The Rogue

by Emma V. Leech

  “Oh yes, I'm quite sure, oh and look, here comes Lieutenant Bowcher.” She tried her best to look surprised and smiled with a warm expression at the young man who Alex had made a point of introducing her to as he marched, with his company of men towards them. “Good afternoon, lieutenant, a very fine day isn't it? Are you enjoying some fresh air?” she enquired, looking at the man and his assembled militia with as much innocence as she could muster when her heart was beating in her throat. She clutched her father's arm a little tighter, hoping any trembling would be put down to the icy wind that was whipping around them.

  “No, Miss Morton, I should say not,” the Lieutenant replied with a grave expression, not stopping to speak with her. “We've had a report, a sighting of The Wicked Wench at anchor. I've sent word to the Water Guard but we're off to check the coastline, see if they're bringing cargo in.”

  “Oh, The Wicked Wench, is that not Captain Savage's ship?” she asked.

  But they were already marching away, and without another word the men strode past them, their excitement palpable.

  “Good Lord,” her father said, watching them go and then pausing as he was about to turn back as one of the men shouted and pointed out to sea.

  “What is it?” Henri called out as the Lieutenant retraced his steps with clear disappointment.

  “He's getting away,” he cursed. “Someone must have warned him off!” And then he grew quiet as he watched the scene play out in front of him. “The earl's got a score to settle though,” he said, brightening considerably as he saw The Revenge as she turned and set off in pursuit of the Wench. “After the devil got away from him in Bordeaux.” He looked at Henri, his eyes alight with interest. “Is it true, Savage's men attacked the earl's house over there, to get their captain back?”

  Henri nodded, her expression one of alarm and she clutched her throat to add to the drama, though the true memory of that day made it all too easy to play along. “Yes, indeed. The earl fought valiantly by all accounts, with his brother Lawrence, but the Rogue had too many men and they got away, though they left many of their own dead there due to the Sinclair's efforts,” she added, not having to embellish the pride she found in her voice.

  “Well, every dog has his day,” the Lieutenant said, turning to grin at her. “Look, The Revenge is gaining.”

  Henri hardly dared breathe as Annie grasped her hand and they watched The Wicked Wench disappear from view as it rounded the sharp outcrop of rock that was a natural feature of this rugged coastline. The Revenge was hot in pursuit and just as it too began to disappear, the almighty blast of cannon fire reverberated around the rocky cliffs. There was return fire and the guns boomed again. And then all was silent.

  The Militia men whooped and began to run, but Henri knew that by the time they had crossed the distant fields between here and the far shore and arrived down by the rocks, all they would find would be enough debris of a sunken ship to make it clear that The Wicked Wench was gone, blown out of the water and sunk with all hands on deck; and enough barrels of fine French brandy to make sure the militia were too busy fending off the locals to go looking too closely at the remains of what wasn't actually a Brigantine at all, but another smaller ship, rigged with enough explosive to spread its debris far and wide. That would be clear enough if anyone took the trouble to investigate, she prayed they wouldn't. Meanwhile the Wench slipped away, to a remote little cove to be reworked and reborn once again as The Redemption, a name that had seemed appropriate to Lawrence.

  Henri walked with her father and Annie, back along the cliff, praying that all had gone just as it should and that Lawrence and his men were free to start afresh. And so the two women hastened their steps and chivvied along Lord Morton who was all excitement over the battle he had just witnessed. He was hard pressed to be swayed from his plan to follow in the militia's footsteps and see the wreck of The Wicked Wench going down.

  By the time they reached the high-street the village was abuzz about the death of The Rogue, thanks to the testimony from the men of the Flighty Susan, who had just happened to be in a position to watch what had really happened - and to ensure no one else could get close enough to call them liars. Lord Morton quickly became something of a celebrity as, besides the militia who were still trying to wrestle barrels of brandy from the beach quicker than the villagers could spirit them away, he was the only man to have seen the actual conflict. Something with which he was most helpful, embroidering with a little more colour than there had actually been to include seeing The Wench suffer and split apart under the weight of the bombardment that proved so fatal.

  "Why, yes," he said for the twentieth time, as yet another man demanded if he'd really seen The Wicked Wench meet her end. Henri laughed inwardly and shook her head as her father puffed himself up a little, smoothing one manicured white hand over the thick silk of his new embroidered waistcoat. "Yes indeed, the earl got his man, blew the devil to pieces, what," he replied his eyes glittering with enjoyment at his new celebrity and brightening yet further as an attractive lady of a certain age, regarded him with interest.

  When Alex finally set foot on land again he was hailed a hero, along with his crew - who happened to be those men who usually served on the other two cutters. Henri and Annie watched with amusement as he was carried into the local tavern to be toasted with enthusiasm, by both those who thought he'd finished off The Rogue and The Wicked Wench, and those who knew that he had saved them. As his retinue were so forceful in their desire to celebrate, Alex was unable to come and talk to them as he was borne away, but to Henri's relief he simply nodded to them in his cool way that all was well. With a sigh of relief she felt she was finally able to breathe again. Lawrence was safe and he would be back home again soon. A special licence had been obtained - again - and they would be married and would return to Longueville to start a new life. This had inevitably set tongues wagging, as Miss Morton was marrying a different brother. To hers and Lawrence's horror, they discovered that Alex had concocted some story to his own detriment to make it clear why an innocent young miss like Henri could never countenance such a wicked rake as her husband.

  The fact that Alex was rather brazen in admitting to her that the story he'd spread was entirely true, so she had no right nor need to trouble him with a fit of the vapours, did little to alleviate her guilt. Lawrence was naturally furious and Henri had been forced to intervene to calm things down, a role she suspected might become familiar. The story did, however, serve the dual purpose of shining a very respectable light on Lawrence who had stepped into the breach and done the honourable thing. So once again, to Lawrence's chagrin, Alex had saved his younger sibling, and cast himself as the villain to do it. Henri was beginning to see, as Lawrence had predicted, just what kind of man Alex really was despite his rather forbidding and high-handed manner.

  Chapter 37

  “Wherein knots are tied, to everyone's satisfaction.”

  “What do you think?” Henri turned and looked at Annie. Her own nerves were all a flutter, dancing between excitement and anxiety but the teary fondness in her maid's expression put her mind at rest.

  “Oh, ye do look a picture,” Annie said, clutching a lacy hanky and sniffing. “I'm so proud of ye, Henri. T'is like yer my own girl.”

  “Oh, Annie.” Henri ran to her and hugged her tight. “And are you sure you don't mind coming to France with us? I know it will be all new and strange, and there is the language to deal with but ... oh, dear, I don't think I can do it without you.”

  Annie yelped and waved her hanky. “Oh, stop, miss, ye'll 'ave me bawlin' if ye carry on. Course I'm goin' with ye. Keep me away - see if you can!” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “Besides,” she added with a sly grin and a wink. “Mousy's goin' too.”

  Henri grinned as Annie laughed and did a comical little dance on the spot. “Oh, did he kiss you yet, Annie?”

  Annie halted her little celebration and huffed with annoyance, shaking her head. “No! The great lummox is shy,” she said, throwing her h
ands in the air. “But don't ye worry, I intend to take matter into me own 'ands tonight.”

  Giggling, Henri couldn't but help feel a little sorry for Mousy, who had no idea what he was in for. “What are you going to do?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  Annie pursed her lips and then shook her head. “Ye not be married yet, lass. I'll tell ye in a week or two.” And with another wink and a naughty smile on her lips, Annie went to fetch her veil.

  Henri turned back to her reflection and sighed. She felt quite perfectly, deliriously happy. Smoothing down the heavy, dove grey satin, she turned this way and that. It was embroidered around the hem, the bodice, and the cuffs with a flowery motif in silver thread that caught the light as she turned.

  “E'll be struck dumb, ye look such a beauty,” Annie said, smiling at her and pinning the fine lace veil in place. She took Henri's hand and gave it a squeeze. “Come on then, my little duck, best go an' marry that pirate, eh?”

  ***

  In a beautiful little village, lost in the trees between the rivers Truro and Fal and at the gates of the vast Tregothnan estate, stood the ancient thirteenth century church of St Mawgan. And by the time Henri walked towards it on her father's arm she could hardly breathe, such was her excitement. Though she was not alone in this as she looked upon the people of the village who lined the streets now, smiling at her broadly and offering encouraging words, some of which might have put her to the blush if she hadn't heard far worse from Annie.

  The wedding was to be a small affair, but because of the story put about by Alex, one that fascinated the locals.

  The story of his Lordship's brother being found alive and well, after being captured by the French and losing his memory as a result of his injuries, was one that had been taken up, told, retold and embellished. This had been achieved with a little help from those of the brethren that had lived here all their lives, and some of the recent incomers who had decided to settle and find work on his lordship's estate.

  Henri knew Lawrence had found his warm welcome hard to bear, knowing the truth of his history, but Alex had been steadfast in insisting this was how it must be done. The idea that the reward money that Alex had received upon bringing the Rogue to justice would be used to do good and help those families who needed it most was the only thing that had eased his conscience enough to allow him to show his face about before the wedding.

  Indeed Lawrence was not the only one with a guilty conscience, as on returning home, Henri had begun to see that she had wilfully believed much ill of the Earl of Falmouth, when indeed the poorest of the parish held him in the highest esteem. His womanising and rakish reputation may forever bar him from such hallowed ground as Almack's and make him a figure mothers warned their daughters of, but it was of little interest to them beyond the occasional salacious tale that went about. The good he did for those who had nothing, the endeavours he made to improve the life of those on his estate and beyond, all of this spoke far more of the man than any idle gossip in their eyes, which was how it ought to be.

  Her father paused as they reached the little gates that led through the graveyard and onto the lovely old church.

  “You're quite sure about this, my dear?” For the first time since this affair began Henri detected the faintest glimmer of doubt in Lord Morton's eyes. Her father was still perplexed by everything that had gone on, but not being one to think on things too deeply if they did not concern his own comfort, he had accepted Henri's glib explanation of her rescue from the devilish Rogue by her then fiancé. He had also taken to heart everyone's delight in her marrying said fiancé's younger brother with a benign, if slightly puzzled countenance. Happily her father was not to be swayed against the earl, despite the tales of debauchery and vice that he'd heard had been the reason for Henri not wedding him. With amusement Henri discovered that he had indeed been well aware of the earl's tarnished reputation, the stories of the man's many mistresses and scandalous love affairs being well known to him. On asking, out of curiosity, if he had been at all concerned about marrying her to such a man her father had simply looked puzzled.

  "But he's an earl, my dear," was all the reply she was given, as if this would excuse the devil himself from any wrongdoing.

  As far as her father was concerned, the earl had returned his daughter to him, and paid off all his debts and so could do no wrong. In her less charitable moments Henri wondered which one of those facts tilted the scales furthest in the earl's favour.

  The tale of her abduction had thankfully been kept quiet and now no one else was any the wiser of anything but the fact that she was now marrying the earl's younger brother, rather than the earl.

  Henri patted her father's hand and gave him a reassuring smile which quite chased away any inconvenient paternal concern he might belatedly be assailed by. “Quite sure, papa," she said, replying to her father's question. "I do love him you see.”

  Her father sighed and smiled, quite happy to see his daughter wed a man she truly loved, especially as the earl had been so very generous as to keep to their original agreement and still pay him a generous stipend. Though when her father had remarked that it “should keep the wolf from the door,” he had been puzzled as to why Henri and Annie had been taken by a fit of hysteria and had been forced to leave the room and take some air before they could calm themselves.

  Tales of the Loup de Mer were widespread, though, and despite their best efforts, he seemed to evade the militia's attempts to entrap him at every turn.

  Henri entered the church and felt her heart lift as she looked to see Lawrence standing waiting for her. His eyes widened on seeing her, his expression one that made her heart swell, and then he smiled that charismatic, slightly piratical smile that made that excitable organ beat frenetically and Henri want to run, rather than walk demurely down the aisle towards him.

  “Ready?” her father asked, smiling at her fondly.

  “Yes. Absolutely, completely and without a doubt in my mind,” she said, beaming in return and walking to stand beside the gorgeous figure of the man about to become her husband.

  Any doubts she may have harboured, that Lawrence had wanted to stay simply to reclaim his old life, rather than for her, were forever dispelled by the look in his eyes as she came to stand next to him. The blue eyes were alight, dancing merrily with such love and happiness that she felt a lump in her throat. Thank God, she thought, for that chance encounter, for the loss of a letter, and her foolish decision to blackmail The Rogue.

  ***

  Lawrence looked about the room and couldn't help but smile. It was perhaps a rather unconventional wedding breakfast, but then the earl had long since been considered a rather wild and eccentric figure, so it was not so very extraordinary that his younger brother should likewise buck convention. He had to admit that some of the guests were a rum looking lot, and he noted with amusement the rather anxious and scandalised looks being cast by their disapproving Aunt Seymour and bewildered Aunt Dotty, as some of the more boisterous guests made their way through the Champagne.

  He had expected to feel at least a slight sense of regret for the loss of his freedom but whenever he looked upon the dazzling face of his new wife, all he could feel was wonder. That life had somehow contrived to give him a second chance was beyond anything he had ever dared to hope for, and that he would be given that chance with Henri beside him made his chest grow tight with unexpected emotion. In fact he seemed quite unable to remove the ridiculous smile that had been on his face since the moment he'd laid eyes on the vision of his bride to be as she entered the church and had stolen his breath. So he simply watched as his beautiful wife laughed and spoke animatedly with everyone around them, and tried hard to reign in his impatient desire to grab her by the hand and get to what he considered the most important part of the wedding. Her dress might be lovely, and her hair exquisitely coiffed, but all he wanted was to divest her of every stitch with all haste and have her hair spilling freely over the pillows in a delightful disarray.

  He was forc
ed to put such happy thoughts aside for a moment, however, as his brother walked over to sit beside him.

  “Congratulations,” he said, a slight smile twisting his mouth as he raised his Champagne glass.

  “Thank you, I feel quite worthy of such congratulations on behalf of my wife,” he said. “Though I am perfectly sure I deserve none of it, I intend to take it all and enjoy it to the hilt.”

  “Spoken like a true Sinclair,” Alex murmured sitting down beside him, his usually cold eyes alight with amusement.

  “And what about you, Alex? I have stolen your intended it seems, so now you must be back on the market.”

  Alex raised one haughty eyebrow, looking faintly disgusted. “I was prepared to do my duty to continue the family name, but now ...” He raised his glass once more in a toast. “You have my blessing to take up that particular challenge as I feel no such urgency or desire to relinquish my freedom.”

  Lawrence frowned at him and wondered what Alex's life was really like. Was there truly no one he cared to share it with? Alex caught his expression and gave him a hard look in return.

  “Don't you dare go getting any appalling notions about seeing me settling down. I am beyond happy to see you and Henri so well matched and content with each other, but I beg you to leave my own affairs well alone. I'd go as far to agree that your wife is a rather unique young lady and you are a lucky man, but follow in your footsteps I will not.” This last was said with no little force and Lawrence knew he would be compelled to let the matter alone, but not until he'd added one last word.

  Lawrence found himself seeking out his bride once more, and knew his eyes gave him away. “Yes I am a lucky man,” he said, his voice quiet. “Which is why I would see you happy too, surely there is someone ...”

  Alex cut him off sounding bored beyond belief. “Really, Lawrence, who do you think I could trust with the life I live? Any wife would be bound to discover what I was involved with eventually and I could never reveal it to someone I didn't fully trust. Besides that the idea of having to forever explain myself to a woman or be forced to consider her comfort ...” He shook his head in apparent disgust at the idea. “No. I am quite content I assure you. I have enough willing bed warmers to keep me occupied, a full and busy life with my legitimate affairs, and adventure enough for any man with my less lawful endeavours.” He patted his brother's shoulder with affection and got to his feet, effectively curtailing the conversation. “And now I would strongly suggest you stop meddling in my affairs and look to your own!”