Captured for the Captain's Pleasure

by Ann Lethbridge

  Liversedge preened as she smiled brightly up at him. Michael wanted to punch him in the face. Instead he slumped against the grating and closed his eyes. Go, Alice. And good riddance.

  ‘But, Lieutenant, I don’t quite understand,’ she was saying as they walked away. ‘Much as I dislike him and his common ways, he isn’t a deserter. I’ve seen his discharge papers. You can’t flog an innocent man, can you? Wouldn’t you get into some sort of trouble?’

  Don’t do it, Alice, Michael wanted to shout. You will only regret it. The words burned in his throat, but he held them behind his teeth, clung to them with the same thread of hope he’d felt as a child that whoever had lost him would find him and take him away from the misery of his life. A futile hope.

  Thanks to Alex Fulton.

  ‘What did you say?’ Liversedge’s voice carried across the deck, high-pitched and horrified.

  ‘You are making a mistake,’ she said. ‘If you wait until we reach port, you will have your proof. If you continue with this—’ her friendly tone hardened ‘—then the consequences might be dire. After all, he is a partner in Fulton’s Shipping.’

  Good God. Was she actually going to carry this off? The faint hope in his chest grew too wide to contain. He opened his good eye. Liversedge’s complexion had drained of colour. He was staring at Alice with fear on his face. Damnation, the woman had nerves of steel.

  A disturbance, feet shuffling, men mumbling sounded at his back. Liversedge heard it too and swung around. He snapped a salute. ‘Captain Halworth.’

  Alice smiled at the newcomer whom Michael couldn’t see. ‘Captain. I’ve been trying to see you all morning.’

  A white-haired, beetle-browed captain resplendent in gold braid hauled into view. ‘What is going on here, Lieutenant? Explain yourself.’ The captain’s tone was full of distaste. ‘Why is the punishment not proceeding as ordered?’ He frowned. ‘Why is this lady on deck? I ordered them kept to their cabin.’

  Rigid with fury, Liversedge stared straight ahead. ‘Miss Fulton has brought new evidence to light, sir.’

  Saving his own neck by hiding behind a woman’s skirts, the cur. This was better than a farce at the playhouse.

  ‘New evidence?’ the captain said. He strode up to Alice, his weather-beaten face full of concern. ‘What sort of evidence?’

  ‘He is not a deserter. My father would never have taken him on as a partner if he was. He saw proof of his discharge.’

  The captain stroked his chin while he gazed at Liversedge. ‘It seems you acted with undue haste, Lieutenant.’

  Michael’s breath stopped. His heart no longer seemed capable of beating. His throat closed. The sweat running down his face felt cold on his cheek, fear for Alice knotting his stomach. If Liversedge suspected her of complicity, he’d have her clapped in irons.

  Liversedge’s complexion turned purple. ‘But, sir, you heard the evidence. How do we know Miss Fulton is speaking the truth?’

  ‘A common sailor’s word against this lady’s, sir?’ The captain’s voice had a gloating note. ‘I say the matter warrants further investigation. Cut the man down at once.’

  Dear God. Michael went limp against his ropes. She’d actually done it.

  ‘Aye, aye, sir.’ Rigid, Liversedge gave the necessary orders to his men. Bracing against the pain, Michael straightened his shoulders and looked over at Alice. She met his gaze with a tiny raise of her brows

  Brave-hearted woman. His wife. Courageous. God, what he’d give to be someone else. Despair grabbed him by the throat. He owed her his life, but the one thing he knew she’d ask in exchange, he could not give.

  The unfairness of it scoured the vast empty place in his chest.

  The Portsmouth jetty loomed out of the drizzle. The sailors at the oars of the Essex’s launch pulled hard against the wind-whipped waves.

  ‘You look as if you didn’t get a wink of sleep last night,’ Selina said from beneath her borrowed oilskin. ‘If I had known those dreadful pirates were loose, I wouldn’t have closed my eyes either.’

  ‘Privateers,’ Alice muttered. Selina was right. She’d lain awake all night, every nerve of her body alive with fear in case Michael and his crew were caught. Then she’d worried they hadn’t left until news of their daring escape reached the passengers at breakfast.

  ‘Look at poor old Liversedge,’ Richard said, thrusting his wet face between them from the bench behind and pointing to the quay.

  Water dripping from his bare head, the grim-faced lieutenant was being marched off, chin high, in the middle of his marines. A prisoner. He’d been blamed for the midnight escape of the Gryphon and her crew. He’d been arrested first thing this morning and was being hauled off to answer for dereliction of duty. Beside him shambled a disconsolate-looking Kale. ‘It really wasn’t the lieutenant’s fault.’

  ‘Of course it was,’ Richard said. ‘He was in charge of the prisoners. I’m glad to see they have Kale, too. I heard that if it wasn’t for him, the Gryphon would have shown a clean pair of heels. He cut the mainsail rigging.’

  So that was why Michael had been caught. Kale. While Liversedge was an unpleasant bully of a man, he’d been doing his duty. Kale had betrayed his captain. Well, she would use what little influence she had to make sure the lieutenant wasn’t too badly treated.

  The sailors tossed their oars and the launch tied up to an iron ring beside the jetty steps. Richard and Anderson helped her and Selina up the steps covered in long strands of dripping brown seaweed and green slime.

  Glad to have her feet on dry land, Alice fixed her face towards the shore. England. Home. She ought to feel glad, but her thoughts kept returning to Michael. An escaped prisoner, wanted by the navy, he’d never set foot on these shores. She’d likely never see him again.

  Her throat felt tight, her chest felt tight, her stomach felt tight and if she didn’t keep it that way, she would start to cry. And she feared if she did, she might never stop.

  Dash it all, she wasn’t even sure they were married. She touched the ring through the fabric of her cloak. She did not want to believe he had played her false.

  If she had any sense at all, she’d be content with a safe arrival home. But being sensible and happiness seemed mutually exclusive.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘It is so unfair.’ Selina paced from the window to the marble fireplace and struck an elegant pose. Her pale green spencer over a light walking gown of sprigged muslin showed her curves to full advantage. Her straw bonnet framed her pretty face, now set in a frown. ‘Can you believe it? While I’m getting kidnapped by pirates, Father gets betrothed to a woman five years my senior. It really is disgusting.’

  ‘Privateers,’ Alice said.

  Selina waved a dismissive hand. ‘The thing is, while he’s off to Scotland displaying the family pile to her nearest and dearest, I’m left here with Aunt Gadridge, the old dragon, and confined to afternoon visits to Hookham’s and walking Pip.’ She glowered at the dog curled up on Alice’s sofa. The pug raised an eyelid, revealing one very bulbous eye. They glared at each other. The pug yawned and returned to its nap.

  ‘Ugh,’ Selina said. ‘Three weeks and I just cannot endure another minute.’

  Alice pursed her lips. ‘Well, if you hadn’t left your chaperon in Lisbon—’

  ‘Pooh,’ Selina said. ‘A mere formality. Besides, I was with you.’ She frowned and looked around. ‘Why is there so little furniture in here?’

  ‘We are moving back to Oxford. The town house is sold. I need to get Father away from London for the sake of his health.’ Keep him away from the clubs and the dangers of brandy.

  Anxiety crossed Selina’s pretty face. She floated across the room and grasped Alice’s hands. ‘You are leaving me to deal with Aunt Gadridge alone?’ Tears welled in her green eyes.

  ‘This isn’t about you, Selina. If we don’t go now, the bailiffs will be at the door.’

  The pout disappeared. An expression of genuine concern crossed her friend’s face. ‘Ar
e things really that bad?’

  ‘Not yet. But they will be when the loss of the Conchita becomes known to our investors. We must find a way to pay them back and we can no longer afford to maintain a house in town and keep Westerly.’

  ‘What of your agreement with Lionhawk? Does it still stand?’

  Michael. Her chest squeezed painfully. It did that every time she thought about him and she’d grown accustomed to keeping her face expressionless. This time she smiled at her friend. ‘An American privateer? He won’t come to England. Not unless he wants to get himself arrested.’

  Against all logic, she had hoped he’d find a way to return for her. She’d told herself it was impossible, but a little voice kept whispering that Michael would do anything he pleased, should he want it enough.

  Selina grasped her hands. ‘I’m going to miss you. We will write often.’ She resumed her pacing, then paused at the window, swinging about in a swirl of skirts, her face hopeful. ‘Or can I come with you? To Oxford?’

  Alice pictured her friend in the bare rooms at Westerly. ‘I’m sorry, but it will be a while before we are able to entertain. Besides, your father wouldn’t allow it.’ He’d been furious that his daughter had boarded the Conchita in the first place and blamed Alice.

  ‘Oh, while we are on the topic of furious men,’ Selina said, ‘I had a word with my uncle, the admiral, about Liversedge.’

  ‘Was he able to do anything?’

  ‘After a few tears and some handwringing by me, he found him a berth on a ship bound for the West Indies. They demoted him, I’m afraid, but he will have a chance at promotion as time goes on.’

  It was fair. Liversedge deserved some punishment for his cruelty, but not for Michael’s escape. ‘Thank you.’

  A crash sounded above their heads. Alice shot to her feet. Drat it, now what had they broken? ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I really am dreadfully occupied with our move.’

  Selina was staring down into the street. She pulled back the curtain. ‘Oh, my,’ she breathed.

  Alice crossed to her side. All she saw was a beautiful, shiny black phaeton and a pair of ebony horses at the curb. ‘It must be someone for next door.’

  A rap of the knocker reverberated through the house.

  ‘Apparently not,’ Selina said.

  ‘Blast. It is probably one of Father’s investors wanting to know when he will get his money.’

  Selina winced. ‘Oh, dear.’

  Alice nodded. ‘I think you should leave. Your father would be furious if your reputation was dragged into our mire.’

  Selina’s shoulder straightened. ‘If you think I would abandon a friend—’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Alice smiled. ‘But it won’t do us a scrap of good if we add your father to a long list of complainants. I really think it would be better if we didn’t see each other for a while.’

  Footsteps echoed in the hall, all the more noticeable for the lack of carpet. Father’s voice floated down the hallway. ‘This is most unexpected, my lord.’ He sounded tremulous.

  Alice whipped open the door and glimpsed the back of a pair of broad shoulders encased in a snug-fitting blue coat beneath a head of dark wavy hair disappearing into Father’s study.

  Her stomach gave an odd little lurch. Her skin prickled with a sense of recognition. Michael? There she was again, letting her hopes override common sense. Not even Michael would risk a hanging.

  Just the thought of it made her feel cold.

  Whoever it was, she hoped Father remembered to say nothing about the Conchita.

  ‘Who is it?’ Selina said from behind her.

  She closed the door. ‘I didn’t see. I’m sorry to rush you, but I really must oversee the rest of the packing; besides, if you don’t arrive home soon your aunt will send out a search party.’

  Selina groaned and picked up the dog’s leash. ‘You had to remind me. Come on, you horrid little beast.’ The pug rose on its spindly legs, shook from stem to stern and leaped to the floor.

  Alice saw them out of the front door and watched her friend trip down the street with the little dog prancing ahead and her maid behind. A couple of gentlemen stopped to watch her saunter by with mouths open in awe.

  As usual, Selina didn’t give them a second glance. Alice was going to miss her friend. The scraping noise across the floor above ended in a loud bump. She gathered her skirts and ran for the stairs.

  Three long years Michael had bided his time waiting to meet his family’s murderer. Bided his time until he had sufficient resources to strike. The monster of his imaginings had looked nothing like the bleary-eyed, balding, middle-aged man across the desk from him. Fulton looked pathetically confused.

  ‘Hawkhurst?’ Fulton was saying. ‘The son? Everyone said you were no more.’

  You hoped, Michael thought viciously. He gripped the chair arms to stop himself from leaping across the desk to throttle the old man. He forced himself to smile. ‘They were wrong. My petition awaits confirmation by the Lords, but there is no doubt they will give it.’

  ‘Good. Good. Your note said you had some matter you wished to discuss?’ He eyed Michael warily.

  Had he guessed what Michael had come for? His body tightened like the string of a bow ready to loose an arrow. He leaned back, kept his expression guileless. ‘I do. Something to advantage us both.’

  Fulton’s tongue flickered over his dry lips. His glance slid to the brandy bottle on the corner of the desk. ‘Can I offer you a drink?’

  Clearly the man had something to hide. It was too late. Michael had turned over the rock and now had the maggot exposed and ready to crush beneath his heel. ‘Nothing for me, but feel free.’ He waved a languid hand at the decanter.

  Fulton’s hand shook as he splashed the honey-coloured liquid into a glass. Drops splashed on the desk and the old man looked as if he’d like to lick them up. He raised the glass to his lips and took a swallow. The brandy seemed to give him strength; he sat up straighter, his gaze sharpened. He grimaced at his glass. ‘Promised my daughter I wouldn’t.’

  Alice. A tingle across Michael’s skin had warned him of Alice’s presence the moment he had entered the house. He could almost taste her on his tongue, smell her in each breath he drew. These past few weeks free of her temptation had given him time to think, to plan, to regain his purpose.

  Yet an urge to see her pulled at his muscles.

  He would face her soon. When his business with her father was concluded, he would protect her from her father’s calumny, if she’d let him, and her brother too. It was the best he could do in exchange for his life.

  Fulton took a long pull from his glass. ‘Tell me how I can be of service, my lord.’

  ‘I’ve been absent from England for years.’ He shrugged diffidently. ‘I understand you and my father did business together.’

  Fulton shifted in his chair as if the cushion was spiked, his gaze became wary. ‘Many years ago now.’

  ‘My man of business has made all kinds of suggestions of how I might invest my fortune, but he also advises that there are many unscrupulous men in the City waiting to pluck a fat pigeon, as he put it.’ Michael curled his lip, as if the idea was ridiculous. ‘I would not be surprised to find he is one of them. My father trusted you. I will too. I want to invest in Fulton’s.’

  The sunken chest swelled. ‘I would be pleased to help my old friend’s son.’

  Friend. A bitter laugh filled his chest. The vengeful arrow strained for release against his grip. He smiled.

  The old man shook his head. ‘Shipping is not what it was. The war has ruined it.’ His lips twisted. ‘And the ravaging of privateers.’

  Not the answer he’d expected. Was this some ploy to increase the price? ‘Are you turning me down?’

  ‘No. Not at all, dear boy.’

  Michael forced himself not to stiffen at the endearment, although blood ran ice cold through his veins. He eyed his target calmly. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘What were you thinkin
g?’

  ‘A half-share in Fulton’s Shipping. I am sure we can arrive at a fair price. The only trouble is, my funds are tied up in land long neglected.’

  Fulton’s disappointment was palpable. ‘Oh, dear.’

  ‘But I understand you have a daughter of marriageable age. A link between our families would not do your credit any harm and your first grandson would be a peer of the realm.’

  Fulton looked bewildered, then his eyes gleamed as the merchant in him saw the possibility Michael dangled before him. As he saw the way to pluck the pigeon. As he calculated on losing nothing, since it would be Alice’s half of Fulton’s Michael would receive.

  Michael raised a brow and waited.

  ‘You wish to marry my Alice?’ Fulton said.

  Michael wanted to smash his fist in her father’s incredulous expression. Didn’t he know Alice’s worth? He let his arrow fly. ‘I’m in need of a wife who knows the ropes, who can ease my way into polite society. What better way to seal our agreement? Once our families are united and funds start to flow from my lands again, Fulton’s could rival the East India Company.’ His jaw ached from smiling. ‘I am also hoping you will do your part. Introduce me around town. Propose me to White’s.’

  Fulton didn’t know he’d been hit. He rubbed his hands together. ‘My dear boy, what can I say? How can I refuse the son of an old friend?’

  Michael swallowed the nausea pressing up in his throat. He stood. ‘When may I have the privilege of meeting my future wife?’

  Fulton shot to his feet. ‘No time like the present.’

  Alice. God. If she knew what he was about. No time for regrets. The die was cast and he’d thrown a main.

  A meagre few boxes crowded the hallway awaiting shipment to Westerly. Personal items. The furniture would be auctioned off as soon as they vacated the premises. Only Father’s study remained unpacked and infuriatingly the door remained closed