The Ransom: Legacy of the King's Pirates

by Marylu Tyndall

  Another knock on the front door spun her around. Restraining a growl at not having a butler—at least not when Abbot was down at the wharves—she headed back into the foyer. A few seconds later, she wished she hadn’t opened the door. Captain Nichols, a silly grin on his lips, removed his cocked black hat and bowed to kiss her hand.

  “Miss Juliana, you are a breath of fresh air.”

  She sighed. “I imagine you get more than enough fresh air on board your frigate, Captain.”

  He rubbed his smooth jaw, his brown eyes assessing her. “Tis not the same as the invigorating sensation of seeing you.”

  Nausea soured her stomach. “You flatter me overmuch, Captain. However, I fear I have no time for visitors today.” Especially not visitors prone to snooping around asking too many questions.

  “Miss Juliana.” Nichols held the door firm against her attempt to shut it as his expression turned to one of pleading. “Pray, since you give me no choice, I must make bold. I insist you reconsider your engagement to that buffoon, Munthrope. I know you have no affection for him. Why, you never gave him a moment’s notice, even shriveled in disdain whenever you saw him. Faith now, this effort to make me jealous has gone too far.”

  The flat line of his dark eyebrows indicated the man was serious. Juliana could not decide between feeling sorry for him or being angry at his overinflated ego. “You make too free with your opinions, sir. I cannot in good conscience allow you to continue under such a misguided perception. My engagement to Lord Munthrope is real, I assure you. And though I am sorry for your jealousy, in good sooth, I beg you to turn your affections elsewhere.”

  Spite appeared in his eyes. “As you already have, my dear?” He shifted his stance and raised a wooly eyebrow. “Word about town is you’ve been seen with the ignoble Pirate Earl. Late at night and even”—he curled his lip—“before dawn.”

  Blast that Mr. Pell! Juliana flattened her lips and made a note to chastise the footman for his loose tongue. “I never took you for a man who dabbles in gossip, Captain Nichols.”

  “Then, it is not true?”

  “Do you take me for the type of woman who associates with pirates? Now, if you please.” She started to close the door, when Rowan’s voice boomed from behind her.

  “He’s not come to see you, dear sister.”

  Gripping the banister, her brother limped down the stairs, wincing with each step, and halted beside her, a playful grin on his bruised face. Despite his black eye and swollen nose, he was the epitome of fashion from the heels of his Turkish shoes to the gold-laced edges of his silk cravat. “The captain and I have business to discuss.”

  Alarm prickled her skin. “What business could you possibly—?”

  Captain Nichols brushed past her and entered the foyer, greeting her brother with a dip of his head. “Mr. Dutton, thank you for seeing me.” He glanced at the carved crown molding circling the room then up the mahogany staircase. “And how is your father these days? I heard he was ill.”

  “You heard incorrectly, sir. He is quite well, I assure you.” Juliana shut the door, forcing a causal tone. “However he is overwhelmed with work at the moment. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Rowan, may I have a word?” She gave a tight smile toward her brother before facing the captain. “Captain Nichols, would you care to wait in the sitting room?” She gestured toward the right, where two doors opened to a colorful, sunlit room.

  The naval officer pursed his thin lips. “Wherever is your butler? ’Tis unseemly for you to be answering your own door.”

  “Surely as a Post-Captain in his Majesty’s Navy, you can navigate to the sitting room without him?” She smiled sweetly.

  “Of course.” He gave a stiff bow and marched away as Juliana dragged her imbecilic brother aside, not caring when he winced in pain.

  “Why did you agree to see that man in our home? Are you daft?”

  Rowan swept aside strands of light hair from his face and smiled. “Daft? I believe we established that long ago.” He kissed her cheek. “But ’tis you who will lose your youthful beauty with all this unnecessary fretting. Why, dear sister, you already have shadows beneath your eyes. We wouldn’t want Lord Munthrope—excellent catch, by the way”—he winked—“to change his mind. ”

  “I care not what Lord Munthrope does, and I have shadows beneath my eyes because I forfeit my rest to keep this family afloat!”

  “And you are doing an excellent job at it. Excellent, I say. Now, if you’ll allow, whatever business Nichols has with me, I’m sure it has nothing to do with you.”

  “I doubt that. Do you realize—” Juliana slammed her mouth shut, forcing back her rising fury. “Do you realize that the captain has been most curious about our shipping business and our family as of late? Always asking questions, sticking that pointy nose of his where he has no right?”

  Rowan shrugged and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Don’t vex yourself so, Sister. The man is harmless. His curiosity stems from his interest in you. Once he accepts your betrothal to Munthrope, he’ll relent, to be sure.”

  “What if he sees me in father’s study behind his desk doing his work? What if he notices our depleted staff? Hears father’s sickly cough? He should not be here at all. If he continues to visit, he’ll wonder why father never comes out to greet him.”

  “Becalm yourself, dear sister, I have the situation in hand.”

  “What you hope to have in hand is the dear captain’s money. Of that I am sure,” she spat, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t like him paying off your gambling debts. I’ll not allow it, do you take me?”

  Rowan fingered the lace at his cuffs. “Would you prefer I be tossed into the bay?”

  “I would prefer you not gamble away our fortune.” She settled herself. “Can you not see I’m trying my best to provide for us? I could use your help, Rowan. At the very least, if you would not resist me.” She sighed in weariness at the same look of remorse he always gave her. “We must pay Nichols back. I cannot be in his debt.”

  Rowan took her hand in his. “That is precisely why I received the good captain’s request to meet. To repay him.”

  “With what?” Juliana huffed.

  Before he could answer, Nichols stormed back into the foyer impatiently, pocket watch in hand.

  Another knock on the door brought Juliana’s frustration to a boil. How was she ever to get anything done today? “Faith now, who could that be?”

  No sooner did Rowan fling open the door than Lord Munthrope swept into the hall in a tide of billowing silk and lace. Tight ringlets from a long periwig flounced over his shoulders. White paste coated his face, perfected by a well-placed mole above the right corner of his lips, a horse patch above his right eye, and circles of rouge on both cheeks. He extended a leg, both hands elevated, and bowed grandly before Juliana.

  Oh, fie! His Lordship was the last person she wished to see. Or was he? Captain Nichols immediately lengthened his stance, grabbed the hilt of his service sword, and gave Munthrope a scorching look. Munthrope, however, barely acknowledged him before greeting Rowan and turning back to Juliana.

  “Miss Dutton, Lady Milson has invited us to tea. ’Tis a breezy afternoon. I thought a ride about town and then some refreshment at the Milson’s would be utterly delightful. Do say you’ll join me, sweetums.”

  Sweetums? Juliana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Your Lordship is too kind. However”—she clamped her teeth together—“you have caught me at a disadvantage. For I was not expecting to go out today. Nor to entertain guests.” She directed a glare at Captain Nichols, whose slight smile indicated he was quite pleased with her curt tone toward Munthrope.

  Which reminded her that, business with Rowan aside, her best chances of getting rid of Nichols once and for all was to ensure him of her love for this annoying dandy. Releasing a heavy sigh, she stared at the three men. She truly did have work to complete today. And spending time with the cheeky princock held no appeal whatsoever.

 
; “You could use an afternoon of play, dear sister.” Rowan winked. “Besides, how can you deny your intended the pleasure of your company?”

  “’Tis most uncouth to barge in on a lady unannounced,” Nichols ground out, causing Munthrope to spin his way, the lace on his elevated hand fluttering.

  “Especially so when that gentleman is not her betrothed. I am glad your humility admits it, Captain Darling.” His chuckle filled the room.

  “My business here is with Mr. Dutton,” Nichols retorted, eyes lines of disdain.

  Ignoring him, Lord Munthrope hooked his jeweled walking stick over one arm and took in the foyer. “Ah, your father, sweetums? I trust he is feeling better?”

  “I knew it!” Nichols exclaimed.

  Miss Ellie, cotton skirts in hand, hurried down the stairs. “Beggin’ your pardon, miss.” Her gaze took in the crowd. “I ’ad no idea you were ’xpecting company. I’ll go ’ave cook put on some tea.”

  “There’s no need, Ellie.” Juliana said, hoping everyone would take the hint and leave.

  “Of course there is,” her brother interjected. “Captain Nichols and I will take our tea in the sitting room, Miss Ellie.”

  “Begad, so your business is with the younger Mr. Dutton,” Munthrope said. “Very good. Very good.” He tapped his tasseled blue shoes over the floor as he recited a quick rhyme:

  ’Tis the son not the father

  Or the father’s son

  Whoever it be

  There’s business to be done!

  “Oh, very good. Very good,” he commended himself.

  Rowan joined in His Lordship’s laughter while Nichols snorted in disgust. “Your wit, milord. ’Tis outstanding.”

  Shaking her head, Ellie headed to the cook room out back. Juliana wished she could follow her and leave this flock of bird-witted men. But she couldn’t. She must play the doting fiancée in order to get rid of Nichols once and for all. Yet perchance she could do so and still remain at home to do her work. She glanced down at her plain walking gown. “I’m hardly dressed for a party, your lordship. Mayhap another time.”

  “’Tis but an informal tea. And as usual, you will outshine every lady there, sweetums.” A flicker of something in his eyes kept her riveted to his gaze. A flicker that bespoke of control, intelligence, and a seriousness that was so unlike the cavalier lord.

  She could see no way out of this. “Then permit me to gather my reticule.” A few minutes later, she descended the stairs to find all three men still staring at each other, two of them like wolves baring teeth in defense of their territory. The third, her brother, with the usual look of vapid delight on his face.

  Fools, all! Yet the look on Nichols’s steaming face as she waltzed out the door on Lord Munthrope’s arm was surely worth it.

  Chapter 15

  Nichols took a seat on the velvet-lined settee and lifted his gaze to Juliana’s dim-witted brother. As soon as he’d heard of Rowan’s accident, a plan had sprouted in his mind, a plan that—after Lord Munthrope had announced his courtship with Miss Juliana—had blossomed and grown thorns. Even now, he bit back a burst of fury at the remembrance of that night. How dare she lead him to believe they had an understanding and then attach herself to another man—a bumbling fool at that! The insult was beyond the pale. He could make no sense of it. He’d been told his appearance was exceptional. He was wealthy, stood to inherit his father’s estate in Hertfordshire, and he was a captain in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. Not a bad précis of achievements.

  Especially for someone whom both his father and brother thought would amount to nothing.

  And especially not someone whose situation and assets should be shunned by a lady devoid of title or fortune. Dozens of women vied for his attentions. All except the one he wanted.

  “Drink?” Rowan poured himself a glass of liquor from the sideboard and at Nichols “nay”, took a seat across from him, crossing one booted leg over the other.

  “I thought we were having tea,” Nichols said, disgusted at the man’s infatuation with spirits.

  “We are, but I find my tea always in need of embellishment, do you not?”

  The maid entered with a tray, spotted Rowan with a drink, frowned, then slammed it down on the table. After briskly pouring the steaming liquid into cups, she asked if Rowan wanted anything else and stomped from the room before he answered.

  Nichols smiled. “Having trouble with your staff?”

  “Miss Ellie? Nay, she’s been with us for years. A bit capricious at times, but she means well.”

  “I would dismiss her at once.” One thing Nichols never tolerated was disrespect from servants.

  Rowan poured the brandy into his tea and leaned back, sipping the potion while eyeing Nichols curiously. “Pray tell, Captain, surely you didn’t request an audience with me to discuss my staff.” He cocked one of his fair eyebrows and continued before Nichols could respond. “No doubt you wish to demand a favor in return for your generosity in paying off my debt. An action I did not request, by the by.”

  Nichols watched the steam swirl from his teacup, wondering how best to handle this pompous fop who was so much like his own brother, it twisted his gut in knots. Arrogant, conceited, self-serving, with a rapier wit, the physique of a god, and a face that made women swoon. Even the fair hair and green mischievous eyes were the same. Men like him thought they could rule the world with only their looks and charm. Yes, this man was much like Richard. But where Richard had been wise and industrious, this dizzard was lazy and burdened with an exaggerated belief in an intelligence he would never possess.

  “As I have informed you, it was but a gift of my charity, from one gentleman to another. We cannot have that swine Bilford tossing one of our own to the sharks, can we?”

  Rowan tilted his head, examining him. “But the sum was atrocious, Captain. I insist on repaying you. In fact, I shall put my skills to use post haste in the gambling halls.”

  Idiot. Nichols stared aghast at the numskull. ’Twas what got him in the mess in the first place. “And yet”—Nichols sipped his tea, then set down the cup—“I would hate to find you in a similar situation all over again.”

  “Never fear, I’ve learned my lesson in that regard. Besides”—Rowan lifted up a palm when Nichols started to speak—“I will not suffer your charity, sir.”

  Nichols growled under his breath as a muculent cough filtered down from above. “Is someone ill?”

  “Nay … I mean, yes, ’tis but a servant. No one of import.” Rising, Rowan went to the sideboard and filled his glass again, but his flustered behavior fed Nichols’s suspicions. Another bout of coughing, followed by the patter of someone running down the hall, confirmed them. “Your father has not been seen in town for months.”

  The chink of glass sounded. “He is a private man, Captain. Who prefers to spend his dotage in peace.”

  “He has never been so before, and he’s hardly entered his dotage. Why, he can’t be more than fifty.”

  Returning to his seat, Rowan forsook the tea and tossed the brandy to the back of his throat. “He has worked hard his entire life. What is it to you if he prefers to allow his manager to handle business down by the docks?”

  “Business manager? I had no idea. Who is the man?”

  Sunlight spearing in through the window striped the young buck’s coat in gold and brown. He hesitated, his jaw working. “My, my, Captain, why the curiosity regarding my family business?”

  “You must pardon me there, Mr. Dutton.” Nichols was quick to allay the man’s temper. “’Tis a curiosity born out of my interest in your sister. I was under the impression you were my ally in procuring her hand.”

  Rowan flattened his lips with a shrug. “In truth, her interest in Munthrope came as a complete surprise to me. I hadn’t given her the credit for brains.” He seemed relieved at the change in topic. “There is naught to be done about it now. Besides, Munthrope is a wealthy man—wealthier than you, I’d say.”

  Nichols grew livid at the man’s s
uperior attitude, one his brother had constantly assailed upon him in their youth. Always thinking he was the better man, more handsome, smarter, more successful. And lording it over Nichols whenever he could. Making him feel inferior and worthless. But Nichols had more than proven himself. He had succeeded in every area his brother had deemed him incompetent. And he was not about to allow this goose-witted carp to make him feel like a failure again. He would win Juliana. He would not be defeated. “Munthrope is a fool, as you well know. He’ll abandon your sister as soon as he tires of her.”

  Rowan shrugged. “Mayhap. But ’tis her concern, not mine.”

  “What’s this? No care for your sister’s future?”

  “Who can count on a future, Captain?” Rowan stretched his arms across the back of the couch on either side of him. “We don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Enjoy the moment, I say, and take no care for things that may never happen.”

  “Tush man, what nonsense is this?” Nichols barked, disgusted by the man’s cavalier attitude. “We can very well alter our course in life. We can choose our own destiny.”

  “And what do you choose, Captain?” Rowan grinned. “What is your purpose on this earth? Or perchance should I rephrase: What is the price of your charity?”

  The man was not as dumb as Nichols assumed. “I wish for your help is all.”

  Rowan gave a cynical snort. “I’d rather repay you with coin.”

  “But how can you hope to win at cards when you have no money with which to gamble?” Nichols picked up his tea but found it had grown cold. “My offer includes a handsome salary, one which should keep you long into Faro each night.”