by C. J. Archer
The fingers clutching the maid whitened. She continued to study the wall.
"Min, speak to me! If you're not marrying him for love or because your father has arranged it, then why? I don't understand."
"It's not your business to understand," Taylor said. He came up behind Min and the maid. Out of reach. For now.
"I am making it my business," Blake said as much to Min as to Taylor.
Min's lips formed a tight, straight line and her jaw went rigid. If he didn't know her, he'd have thought she was angry. But he did know her—she was barely holding herself together. And that surprised him more than anything.
Something quite shocking had happened to her since he came to her last night. Something had forced her to agree to wed Taylor. Her family's lack of money was certainly a problem, but it hadn't been enough to convince her to marry Blake. And, he liked to think, he was a better prospect than the foppish fool cowering behind her.
What would force her hand? What did she care about?
Her plays. Her father.
"Where is Sir George?" he asked. Min's lower lip trembled. She bit it. "And why is your furniture being moved?"
"This is nothing to do with you," Taylor said, puffing out his chest.
Blake's hand went to his rapier hilt. Taylor took a step backwards.
"Min? What's happened?"
She half shook her head and closed her eyes. "Please don't. It's difficult enough already."
If he could just hold her...
"He's in Bedlam," the maid blurted out. "This swine paid the Keeper to come get him this mornin', so early we weren't even out of bed."
"Bedlam!" The full horror of Min's situation sank in slowly. If his close relation was in that hell, he'd do anything to get them out. He'd sell his soul if he had to.
Min, it seemed, would too.
"Tell me," he said to the maid.
"Say nothing," Taylor ordered her.
Blake drew out his sword and darted around the women. He pressed the blade against the reddened stripes marking the spot where his fingers had gripped Taylor's throat. "You speak only when I order you."
Taylor nodded quickly. Despite the cool day, sweat popped out above his upper lip.
Blake looked to the maid. She gulped in air before saying, "Mr. Taylor here believes Sir George is not in his right mind." She went on to explain how Taylor had come to that conclusion and how he'd used it to force Min into marriage. "The only way Sir George can leave Bedlam is by Mr. Taylor's word."
"And Taylor will only give his word if you marry him." Blake's gaze never left Min's. She hadn't blinked once during the maid's speech but now she nodded.
"It's the only way," she said. "Father won't survive a long legal battle, even if I had the money to pay for one. So you see...it's hopeless."
"No. No, it's not. Whatever Taylor is paying the Keeper, I'll double it. We can have him out tonight."
Taylor cleared his throat. "If you'd be so kind as to remove your blade I'll tell you why that's not possible." Blake lowered his sword. Reluctantly. "My father is Master of the Mercer's company. He owns this City and many of its inhabitants owe him favors. You'd be surprised who." His grin was as slick as a greased pole. Blake nearly put his fist through the turd's face. "One of them is the Keeper of Bedlam. He won't release Sir George unless I say so."
"Forget it," Min said bitterly. "Forget about me, forget about this...just forget it!"
Blake sheathed his sword, cupped her face and kissed her. It wasn't gentle or sweet. He didn't want it to be. He simply wanted to show Taylor that Min was his. And show Min that he hadn't given up.
But he couldn't help himself. He deepened the kiss and felt Min respond. Her fingers curled into his cloak and a tiny sigh escaped her lips as she leaned into him.
"'Ho there, unhand my betrothed!"
Blake broke the kiss but didn't remove his hands from Min's face. He caressed the soft skin of her cheek, the elusive freckle at the corner of her mouth. "If you can forget me," he said to her, "then I will forget you."
Tears welled in her eyes and she shook her head. "You know that's not possible. I could live a thousand years and you'd still be as real in my mind as you are standing before me now."
He knew now that he'd been waiting to hear her say that ever since they'd met. His hands began to tremble. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and breathed, filling his body with the scent of her.
"I said unhand her!" Taylor pushed Blake's shoulder.
Blake let go of Min, pulled back and landed a punch on the maggot's nose. Taylor fell to the ground, clutching his face. A spray of blood decorated the wall behind him.
"You'll pay," Taylor spat. "I'll—."
Blake picked him up by his doublet and punched him again. He was about to land another blow when he saw Min out of the corner of his eye. She'd turned her face into the maid's shoulder but he could still see the wince, the abhorrence at his violent outburst.
Blake regarded his opponent, sheltering his shattered nose with both arms. Violence. It was so much a part of Blake's life, he wasn't sure he could find a solution without it.
But he had to, or Min would never be his no matter the outcome of this day.
He lowered his fist but didn't let go of Taylor. Instead, he felt the doublet between his fingers. It was made of a very fine blue velvet, exactly like some he'd carried on his ship after trading at a Flanders port. It gave him an idea. "I have a proposal," he said, letting go of the doublet. "You have Sir George released and I won't ruin you."
"Pardon?" Taylor stopped attempting to mop up the blood with his sleeve and instead turned his attention to Blake.
"Let me put it another way. If you do not have the Keeper release Sir George by the end of today, I'll refuse to trade with you. And I'll have every captain I know also refuse to trade with you. Perhaps you're not aware that I'm Robert Blakewell and I know every captain of every ship that has sailed from here in the last five years." He crossed his arms and watched as Taylor digested the information. "Now, is there any part of that you don't understand?"
Taylor's Adam's apple bobbed. "You can't! Minerva..." He turned to her, his eyes wide and desperate. "You've got nothing. No money, no patron—."
"You're wrong. I have my pride. And my friends." She held the maid's hand but looked directly at Blake. His heart flipped in his chest. "And my plays," she added.
"Ha! Who will buy them now after I—?" He stopped and backed away.
"You!" Min let go of Jane and curled her fingers at her sides. "You did it!" She stepped forward and punched Taylor on the chin. He reeled into the wall, swearing loudly. A spectator from across the street cheered.
"Blake," she said, shaking out her hand, "I'm sorry. I thought it was you. Can you ever forgive me?"
He took her hand and pressed his lips to the red knuckles. "There's no need. It's over now. Let's not speak of it again."
Relief briefly flickered across her face. She drew in a deep breath and a small smile brightened her entire face. "Do you mind if we release my father now?"
He smiled back. "Of course. Taylor? Do you agree to my terms?"
"How can I not?" he mumbled, rubbing his chin.
"Good. Then let's go."
The party walked up Gracechurch Street, past the White Swan Inn where Lord Hawkesbury's Men would soon be putting on a play which was not written by Min, and continued along Bishopsgate Street through the gate itself. Min, walking beside Blake who led his horse, was the happiest she'd been for days. Her father was about to go home with her, Blake hadn't betrayed her, and despite the way she'd treated him, he still seemed to care for her.
Perhaps, just perhaps...
No. There was no point in speculating. She would take the next few days as they came, minute by minute. She would not look too far ahead.
They entered the grounds of Bedlam, made up of a few stone buildings hunkering around a courtyard on Bishopsgate Street Without. The wind swirled around the yard and buffeted against the hospital,
playing havoc with hats and skirts. A moan carried on the breeze sent a shiver down Min's spine.
"Here," Blake said, "take my cloak."
"I'm not cold," she said but smiled her thanks. He smiled back. He had the sort of smile that quickened hearts. It was a wonder he didn't use it more often.
Ned, who'd been too busy stopping his nose from bleeding to say anything as they walked, pointed to one of the buildings. "The Keeper's office is in there."
The formalities were over within minutes. Ned ordered Sir George's release and the Keeper, after pointedly raising an eyebrow at Ned's bloodied face, sent for two servants to fetch him without comment.
When her father shuffled in between them, Min raced to his side. He smiled when he saw her and drew her into an embrace.
"Ah, my girl," he said, "I knew you'd find a way. You're too clever not to."
"Not me, Father, my friend, Captain Robert Blakewell."
It was an uncomfortable place and circumstance for introductions and Sir George, dressed in the loose-fitting clothing of the Bedlam patients, shifted uneasily. "Thank you," he said with a bob of his head.
Blake clasped her father's hand in greeting. "It's the least I could do for you. You've been such an important part of my life for years, I should be the one thanking you."
Sir George frowned. "Oh?"
"I'm captain of the Silver Star. I've been following your career and waiting for your new theory with anticipation."
Sir George's frown deepened. "Oh."
Ned snorted. Min shot him a glare.
"I hear it's coming along nicely," Blake continued. "My quartermaster reported much talk of it down at the Legal Quays."
Her father's face lifted, his focus sharpened. He smiled and Min put her arm around his waist, drawing him closer. Thank you, she mouthed to Blake. It didn't matter if he was lying. In her father's present state, the words of encouragement could be the difference between a stable mind and an unstable one.
"Come, Father, let's go." She steered him to the door, Blake following. Ned stayed behind.
"You go ahead," Blake said quietly to her when they stepped outside.
"Why, where are you going?"
He glanced back to Ned and the Keeper. "I want to make sure Taylor understands the full implications of what will happen to him if he tries to harm you or your family."
Oh. Oh no. He meant he was going to hurt him. Again. She chewed on her bottom lip and refused to face him. She didn't want to see the violence in the blue eyes she loved so much. Not that she was completely against hurting Ned—he deserved to be hurt after all—but she wasn't sure another punch would be enough for Blake. If only he could see that his earlier threat had been far more productive. She took her father's arm and began to walk away.
"Wait." Blake pulled Min aside and tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. The blue eyes smoldered. "I'm simply going to talk to him. I know what his father's company imports and I want to make sure he realizes the depth of my...resources."
"He's very rich. Do you think you really could ruin him?"
He gently squeezed her chin. Her father, bless him, pretended not to notice and sidled away to stand near Blake's tethered horse. "I know I haven't your faith in me, but believe me when I say I can make him miserable. And if I need to call in some favors, I will. You're important to me, Min. I want you to be happy."
She smiled. She couldn't help it. Every piece of her felt alive with happiness. The part of her that believed in the romance she wrote about in her plays knew it would all end well. She ignored the other part that warned her to tread cautiously, that nothing had truly been resolved between them. For now, she wanted this feeling all to herself.
"I'll come see you when I've finished," he said, touching her cheek. "I need to talk to you."
She nodded and leaned into his hand. "Until then."
Blake left her and joined her father. "Take my horse," he said. "He responds well to commands and is used to traffic." He then proceeded to remove his cloak. "And you'll need this, Sir. I'll bring your belongings back with me."
"Thank you," Sir George said, patting the horse's nose. "He's a fine steed. I used to ride one just like him in my youth."
Min couldn't imagine her father ever riding a huge beast like Blake's horse but she simply smiled and clutched the bridle in a firm grip. Blake helped her father to mount then stood aside and watched them leave.
"He's a fine man," Sir George said when Bishops Gate was long behind them. The hordes of travelers entering the City proper had dispersed and conditions were less dangerous for horse, rider and leader. "Are you going to marry him?"
"Father!"
"Well?" His brows lifted. "I don't mind. I think it's time you marry."
"You do?" This was most unexpected. Her father needed her now more than ever. "What about helping you with your work?"
He took a long time to answer and she thought he might have gone to sleep in the saddle. But when she squinted into the sun, she saw that he was looking into the distance.
"I think I might work a little less," he suddenly said. "I know my mind is not what it used to be." He sighed. "Sometimes I can't grasp a single thought. I can see it, I can sense it...but I can't hold onto it. It's like trying to catch a fish with your bare hands." He dropped the reins and lifted his hands, holding them in front of his face.
She yelped. "Father! Hold on."
He picked up the reins again. "I used to try to catch fish in the stream when I was a boy. Perhaps I'll go fishing again."
"You probably need a license to do that in the Thames."
"More fishing," he said, "means I'll be needing your assistance less. That'll give you time to write your plays."
Min's breath caught. Was he merely pretending to appease her? Or did he truly want to slow down? "I...I'm sure you'll still require me a great deal. There's your new theory you must expand upon—."
"Minerva, I'm tired. My theory is in good shape to be expanded upon by the next generation of scientists. I've left my legacy upon the world, for good or ill, now it's your turn." He turned watery eyes on her, but they weren't sad. Quite the opposite. "You are an intelligent girl, my dear. I've always told you to use your brain wisely."
"Yes," she said, unsure where the conversation was going.
"Now I'm adding to that advice. I wish you to use it on something you love. Your plays. I've been a fool to hold you so close to me, making you work on my dream when you had dreams of your own. I know that now, and I'm sorry." He sighed and it seemed to fill his entire body.
Her heart expanded and contracted with a rush of love for him. But she wouldn't tell him her plays would never again appear on the stage. There were some things he didn't need to know yet, if ever. "Thank you, Father. I'll try to make you proud."
"You already have."
CHAPTER 27
"Mistress! Mistress, come quick!"
"Shh, Jane, don't wake Father," Min said, rising from the stool by the kitchen fire where she'd been warming her knees. "What has set you in such a spin?"
"Lord Hawkesbury is here!" Jane, quite breathless, ushered Min out of the kitchen with a flap of her apron.
"Hawkesbury?" Min couldn't have been more surprised if Jane had said she'd flown to the moon.
"Aye. I've put him in the parlor. Quickly, don't keep him waitin'."
Min dutifully hurried to the parlor and greeted the earl with a curtsy. "This is quite a surprise," she said. "A pleasant one. I'm honored by your company, my lord. I'm sorry my father cannot greet you himself but he's ill at present."
He bowed formally. He looked quite out of place in her unprepossessing parlor with his immaculate clothes and impressive frame. But he wasn't disdainful of the meager furniture or the shabby cushions. In fact, he didn't appear to notice any of it. "I hope it's nothing serious," he said. "I'm sorry to disturb you but there's something I wanted to tell you. Actually, there's something I wanted to show you. He held out his hand. Care to walk with me?"
"I, uh..." It was all alarmingly sudden. And Blake had not yet arrived. "I'm waiting for someone."
"It's not far," he said. "I'm sure your maid will make your visitor comfortable if he or she arrives in your absence." And then he smiled, a brilliant, disarming and quite beautiful smile.
She took his hand. "Of course. I'd be delighted to walk with you." He wasn't the sort of man one refused. Not when he smiled like that, as if her presence on his arm was the most important thing in his world. Blake too made her feel that way, and more. Much, much more.
Where was he? Was he still bent on revenge? Would he be dismayed to find her walking about with the earl when she should be waiting for him?
"Jane," she said as the maid helped her into her cloak, "if Captain Blakewell arrives in my absence, please see to it that he waits. I won't be long." She glanced at the earl to see if he'd heard her. He inclined his head. It seemed he had.
They stepped out just as a stranger with the longest, reddest beard Min had ever seen approached. "Are you Mistress Peabody?" he asked.
"I am."
"I'm John Stokes, ma'am, quartermaster aboard the Silver Star." He rubbed his palms down his long, loose breeches as if he were nervous about something. Talking to her perhaps? "I was informed at Blake's, that is, Captain Blakewell's house, that I'd find him here."
"Oh, I'm sorry, he's not but he should be back shortly. Is there a message to pass on to him?"
"Aye. If you'd be so kind to say I was here and that the Star, that's his ship, ma'am, is ready to sail at next high tide. He needs to be aboard before nightfall."
"Tonight? Are you certain?"
"Aye. We sail at first light in the mornin'."
Min felt everything drain from her, like a river suddenly running dry. She must have gone white because both Stokes and Lord Hawkesbury came to her side.
"Are you ill?" the earl asked, taking her elbow.
"No," she whispered. Yes. She wanted to throw up. Blake was leaving? Tomorrow?
God. Oh God oh god. She'd known it all along, but she'd denied it ever since he'd rescued her father. She'd hoped he'd given up his seafaring to be with her, but those hopes now lay shattered at her feet.