me to throw him out?"

  "Hold on. Hold on," Ned blustered. "Didn't mean no harm." He held his hands up in defense. "I need more money."

  Trevor released Ned, and Rodney relaxed, taking his seat again. "You evidently did not hear me the first time," Trevor said, his voice hardening. There will be no more money."

  "Well," the man whined. "You just might change your mind." Ned rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth as if he needed a drink. "Kristen ain't who you think she is."

  Trevor's left eyebrow rose a fraction. "What do you mean by that?"

  "The information will cost you." Blume rubbed his fingers together in a gesture that indicated he wanted money.

  Trevor hesitated before reaching into his pocket and tossed Ned a couple of gold coins.

  Ned bit down on one of the gold coins to make sure it was gold. He then pocketed them. "That ain't much. Bet you'll pay more when you hear what I've got to say." He grinned, showing his missing front tooth.

  "You are pushing my temper, Blume. Either spit out what you've got to say or get out!"

  "Kristen was kidnapped. Happened when she was just a small child. That's why she grew up in the streets."

  Trevor leaned forward, his eyes cold. "Kidnapped from whom?"

  "Ian Johnstone. His wife had twins, ye see. Two girls, like peas in a pod, except their hair. One had black hair, and the other that reddish mess of Kristen's."

  Trevor's stomach tightened. "Go on."

  "Well, they always doted on the raven-haired baby, according to Myra, the woman Kristen thinks was her ma. So one day, Myra just up and took Kristen and run off, she did." Ned leaned back on his elbows and looked smug. "She did love that girl, I'll g
ive that to her. But she deprived her of her heritage. Knew it all along. Now, I figure old Ian would pay a good sum to reclaim his missing daughter."

  "So why haven't you told him?" Trevor asked calmly, even though calm was not at all what he felt.

  Ned chuckled. "I heard that you and Ian don't get along none, so I thought it just might be worth a few coins if I kept what I know to myself."

  Trevor slid his chair back so fast that it tilted over backwards. "You're a slimy bastard."

  Ned sprang out of his chair and darted behind it just in case he needed to make a quick exit. "Bastards have to eat, Your Grace," he sneered. "And I'm sure the ton would love to hear how your little wife used to live with the scum and swindle people so that she could eat."

  "Is he telling the truth?" Rodney asked.

  Rage blinded Trevor as he moved around the desk. "I should choke you with my bare hands and rid the world of your presence."

  "Now, wait a minute." Ned stiffened. "They even put yer high and mighty kind in jail for murder . . . now don't they?"

  Rodney put out his hand and grabbed Trevor's arm just as he reached for Ned. "Think about it," Rodney cautioned, having the cooler head at the moment.

  Trevor took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. "I'm not going to kill you this time, because you are Hagan's father." He pushed the man with the flat of his hand against his chest so hard that he thudded against the wall. Trevor jerked his head around. "James!" Trevor shouted, then waited.

  James rushed into the office.

  "Give the man two hundred pounds and then escort him out of here," Trevor announced coldly.

  James nodded and turned to leave. Ned started after him but not fast enough. Trevor snatched Ned's arm and held him so tightly that Ned actually squealed with fright.

  In the most deadly voice Trevor could manage, he said, "If I ever so much as hear of you again, you're a dead man."

  Rodney pulled Trevor back, and Ned scurried like a rat from the room.

  "How about a drink?" Rodney patted Trevor's shoulder before letting him go.

  Too angry to speak, Trevor jerked his head in assent.

  Rodney went to the liquor cabinet and poured them both a generous portion of Scotch, then came back and shoved a glass to Trevor. "Would you like to explain? Or is this none of my business?"

  "Sit down," Trevor said tiredly. He forced himself to tell Rodney the complete story of what he knew about Kristen and their beginnings.

  "I'll be damned. I always knew there was something you were perhaps not telling me. But this? I'd never have known."

  "That's because Kristen really is a lady. I just didn't know it. All the time I thought I'd turned her into a lady, but she had it in her blood the whole time."

  "You know, I remember how confident you were that Kristen would never leave you because she had no money," Rodney pointed out. "Suddenly, she could possibly be quite wealthy. That puts an entirely different slant on the situation. What are you going to do?"

  "I don't know. You would know that she had to be related to that bastard, Johnstone."

  "Has the man ever done anything to you?"

  "No, not really. I have never even met him, but to listen to my grandmother, the man should be hung. I knew nothing about the man's children."

  "The dowager thinks everyone should be hung."

  "That's true." Trevor smiled and chuckled wryly. "I was taught to hate the Johnstones from an early age, and I've never questioned it." Trevor rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know what I'm going to do.

  "Do you realize that this means Hagan really isn't Kristen's brother? And everything she ever thought was true suddenly isn't. And what if Ian doesn't welcome her back?" Rodney pointed out.

  "This won't be easy. Do you think Kristen will leave you for her family if she has to choose?" Rodney asked the very question that tumbled around Trevor's head.

  "I honest to God don't know."

  "You love her, don't you?"

  "I don't believe in love," Trevor snapped before he thought. "I enjoy being with her, and I desire her, but--" He ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know."

  Kristen made friends with all the servants and spent more time with them than the duchess, but she and Constance did have moments when they got along. Kristen assumed that she was growing on the woman--maybe like a wart.

  She had been looking for Hagan all morning when she found herself wandering down the hall to the sunroom. She heard voices, so she paused before entering.

  The door was ajar. Kristen peeked in and got the surprise of her life. Constance was sitting on a settee with her head bent down, Hagan snuggled up next to her.

  Kristen listened shamelessly to their conversation.

  "What's that word?" Hagan pointed.

  "Foreboding," Constance answered.

  "What does it mean?"

  Constance answered him patiently, then said, "Would you like for me to finish reading the story?"

  "Yes, Grandmere. You do the voices of the people real good. I can picture them all."

  "Good." She smiled. "Are you going to take a walk with me after the story?"

  "Oh, yes. Can we go down to that big lake and throw stones like we did yesterday?"

  Kristen didn't realize her eyes were full of tears until she couldn't see through them. She turned and went back down the hall. The scene she'd witnessed was so touching. She was so happy that Hagan was getting all the things she'd never had. What would it have been like to grow up in a loving family? She supposed she'd never know.

  After witnessing the scene between Hagan and Constance, Kristen was so restless that she couldn't concentrate. She decided she would ride and see her new friend.

  She rode across the meadows, giving her horse its head, and in no time she arrived at the Fullbright estate.

  The Fullbright estate wasn't as big as Chatsworth, but it was affluent, nonetheless. A groom quickly took her horse, and she mounted the steps and knocked. An elderly butler answered the door, and Kristen couldn't help wondering if all butlers were elderly.

  She was shown to the drawing room to wait. She looked around her, taking in the warm mauve colors in the furniture and rugs. Much different than Chatsworth.

  Charity swept into the room, wearing a beautiful, mauve-colored gown. "Kristen, I'm so glad you've come. Have you finally settled into life at Chatsworth?"

  "I'm surviving. But there is so little tae do. The duchess directs the staff, of which I'm glad, since I've never done that sort of thing, but it leaves me with too much idle time," Kristen admitted. It might hadn't been easy making ends meet in her old life, but she'd never been bored.

  "Have you tried embroidering?" Charity asked.

  Kristen frowned. "Afraid that 'tisn't for me. I'm all thumbs." Except for picking pockets, she thought.

  Charity nodded. "I agree. I'll teach you my favorite hobby. Archery."

  "Is it difficult?"

  "Come on, I'll show you," Charity said, taking Kristen's hand and pulling her along.

  They hurried across the lawn toward the stables.

  "How are the duchess and Hagan getting along with each other?" Charity asked.

  "Ye wouldn't believe it. Before I came over here, I found Constance reading stories to Hagan. I never thought the old girl had a heart, but in that brief moment, when she thought no one was looking, I saw a very loving woman."

  "I would have to see that for myself before I could believe it," Charity said. "She was strict even when she raised Trevor. She was constantly telling Trevor how he should behave. He must do this, and he must do that, because he would become the next Duke of Chatsworth. He had so little childhood, I'm afraid."

  When they passed the stables, Kristen grew concerned. She'd never been this far from the main house. "Where are we going?"

  "Right here." Charity picked up a bow and arrow propped against the barn wall then moved a good twenty-five feet away from the structure.

  "What do ye do with that?"

 
"See that big circle on the side of the barn?" A brightly-colored target decorated the side of a barn.

  "Aye."

  "Well, we shoot these arrows and try to hit the small circle in the middle of the big circle."

  "Why?"

  "Just for fun." Charity laughed. "And it is much better than sewing."

  Kristen watched her friend place the arrow onto the string of the bow.

  Charity shot, and her arrow whizzed through the air. It landed next to the line of the big circle.

  Kristen look doubtful as she picked up the strange object and mimicked what she'd just seen her friend do. She tugged the string and sent the arrow flying through the air, but it landed five feet away from the circle, catching the corner of the barn. "Oops."

  "Well done for your first time." Charity giggled. "It will take lots of practice."

  They took turns shooting as they passed the afternoon away.

  "Let's sit awhile," Charity suggested as their arms began to tire. "Even fun things are tiring." She sank to the grass and patted the ground beside her. "I'm surprised Trevor let you come alone."

  "He isn't here. I've not seen him in near four weeks."

  Charity looked at her. "Where has he gone?"

  "He said something had come up in London."

  "That sounds just like him," Charity admitted. "He's always kept things to himself. It makes him a hard man to know."

  "I dinna know how to break though that shell."

  Charity shook her head. "I can't advise you there. I'm not sure anyone can get him to raise the castle gates."

  Kristen sighed. She wasn't sure she'd every find the answer either.

  Ned Blume was feeling very pleased with himself. He had gotten money from the duke, and he now knew better than to go that road again, so he devised plan number two. And if this one worked, he'd have a nice little income going again.

  For now, he'd just have to sit and wait.

  She always came this way, so his informants had told him, but he'd have a surprise for the ungrateful wench this time.

  His patience finally paid off. His prey had just ridden into sight. She was a pretty one, he thought, but she always had been. Blume kicked his horse in the side and his mount bolted forward.