by Kresley Cole
Derek had learned this information himself just hours earlier. He'd left Lassiter to stew for the morning but had returned to the constabulary to drop the charges. The constable, a different man from the night before, told him firmly that Lassiter, as an American, would have to be formally arraigned for the crime of assault and battery. Even though Derek did not want to press the charges made against Lassiter, the man told him that they had evidence against him of other crimes and expected him to be jailed for another two weeks. Derek had scrutinized the man and come away with the strong belief that he was lying.
Evidently Lassiter had made some very serious enemies in London, which was to be expected considering the man. But it appeared that Derek had given them the perfect weapon against the American.
Damn it, he didn't want to think that his strongest competition would be unable to race because Derek had trifled with his daughter. How had he ever mistaken her for a whore in the first place? And recalling the snide comments he'd made just before the fight to Lassiter about his daughter, well, he could understand why the man had gone mad.
It would gall Derek if he won knowing it was over lesser competition; so even though it was unpalatable to aid Lassiter in any way, he'd nevertheless offered very healthy bribes to have him freed. But with no success. Even with Derek's clout and money, the official never wavered, which led him to believe that somebody very high up had decided Lassiter would stay in jail.
The situation wasn't fair, and though Derek knew well that life rarely was, he wanted to help Nicole. He also found it strangely important that she not think he had something to do with this.
Prodding his horse forward, he maneuvered to flank her and cleared his throat, but she was lost in thought and continued walking. He noted with satisfaction that her troubled expression was rapidly dimming, replaced by one that could only be termed mutinous.
"Nicole," he called. She jumped, startled at the sound of his voice.
"Captain Sutherland!"
He touched the rim of his hat in greeting.
She flushed, and he found himself enjoying the look of her finely boned face and the way the blue scarf accented her eyes--until she turned abruptly in another direction.
Derek reined his mount around and was right beside her. "Nicole," he began in a low voice, "I dropped the charges against your father. I have nothing to do with his being held."
She froze.
Facing him again, she came closer, eyes narrowed as she studied him.
"I also know your father's bail was denied."
She reached out and stroked his horse's muzzle in what was probably an unconscious gesture. He liked seeing her small, gloved hand against the horse's black coat.
"How could you know that?"
"I think I might have information that could help you," he said, glancing around.
She leaned forward and raised her eyebrows.
"Not here, Nicole," he said with a patronizing smile. "You'll have to come to my ship if you want to learn more."
He expected her to say something cutting. She certainly looked like she would. Instead, she paused, erased her irritated look, and cast him a wide smile brimming with charm and false pleasure. "Fine. My large friend--you know, the one from this morning--and I can come around nine or so--"
His lips turned up in an indulgent expression. "Just you."
"Well, of course I won't--"
"You will, Nicole, because the curiosity will torment you."
He left her alone in the street, a baffled look on her face that was probably similar to his own. When she'd smiled before, a great change came over her face. He'd seen it the first night on his ship, but hadn't fully appreciated the effect. Now, in the daylight with her glossy hair shining around her face, all her unique features teamed up on him with that smile.
If the wind had blown at that moment, he'd have fallen off his horse.
She wouldn't go, Nicole told herself for the hundredth time. She knew better than to return to Sutherland's ship. So why was she already contriving a plan to get Chancey away for the night? As if to punctuate her guilty thoughts, he walked into the salon.
"How was it with yer gram?" he asked as he took off his coat and slumped in a large, rough-hewn chair. He'd been making all the last-minute preparations by himself, and his already wizened face bagged with exhaustion.
"She wasn't that bad," Nicole said, but then amended, "Well, she was fairly bad. But not as I've feared all these years. Of course, she bad-mouthed Father for three hours, cackled about his incarceration, and derided my manners. But she did gruffly tell me wonderful stories about Mama."
"I'm glad for that, at least. I didn't like ye goin' against yer father to go there, but it was time." He pulled out his pipe and tobacco. "Did she give ye the blunt?"
"On the condition that I marry a man of her choosing within a year, but yes, she did." She sank down in a chair beside him and briefly closed her eyes. "I tried for bail. But it was denied."
Chancey didn't hide his disbelief. "Fer what?"
"They told me a lot of lies about other crimes he's allegedly committed. Added on some nonsense about citizens from other countries being detained much longer."
"Well, ain't this crackin' up to be a bad day."
"What else happened?"
"Clankson came by lookin' for yer pa."
"Clankson of Clankson Emporiums?"
"That's the one. Seems he got caught up with the rest o' London. He's bettin' the race with the Bella Nicola to win. Bettin' heavy. And if Jason don't win, Clankson's pullin' his accounts."
Nicole's breath whistled out. Clankson Emporiums constituted half their business. "If he pulls out, our company is dead in the water." She gave a shaky laugh that held no humor. "And that would be literally."
She'd known how important a win would be, but until now she'd had no idea that their very existence depended on this race. Everything her father owned was leveraged to the penny, and if Clankson pulled his accounts, the shipping line would collapse like a house made of cards. And considering how Nicole's mother had died, her grandmother wouldn't raise a finger to help save their ships.
Chancey grew quiet, his pipe forgotten. "Nic, I gotta tell ye, I just don't know what our next move should be."
She swallowed hard. "Sutherland approached me today."
"And?"
"He said he'd dropped the charges against Father, and that he'd learned the bail was being denied. He told me he had information about it."
Chancey put his elbows on his knees and edged forward. "Well, go on...."
"He wouldn't tell me there. Chancey, it has to be him who's doing this. How would he know otherwise?"
"It don't look good for him, I'll say that. But men like Sutherland often have their fingers in a lot o' people's pies. He probably knows just about everythin' what goes on about the quay from hauntin' the taverns as he does."
"If not him, then who?"
"Lord Tallywood," he answered. He sat back and crossed his thick arms across his chest as if defensive about his answer.
"That popinjay?" She thought of the effete dandy who for some reason liked racing clippers as much as fashion.
"Popinjay or no, he's atop yer father's list o' who's behind the damaged ships. The more I think o' it, the more me gut tells me that whoever's doin' this now is in on the sabotage, too, and it makes sense that it's one man. Yer father was supposed to be a prime target in that, too. And he's been expectin' some kind o' assault since the first one. This is as damagin' to the line--and easier, to boot."
Nicole called up the image of the pale, doughy-fleshed captain and shook her head. "I've seen Tallywood--I admit he had a shifty demeanor, but he also looked as if he'd faint being around Clive and Pretty, much less being the 'boss' they talked of." It had to be Sutherland. Tallywood's greatest crime would be wearing the same waistcoat as another fop to a soiree--the horror! "Why won't you even consider Sutherland?"
"Yer father hates the man, but even he don't think it's him.
All that's gone on is underhanded. Sutherland may be a dangerous man, and he may not be a good man, but I'm not gettin' the feelin' that he'd do a low thin' like this."
Nicole stood and walked to the grate. She frowned--they were completely out of fuel. Were circumstances that dire here? She turned back to him, standing against the dying heat of the stove. "Father's bail is denied, and Sutherland just happens to know of it on the day it happened? He had the information before I did. I can't see why you won't believe he's a suspect. Is he or is he not Father's worst rival?"
"Aye, he is," Chancey answered reluctantly. "But--"
"And wouldn't he benefit the most from Father not sailing?"
"Possibly," he admitted, "but there're several people who'd be desperate to have yer father out o' this race. We got a whole list o' suspects."
She shook her head against what he was saying. Yes, other competitors would gain from her father's imprisonment. But none of them was in such financial straits that they depended on it.
"I believe Father told me in one of his letters that Sutherland's line was foundering?"
"Aye, it is. But that don't mean he's doin' this."
"But what if it is him?"
Chancey huffed impatiently. "If yer father hates the man above all else, and even he don't think it's Sutherland..."
Nicole shook her head. "I've got to meet with Sutherland and find out what information he has. I don't have a choice but to confront him."
"Ye're serious?" he asked in amazement. Then, visibly calming himself, he said evenly, "All right, so we go to Sutherland's tonight. I've done worse."
"He, uh, said it was to be only me."
"O' course he did!" Chancey roared.
She heedlessly carried on, "I don't think he'll keep Father in there if I plead our case." Truly she did think, she didn't know why, that she could have some sway where Sutherland was concerned.
However, Chancey sputtered, looking at her as if she'd lost her mind.
"Chancey, you look amazed at what is a...a daring idea." She pointed a finger at him. "And that really irritates, since you were once part of the Liverpool Irishmen. I believe that sailing enclave was notorious around the world for riotous behavior and insane exploits."
Chancey flushed. "I'm reformed!"
"Well, one day I will be, too!"
He glared at her. "First o' all, I'm not believin' that Sutherland had anythin' to do with this. And if I did, I'd be the one to confront him, not Jason's daughter!"
She couldn't understand where his confidence in Sutherland had come from. "I can't keep sitting here helpless when so much points to him. At worst, even if I can't coax him to help me, I can gain entry to his ship and snoop around for any evidence of wrongdoing." And spy for anything to help them in this now-critical race.
Chancey made a strangled exasperated sound; then, going into an uncharacteristic fury, he stood over her. For the first time in all the years she'd sailed with him, he used his hefty frame to intimidate her.
"I know what ye're plannin' and ye can forget it," he bellowed, shaking his finger at her. "Ye'll not be traipsin' after that black-hearted scoundrel!"
Nicole glanced behind him to see several of the crew listening at the door. She scowled at them, and they scurried away. Everyone was accustomed to his blustering, but this was much more volatile. Still, she counted on the fact that even though Chancey's temper flared she'd wear him down in the end. Because she never lost a contest of wills.
"I'll not agree to it, miss," he warned resolutely as he paced back and forth. "Yer father'd not have ye doin' this for him." He took her arm and said, "Dangerous times these are--think o' it, ye were attacked right on yer own ship."
She tried to reason with the stubborn man, but Chancey held up his large, scarred hand to silence her. "Ye've grown into a lady now. Ye can't be alone with a man like that." He hesitated, looking her over once, then stammered on, "Ye're comely, and a man like him wouldn't think twice about beddin' ye."
Nicole raised her eyebrows and snorted. She wasn't comely. She had awkward features, and no matter how many times her father insisted on charitably calling her "willowy," she was much too thin. "You'll have to do better than that," she said in a derisive tone.
He frowned at her comment as if it confused him. "Listen, Nic, I don't like the man--don't like any man that gives in to his demons," he added to himself, "but whoever is keepin' Jason in jail is a cheat, and I can't see Sutherland wantin' to win like this."
She wanted to tell him that even if he didn't think the man would stoop to this, she couldn't ignore the hatred between him and her father. But she was running out of time. Instead, she backed down from the argument, resolving to attack the problem from another angle. With a staged sigh and dejectedly slumped shoulders, she said, "I'm just anxious about Father. I'm sure you're right."
She would act as if she were convinced by his logic for the rest of the day, so he wouldn't watch her too closely when she was ready to leave for the Southern Cross. Her heart told her it wasn't Sutherland, but she had to be certain. More was riding on his information than they imagined.
Nicole had felt as though she had an invisible noose roped around her neck when the bail was denied. After the news of Clankson's threat, it'd been raised and tightened. Without her father, there'd be no win. Without the win, there'd be no accounts. No accounts in this vulnerable time, and the line would have to be liquidated to pay off their creditors.
She would go to Sutherland, hear what he had to say, then plead their case to see if she could maneuver him into helping her. If talk wouldn't achieve the goal, then she'd manipulate him. That idea was ambitious--he didn't exactly strike her as highly manipulable. But she was adept at getting people to do what she wanted. And if that didn't work...well, she wouldn't think about that now.
If she was honest with herself, she'd admit that she was shamefully attracted to the man, had been since she first saw him, more so after he kissed her. He'd told her she'd be curious. Oh, she was curious, all right.
When the clock struck ten, she'd just managed to get rid of Chancey for the night. She hated lying to him repeatedly, since he truly trusted her to be as honest as he was, but it was done now.
She'd take the window left by his absence and use it to...simply know.
Chapter 7
I 'm expecting a visitor tonight," Derek informed Jebediah Grolly, his bosun and the man who kept his ship running smoothly. "When she arrives, put her in the salon." In a sterner voice, he added, "And make sure she stays there."
"Aye, Cap'n," the aging seaman replied evenly, though his salt-and-pepper eyebrows were raised in question.
Derek understood why. A woman was coming to the ship for the second time in...well, ever.
"Do you think I can get a bit of shore leave after that?"
He didn't doubt how badly Jeb and the rest of his crew wanted to leave now that night was coming--though during the day they certainly had no problem staying aboard. They were always visible on the ship even after they finished their duties, lingering so everyone on the quay could see that they were about to sail the greatest race of the century. But at night they were treated as celebrities in the waterfront taverns, with race followers and sailing enthusiasts buying pint after pint for them.
"That's fine," he said vacantly. Jeb walked out of the cabin with a bounce in his step and a large smile cracking his old, bewhiskered face.
Derek had never shared the consuming excitement his sailors enjoyed when about to set sail on a long route. He always thought the long trips a lesser evil for a man who belonged nowhere.
He'd at least been more involved in the past. Now all he could think of was Nicole. Even knowing she was Lassiter's daughter hadn't diminished his want of her.
He took a book down from a glassed-in shelf while he waited impatiently, but after rereading the same page four times, he tossed it aside. Just as he thought she might not show, Jeb knocked on the door.
"Cap'n! The visitor's 'ere."
>
He called permission to enter, and Jeb bustled in. "You didn't tell me it's the girl that strolled outta 'ere the other mornin' bold as she pleased," he chided with a sly smile. "I put her inside and ordered 'er to stay put." His brows drawn together, he admitted, "She got a bit sassy with me." Derek could only imagine how Nicole had reacted to that command.
When he entered the room, he saw she hadn't taken a seat. Instead, she was inspecting the seascapes attached to the walls.
He walked toward her, and when he was directly behind her, she said, "These are excellent, Captain Sutherland."
"I didn't know you were a lover of art."
She turned to him with a curiously self-deprecating expression. It vanished as her hand shot up to his bruised face, which had colored more deeply since the morning. She feathered the tips of her fingers over his bruised jaw, and he just managed to prevent himself from closing his eyes. Uneasy, he stiffened. At once, she pulled her hand away.
"It's nothing," he said in a gruff voice. "I assure you I've had worse."
She blushed furiously. Her touching him had been impulsive. "I'm sorry you two fought," she said in a crisper tone as she stepped back from him.
"It would've happened sooner or later." His words were tight as he watched her nonchalantly remove her cloak to reveal her unconventional attire--trousers and a fitted blouse that did nothing to hide her attributes.
It appeared to him that she had taken extra care with that splendid hair of hers. It was twisted in an elaborate style, and he could more easily see the golden strands threaded throughout. Piled atop her head, it made the rest of her form seem fragile and small.
Though she seemed so slight, she'd been soft. Soft when he'd come across what had to be the most beautifully shaped breast he'd ever held in his life. Shrugging away that too-appealing memory, he asked in a voice gone husky, "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Oh, I'm not supposed to--" She stopped, then said, "Yes, I think I would like one--whatever you're having, please."
He was having whiskey--neat--but he didn't think that'd do for the slight girl, so he added water to hers before handing it to her. "I have some questions for you."