Fenton was scrawling on a piece of foolscap as Levi entered the dark, cluttered office. Sensing a presence, he glanced up from his work with a start, nearly knocking his ink well over.
Lifting the candle from his desk, he sighed with relief as he recognized the intense gray eyes of his associate.
"Well, well, well! Damn my soul, aren't you a sight, Levi. It must have been a rough crossing," he said, as he walked toward Levi.
Although Fenton's slim hand was swallowed in Levi's huge grip, he managed a vigorous shake. The top of his neatly coiffed and powdered head barely reached Levi's chest, but, as slight as he was, he had a commanding presence. His strength lay in the force of his personality. His sharp wit and tenacious nature made him as intimidating as a weasel in a chicken coop.
"Maylord, it's good to see you. I only wish it weren't under such damned awful circumstances." Levi released his hand and collapsed into a high-backed chair. "That's a whole season's worth of tobacco down the goddamn hole. I've got to get it back."
"Might not be as easy as all that. 'Tis a dangerous game these men play at." He stretched his thin lips into a grimace. "I'm sure you must be exhausted after such a long trip, so join me for some supper, and I'll tell you all the details."
A narrow hall connected Maylord's office to his spacious residence. Unlike his office, his home was well-lit and airy, with elegant pastel furnishings. He shared the large house with two lazy, overfed tomcats.
Maylord shooed the longhaired tabby from the tapestried settee in the sitting room, inviting Levi to sit and join him in a drink.
Levi tugged at his soiled jacket. "Mind if I wash up first."
"Of course, where are my manners." He hurried down the hall, and Levi heard him fire off orders to an unseen servant.
Levi, feeling restored after a hot bath, found his dress-shirt barely fit over his increased build, a result of the heavy labor aboard ship. He bounded down the stairs leading to the parlor. At the sight of him, the maid clumsily knocked over the small pile of empty crystal tumblers set on the lustrous cherry-wood sideboard. Levi flashed the blushing maid a smile and brushed off a clot of cat fur left behind on the settee before settling down to a shot of whiskey.
"Where can I find these thieves, Fenton?" he asked, resuming their conversation.
Maylord spoke in hushed tones as he leaned over the table toward Levi. "Legalized pirates, that's what they are, the whole blasted lot of them. The French call them corsairs. Sounds romantic doesn't it, but they're a violent bunch. Their government issues a 'Letter of Marque' allowing them to steal from the British bound cargo ships to make so-called amends for lost revenues during wartime."
Levi helped himself to more whiskey. "I thought the Treaty of Aixla-Chapelle had put an end to the seizing of vessels?"
"Levi, you know firsthand that Anglo-French hostilities have been rekindled in India and North America."
"I know only too well," Levi said wryly, as he massaged the wicked scar on his side, which still throbbed like a phantom wound when the air was cold and damp.
"Levi, I'm taking you to a party tomorrow evening--"
"Fenton, I'm really not in any mood for socializing," Levi interrupted, combing his wet hair away from his face.
"You don't understand, my boy. Many important people will be at this gathering. Including several prominent members of the British Royal Navy, who just might have some information on a certain French ship." Maylord peered at Levi over the rim of his glass and favored him with a knowing wink.
"Well, I guess I had better unpack my Sunday best then," Levi said with a lift of his glass.
***
Silver candlelabras and ornate wall sconces held hundreds of candles, illuminating the cavernous ballroom. Tables covered with satin runners were piled high with savories, pastries, fruit, and cheese. The wine flowed from a silver fountain like scarlet rivulets.
Levi tugged at his cravat, annoyed by the stranglehold it had on his thick neck. The swirl of silk, lace, and velvet, the heavily perfumed air, and the tinny sound of the chamber music made him yearn for the unadorned comforts of Moss Rose.
"Levi, ol' chap, don't look so down," Maylord said with a solid clap to his shoulder. "Drink, eat, dance a little, and the evening will be over before you know it." Maylord shoved an entire pastry in his mouth and made a quick survey of the room. "I don't see Captain Moore yet," he muttered with a full mouth.
"Captain Moore?" Levi asked, helping himself to a plate of steaming savories.
"Moore's the man I want you to meet. He may have information on the whereabouts of your shipment. Ah, there's Stuart Henry . . . . If you don't mind, Levi, I need to have a word with him about a certain business matter. I shall catch you again, soon." He looked at Levi and shook his head. "In the meantime, boy, have some fun. Most of the ladies here haven't taken their eyes off you since you walked in." Maylord's eyes twinkled with mischief as he slid around a small circle of young ladies that were taking surreptitious peaks at Levi from behind their fluttering fans.
Levi flashed them a dimpled smile. This evoked a high-pitched burst of giggles from the women. Unsure as to whether he should be flattered or insulted by their response, he shrugged and turned away. He halted a harried servant balancing a tray full of wineglasses and snatched a goblet. After draining the glass in a single gulp, he decided to take a stroll to the dance area. Although he had no intentions of dancing, he thought time might pass quicker if he watched people in some activity other than conversation.
Leaning back against the plaster wall of the ballroom, he could feel the vibrations of the music. The rhythm threatened to lull him to sleep, but a slight tug at his sleeve jolted him back to reality.
"Excuse me, sir," the soft voice said, "but I seem to have dropped my handkerchief. Would you be so kind?"
Levi stooped to pick up the discarded lace handkerchief and handed it back with a slight nod. The woman batted her eyelashes at him. Her eyes were large and liquid brown, reminding him of a fawn's. Her brown hair was piled high in a steeple of soft curls.
"Thank you ever so much, Mister . . . ?"
"North, Levi North." Something in her tone reminded him of Regina, but this voice came in a far finer package. Her ample, powdered breasts could barely contain themselves in the low cut bodice of her gown. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure . . . ."
"Katherine Dukane," she said, placing her slim, gloved hand in his. He kissed her hand lightly, and she lifted her bosom provocatively toward his face. "'Tis so hot in here, Mr. North, a girl could swoon. Would you be sweet enough to escort me in a turn around the balcony?" A suggestive smile curled at the corners of her moist, pink lips.
Exiting through the French doors that led to the balcony, Levi could feel Katherine tighten her hold on his arm. Although taken aback a bit by her brazenness, he was glad for the excuse to escape the stifling air of the ballroom.
Once outside, Katherine wasted no time in getting better acquainted. In the light of the torches that circled the lawn, he watched with fascination as she licked her full pink lips as though she were about to taste a delicacy. She was beautiful, he thought, in an overly polished sort of way. He couldn't help wondering what she would look like first thing in the morning or after a rain-soaked journey on horseback.
The wine, the music, and the revealing cut of her gown caused his self-restraint to give way, and he found himself grabbing at her waist and pulling her roughly against his body. She did not resist, tilting her face up to his in anticipation of a kiss. As they came up for air, Levi drew her into a darkened corner of the balcony where neither torchlight nor moonlight would reveal them.
"My, my, Mr. North, your kiss does not disappoint. My friends will be seething with envy," she said as she lightly bit his neck.
"Your friends?"
"Why, surely, you must have noticed all the women gaping at you this evening."
"If they were staring, it's only because they fear for their jewels. I'm well aware that I look nothing like a proper English ge
ntleman." He ran his fingers under the edge of her plunging neckline.
"Nonsense." Her breath came in ragged spurts.
He cupped her thickly petticoated bottom and pulled her toward his hardened desire.
"Oh, Levi," she whispered into his ear, "so is it true that you are a prosperous plantation owner?"
Abruptly, he stopped fondling her. Pushing her gently away, he held her at arm's length and gave her a thin smile. "I suspect that if I told you I wasn't the owner of a profitable estate, you would just as soon push me off the balcony."
"Don't be silly. I meant nothing by it. It's just that I was curious. After all," she said as she slinked toward him, sliding her thigh between his legs and fingering his cravat, "a girl has her reputation to consider, you know. I can't be seen with just anybody."
Levi backed away from her into the darkened recess of the balcony and lit a cheroot. "I can see that your reputation is quite important to you," he said with a scornful laugh.
"Mr. North, what an ungentlemanly thing to say!" She thrust her chin out haughtily and waited, anticipating an apology, but he continued to smoke, regarding her blankly.
"Yet," she said, suppressing her disappointment, "I'm willing to give you another chance. In fact, I will even allow you the privilege of dancing with me. Shall we go back inside?" She moved closer, her fingers reaching out to caress the lapel of his coat.
"I really have no intention of dancing this evening," he said, slowly blowing out a cloud of smoke.
"Nonsense! I'm going in. I'll see you in the dance area just as soon as you are finished with your cigar." She took hold of her skirts and walked confidently back into the ball.
Levi shook his head and smiled. He remained hidden in the shadows, enjoying his solitude, but it was short-lived. A lone woman walked onto the balcony, the shimmering fabric of her gown seeming to vibrate tremulously as if she were shaking. Not wanting to startle her, he extinguished his cheroot soundlessly.
With a start, he watched as she leaned dangerously far over the edge of the railing to peer down at the crowd below. As she straightened, she reached back and unpinned the heavy chignon at the nape of her neck, releasing a cascade of glossy, golden tresses over her bare shoulders. Her hair seemed threaded with strands of silver moonlight.
A lock fell in her eyes, and she tucked it behind her ear. The familiar gesture started his heart racing. He knew her even before she tilted her face toward the glow of the lights. Captivated, he watched as she stared up at the sky, her face more beautiful than he remembered. A dull, thudding ache began in the pit of his stomach. For a moment, the anger he'd felt at her desertion was supplanted by his relief in finding that she was alive and well.
The balcony doors flew open. "Just what do you think you are doing? Come inside, this instant."
Mansfield, Levi thought bitterly. Brant grabbed her by the upper arm and turned her roughly around.
She stared at the ground, speaking to him in hushed tones. "Brant, I am not feeling well. Couldn't we please go home?"
"You are acting like a spoiled child, Jensen."
"Brant, I really am tired, besides I have nothing in common with these people," she said in a tone so melancholy that Levi found himself swallowing hard.
"You wouldn't be so fatigued if you hadn't been out with those damned horses all day. I swear when we are married, I will sell every last one of those infernal beasts for dog meat!"
Jensen jerked her arm free, sudden fury glinting in her pale eyes. "Don't you see, Brant, you want to change who I am so that I can become your perfect little ladywife. But I will never enjoy these stuffy social gatherings." A lone tear trailed down her cheek.
"Stop this fussing." Levi cringed as Brant twined a lock of her shining hair around his finger and pressed it tenderly to his lips. "Like spun silk," he muttered, "but far too tempting for other men's eyes. Pin it back up. Finn will drive you home in the carriage."
After hastily refashioning her bun, she put her arm reluctantly in his and let him lead her away.
"I warn you, my dear, next time I will not let you off this easily."
"Bastard," Levi cursed under his breath. He was about to step out of the dark when Jensen came running back outside.
"What is it now, Jensen?"
"Brant, were you smoking a cheroot before you walked out here?"
"You know very well that I don't smoke."
She stopped and turned, staring out into the open air. A slight breeze blew a strand of hair loose, it grazed her lush lips. Levi could see her perfectly now and felt such inexpressible longing that he purposely dug his nails into the palm of his hand. It took all his formidable self-control to stay hidden in the shadows.
"I thought I smelled the aroma of Virginia tobacco."
"And if you did, it hardly justifies this kind of bizarre behavior," Brant scoffed.
"It was just so familiar." She brushed the hair from her face and closed her eyes for a moment.
After she'd gone, Levi looked down at the still smoldering cheroot, crushed it beneath the heel of his boot, and kicked it off the balcony.
Maylord Fenton made a beeline to him as he entered the room. "For heaven's sake ol' chap, I thought you'd bolted for sure. Where have you been hiding yourself?"
"Hiding? I guess I have been at that." He grabbed another wineglass from a passing tray and knocked it back.
"You alright? You seem a little preoccupied."
"Just tired. Where's this naval officer?"
"Moore's come and gone already."
"Damn."
"Not to worry my man, your old friend has taken care of matters." He patted his jacket. "I've information regarding the whereabouts of a certain underground warehouse located in one of the seedier sections of France." Fenton's voice had dropped to a whisper. Levi leaned forward to hear him and was struck by the sour smell of alcohol on his breath. "I'll fill you in on the rest when we are back at my apartment. You never know who might be listening here, eh?" he said with a slow, sodden wink of his eye.
"I'm ready to leave anytime you are." Levi said, desperately wanting the evening to be over. He had anxiously scanned the crowd hoping for another glimpse of her delicate face, only to be disappointed.
As Fenton bustled off to pay a few more social pleasantries, Levi skirted his way around the groups of guests crowding the wine fountain. He suddenly felt the need to get blindingly drunk.
"Captain Levi North!" a voice from behind stopped him cold. He closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw clenched tight, before turning around.
"As I live and breathe," Brant said with a jocular punch to Levi's shoulder. "What the devil brings you to London?"
"Mansfield," Levi said, straining to be polite and acknowledging him with a curt nod of the head. "Business, but I don't expect to be here long."
"What's the rush? London not adventurous enough for you, North?"
"Frankly, no. London bores the hell out of me," Levi said calmly.
"Oh come now, it's not as bad as all that." Brant sidled up to the food table and heaped a plate with cold meat.
"Whatever happened to that English girl you were so intent on rescuing from our desolate Virginia swampland?"
"Ah, you just missed her. She's staying with me here in London. We're to be married in a fortnight."
"Staying with you?" Levi nearly choked on the words.
"Unfortunately, it's all very proper. Too damn proper if you ask me. She's lodging at her uncle's house." He shoveled a piece of beef in his mouth. "I say, we are hosting a small gathering at her uncle's tomorrow afternoon. I insist you join us. It will give us an opportunity to catch up on old times, and you can meet my little treasure."
My little treasure--the words echoed in Levi's ears. Without a moment's hesitation, he accepted the invitation. He knew he had to see her again before returning to Virginia. The faithless chit, he thought, the anger surging through him, making his pulse race. Obviously, she had decided that what Mansfield had to offer, namely, the life of
a pampered English wife, was not so unappealing after all.
"'Til tomorrow then, North," Brant said, shaking Levi's hand.
"Looking forward to it," he answered and immediately went in search of Fenton, taking two goblets of brandy from a nearby sideboard. Noticing him in the midst of gaming tables, Levi strode in his direction until another voice from behind stopped him in his tracks.
He closed his eyes and felt the tension in his jaw again. Lord, deliver me from this evening, he thought, as he turned to face Katherine Dukane.
Chapter 23
Shadwell Manor was a huge, old monstrosity with an ominous façade. A twisting, ugly growth of ivy crept along its cracks and crevices. Small, smoky windows looked out from the gray stone face. The slate of the stairway was in complete disrepair, some of the steps had nearly crumbled away. Large tallow candles burned in the sconces on either side of the heavy wooden door.
Levi slammed the door's rusty knocker and glanced down at his companion, who was clinging to his arm like mud to a boot heel.
Katherine Dukane favored him with an eager smile. He wondered again why he had bothered to invite her. Her incessant chatter had nearly lulled him to sleep during the short cab ride.
When the door finally creaked open, they found themselves staring into the face of a servant who looked to be almost as ancient as the manor itself. She regarded Levi nervously. He had to introduce himself twice before she reluctantly accepted their overcoats. She ushered them into the study. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and brandy.
"Mr. Mansfield, your guests have arrived," she said in a creaky, old voice that somehow managed to penetrate the loud, jovial atmosphere.
"North, glad you could make it," Brant said, setting down his drink.
Levi clenched his teeth at Mansfield's chumminess. It hadn't been but a few months since the man had called him a traitor and leveled a gun at his face.
"Come meet someone," he said with a wave of his hand.
Brant led them to a heavyset man with a full head of silver hair. The old man lounged in a large chair, one swollen foot, swathed in linen, propped on the damask covered footstool. On an end table, within arm's reach, stood an amber bottle of medicine. Levi assumed it was laudanum for the man's gout.
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