“They’re going to ram us,” the duchess cried, pointing at the oncoming ship. Her voice trembled, and her face was pale with fear, but she didn’t cower. Sabine was beginning to like her, too. Maybe retirement wasn’t good for her.
An area of stars at the edge of Sabine’s vision winked out of existence. Her ship! “They’re here! Keep going. If we can avoid a collision for one more minute, we’ll be safe.”
“One more minute and my arms might fall off,” Cliff grunted, but he didn’t let up.
Sabine squeezed herself onto the seat beside him. “You take the left oar, I’ll take the right.”
He put the oar in her hands and slid over to give her more room. She’d been absolutely right that she couldn’t row as well as he did, but her arms were strong and rested, and he visibly relaxed with the lessened burden. He counted off as they rowed, keeping their strokes synchronized, setting a grueling pace and trusting her to match it.
The sound of her ship’s engine made Sabine’s heart vibrate with joy. A ladder unfurled, dangling down nearly to the water as Nicole moved the craft into position. Sabine abandoned her oar, grabbing for the bottom rung.
“Duchess, you first. Then you, Hartleigh.”
The duchess scrambled for the ladder and began to climb as best she could in her cumbersome dress. Hartleigh stood, wobbled as the lifeboat rocked in the waves, and fell back onto his seat.
“I can’t. I think I sprained my ankle in that fall and I can hardly lift my arms. I’ll never make it.”
Sabine glanced up at the massive steamship bearing down on them and shoved the ladder into his hands. “Get the fuck off your ass and get up that ladder. There’s a little girl waiting for you.”
The mention of Lola spurred him to try again. He struggled up several rungs, too slowly to leave Sabine time to climb after him. She leapt onto the opposite side of the ladder instead, threading her arms through the openings and grabbing onto him to keep them both anchored in place.
The airship shot into the air, hoisting them out of danger just as the steamship clipped the rowboat, cracking the hull and starting its descent to a watery grave. Several more gunshots rang out as the pirates made a final, desperate attempt to knock their prey into the water. It wasn’t happening. Sabine’s grip on Cliff was like iron, and the crew was already reeling them in.
They banged and bumped against the hull on the way up, but with their limbs firmly tangled with the ladder and one another, they survived the jarring trip, and soon had the capable hands of her crew hauling them over the rail. Hartleigh took two staggering steps, then crumpled.
“I hurt everywhere,” he moaned.
Sabine gave a single nod of thanks to her crew. There would be time enough later for proper gratitude and briefing.“To the closest Haven. And quickly.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Nicole and Jules said together, then sprang for the controls.
“What’s a Haven?” the duchess asked. “Are you taking us back to Brighton?”
“Not a chance in hell. Someone in England set us up. It’s not safe. We’re hiding out and forming a plan of action.”
“What?” She put her hands on her hips. “Unacceptable. You will take me home this instant.”
“Duchess, on this ship, you do as I say.”
“You can’t do this to me! What will everyone at home think?”
“Probably that you’re dead. Hawkes, please escort Her Grace down to my cabin to rest. But see that she doesn’t wake Lola.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Sabine walked over to where Hartleigh still lay on the deck and sat beside him. “Well, Your Grace, looks as though you’re getting your wish after all. The duke is dead. Long live the duke.”
“There is no next duke. The duke is dead. The end. Right up until Her Grace the duchess goes home and reports that I am, in fact, entirely alive.”
“Well, the plan still has a few kinks to work out.”
“Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll just die here on the deck, unable to move.”
“You’re being silly.”
“I’m not. I’m in horrible pain.”
Sabine leaned close to his ear and whispered, in a voice serious as death itself, “Duke, you have no idea what horrible pain is.”
He sat up, wincing and rubbing his sore limbs. “Perhaps not. But I do hurt a lot.”
She laughed. How did he manage to make her do that so often? “You were splendid tonight. I’ll be sure to tell Lola how strong and brave you were.” She pressed a kiss to his lips, sinking into the taste of him for a few glorious seconds before her brain seized control from her addled senses.
She shoved herself to her feet and hurried off to help with the ship, not looking back. He could find his own way to a bed for the night. Alone.
17
“This tea is substandard, the food is terrible, and I haven’t even a proper table at which to eat it.”
Cliff gazed across the cabin at the duchess, still her lofty self, even with her hair unbound and her dress a wrinkled mess. “You have the desk. That’s good enough.” He took another bite of the perfectly acceptable bread and cheese he held in a simple dish on his lap.
“I have no brush. I have no change of clothing. No one on board who knows the least thing about assisting a lady of my station. This is intolerable!”
Cliff rolled his shoulders. His muscles still ached this morning, and putting weight on his left foot sent shooting pains up his leg. Better than last night, though, so he wasn’t complaining.
“She’s not going to take you home, regardless of how much you rant, so I’d suggest you try to make the best of it.”
The duchess glared at him. “Make the best of it? Luella will think I’m dead! The world will think you’re dead and the title will sit empty! The king might confer it on some secret illegitimate child of his!”
“Horrifying,” Cliff replied dryly.
“She will be tossed out with nothing.”
“Everyone can go live in Sabine’s house. She’s not using it. She can send a telegram.”
“The house will go to whomever receives the title. I’m certain of it. Parliament will make it so. It’s only through the fault of some questionably written documents that it was sold in the first place. It ought to be entailed along with the land.”
“Pretend I’m a clueless American and I don’t know what the word ‘entailed’ means.”
“It means it goes with the title, Hartleigh. To the next male in the line. It can’t be sold, can’t be given, only inherited.”
“Great system. I’m shocked we rebelled against it.”
“Why couldn’t there have been a French relative,” she moaned. “I might still have to deal with pirate-kissing, but at least he might appreciate a noble lineage.”
Pirate-kissing. Oh, God, what a bad decision that had been. Cliff had no idea what he was going to say to Sabine now. Sorry about that? That was really great, but we shouldn’t do it again? Or could he simply pretend it hadn’t happened?
Never kiss a friend. Never kiss a business partner. Or a sort-of-friend-sort-of-business-partner. Stop wanting to kiss her again.
“Well, Duchess…” Cliff paused, tilting his head to study her not as a rank, but just as a woman. Young. Proud. At once strong and vulnerable. “You know, I don’t even know your name.”
“Of course not. Why would you? You have no need of it.”
“Actually, I think I do. I’d like to know you as a person, not as a title. Let’s start over.” He set his plate on the floor and crossed the room, extending his hand to her. “Hi. I’m Cliff. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She frowned up at him, unmoving. He was moments away from admitting defeat when she sighed and shook his hand. “Amy.”
Cliff lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Good to meet you at last, Amy. I will let you know the moment our fearless captain deems it safe for you to return home.”
He released her hand and left, taking what remained of his breakfast with
him.
Up on deck, Lola sat breaking her own fast in the middle of a circle of ex-pirates, her eyes shining as she listened to Sabine recounting last night’s adventure. Cliff glanced around as he walked toward them. The ship had been tucked neatly into a grove of tall trees, hidden from view and miles from any city. He guessed they were somewhere in Europe, but their surroundings told him nothing specific.
“And he rowed and rowed, as hard as he could, while I signaled to the crew,” Sabine was saying. “It was dark and cold and waves splashed us and the pirate ship was heading right for us, going faster and faster, but your father kept on going. Then, suddenly, the airship appeared in the sky above us, dropping a ladder and flying us to safety just as the pirate ship splintered the rowboat into a million tiny pieces.”
“Wow.”
Cliff limped toward them, wincing when Lola hopped up and rammed into his battered body.
“Daddy, Miss La Capitaine says you’re a hero.”
“I just did what I could to help.”
“When do I get to help?”
Never. “Maybe when you’re older, kiddo. Why don’t you take a break from pirates and go down below to see Duchess Amy. She doesn’t have anything to wear, so maybe you can help her look through Miss Diebin’s things and you two can play dress-up.”
“Nothing I own will fit the duchess,” Sabine replied. “She is tall and curvy and I’m…” She made a chopping motion with her hand to indicate flat.
Cliff shook his head automatically. She wasn’t flat. Her breasts were small, perhaps, but they were perky and round beneath her tight-fitted evening gowns. Or was she smaller than she looked beneath her protective armor? Twice, now, he’d bumped up against a hard surface while embracing her. One of these days he wanted to feel her without anything in between.
No, no, no. This needed to stop. Stop thinking about her alluring dresses. Stop thinking about her leg-hugging trousers. Stop thinking about her laugh and her mouth. Stop thinking about her.
“Walk the deck with me, Hartleigh, if you can,” Sabine said. “We have plans to discuss.”
Cliff hobbled along beside her, trying to put as little weight as possible on his injured ankle.
“Leg bothering you?”
“It’s not terrible,” he replied. “But not good, either. No running for a few days would be helpful, if you think we can manage it.”
“Stop here.” She paused along the rail, giving him a chance to lean on it and rest the foot. “This is private enough.”
“This is about the next clue, I assume? You found the Greek pot?”
“I did, with little difficulty.”
“And?” He started to lean toward her, eager to hear her news, then caught himself. He needed to maintain distance. This was business.
“The next artifact is something called the Helmet of Einar. It’s located at the Illyrian Institute for the Education of Exceptional Young Women.”
“The what?”
“It’s a school in Switzerland. Very expensive. Very exclusive. Not only do they need to be filthy rich, but the girls also have to meet very exacting standards of both intellect and physical fitness. My father used to joke that if I brought home enough money he would send me there.” Sabine turned away, staring out into the forest. “For a time, I actually believed him.”
Her voice was flat, but not so much that she could hide the pain. Cliff had to restrain himself from reaching out to hug her. He couldn’t imagine what could possibly compel a father to be so cruel to his own child.
“He should have saved his pennies,” Cliff replied. “You’d have been admitted in an instant.”
She spun around so quickly that he flinched and almost lost his grip on the rail. Her soft, brown eyes were wide and full of sorrow—a glimpse of the lonely girl she must once have been. He braced himself, thinking she might kiss him again, knowing he wouldn’t be able to pull away if she did.
Then a calm settled over her features and she straightened her shoulders. “I like to think that’s true. It will be interesting, seeing the school of my childhood dreams. I hope I won’t be too disappointed. Real life never lives up to our imaginings, does it?”
“No. It doesn’t. Tell me more about the school. What can we expect there?”
“The Institute occupies a former medieval castle high in the mountains. It sits up on a rise above the local village. These days pupils are flown in and out by airship, but it’s said that in the first days of the school the arduous trek to reach the castle was the proof of a student’s physical fitness.”
“I feel bad for the students who trudged all the way there and then were denied.”
“I feel worse for those who never reached the castle.”
Cliff cringed. “Okay, so castle in the mountains. We have an airship, fortunately. What’s your plan? Drop from above and break in?”
Sabine folded her arms across her chest, her eyes flicking upwards behind her polished lenses. “Break in how? Through the massive, barricaded front doors or through the windows too small to climb through? It’s a castle, Duke. It’s built to keep people out.”
“Okay, knock on the front door, then. ‘Hi, I’m the Duke of Hartleigh and this is the notorious pirate, La Capitaine. We’re here to plunder your treasures. May we come in?’ Why is your nickname in French, by the way?”
“They say French is more passionate than German,” she scoffed, tossing her long braid over her shoulder. “I called myself Die Kapitän, but I was flying mostly in and out of France, Spain, and the British Isles. People got it wrong, and it stuck.”
“Have you considered changing it back?”
Her lips twitched. “I enjoy the shock and confusion on the faces of people when I shout at them in passionate German.”
Cliff laughed. “I believe that. Sehr gut, meine Freundin.”
Her lips flattened into a thin line. “Not friends. Business associates.”
“Right.” Business associates who kiss passionately. For fuck’s sake, Cliff, what have you gotten yourself into? “So, uh, breaking in? What’s the plan?”
“Lola.”
“What? No!” Cliff stumbled backward, grimacing as he stepped with the injured foot. “No way. Have you forgotten that I was kidnapped yesterday? Those people could be following us from England, despite your little hiding places.” He waved a hand at the thick forest surrounding the ship. “No way in hell am I letting Lola get involved in any of this. Not happening.”
Sabine stepped toward him, staring up into his eyes. “It’s the only way, Duke. They won’t allow adults in. We won’t get through the doors without a child. She’s a perfect candidate for the school. They will allow her in at least for a day or two to meet the faculty and take the entrance examinations. She can either find the clue for us or open a door and let us in during the night. She will be thrilled to help, and you know it.”
“No.”
“Do you want to find the Heart or not?”
“I do. But nothing is worth risking her life over. I refuse to involve her, and that’s final. End of discussion. Find another way.”
“All of life is a risk, Hartleigh. She’ll be as safe in that castle as anywhere in the world. Probably safer than on the ship.”
Cliff spun around and stormed off as best he could on an injured leg. Sabine followed, easily matching his stride.
“She can do this. She would love to do this. What are you really afraid of? That she’ll decide school sounds wonderful and leave you?”
He stumbled. No, he hadn’t even considered that, but now that Sabine said it he suddenly began to second guess his fury every time the duchess—Amy—had even hinted at the idea of boarding school.
“Her safety comes first,” he replied.
“Then enroll her at the school. She’ll be behind castle walls and surrounded by a circle of like-minded people. How much safer can you get?”
Cliff shook his head, aiming for the stairs to the cabins below. He’d find Lola and they could read a book
or play a game. Something. Anything. “I can’t. I won’t. She’s all I have.”
“Well, you’ve had seven years more than some of us ever get.”
Her words were so harsh that he spun around, once again compelled to soothe her, but she was already walking away, her stride purposeful, her shoulders back and head up. Needing no one.
18
“Good afternoon, Your Grace.” Lola dipped into some ridiculous facsimile of a curtsy.
Cliff raised an eyebrow. “What happened to, ‘Hi, Daddy,’ or ‘Avast, ye scurvy dog’?”
“Miss Duchess Amy says I need to practice my princess manners because we’re going to visit a castle. Did I do good?” She gazed up at him expectantly. Even here in one of the more sheltered spots on deck, the cool wind still whipped through her long, dark curls as the airship zipped across the skies of northern Italy.
“Um…”
“She says the castle is a school that teaches girls to be leaders. Like queens, I guess. ’Cept I can’t be a queen when I grow up because I’m not really a princess. But you’re a duke. So what does that make me?”
“Nothing, dear,” the duchess said. Cliff turned around to glare at her. “You are Miss Kinsley. Only children born in wedlock can have a title.”
“What’s a wedlock?”
“Marriage, dear. Your parents must be married.”
Lola put her hands on her hips. “Well, that’s stupid.”
You tell her, babe.
Amy walked toward Cliff and Lola, her aristocratic presence undiminished by the loose men’s shirt and trousers she’d grudgingly adopted.
“That’s why this school would be so very good for you, Lola, dear,” she said. “It’s the sort of school that produces female explorers, doctors, engineers, athletes. It can give you a place in the world that the irregularity of your birth would otherwise deny you.”
Lola blinked up at her in confusion.
“Look, Amy,” Cliff cut in, deliberately ignoring any sort of title or honorific. “She’s not going away to school. She’s only seven, and I don’t know anything about this place.”
“Don’t be absurd. It’s perfect for her. I should have thought of it immediately. It is the school for parents who want their daughters to make a statement in a man’s world. And since you refuse to be discreet about your youthful mistake—”
Dead Dukes Tell No Tales Page 9