The Ransom: Legacy of the King's Pirates

by Marylu Tyndall

  “What are you about, Brother?” She halted and eyed him with suspicion. “I will brook no further intrusion into my personal life, do you take me? I will court whom I will court when I will court.” If I court anyone.

  Her only answer was a look of abject innocence above a sly grin.

  “Besides, I intend to merely make an appearance tonight. I’m tired, Rowan. Surely you can understand.” She allowed him to proceed.

  “Indeed, I do. Hence, your carriage awaits.” He waved her forward.

  “Have you summoned Mr. Pell?”

  “No need.”

  She faced him at the door, wondering if Mr. Pell was already in his cups. “Who is driving us?”

  “Do give him a chance, Juliana.”

  “Give who a—”

  Before she could finish, Rowan opened the door to the smiling face of Captain Nichols.

  Chapter 4

  As soon as Captain Nichols turned to address Mr. and Mrs. Billingsworth, Juliana slipped away from the exasperating man. She’d not had a moment to escape ever since he appeared at her door—thanks to her conniving brother. She had a mind to withhold Rowan’s weekly allowance for such a dastardly deception. That would teach him! Yet as she wove among the chattering guests, she knew that was not possible. Being heir to their father’s dwindling fortune, Rowan had access to every asset.

  Seeking a corner wherein she could find a moment’s peace, Juliana sank against the wall and surveyed the ballroom. Carved mahogany decorated the doorways, window moldings, and ornamental arches between rooms. Silk wall covering painted with pink rosettes lined the walls all the way to high ceilings whereupon hung glittering chandeliers. An orchestra tuned their instruments on a loft above the room, while guests—decked in the finery of their class—vied for attention from the most influential members of Port Royal society.

  One of them, her escort Captain Nichols, settled into his station with unabashed pride as several people approached him, no doubt asking his opinion on this matter or that. Opinions he was evidently delighted to shower on all those around him. In fact, during the entire carriage ride to the Stevenson’s home, he had regaled her with tales of his many courageous exploits at sea. She’d merely smiled and nodded at the appropriate times while secretly kicking Rowan from beneath her voluminous skirts as he sat across from her. Once they’d arrived at the party, her cowardly brother had abandoned her, dashing off to find a game of cards, no doubt.

  Captain Nichols turned, saw she wasn’t beside him, and began surveying the crowd. She must find somewhere to hide. A cluster of young gentlemen glanced at her with interest. A few she knew. A few she did not. All of them she longed to avoid. The warmth of a tropical breeze swirled around her from glassless windows as she dodged an incoming gentleman. Nodding her greeting at Lady Bain, she held up a hand to a servant holding a tray of French macaroons and finally spotted a group of her friends.

  “Lady Anne,” Juliana said as she approached. “Do allow me residence beside you for a moment.” She squeezed in between the woman and Miss Margaret while casting a glance over her shoulder. Good. She’d lost Captain Nichols again.

  Lady Anne swung an arm draped in ribbons and lace around Juliana, and tucked her close, dousing her in a cloud of French perfume. Juliana withheld a sneeze as the woman leaned in to whisper. “Hiding from that handsome naval captain? You really should give the man a chance, Juliana. He’s obviously lovesick for you.”

  The other ladies agreed with sly grins. Miss Margaret, Miss Aston, and Lady Anne were Juliana’s only friends on the island, though she wondered if they were truly her friends. She doubted they would come to her aid should trouble strike. They certainly hadn’t been willing to help Abilene when she needed them the most. “The captain is sick, I’ll give you that,” she replied. “But I doubt love has much to do with it. Besides, how do you know ’tis him I’m hiding from?”

  “We saw you enter on his arm.” Miss Ashton pursed her rouged lips. “Did he escort you to the ball?”

  “Yes … No … I mean I was tricked into accepting his company.”

  “I should be so tricked.” Miss Ashton sighed dreamily and waved her silk fan about her face, sending brown curls dancing. “You must be mad, Juliana. Captain Nichols is wealthy and handsome and every bit a gentleman.”

  “Then you may have him,” Juliana said a bit too tersely. But she meant it. ’Twould that Nichols would grow tired of the useless chase and find another victim to hound.

  The orchestra began a lively tune, melding with the cacophony of chatter.

  “None of us stand a chance with the captain when you are in the room.” Margaret adjusted the lace lining her belled sleeves. “Ever since his intended, Miss Caroline, was suddenly shipped back home to—”

  “In disgrace,” Lady Anne interjected with a critical brow.

  The other ladies gave disapproving nods. “Regardless,” Margaret continued, “ever since then, the captain’s interest has had but one focus.”

  A gentleman approached Lady Anne, but she waved him off. “I’m waiting for Lord Canton to ask me to dance,” she responded to her friend’s curious stares after he’d left.

  This seemed to satisfy the ladies, though Juliana had no idea who Lord Canton was. Some wealthy buck newly arrived in Jamaica, no doubt. Indeed, she must attend more functions or she’d be conspicuously devoid of enough gossip to keep up her charade.

  “Ah, there is your pursuer.” Miss Aston dipped her head to the left, causing her pearled fontange to waver slightly, and for a moment Juliana feared the stiff tiers of lace would slip from her tower of hair to the floor. But she had bigger problems. Nichols was combing the crowd at the edge of the dance floor just a short distance away.

  Miss Margaret looped her arm through Juliana’s, giggling with glee at the subterfuge. “Let us seek out some refreshments, shall we?”

  Much to the dismay of a bevy of young gentlemen—who had been desperately trying to gain the ladies’ attention for the past several minutes—Juliana and her friends wove through the throng and emerged onto a triple-arched Georgian portico. White-clothed tables, laden with all manner of drink, fruit cut in fanciful shapes, and coconut sweet cakes stretched across the tiled porch. Beyond, palms and cedar trees waved in the breeze beneath a moonlit sky while the scent of the sea joined the smells of wine, lemon, and coconut in an exotic dance beneath Juliana’s nose. Her stomach stirred but then tightened again. She hadn’t eaten in hours, yet none of the delicacies appealed to her. Pressing a hand over her jeweled stomacher, she declined a piece of cake Margaret offered.

  “Where have you been of late?” the red-haired lady asked as she loaded her plate with food. “You missed our ride into the country last week, and yesterday, croquet.”

  “Busy.” Juliana grabbed a glass of lemonade, hoping it would settle her stomach.

  “Busy?” Lady Anne sipped her punch wine. “What else is there to keep us busy save these banal entertainments?” Her bored gaze took in the mob circling the table, no doubt seeking her Lord Canton.

  “I am helping the children at Buchan orphanage.” Juliana’s palms began to sweat at the half-truth and she nearly dropped her glass.

  “Oh, lud. Whatever for?” Miss Ashton quickly smiled and fluttered her lashes at a passing gentleman. Then she frowned. “Those dirty little children have diseases don’t they? Didn’t your mo—”

  Margaret nudged Miss Ashton to silence.

  But the reminder had already pricked open the wound on Juliana’s heart. She forced civility into her angry tone. “Those dirty little children are in great need, while we lack for nothing.”

  Lady Anne shrugged. “My father gives to charities, what more can we do?”

  “It would behoove you to accompany me on a visit to the orphanage some time. These children not only need food and clothing but love and instruction.”

  “How sad.” Margaret tossed sculpted balls of melon into her mouth.

  “If you don’t stop eating, Margaret,” Lady Anne
said, “you’ll be as fat as a whale, and then no man will have you.”

  Margaret frowned as Anne turned to Juliana. “’Tis the orphan’s lot in life, Juliana.” She tightened her lips, causing a tiny crack to form in her powdered makeup. “We cannot save them all. Besides, it appears you have neglected your own wellbeing in the process. You look tired dear, too thin, and your face is far too dark. Why are you not properly made up?”

  “If you’re not careful, someone may hand you a tray and ask you to serve.” Miss Ashton quipped and they all chuckled.

  Margaret stuffed a sweet cake in her mouth.

  “And your patch is in the wrong place if you wish to attract a gentleman. It suggests you are haughty and aloof.”

  Juliana fingered the star on her forehead. “Exactly what I wish to portray.”

  “You are incorrigible, Juliana,” Lady Anne declared with a skeptical chuckle. “God gave you such exquisite beauty for one purpose and one purpose alone—to snare title and wealth.”

  “Alas, what did He give me a brain for, then, I beg you?” Juliana snapped.

  They all gaped at her as if she’d asked why they had legs. Did she even know her friends at all? Did they know her? “I care not for my skin—” she began, but male laughter drew all gazes to an arched entryway where Lord Munthrope floated in on a cloud of opulence surrounded by a gaggle of toadies who laughed at his every witticism.

  “Now, there is a man we should set our cap for.” Lady Anne pressed a finger on the tiny heart at the corner of her mouth—the position of the patch proclaiming her interest in finding a lover. “He’s wealthy beyond belief and the eldest son of an earl.”

  Juliana curled her lips in disgust as she took in the man. Earl or not, he carried himself like a pimpish fop. Even now, he waved his arms about in a flourish as he spoke, nearly swatting bystanders in the face with his wide lacy cuffs. Tight curls from a white periwig framed a powdered face dotted with various patches, while a foam of mechlin bubbled from beneath his chin. Loops upon loops of colorful ribbons lined his gold-embroidered doublet and continued marching down his breeches, trimmed with Flemish lace. A lady clung to one arm while his jeweled walking stick hung on the other. His voice was too high for his size, and the shrill tone grated over Juliana.

  Revulsion hissed in her whisper, “I wouldn’t marry him if he were the king of England.”

  Lady Anne gasped and Margaret almost choked on her cake. From across the room, Lord Munthrope’s eyes unexpectedly met Juliana’s, and an unusual sensation prickled over her. Turning her gaze away, she brought up a question she’d been meaning to ask.

  “Have you heard word of Abilene?”

  Lady Anne’s nose pinched. A red hue stole up Miss Margaret’s face, while Miss Ashton looked away.

  “Why would we have heard from her?” Lady Anne finally said, her tone ripe with disdain.

  “Because she was our friend,” Juliana snapped, her anger simmering, “and she is now in a bad way.”

  Miss Ashton snorted. “Is that what you call it?”

  Ignoring her, Juliana continued, “I went to The Cat and the Fiddle last night looking for her, but she was nowhere to be found.”

  “Forsooth! You went to that haven of pirates?” Lady Anne shrieked, though her tone brimmed more with excitement then fear. “By yourself?”

  “My footman was with me but he … he … got lost.”

  “Lost? My dear, how utterly terrifying!” Lady Anne took the last gulp of wine and set down her glass. “Were you accosted?”

  Eyes full of anticipation sped toward Juliana as if they all wished it were so, if only to relieve their boredom.

  “Nearly, but someone … a man came to my rescue.”

  “A man?” Margaret asked.

  “A pirate, if you must know. I believe he might have been the Pirate Earl.”

  “Do say!”

  “This is most exciting!”

  Miss Ashton leaned toward her, a twinkle in her eye. “I hear he’s quite handsome.”

  Juliana stared at the silly woman, aghast. “He’s a pirate. What does it matter if he’s handsome?”

  They all frowned at her declaration. She wouldn’t tell them that he was, indeed, very handsome—dangerously handsome.

  “Oh, dear, you do have such grand adventures.” Lady Anne sighed.

  Too many adventures to Juliana’s way of thinking.

  “Miss Dutton, I couldn’t help but overhear.” Captain Nichols stepped beside her, drawing quite a few gazes—feminine gazes. Juliana had to admit, the man was dashing in his blue cambric coat with gold braid, white breeches stuffed in tall black boots, and his cocked hat atop a curled brown periwig. Yet his face was anything but handsome at the moment, as his brown eyes were aflame with incredulity. “You encountered that scurrilous Pirate Earl all alone? He is a reprobate of the fiercest kind!” He seethed, barely acknowledging the other ladies. “’Tis unheard of! A lady wandering the streets at night. Does your father know of this?”

  Juliana opened her mouth to tell him ’twas none of his affair, when he shook his head in exasperation. “We shall address this later. Lady Stevenson is asking where you are. She wishes to dance a minuet with us.” Without awaiting her response, he took her hand, forced it on his arm, and escorted her back into the ballroom. As they passed the entryway, an odd awareness brought her gaze up to see Lord Munthrope in the midst of regaling his sycophants with some embellished narrative.

  His stark blue eyes followed her every move.

  Chapter 5

  Lord Munthrope finished his parody with mock precision, sending the crowd into a tumult of laughter.

  “Munny, you are too much, too much, I say,” one of the bystanders announced, hardly able to contain himself. The fatwit. Pasting on a smile, Munthrope bowed elegantly and excused himself, much to everyone’s dismay.

  In the ballroom, his eyes grazed over the pearl-laden coiffures and plumed castors, seeking the object of his interest, Miss Juliana Dutton. He’d noticed her the minute she’d entered the room on the arm of that buffoon, Captain Nichols. He’d watched her as she’d ducked away from the man and hid in the corner, saw her join her goose-brained friends, and then he’d followed her onto the portico. Why? He couldn’t say. Mayhap because her skin glowed like amber amongst the pasty white faces of her powdered friends. Mayhap because her golden waves warmed him like sunshine. Though it could be because when he’d gazed into those blue-green eyes of hers that reminded him so much of the sea, he’d found courage and kindness.

  Yet ’twas more likely because he hadn’t been able to force her from his thoughts after he rescued her last night. And now, from the look on her face, she was in dire need of rescuing again.

  He stopped before Miss Wilson, whose flirtations could finally be put to use. After asking her to dance, he swept her onto the floor beside Miss Dutton and that pompous whiffet, Nichols. When she saw him, the corners of her fair eyebrows knit together in the most adorable way, but then the music began and Munthrope was forced to enter the circle with the other men, prancing and hopping like a dizzy court jester. If he must behave like a senseless goose, he might as well entertain his audience. He gave an exaggerated dip of his hand here, a kick of his toe there, and a lift of his arms in a swirling flourish.

  Laughter ensued, followed by clapping as Munthrope skipped around a scowling Captain Nichols. When the men twirled back to the women, Munthrope purposely bumbled toward Miss Juliana instead of his own partner. He winked at her, injecting pink into her cheeks and flaming red into Captain Nichols’s as the man shoved between them and took Miss Dutton’s arm, all the while giving Munthrope a look of scorn.

  Munthrope’s innocent shrug, followed by a repeat of the same mistake in the next set, caused further jocularity amidst the watching crowd as well as further curses from the poor captain, who dragged Miss Dutton from the floor as soon as the dance ended. Handing Miss Wilson off to an interested gentleman, Munthrope followed the couple down the grand stairway onto the nearly
vacant foyer below and finally out onto a private balcony overlooking the gardens.

  He slid behind a large potted fern outside the doorway before they could glance his way.

  “My dear lady, what an atrocious man. I do hope he didn’t ruin your dance,” Nichols said.

  “Nay. I found him somewhat entertaining, albeit a bit ostentatious.”

  Munthrope smiled.

  Miss Juliana drew a deep breath and gazed over the dark garden. “What are we doing here alone, Captain? ’Tis hardly proper.”

  She turned to leave, but Nichols grabbed her arm. “I bid you, grant me your ear for but a moment, Juliana.”

  “Miss Dutton to you, sir.”

  Nichols let out an exasperated sigh and moved to block the doorway.

  Munthrope’s fingers itched to teach the man a lesson in chivalry.

  But the lady took charge and jerked from Nichols’s grasp. “What could you possibly have need to speak to me about alone, Captain?” Her jittery voice betrayed her as her gaze took in the garden, no doubt seeking an escape.

  “Miss Dutton.” Nichols came to attention as stiff and purposeful as if he were standing before an admiral. Munthrope suppressed a smile at the poor man’s nervousness. “I have concluded that you and I are well suited.”

  “Concluded?” She gave an uneasy laugh. “Have you been conducting some sort of experiment, Captain?”

  “Nay, beshrew me!” He looked down. “But I—”

  “If you mean we are suited as dance partners, I concur, sir.” Juliana said rather hastily as she turned to make a quick escape. Nichols leapt in her path, a mere foot from where Munthrope hid.

  He pressed against the wall. Was this the poor fellow’s attempt at courting the lady? A dead fish could perform the task better.

  “You mistake me, Miss Dutton. What I meant to say—”

  “If this is about my venture down to the docks last night,” Miss Dutton interrupted, eyes nervously glancing toward the now empty foyer. “I promise to be more careful in the future. Not that it is any of your affair.”