Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies)

by Lynette Vinet

  I should like to know, Thomas resentfully thought. He set his glass on the sideboard, unable to look at the earl. If he did so, he felt certain the man would see the resentment, the panic and fear in his face and ascertain how much he hated him, his dismay that the secretive business venture would be unearthed. God, if Nathaniel Talbot ever got a look at the account books and saw how much he’d pilfered over the years, he’d send for the authorities! What could be worse than for a man like himself to wind up in a debtor’s prison as a common thief?

  Still, Thomas was curious as to why after all these years, Talbot wanted to run the company and make amends with the daughter he’d sold into marriage. But he didn’t ask. After all, he was the man’s solicitor and not privy to the aristocracy’s penchants. He doubted Talbot would tell him the true reason anyway.

  “Thomas, are you bothered by what I plan to do?”

  Certainly he was bothered! He hated pretending, detested having to cater to this man’s whims, but he didn’t have a choice at the moment. He must calm himself and give the matter some more thought.

  When Thomas turned away from the sideboard, Nathaniel would never have suspected that this sudden ominous news distressed him. He presented a businesslike demeanor to his employer and appeared convincingly pleased.

  “I worry only about your health, Your Grace.”

  Nathaniel nodded. “I understand, but l assure you that I am much recovered. A new start is what I need, something to occupy my thoughts and my time. Brief me on matters now, Thomas. I’d like to begin taking an active part in the company immediately.”

  Thomas decided nothing would be gained by refusing him. The man had made up his mind. Gritting his teeth, Thomas sat near the earl and told him only those things he wanted him to know. There were many things, too many nefarious dealings and risky ventures over the years, to confide to him. The earl was better off not knowing anything for now. The clock had long since chimed one in the morning when the two men finally retired for the night. To Thomas’s surprise he felt a delicious languor steal across him when he placed his head on his pillow.

  He no longer had a worry in the world, his plan to protect himself having been made sometime during the briefing to Nathaniel. He realized he might have to deal with the earl’s troublesome daughter should she learn the truth, but he’d handle her. She was only a woman. And the earl himself … well, that matter was easily resolved.

  He’d simply kill him.

  5

  After a little over a month at sea, Bethlyn increasingly grew bored with the voyage. There was very little for her to do in her cabin except to while away the time with a book or laugh with Mavis over girlhood incidents. The only break in routine came whenever Captain Montgomery escorted them above deck or when Jeremy appeared. Her ire at the absurd situation in which she found herself had peaked, and she found it increasingly difficult to be civil to the captain or his crew. She was the daughter of the owner of this ship, and one day she’d inherit the entire shipping business. Not only did her father own the British end of the company, but she was the wife of the American owner. Didn’t that give her enough reasons to vent her frustrations, to tell Captain Montgomery that as soon as she reached Philadelphia, she was going to dismiss him? She’d even started a letter to her father, concerning Thomas Eversley’s dismissal.

  Jeremy again listened to her rant and rage one night in her cabin. He’d arrived to dine with her, glad to be out of the first mate’s cabin, since the man had arranged a visit from one of the prostitutes. More than once Jeremy had been invited to partake of one of these women’s charms and always he’d refused, not eager to contract some dread disease just to indulge in a moment of lust. He couldn’t wait for the voyage to end either, and he had already decided that when he came face-to-face with Ian Briston he’d tell him what he thought of him. The man had to know what cargo was being transported on this ship. After all, Nightingale would dock in Philadelphia and Briston would, no doubt, be there for the unloading. The thought of human transport sickened Jeremy, but what was worse was the idea that Briston might truly be a monster. Bethlyn wished for a normal married life, yet Jeremy worried just what she might be getting into if Briston decided to fulfill his husbandly rights and keep her for his wife.

  Not wishing to upset Bethlyn with his thoughts, Jeremy kept them to himself and listened to her while she voiced her frustration about the whole unseemly mess. “I’ve penned a message to my father already,” Bethlyn said as she spooned a bit of broth into her mouth. “We’ve had our difficulties, but I sincerely doubt that my father has any knowledge of Nightingale’s cargo.” She grew silent a moment and peered at Jeremy from under long brownish lashes. “Have you ever seen any of the women close up? How do they look?”

  “I’ve seen one or two at close range,” he admitted. “But what do you mean, Bethlyn? I assure you that the women look like any other women. They haven’t anything more than any other woman has if that’s what’s worrying you. Granted, most doxies aren’t splendidly attired, but they’re human beings, nonetheless. I feel sorry for the poor creatures. It must be an awful way to make a living. You know, selling your body to live.”

  Bethlyn hadn’t thought about that. In her mind any woman who sold herself was a disgusting, lowborn creature. She’d never known poverty or true adversity. Despite her father’s hatred of her, he’d provided well for her. She couldn’t imagine being poor or resorting to selling herself just to survive. Jeremy’s comment took her by surprise, but she felt even more surprise to suddenly feel pity for these women. “Do you think Captain Montgomery is treating them well?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “As well as he can, I suppose.”

  “Perhaps I should offer them help of some kind.”

  “What kind of help?”

  “The opportunity to make a decent life for themselves. I’m certain that in Philadelphia these women could find gainful employment. There must be some families who need servants or establishments who’ll hire them. I might be able to help them.”

  “God, no!” Jeremy jumped up, sloshing wine on the front of his jacket.

  “But, Jeremy, you just said…”

  “Never mind what I said. I’m sorry now I opened my mouth and said anything. What I hoped to impress upon you, Bethlyn, was that these women are physically like yourself. They don’t have horns growing out of their heads. However, ladies don’t associate with them.”

  “You admitted you feel sorry for them,” Bethlyn said calmly and took the wet cloth Mavis handed her. She began rubbing the cloth vigorously over the wine stains. “Can’t I have the same pity for them?”

  Grabbing Bethlyn’s hand in his, Jeremy stilled her movements. “Yes, you can, but I don’t like that look in your eye. Every time you’ve ever had it, you’ve gotten involved in some mess, and pulled me in with you. I’m warning you, Bethlyn…”

  She gave a high flutey laugh, and her expression was as innocent as a young child’s. ‘‘I’m not up to anything. I assure you I’m not.”

  “Fine,” Jeremy murmured, not really convinced. “Don’t contemplate any of this further.”

  “Of course not,” Bethlyn demurred.

  Jeremy continued eating, watching her guileless demeanor, and changed the subject. “Captain Montgomery told me yesterday that we’ve been quite lucky on this voyage not to have encountered any American privateers. Just last month one of the Briston fleet was captured near the Delaware coast by a notorious blackguard called Hawk who sails a ship called the Black Falcon.”

  “I had no idea our ships were being confiscated. Thomas Eversley never mentioned it to me. Then again, Eversley has forgotten to mention a great deal.”

  Jeremy nodded. “The Black Falcon is painted a deep ebony. Hawk only attacks under the subterfuge of darkness. He seems to materialize from nowhere.”

  “How very enterprising of him,” Bethlyn absently noted, and stirred her peas around her plate. She found she wasn’t concentrating on Jeremy’s tale about this Captain Hawk. In fa
ct, this news didn’t bother her at all. She doubted Nightingale would run into the infamous privateer since barely two weeks were left in the crossing. Nightingale had made good time, and she expected to see her wayward husband quite soon. The thought still plagued her that he might have engineered the scheme to transport the doxies to Philadelphia, or at the very least was aware of it. For nearly seven years the man had ignored her. She wanted a husband and a normal family life. However, she also wanted to extract a tiny taste of revenge against him for his callous treatment of her. What better way than to foil his scheme before it came to fruition?

  Jeremy sensed Bethlyn wasn’t listening to him when she yawned widely. “I’m rather tired, dear Jeremy. Please excuse me, but I do so wish to retire for the night.”

  “Certainly,” Jeremy said, an ounce of suspicion in his voice. He kissed her upon her forehead like a dutiful brother and took to his cabin, grateful to find that the first mate and the doxy were gone. He undressed and went to sleep immediately, putting his earlier conversation with Bethlyn from his mind.

  However, Bethlyn hadn’t forgotten. She sat on the bunk and glanced out at the star-filled sky. “Mavis, what must it be like to be one of those women?”

  Mavis glanced up, a strange expression on her face. She pulled Bethlyn’s nightrail from a small chest. “I don’t think you should be thinking about people like that. You’re the daughter of an earl, Bethlyn. You should never forget that you’re different.”

  “You sound exactly like Miss Grosvenor. But sometimes I get tired of being ‘different,’ as you say. Do you think they enjoy it?”

  “Enjoy what?”

  “You know, pleasuring a man, having a man touch them. That sort of thing.”

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “Has a man ever … touched you, Mavis? Have you ever let a man make love to you? Is it wonderful?”

  Bethlyn watched high spots of color appear on Mavis’s pretty face, and she realized that Mavis probably had. Mavis had been in Bethlyn’s service for years now, but Bethlyn didn’t know what her friend did on her afternoons off, or in whose company she might have been.

  Mavis sat next to her on the bunk. Her eyes held a faraway look. When she spoke her voice was shaky and full of wonder. “To have a man love you is the most beautiful thing in the world. I can’t explain the feelings to you.” She faced Bethlyn directly. “I really can’t tell you how it feels.”

  “Who was he?” Bethlyn gently probed.

  “Dan Cunningham.”

  “Aunt Penny’s groom? But, Mavis, he was killed by a runaway horse. When…”

  “We fell in love a few months before — the accident and we were to be married. I loved him a great deal. We’d have been happy together.”

  “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” Bethlyn embraced her friend, aware that wet tears streamed down Mavis’s cheeks. “You should have told me.”

  Mavis shook her head and wiped away her tears. “You had other matters on your mind.”

  “Yes, silly and stupid pranks to gain my husband’s attention. I feel like I’ve failed you, my dearest childhood friend.”

  “Never, Bethlyn. I wish only for you to discover the beauty of love. My time is past now. I must live on my memories.”

  Bethlyn replied nothing to that. She hoped that Mavis would find true love again and that Mavis’s wish would come true for herself as well. However, she couldn’t dwell on love now. If her husband was involved with the doxy scheme, then she’d lose her dream of a home and family. She could never love a man who transported women across the sea for soldiers’ amusements. Because of him, she might never know how it felt to belong to a man, to melt with desire when a man looked at her, touched her. So, after all these years, the time had come to make Ian Briston pay for what he’d done to her … or, to be more exact, for what he hadn’t done to her.

  ~

  The hour was long past one in the morning when Bethlyn quietly left her bunk and reached for her plain gray gown. She dressed in the darkness, and then as she had done weeks before, she opened the cabin door. The squeaking of the hinges practically reverberated through her head, and she waited for the inevitable sailor to appear and caution her to return to bed. No one came.

  Mavis’s steady breathing was the only sound she heard, other than the gentle swishing noise of the waves against the hull. She opted to go barefoot but disliked the grimy feel of the wood floor, She doubted the interior of the ship had been properly cleaned in years, and this was one other thing she must remember to tell her father in her letter to him. Keeping to the shadows of the walls, she silently made her way to the small storeroom she’d seen during her tour of Nightingale with Captain Montgomery. Luckily the door was ajar and allowed her to slip quickly inside when a man’s voice came from the other end of the hallway.

  A murky darkness enfolded her once she was inside, and a damp chill penetrated her flesh. Adjusting her eyes to the dim light, she saw various-sized crates which contained supplies for the soldiers in Philadelphia. But it was the closed doorway leading to the room where the women stayed which held her interest. She very nearly made a move for the door handle but froze when the door began to open.

  Self-preservation propelled her to take refuge behind one of the crates none too soon. The sailor who usually guarded her cabin appeared, and a woman clasped her arms around his neck.

  “You were real good tonight, pet,” the woman crooned to the burly seaman.

  “Aye, me girl, I was. What did you say your name was again?”

  “Pearl, I told you,” the woman ground out.

  “Aye, I had forgotten.” He chucked her chin. “Now don’t pout because I ain’t one with names. Here’s a few shillings for you.” He reached into his pocket and handed her the money which she took and dropped into the front of her blouse. Bethlyn waited to hear the clink of the money on the floor, but another look at Pearl proved to Bethlyn that the money was quite safe and not about to fall as the woman’s bosom was extremely large. “Now how about a farewell kiss?”

  Pearl accommodated him, and after he’d playfully smacked her backside and left, another woman, quite young with long dark hair, appeared with a tall sailor. After a few moments of wet kisses, he then paid her and left her standing by the auburn-haired Pearl. The woman looked down at the few coins in her hand. “How much did yours give you, Pearl?”

  “Cheap bastard!” Pearl cried. “I’ve had more sportin’ fun with fifteen-year-old lads who paid me better. That’s the last time I let that silly fool get a piece of me, Della, I tell you that.” The two women disappeared into the room’s confines, Pearl slamming the door behind her.

  Bethlyn rose from her haunched position, legs straining with the effort. A sickish feeling crept into her stomach at what she’d just witnessed. She’d heard about women like these, but to actually see them accept money, to be willingly pawed by men who didn’t remember or wish to know their names, was so debasing. She felt humiliated for them.

  Surely these women must want a better and more decent life. She couldn’t envision anyone remaining in such an existence if another road opened for them. Perhaps she might be able to help them. Jeremy had told her to stay away from the doxies, but Bethlyn, in all good conscience, felt it was her duty to offer aid. A half-wicked smile curved up the edges of her mouth. By helping them, she would also become a thorn in Ian Briston’s side.

  Squaring her shoulders, she decided that now was as good a time as any. Not certain at what she would find on the other side of the door, she took deep breaths to calm herself. Finally she opened the door and peered into the storeroom.

  Two lanterns gently swayed from the ceiling beams and outlined the sleeping figures of the women as they slept on pallets, covered by coarse woolen blankets. A shudder of distaste ran through Bethlyn to see what little privacy was afforded them for the personal acts they performed. Evidently none of them cared if the others saw them servicing the crew, and apparently the crew members of Nightingale didn’t mind, either. Out
rage washed over Bethlyn to realize once again what one of her father’s ships had become.

  The creak of the door alerted the woman called Pearl. Before she saw the woman rise from her pallet, Bethlyn heard her voice. “Bloody hell! Can’t a body get some rest without you horny bastards bothering us?”

  Pearl moved from the shadows and stopped at the sight of Bethlyn standing demurely in the doorway. Her mouth dropped open, showing two rotten back teeth. “Well, who are you?” Pearl asked, quickly recovering herself. “Ain’t never seen you before.”

  Pearl’s statement caused the other women to stir and sit up, then to stand and huddle in a group together.

  “My, my, ain’t she a fancy-looking trollop,” the woman Bethlyn recognized as Della said, an immediate and intense dislike shining in her eyes. “That’s the hoity-toity bitch who’s been sleeping with the captain. I heard tell of her from one of the sailors.”

  Bethlyn found her tongue, but stammered at this disgusting assumption. I … I have not … done any such thing. Captain Montgomery has allowed me to use his cabin for this trip.”

  “Sure, sure,” one of the other women interrupted and snickered. “You may have on a nicer dress than us and may be a bit more expensive, but you’re one of us just the same.”

  “I am not!”

  Pearl moved forward, her hands on her hips. “What is it you want?”

  Bethlyn licked her lips, not certain that she should even be here. She felt quite foolish standing before these women in her prim gray gown, but would appear even more so if she didn’t state her business. “I’d like to help all of you,” she spoke in a rush.

  Pearl laughed. “Now how could the likes of you help us, honey? You ain’t no better than we are.”