Captive Pride

by Bobbi Smith

  No longer able to deny the depths of despair that had been tormenting him since the beginning of his ordeal, Noah repeatedly smashed his fist against the wall, venting his fury upon the polished dark wood panels.

  How could his father have gambled away their very livelihood? Had Radcliffe been partially right in his slimy insult? The thought sent a shaft of denial through him. No matter what else, his father would never have done what Radcliffe had claimed.

  Remembrance of the duel heightened his agony, and he did not feel the damage he was wreaking on his unprotected hand. Finally, as he became aware of the futility of his actions, he stopped, all emotion temporarily drained from him. He sensed no physical discomfort, but looking down at his bloodied knuckles, Noah knew it would come later…later when the shock had worn off and the ugliness that was reality settled over him like a stifling mantle.

  Lord Thomas Kincade had spared no expense when he’d purchased the Lorelei, for he’d meant her to be the showpiece of his fleet. The captain’s cabin, where Noah now sat in conference with Lyle Russell, the Lorelei’s master, reflected his father’s expensive tastes. The bunk was wide and comfortable-looking, the walls paneled, and the furniture dark and heavy. It was a restful room, a haven from the harshness of life at sea, and both Noah and Lyle were enjoying the small bit of peace they’d found there.

  “All the arrangements have been made,” Noah was saying as he handed the contracts over to Lyle.

  “How soon do we load?” the captain asked, one hand stroking his bushy, gray-streaked beard thoughtfully as he quickly perused the documents. At fifty years of age, Lyle Russell had spent most of his adult years working for Kincade Shipping. He had been shocked by his good friend Lord Thomas’s death and by the subsequent revelations concerning the nobleman’s overwhelming debts. The sale of the shipping firm had seemed almost a physical blow to him, and he was determined to help Lord Noah as much as he could.

  “The Lorelei will berth and start loading the day after tomorrow,” Noah informed him. “The Sea Pride is another matter entirely.”

  “Oh? Is there a problem?” Lyle extracted the contract for the merchant ship from the sheaf of papers he held and read it over carefully, surprise registering on his face as he noted what type of merchandise the Pride would be carrying. “I didn’t know you were planning on shipping war materials….”

  “It’s a risky move on my part, but the payoff could be substantial.”

  “There’s a market for the goods?”

  “According to those I talked with who were in authority, there is a kettle of unrest brewing in the colonies, and violence could break out there at any time. Should that happen, agents here agreed that a shipment of arms could be very profitable.”

  “It is a daring plan, but if you stand to reap a suitable reward for your efforts, I see no reason to hesitate.” The ship’s captain nodded in approval of the younger man’s farsightedness as his gaze rested warmly upon him. As aggressive and determined as Lord Noah was, perhaps the recovery of the lost Kincade fortunes was not as impossible as it seemed.

  “Either way there’s a pound to be made, and who knows? Maybe His Majesty’s troops will be in desperate need of cannon and shot by the time we arrive. That could jack the asking price up considerably. I certainly see no reason why we shouldn’t make every effort to take advantage of the situation.” Noah’s eyes glinted, at the thought of the full purse he could conceivably earn. “According to the agent I dealt with, however, the Pride won’t be able to load for some weeks, and that puts us dangerously close to the winter season on the North Atlantic.”

  “There’s no reason why the Lorelei has to remain in wait. Why don’t we sail on ahead? You can make the necessary contacts in the colonies, and by the time the Pride arrives, all will be in readiness.”

  “How soon can you be ready to sail?”

  “If the loading is completed on schedule, we can probably set sail within four days.”

  “That will be fine.” Noah stood and started toward the door of the cabin. “I’ve yet to tell Matt the news, so I had better return to the inn and let him know.”

  “You’ll be there, should I need you?”

  “Yes. We’ll remain in our rented quarters there until you dock to load, then we’ll come aboard.” Absorbed in his thoughts, Noah forgot his bandaged hand and reached out for the doorknob. He grimaced at the painful contact.

  “Your hand…Are you all right?” Lyle asked with quick concern.

  Noah glanced up to meet his captain’s worried regard and he slanted him a cunning smile. “I think, for the first time in quite a while, Lyle, that I’m going to be just fine.” And for the first time since he had learned the complete, devastating truth, he believed it.

  It was growing late and the taproom in the inn was becoming increasingly crowded and noisy. Noah took little notice, though, as he sat at a secluded table in a back corner of the room, his expression pensive as he drank deeply from his tankard of ale. Matthew had retired to their rooms earlier and Noah was taking advantage of the time alone to sort out his thoughts about their upcoming voyage to the Americas.

  Though he’d heard much about the colonies, Noah had never had any desire to visit them. Now, fate had intervened. Within six weeks he would find himself aboard the Lorelei docking in Boston City of the Massachusetts Colony. The thought did not lighten his spirits. The trip was a necessary evil, and he would tolerate the inconvenience only because of the money to be made. His goal was to return to England in the spring with his pockets well lined. He knew that one successful trip would not restore all his lost inheritance, but once he made the necessary business contacts in Boston, he was confident that their future would be bright.

  Noah was so deeply lost in thought that he did not notice the stranger approach his table. It was only when the man spoke that he glanced up.

  “Lord Noah Kincade?” the man asked.

  “Yes. I’m Lord Kincade,” Noah responded, wondering at the interruption and frowning a bit as he cautiously assessed his visitor. The stranger was tall, but not overly so. His coloring was swarthy, and the clothes he wore were clean and well cared for, yet essentially nondescript. He was the type of man who could blend in with a crowd and never really be noticed. The man appeared slightly nervous, as if he was constantly on guard, and his dark eyes shifted uneasily about the room.

  “May I join you, my lord? It’s important.” The stranger leaned slightly forward as he added the last in an undertone.

  “Oh? I don’t know you, sir, and I fail to see how we could have any important business to conduct.”

  “The fact that you don’t know me is irrelevant,” he said cryptically. “The business we have to conduct concerns your ship the Sea Pride, my lord.”

  “The Pride? What have you to do with the Pride?” Noah demanded, his eyes narrowing in anticipation of new trouble. What did this man want? Was there to be another claim laid against the already ravaged remains of the estate?

  “Nothing, my lord. At least not yet, and that’s what I need to talk with you about.” There seemed an underlying urgency to his words.

  Noah was relieved that his first suspicion had proved wrong, and since the man’s manner was nonthreatening, he waved him into the opposite chair.

  “What is it? What do you want?”

  “I don’t want anything. I’m here to make you an offer.” At the sound of the taproom’s door opening, the stranger glanced sharply in that direction, relaxing again only when he’d noted who’d entered the establishment.

  “The Sea Pride is not for sale,” Noah said firmly.

  “It’s not the ship we’re interested in.” He met Noah’s gaze across the table. “I’ve heard through certain reliable sources that you’ll be shipping arms to the colonies aboard the Sea Pride. If that is true, then I’m prepared to make you an offer for that shipment.”

  Noah stiffened, irritated that his private business should be so widely known, and he asked imperiously, “Who are you, sir?�
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  “I’m an Englishman who’s angered with the unfair treatment the colonies are receiving from the Crown,” the stranger answered.

  “You’re approaching me with an offer to purchase my shipment of war materials for possible use against England? Are you mad? Do you think I’m a traitor to my country?”

  “I think you’re a smart businessman, or at least I had hoped you were,” the other shrugged. “It’s not a matter of loyalties. It’s a matter of money. Our offer would be considerably higher than any others you’re likely to receive.” The man gazed levelly across the table at Noah, trying to read his response, but Noah was careful to disguise his true feelings as he wrestled with the unexpected proposal. “There’s no need for you to decide now. Think about it.” Reaching into the pocket of his coat, he withdrew a folded piece of paper. “You’ll be docking in Boston. This note contains the name of the person to contact if you decide to take up my offer.”

  He shoved the paper slowly across the surface of the table and then stood up. “Good night, Lord Kincade.”

  Noah sat immobile, staring at the note. That single folded piece of paper represented to him the final proof of the magnitude of his losses, yet he could not stop himself from reaching out for it. The memory of his friends’ rejection and the forfeiture of Kincade Hall was too real…too consuming. He would do whatever he had to do to survive. As his hand closed around the note, he looked up, but to his surprise, the stranger had gone.

  Cecelia Demorest sat sedately with the group of women, listening idly to their chatter about the upcoming ball at the Spencer household on Saturday night.

  “Spencer’s party Saturday night should be marvelous,” Marianna Lord twittered as she sipped delicately from her cup of tea. A plump, happily married lady in her early thirties, Marianna always enjoyed these afternoons when the ladies of her social set met for tea and gossip. “I understand that several of the local dignitaries will be there, and Lord Radcliffe and Lord Townley.”

  It was all CC, as Cecelia’s friends called her, could do to contain her feelings and not grimace at Marianna’s breathless mention of the aristocrats. Though CC’s father was an important agent for the British government in Boston and dealt with these men on occasion, she personally found them hard to tolerate. Those she’d had the misfortune to meet had been very puffed-up with their own consequence, and most high-handed. Her father, an Englishman through and through, thought nothing of their pompous, demanding ways, but CC, born and raised in the Americas, thought the noblemen not an endearing bunch. As far as she was concerned, everyone in the colonies would be better off if the aristocrats stayed in England, where they belonged.

  “I know I’m looking forward to it,” Margaret Kingsley agreed, and then added slyly, “And who knows? Perhaps by Saturday Eve Woodham will be ready to announce her engagement to Lord Radcliffe.”

  “Really?” Marianna immediately perked up. “I knew that they were seeing each other, but I had no idea…”

  “Well, they’ve been quite close, you know, and there’s no denying Eve is looking for another husband. She couldn’t do much better than an English lord, now could she?”

  “That’s a matter of opinion,” CC stated derisively, unable to resist the temptation to add her own thoughts on the matter.

  “Really, CC…” Marianna was surprised by her statement. Wasn’t it every girl’s dream to marry a rich, handsome titled gentleman? “Can it be jealousy we’re hearing?”

  “Hardly, Marianna,” CC replied, not in the least stung by her friend’s assumption of envy. “You forget that my father deals with these noblemen all the time. I’ve been singularly unimpressed with them.”

  “CC!” The other women were stunned. “Surely you’re jesting!”

  CC laughed in delight at their shock. “Really, ladies, think about it. Most of the noblemen we’ve met have been fat and ugly or very effeminate, haven’t they?” She watched in satisfaction as the ladies exchanged looks, unable to argue. “I have to admit that Lord Radcliffe is relatively attractive, but looks don’t make the man. We all know he’s an arrogant ass.”

  “He’s certainly the perfect partner for Eve, then,” Caroline Chadwick put in cattily, and the others laughed at her frankness.

  Eve Woodham was a classically beautiful blonde who had been widowed several years before. Well aware of her attractiveness, Eve used her position in society to her best advantage. The other women knew that no man, not even their own husbands and boyfriends, would be safe from her charms, should she decide to make one of them her quarry.

  “Indeed he is,” CC agreed, her emerald eyes alight with mischief.

  “Well, if you aren’t out to catch a nobleman, then what do you want in your perfect partner?” Marianna teased.

  A longtime friend, Marianna had known her for over ten years. She had watched in delight as CC, a rather gangly, awkward child, had blossomed into a lovely young woman. With her auburn hair and green eyes set off by the perfection of her peaches-and-cream complexion and softly curved figure, CC was strikingly attractive. It was a mystery to Marianna why she had never picked one of her ardent suitors and settled down. Lord knows, at twenty-two, she’d been courted by many, but she’d never seriously encouraged any of them.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Marianna.” CC frowned slightly. “I really haven’t thought about it much.”

  And that, in fact, was the truth, for, unknown to her friends, CC was not even the least bit interested in marriage and babies. There was something far more important in her life that drew all her interest, but it was something she could not reveal to anyone.

  “You must have some idea, CC,” Margaret chided. “Come on, tell us. What’s your dream man like?”

  With a light laugh, CC allowed herself to fantasize for a moment; her expression grew slightly distant and rapturous as she tried to envision her perfect mate. “All right, I’ll tell you. He’d have to be tall, dark, handsome, and as fair and honest as my father.”

  “You’re certainly not asking for much!” Caroline teased

  “But what about riches? You didn’t mention that. Doesn’t your future husband have to be wealthy?”

  CC actually considered that for a long moment before answering, and then, when she finally did respond, she surprised her friends again. “I would never judge a man by how well his pockets were lined. It’s his personal integrity that counts.”

  “You mean you’d be willing to marry a poor man?” Marianna was curious.

  “If he was the man I loved, then yes. It wouldn’t matter,” she replied with conviction. “A lack of money will never be a deciding factor in my falling in love with a man.”

  “How noble of you. Shall I send word to all the tall, dark, handsome men of Boston to come courting no matter what their finances?” Marianna bantered.

  “Don’t you dare, Marianna!” CC laughed, her eyes twinkling merrily.

  “What about John?” Margaret asked, knowing that CC had been seeing John Robinson steadily for some time.

  “I like John, but I’m not in love with him.” She said it almost regretfully. John was a good man and they got on well together, but CC could never even consider a lifelong commitment to someone she didn’t love. Besides, the secret that she and John shared was far more important than love. “I’m more than happy to continue as I am until the right man does come along,” she added, giving her friends hope that she did indeed want to marry.

  “And he will,” Marianna said sagely. “Mark my words. When you least expect him, you’re going to look up and there he’ll be.”

  “How heavenly!” Caroline sighed.

  “It happens that way often,” Margaret agreed.

  CC smiled noncommittally at their musings, silently thinking that they were all hopeless romantics. She’d been courted by far too many attractive men to think that some handsome stranger was going to sweep her off her feet, but she decided to humor her friends.

  “Well, when it finally does happen and I do fall in love,”
CC promised, “you’ll be among the first to know.”

  Chapter Two

  Boston, Six Weeks Later

  The taproom at the Red Lion Inn was crowded as Noah and Matthew made their way to the only vacant table in the establishment. Noah, deep in his own thoughts, paid little real attention to their surroundings, but Matt was alert, trying to absorb every facet of life in the colonies.

  Since they’d arrived in port that morning, the younger man had become intrigued with Boston. Noah had left him to his own devices while he and Captain Russell had dealt with the port authorities, and Matt had taken the opportunity to tour the city on foot. He’d left the crowded wharf behind with its clog of merchandise and, steering clear of the tenement section of town as Russell had advised, had followed the narrow, winding streets through the multitude of small shops and businesses to the elegant area overlooking the Boston Common. Stately mansions stood in regal testimony to the type of life that could be had in the colonies, and Matt found himself becoming more and more impressed with America. There was a vitality in the air, a freshness of spirit that he’d never seen in London, and he marveled at it.

  “You know, Noah, I could come to like this town,” Matt remarked as he slipped into the chair opposite his brother’s.

  “It’s certainly different,” Noah answered unenthusiastically. He’d had little time to see the sights and, in fact, was unexcited about doing so. His business interests were foremost in his mind right now; that and returning to England.

  Polly, the comely, well-endowed barmaid, sidled up to the table to take their order. “Good evening, gents. What can I get for you tonight?” She eyed both men with interest, for they were not only gentlemen of the highest caliber, but they were good-looking, too. Noah ordered succinctly, requesting that their ale be brought right away, and Polly hurried off to do his bidding, returning quickly with two brimming mugs of brew.

  “Your meal will be ready soon,” she related as she placed their tankards on the table before them. They were handsome, these two, and she thought the resemblance between them startling. Though both men were tall and their dark coloring similar, she thought the older man more attractive. He seemed to have an innate animal magnetism in the firm slant of his lips and the steely depths of his gray eyes, and she found him irresistible.