by Sea Fires
“I hope your surprise in seeing me doesn’t mean you don’t have the information,” Jared began. “Because if it does—”
“No! No. Never fear.” Alfred licked his thin lips. “I’ve the name you wish.”
“And proof of his betrayal?”
“Yes.” He pulled a lace handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and dabbed at his brow. “I’ve all the proof you’ll need.”
“Then, may I suggest we get on with this? I don’t wish to—”
“Papa! Oh, thank God!” Merideth Banistar rushed into the library, heading straight for her father. She stopped short when she spied Jared Blackstone. Instinctively she turned on the stranger who now stood looming over her. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”
“Daughter.” Alfred’s voice was tight.” That’s no way to speak to a guest. Apologize straight away.”
Merideth ignored his reproach. She’d run through the storm, breathlessly racing into the house, only to have to search through rooms until finding her father. Her heart pounded and she fought back fear. “He came ashore,” Merideth said, keeping her eyes on the stranger. She was certain it was the same man, though he seemed even larger and more formidable at close range. “He beached a small boat below the cliffs.” Merideth steeled herself. “And he has a pistol.”
Jared stared down at the woman. He hadn’t followed his first impulse and pulled the gun when she’d rushed into the room. He couldn’t be sure this prearranged meeting with Banistar wasn’t a trap. But the pistol, though it was primed, was still hidden beneath his waistcoat, nestled in a pocket next to the gold.
“Nonsense, Merry. Mr. Blackstone is a friend of mine from London. He’s from my club.” Alfred draped an arm around his daughter’s damp shoulders. An arm that she immediately shrugged off.
“So you owe him money, then,” Merideth stated, not that she necessarily believed her father. She knew some of his gambling and drinking friends, and Mr. Blackstone didn’t seem the type at all. He looked hard and dangerous, dressed in clothes as black as his raven wing hair.
“Daughter, you forget yourself.” Alfred spoke loudly, yet his voice lacked conviction.
But Merideth’s didn’t as she turned on him. “Perhaps you forget that I know of our circumstances.” Whirling back toward Jared, the hem of her wet cloak swirling out, Merideth faced the stranger. “We have no money. As you can see, we have almost nothing of value either.” Her hand arced out to indicate the barrenness of the room. “It will do you no good to threaten my father.”
She angled her chin higher and Jared felt the corner of his mouth twitch. The chit acted as if she could protect her traitor of a father from him, and her looking as if she weighed less than eight stone, soaking wet. Which she was. Water dripped from the tip of her impudent nose and trailed down through the tangled ringlets.
He had half a mind to tell her exactly why he was here, and that it most likely was none of her concern, but Lord Alfred was babbling on about his being a friend, chatter that his daughter was totally ignoring. Jared shrugged. “I am here neither to collect money from your father nor to threaten him.”
Lightning flashed, amplifying the brightness from the branch of candles on the desk, moments before thunder shook the panes.. Alfred cut short his explanation and Merideth only stared. The stranger’s voice was low and firm, oddly believable coming from a man such as he.
“Then why are you here?” Merideth didn’t know why she bothered to ask, except that for some reason she thought if he lied she would know. He didn’t give her the opportunity to test her theory.
“My business is with your father, but rest assured it has naught to do with collecting money.”
“There, you see,” Alfred said, pulling Merideth’s gaze slowly away from the stranger. “You blustered about for nothing. Mr. Blackstone is a friend of mine.”
“Friends don’t come sneaking ashore in the dead of night brandishing a pistol,” Merideth pointed out. She was far from convinced that the stranger was harmless. One had only to look at him to know different.
“That will do, Merry. Mr. Blackstone is our guest, and, as such, he deserves our courtesy. Something I’ve ignored too long.” Alfred moved to the door and gave the frayed bell cord a yank. “I’ll have Thurston show you to your room.”
“That’s not necessary. If we could simply conclude our business, I can leave.”
“Nonsense. The weather is frightful, and, besides, now is not the time to discuss our concerns.” Alfred’s eyes rolled ever so slightly toward his daughter, who still studied Jared as if by staring she could detect what he was doing in her house.
Jared came close to demanding they proceed with the exchange—coin for information—as planned.
Send the chit from the room if necessary; But he hesitated. Something about Lord Alfred touched a chord of sympathy within him. Jared was prepared to despise the man for his traitorous ways, but found he couldn’t quite summon that emotion. And Lord Alfred seemingly wanted his daughter to know nothing of Jared’s real reason for being here.
In the end Jared shrugged and followed the aged servant when he appeared.
“Give Thurston your waistcoat and he’ll dry it by the fire. It doesn’t do to be wet when there’s a chill in the air,” Alfred said.
Jared paused beneath the corniced doorway. His eyes slipped over the woman, from the tip of her dripping head to the small puddle beneath her square-toed shoes. “Perhaps you should see to your daughter’s needs before her frolic in the rain leads to illness.”
“I was not frolicking,” Merideth shot back, but the stranger was already behind the heavy mahogany door and thus insulated from her words.
Merideth stood still, staring at the spot where she’d last seen the infuriating man and fighting to control her shivering. It was only now, after he had left, that she realized how chilly the room, with its meager fire. During his last survey of her, Merideth had actually forgotten how wet and cold she was.
Casting that foolishness aside as quickly as she shed her cloak, Merideth moved to the fireplace and spread her hands toward the flickering flames. With a sigh she glanced over her shoulders. “Now are you going to tell me the truth?”
“Mer-ry.” Her father drew her name out in the beseeching way he’d used for years, the way she used to find so comical as a child. Tonight she only found it annoying.
“I know this has something to do with money. It always does. You said the sale of Mother’s jewelry paid off the most pressing of your debts.” Merideth fingered the gold locket at her throat—the piece was one of the few saved from the factor’s sale—and wondered why she’d been naive enough to believe him.
“For the last time, Mr. Blackstone is not here to collect money.” Alfred’s demeanor changed quickly from cajoling to vexed. “Besides, we both know lack of coin wouldn’t be a problem if you’d accept Lord Chadwell’s proposal.”
Anger coursed through her veins. She turned in time to see her father gulp down his glass of wine and reach to replenish it. There were so many things she could say, starting with an admonishment to stay sober. But that never did much good. It was as futile as pleading with him to curb his gambling. He would promise, and in his heart, Merideth believed, he was sincere. But her father could keep his addictions at bay for only so long.
Now they were in such dire financial straits that their only salvation was for Merideth to marry a man older than her father.
Slowly, trying to contain her anger and suppress words that would do neither of them any good, Merideth gathered up her cloak and headed for the doorway.
“Merrryyy”
Her father’s voice drifted after her, but Merideth ignored it as she crossed the cavernous great hall and headed for the servants’ dining room.
Thurston and his niece, a woman as rotund as the old servant was spare, were huddled close to the peat-fed fire, their gray heads bent in gossip. Neither bothered to rise when Merideth entered, though they both jerked around in their seats when
she spoke. “Where did you put our guest, Thurston?” Merideth saw no reason to add to their speculation about Mr. Blackstone by referring to him in any other way. As servants, Thurston and Belinda were lacking, but they were two of only a handful of retainers who remained at Banistar Hall.
“In the king’s room, your Ladyship,” Thurston replied, wrapping his gnarled fingers about the stem of his clay pipe.
“It weren’t cleaned,” Belinda added, settling her wide bottom more comfortably in her chair. “I didn’t get no warning that we’d be having a guest.”
“That’s fine, Belinda.” Merideth turned to leave, but stopped to drape her cloak over the back of a chair. She noticed Mr. Blackstone’s was across another, presumably to dry by the fire.
As Merideth climbed the broad staircase, she considered going to her own room first. Chances of there being a fire in the grate were slight, but she could at least change into a fresh gown before facing the stranger. And perhaps towel-dry her hair. While one hand trailed along the ornately carved banister, Merideth used the other to brush damp curls from her face.
It would be a relief to be dry and warm. But then it would be even more of a relief to know the truth of Mr. Blackstone’s visit. With a sigh of determination she turned down the long, dark hallway leading to the king’s room.
She paused before rapping on the heavy, paneled door, wondering whether their guest was impressed when informed he would stay in a room once frequented by James II. Merideth had no doubts that Thurston had related the story to Mr. Blackstone as he’d led him toward the room. If there was one thing Thurston could be counted on to do, it was act as the Hall’s historian.
What a shock it must have been to hear of the room’s grand past and then see it like it was today, stripped nearly bare of anything that could command a price.
Perhaps Mr. Blackstone wasn’t surprised. After all, he had seen the library.
Merideth knocked on the door, deciding she didn’t care in the least about Mr. Blackstone’s observations. He was an unneeded annoyance at the very least, and more likely a dangerous threat.
In answer to his summons, Merideth entered the room. He stood by the tall window, silhouetted by a dazzling burst of lightning. The clap of thunder drowned out the sound of Merideth shutting the door behind her.
The stranger stood still, watching her for a moment before a sardonic smile curved his full lips. “Ah, Merry is it? Have you come to see to my comforts?”
“Hardly.” Merideth’s chin notched higher. “I’ve come to discuss something with you. And to make you an offer.” Despite herself Merideth was drawn to the hearth, where someone, she assumed Mr. Blackstone, had built a roaring fire.
“An offer?” Jared left his post at the window and moved toward the two chairs grouped in front of the hearth. His gaze roamed over the damp gown that clung to Merideth Banistar’s slender frame. His voice was smooth and suggestive. “What might that be, I wonder?”
He was arrogant as well as vile, and Merideth had no trouble believing he was sent by some of her father’s dandified acquaintances to extract money from him. Doing her best to ignore his stare, Merideth seated herself in one of the tapestry-covered chairs. With a shrug the stranger sat in the other.
He’d removed his waistcoat, draping it over the back of the chair. Though his shirt was white, a contrast to the stark black of his waistcoat and breeches, it was just as severely cut, with no lace or ruffle to break the harsh lines of his broad chest.
He frightened her.
Swallowing back the fear, she crossed her hands and began. “First, I need to know what you want.”
He turned his head to the side, a slightly bemused expression on his face. “Are we still discussing your offer?”
Merideth felt heat flood her cheeks, but she refused to look away. “No. We are not. You are about to tell me why you came here.”
“I am?” Jared fought the grin tugging at his mouth. The woman had brass. He had to give her that. Another time, and most certainly, another place, he might enjoy a game of verbal sparring with her. Partly because, by the looks of her, he had a notion it might lead to quite an enjoyable tussle among the sheets. Not that he believed she came to offer him her body. He only alluded to that possibility to see the angry color rise in her face.
Merideth stiffened her spine. “Unless you tell me what it is you want, I can’t see to your payment. And please don’t repeat your story that you wish nothing from my father, because I don’t believe you.”
“I didn’t say I wanted nothing,” Jared pointed out. “I simply said it wasn’t money.”
“Then what?”
She certainly wasn’t coy. “Perhaps you should ask your father that question.”
“I’m asking you.”
“And I, Lady Merideth, am not telling you.” Jared met, her stare and wondered if she would take his statement as final. She didn’t blink, but only continued to look at him through eyes the color of a Carolina summer sky.
Merideth tried to decide what to do next. She would offer him money; that seemed the most expedient way to be rid of him. But she had no money, and, if she were to believe him, that wasn’t what he was after anyway. Then what?
She took a deep breath. “You’re a colonial, aren’t you? From one of the southern colonies, by your accent”
“Very astute.” Her ears were as sharp as her tongue. Jared might have been born in Charles Town in the South Carolina colony, but he had spent most of his life on the high seas. And he didn’t think his speech was characterized by the lazy drawl of slow summer afternoons spent beneath moss-draped oaks.
“One might wonder what a colonial is doing in England in the midst of your revolt.”
“One might,” Jared agreed. “But then one’s birthplace doesn’t necessarily decide one’s politics.” Jared wasn’t a fervent patriot because he happened to be born in America. At least he hoped his loyalties were born of a higher ideal than that.
However, the way she was studying him—as if he had mistakenly spoken his last thoughts aloud—made him pause. If he was going to act the spy, no matter how much he disliked the role, he’d be well rid of her suspicions. It wouldn’t do for the army garrison nearby to be summoned by Lady Merideth before he could get his information and leave.
Another lie was in order.
“You make too much of this, Lady Merideth.” Jared smiled the smile that had captured more than one female’s attention. “I merely came to Banistar Hall to pay your father a short visit.”
“By boat? At night? During a storm? Or have you forgotten I saw you arrive?”
Leaning forward, elbows resting on his spread knees, Jared resumed the bald-faced lies, amazed at how easily they slipped from his lips. “I came by coach.” He seriously doubted she’d brave the storm to check the coach house tonight. And by tomorrow he’d be gone.
“I saw you from the cliffs not more than an hour ago. You leaped from a boat, then pulled it ashore.”
“Dear Lady Merideth, a man would have to be insane to attempt a landing such as that.” Or desperate. “Besides, unless I’m mistaken, it was quite dark an hour ago. Too dark to see what you obviously imagined.” Jared could have sworn no one had seen him come ashore.
She wasn’t going to argue with him. Merideth was certain it would be a waste of time. But she knew what she saw, and she knew, too, that she didn’t trust Mr. Blackstone. Never mind that his smile transformed him, making her wonder why she ever thought he looked dangerous.
With a dimple flirting with his cheek, and the show of fine white teeth softening the harsh contours of his face, he was handsome. Sinfully so.
But that was of little consequence. There was no point remaining, since he refused to tell her the truth about his reason for coming to Banistar Hall. Whatever he wanted from her father, she would find out soon enough. Papa was never able to hide his indiscretions for long.
She stood, obviously considering their discussion closed. Jared hoped he’d alleviated some of her sus
picions, though by the look she shot him as she brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, he doubted it. Her hair was light, a soft honey gold that went well with her blue eyes and pale skin. Now that the heat from the fire had dried it, her hair curled wildly about her face. She looked like his perception of an angel.
But he couldn’t allow her appearance to fool him. She was going to cause trouble if he stayed here much longer. Following her to the door, Jared decided to return to Lord Alfred as soon as she left. There was no need to delay further. And afterwards, as soon as the storm passed, he’d return to his ship and put this behind him.
Merideth’s hand rested on the brass doorknob, and she turned. Mr. Blackstone, following her closely, now loomed over her. He smelled of sea and storm. She swallowed, forcing herself not to be intimidated by his size and obvious strength. “How long did you say you planned to stay with us?”
“I didn’t,” Jared said with an arch of his brow. “But I imagine I shall be gone in a few days.”
“Back to London?”
“Back to London,” Jared confirmed with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. She might be lovely, but she wasn’t the soft, pliant female he was used to. Jared expected her to call him a liar. From her expression it was apparent that was what she thought. Instead she simply opened the door and walked down the hall, her carriage—despite her damp, rumpled gown and tangled hair—regal.
Merideth slammed into her room. The fire in her hearth was lit, but dying, and with a sigh Merideth moved toward it. There didn’t seem to be anything she could do about the stranger tonight, but in the morning she intended to send word for the village constable to pay a visit to Banistar Hall.