The Pirate’s Heart
A "Cutlass and Lace" Novel
By Bethany M. Sefchick
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019
Bethany M. Sefchick
All rights reserved
For Ed…
My very own pirate…
Chapter One
September 1798
Barbados, West Indies
“And that, you see, is why the French shall never overcome the ingenuity and moral superiority of the English, no matter how hard they try. Why, they are always at war with each other over the most trivial of disputes, unlike our more sophisticated ways of resolving disputes!”
Pasting her most bland smile on her face, Lady Katherine Sedgewick, tried her best to look interested in whatever nonsense Lord Richard Wilds, the third son of Viscount Trask was spewing. After all, the man was her cousin Lizzy’s intended, so Katherine felt she owed the man some degree of courtesy. However, he was also an utter bore and, while he might occasionally be correct about certain topics that spewed from his mouth like so much horse manure, his infamous pomposity made it virtually impossible to listen to him expound upon any topic for more than five minutes.
Wilds also adored being the center of attention everywhere he went these days, but especially at balls and other soirees where he had a captive audience for his ramblings. It mattered little that here at Lady Acker’s ill-named “Harvest Ball,” his audience consisted of the same people he had seen just last evening at Lady Stafford’s affair. Wilds had an audience that could not escape him, at least not without offending their hostess. In the end, that was the only thing he cared about.
“And as I was saying to Governor Ricketts just the other day…”
Ah, there it was. Katherine had wondered how long it would take the man to bring up the governor’s name. It was no secret that Wilds was politically, socially, and economically ambitious, more so than any man Katherine had ever met. It was also no secret that Wilds was courting and planned to wed Katherine’s cousin, Lizzy, simply because her father, Lord William Templeton, was a former lieutenant governor of Barbados and that Wilds coveted that same position for himself someday. Or a higher position if he could manage it.
Katherine had thought her uncle more intelligent than to fall for Wilds’ act, for it was an act, and a poorly done one at that. However, the older man seemed charmed by Wilds, just as nearly everyone in their small social circle did. Save for Katherine herself. She did not trust or like Wilds one tiny bit. Nor would she ever.
“Oh, Lord Wilds! You are so very clever! Not to mention so very handsome, as well!” Beside Katherine, Lizzy batted her eyes and simpered at her intended, hanging on his every word with an utterly besotted look upon her face. Katherine refused to refer to Wilds as Lizzy’s “beloved” as others did because there was not a single ounce of love between them, merely a political alliance and a very tenuous one at that. If Wilds believed another woman might better suit his ambitions, he would be courting her instead of Lizzy. It was that simple.
Wilds desired to become lieutenant governor of Barbados. Governor if he could somehow manage it. Nothing less would do for a man so full of arrogance and his own self-importance.
Katherine’s father had severed as lieutenant governor of Barbados for a time too, and she was well versed in all of the skills necessary to be a successful politician of that magnitude. In her opinion, Lord Wilds didn’t even have the skills necessary to run his own household, let alone an entire English territory.
As Wilds continued to ramble on about the French, as well as the Spanish, Portuguese, and, for some odd reason, pirates, Katherine quietly excused herself and began to make her way to the refreshment table. There she would find the same bland, watered-down drinks as she had the night before, not to mention the same limp sandwiches and pastries. However, such fare was still preferable to listening to Wilds pontificate – but not by much.
Just as Lady Stafford had the night before, Lady Acker was doing her best to recreate a London ball here on the tropical island. However, Barbados was blessed with several things that London lacked including abundant sunshine, oppressive heat, high humidity, and a surplus of insects. Oh, and there was the sultry night air as well.
In fact, the climate in the West Indies was hardly suited to London-style balls. Or anything even remotely English in nature, for that matter. Still, that did not stop women like Lady Acker from trying, however. Not that Katherine could blame the woman in the slightest.
Like Katherine herself to some degree, the Society women of Barbados secretly longed for the lives they had left behind when, for one reason or another, their husbands had uprooted them from all that was comfortable and familiar and plunked them down in the middle of a hot, humid, buggy island and expected them to be happy about it. Hence the balls with formal dress for everyone, men in cravats and multiple coats, women in gowns with layer upon layer of crushed velvet and wool and other fabrics far better suited to cold, damp weather than to the stultifying heat of the West Indies.
Katherine had long ago ceased attempting to emulate the other women of her social circle and instead had chosen her own path, right down to her manner of dress. That was why this evening she was clad in pale blue silk as befitted a woman of her unmarried state and her six and twenty years.
She wore no jewels to weight her down, instead opting for pearl studded hair combs and silk slippers that were as thin as she could possibly make them. Her long, brunette tresses had been piled high upon her head so her neck lay bare, more of a way to relieve the heat than for seduction, and while she had brought a wrap as was proper, she had abandoned the garment once inside the door in favor of her fan.
In short, Katherine was as cool as she could possibly make herself and it still wasn’t enough. She was still hot, sticky, and uncomfortable, though she wondered if that had more to do with the state of her life than the tropical climate.
For the last several years, she had felt out of place on the island, even though she had called it home far longer than she had lived in England. She lived as a barely-tolerated guest in her uncle’s home, constantly did battle with a jealous cousin, and had to fight every day even to have some small say in the managing of the sugar plantation that had once belonged to her father.
This was not a life anyone would have chosen to live, but especially not Katherine. Yet unless she wed, she could not imagine any way her future would change – either for better or worse – and marriage wasn’t something she wished to consider. Not now and perhaps not ever.
It was very difficult to wed another man when the love of one’s life had been lost at sea with no hope of ever returning. In her mind, it was all but impossible.
Much to the disappointment of every marriage-minded mama in the entire West Indies.
Making her way along the edges of the ballroom, Katherine was aware that eyes followed her as she moved. Not just one pair, but many. First and foremost were her uncle’s eyes. Eyes that viewed her with a hint of distrust, afraid that she might do something to tempt Lord Wilds away from her cousin, which was laughable. Katherine would rather drown herself in the sea than allow that reprobate to touch her.
There were other eyes that followed her, however – eyes with less familial intentions. Most notably, there were the eyes of the Society matrons with unwed sons who viewed Katherine as a potential mate for their disappointing offspring. After all, Katherine was a lady with one of the highest pedigrees in all of England. Her father h
ad been the second son of the powerful Earl of Ashbrook, while her mother had been the daughter of the obscenely wealthy Earl of Gibbonsly, who was somehow tied to the royal family by blood.
Katherine had been born in England and raised there until she was not quite eight years of age, adding to her mystique. She’d come of age here on Barbados on her family’s enormous sugar plantation before returning to England at eighteen to make her come-out in London Society. Once it was clear she would not make an acceptable match her first Season out, Katherine and her parents had returned to Barbados, hoping that some time away from London might heighten the intrigue around her, thus making her more alluring to the young bucks of London.
Shortly after returning to the island, however, disaster had struck, and both Lord and Lady Sedgewick had been killed when their carriage horse had been spooked by some of the native wildlife and bolted around a blind corner, throwing the carriage passengers out of the vehicle and into the side of a hill.
It had been an ugly time in Katherine’s life and one she would just as soon forget. However, that incident had, unfortunately, changed the path of her life – and not necessarily for the better.
With the passing of both of her parents here on the island four years ago, she was now also one of the wealthiest women in the West Indies, not to mention the most well-dowered. Whomever Katherine took as her husband would not only receive her substantial dowry, which had been suitably plumped up in the last two years by her uncle, but also the Sedgewick family’s sugar plantation.
The plantation had been purchased largely with her mother’s money, but when her mother had passed, her uncle Charles Templeton, the current Earl of Gibbonsly, had decided that the property should remain with Katherine as part of her dowry and had insisted that his younger brother, William, take in Katherine as his ward until she wed so that she could have a hand in overseeing the running of the plantation, much to William’s annoyance.
Now, several years later, Katherine was watched everywhere she went by people who saw her not as Lady Katherine Sedgewick but as a means to an end – and their benefit. But not hers.
For the older lords wishing to return to London in grand style, Katherine was a prize to be won, both as a way to flaunt their increased wealth when they returned to England and as a live-in nursemaid in years to come. For the matchmaking mothers, she was a way to increase their own social standing, as well as a way to marry off their troublesome and often lazy sons. For Society fathers, she was a way to increase the family coffers and add an extremely successful sugar plantation to their holdings. For the young men themselves, she was a woman to bed and then discard, merely wishing to brag to their friends that they had finally snared the beautiful but notoriously cold Lady Katherine.
However, there was one pair of eyes that watched her more intently than all of the others, and it was those eyes that she felt burning her skin as she moved along the far wall. He, more than anyone else, represented the greatest danger to Katherine’s peace of mind. That was also why she did her best to avoid him at all costs, something that was not easy when he was a frequent guest in her uncle’s home.
Lord Richard Wilds would have Katherine before the local magistrate tonight, marriage license in hand, if he thought she could provide him with the political access he desired so very much. Since she no longer held that kind of clout, he courted Lizzy while he watched Katherine with lascivious eyes, his intention to have her flat on her back beneath him plain on his face.
When she heard him laugh, a quick glance behind her let her know that the man was otherwise occupied for the moment. Katherine took the opportunity to slip outside and into the garden, praying that the darkness would hide her for a time, not just from his prying eyes but from all of them. She was tired of the constant scrutiny and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Not just now but perhaps for always.
Katherine’s every instinct told her that her time on the island, perhaps even in the West Indies themselves, was drawing to a close. She had no idea why she felt this strongly about the matter, but she did, and experience had taught her not to discount her feelings. Where she would or could go from here or what she would do, she couldn’t say. All she was certain of was that she couldn’t remain, not when Lizzy was about to marry, leaving Katherine the only female in her uncle’s house.
She was not afraid of her uncle, certainly. Uncle William was kind enough in his own way, if not more than a little suspicious. However, that was only because he worried for his daughter’s future. After all, Lord Wilds was known for his wandering eye and his preference for only the best that life had to offer – including women. Lizzy, while pretty, was hardly a diamond of the first water and everyone knew the man could do better for himself, though likely not politically.
Katherine also knew she could return to England any time she liked and that Uncle Charles would welcome her with open arms. He had sent her a letter this past summer, actually, all but begging her to return so that he could see her “restored to her rightful place in English Society.” She believed that was how he had phrased the offer anyway.
However, returning to England so that she could be married off to some idiot marquess or viscount did not appeal to her either. Unfortunately, nothing appealed to her and hadn’t for many years. It was only now, however, that she was coming to terms with the reason for her disquiet. Not that she could do anything about the reason for her restlessness, either.
After all, Daniel was gone forever. Lost at sea. His ship that had been bound for England when it had been boarded and sunk by pirates. No survivors. All passengers and crew killed. Murdered at sea. He wasn’t coming back to her, no matter how much she wished and prayed otherwise.
However, tonight, with the air perfumed by the late-blooming flowers, she could almost swear he was still there with her, the spicy scent of him still lingering, though she was certain that was only in her imagination. Still, if she closed her eyes and allowed the warm West Indian breeze to tickle her senses, she could almost imagine him there beside her, a flesh and blood man with his wild hair blowing in the breeze. Not quite brown. Not quite black. But somewhere in between – just like Daniel himself.
Katherine could still remember his eyes as clearly as if she had seen them only yesterday, a toffee brown that had always seemed to twinkle when she looked at him. She could also picture the rest of him just as easily. A slightly lopsided smile that often morphed into a boyish grin when he was teasing her. High cheekbones and a slightly crooked Romanesque nose. And the jagged scar near his left eye from where a ship’s rigging had caught him in his youth.
How many times had her fingers traced the line of that scar in the name of “curiosity,” even though they both knew she should not be touching him in so familiar a manner? More times than either of them could count, most likely.
However, that had been the very essence of them. Daniel and Katherine. Too young. Too wild. Skirting too close to the edge of propriety for those around them to be comfortable.
Not to mention too much in lust with each other to see anyone else. Until it was too late, at least for Katherine anyway, and her heart had been lost to a young man who might or might not have felt the same.
Because Katherine had loved Daniel. Her parents and her uncle had termed what she felt for the dashing young man lust, but in her heart and her mind, Katherine had always known they were wrong. She had loved Daniel – deeply. She had never acted on that love, save for once which had not quite gone the way she had hoped, making her question his feelings for her. But as for Katherine herself? She had never doubted. Never once. She had loved Daniel Montgomery with all that she was, and she firmly believed she would never love another in the same way again.
In order to cure of her of this “infatuation,” her parents had taken her to England for six months in order to seek out a “proper and titled” husband, but it hadn’t helped. Katherine compared every man she met to Daniel and the six months they had spent apart had been miserable for her.
/> The happiest day of her life had been when, just after her nineteenth birthday, she had stepped off the ship from England when it docked in Bridgetown, only to find Daniel, with his beloved lopsided grin, waiting for her to return to him.
That day, she could not have known they would only have one more year together. If she’d even had an inkling of what had lie ahead? Well, she would have done things differently. Of that much, she was certain.
Katherine had been thinking of Daniel quite frequently lately, though she could not say why. He had always been a part of her, even after his passing at sea, but within the last month or so, he seemed more alive in her memory than he had been for the last six years. She could not say why, exactly. It was simply as if she had awoken one day and Daniel was well, there, for lack of a better word. Even though that was impossible.
Katherine still carried a part of Daniel with her and she suspected she always would. However, on nights like tonight, she could almost swear that he was still alive. Alive somewhere out there in the world beyond Barbados. Without her, but with a heart still beating in his chest, blood flowing in his veins, his body as warm and alive as it had ever been. But that was an illusion and her mind knew it, even if her heart did not.
Still, here in this garden paradise, she felt…well, a presence for lack of a better word. In the warm tropical air, so reminiscent of nights spent in his company, she felt as if she was not alone. As if Daniel Montgomery were still living and breathing and standing next to her in this lush paradise.
But he wasn’t. Daniel was gone. And she was alone. No matter what illusions her brain conjured up in the deep of night when her heart ached for what might have been.
With a deep sigh, Katherine stared up at the night sky, remembering how she and Daniel used to sneak out of their respective houses each night at the height of the summer season to stargaze on the beach, not caring that the tide came in around them, soaking them clear through to the skin. He had been an excellent companion in that regard, the maps he drew some of the most detailed she had ever seen – not that she had cause to see a great many maps at the tender age of fourteen, but still…
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