Historical Romance Boxed Set

by Brenda Novak

  Captain Merriweather’s chest expanded as if to draw one last breath before hearing the worst of it. “Providing your requests are within reason, we’ll cooperate,” he said reluctantly.

  “Your destination is?”

  “Liverpool.”

  “As I thought. Your men will stand aside and keep all passengers out of the way. Some of my crew will board and unload what we can carry of your cargo. When we have what we want, we will leave. Peacefully.” Nathaniel gave the man a benign smile. “You will then be free to repair your ship and continue on your way. And of course, to carry the tale of our visit to your benefactor, the most fearsome and noble Duke of Greystone.”

  Surprise lighted the old man’s pale blue eyes. “How did you know who owned—”

  “I make it my business to know,” Nathaniel interrupted. He turned to Richard. “Send the signal.”

  * * *

  On the deck of the pirate ship, Nathaniel braced against the roll and pitch of the waves, listening to the hoots and hollers of his crew as they celebrated their victory. Rum flowed freely among them as first Richard, then his brother John, toasted everything from the speed of the Vengeance to Nathaniel’s estranged father, the very nobleman they had just confounded.

  Nathaniel shook his head when Trenton brought him a mug. “Nay, I’ll not ask for a throbbing head come morning,” he laughed. “I’m sure the rest of you will drink enough for me.”

  “Come on. ‘Tis only our third ship. Certainly you’ve got a bit of celebrating left in you.”

  Nathaniel smiled and relented, taking the proffered cup. “To future successes,” he said, and another cheer burst from those who heard him.

  “To Mary. We owe what success we’ve had to her,” Richard added.

  Lifting his cup high, Nathaniel took a long sip of the warm brew, then reached out to stop Richard before he could volunteer yet another toast. “Speaking of Mary,” he said to the burly, redheaded Scotsman, “when do we learn the position of our next target?”

  Richard’s freckled face took on a mournful pout. “Ah, Mary. I’m afraid the lass is being a wee bit stubborn.”

  “What do you mean?” Nathaniel asked in alarm. “You said she’d do anything for money.”

  “Och, well.” Richard looked longingly into his drink, as though reluctant to be sidetracked at this particular juncture. “Now she claims the money does her little good. She can’t spend it, or her father will know she’s up to something and give her a thrashing.”

  “Why did you not mention this before?”

  “Because I think she’ll still help us. She just wants something more than money, ye ken?”

  “Like what?”

  Richard exchanged a look with his brother John, who had come to stand beside them, before turning back to Nathaniel. “She wants to meet you.”

  “What, does she think I can simply ring the front bell at Bridlewood and introduce myself?” Nathaniel asked.

  Richard shook his head, apparently taking Nathaniel’s words at face value. “I’d not ask you to do that. Just come with me once. That’s all it would take.”

  “But why does she want to meet me?”

  “She’s heard rumblings among the older servants about your mother, and you, and she says she wants to know that you’re real.”

  “No doubt she wants to have something to gossip about,” John put in. “She ain’t but seventeen or eighteen. Her days get long in that big house with nothing to break them up but a spot of tea and a juicy tidbit. What else could she want with you? She’s in this as deep as we are. If the duke ever discovers that she’s been stealing his controller’s books and schedules, and letting us take a look, he’ll send her to Newgate right along with us.” He grimaced at the reminder of prison. “Still I, for one, understand if you think it’s an unnecessary risk.”

  Richard glanced at his brother. “I’d say Mary’s made it necessary enough. Unless we find another way to get the information we need, we’re out of a job. And nothing could be more simple than what we got going—”

  “Of course Richard doesn’t want to lose Mary. He likes what she gives him along with the information,” John exclaimed.

  Richard laughed, but Nathaniel didn’t find anything to do with his father amusing. “So what do you suggest?” he asked Richard. He had visited the duke’s lavish Clifton estate only once, when he was seven, but that day held enough painful memories to last him a lifetime. He had no wish to probe the wound.

  “Mary always meets me in the woods near the pond. She can’t read so she brings the books with her. It takes me a few minutes to find out what we need to know, then I pay her and send her on her way… or I would if you were with me,” Richard added with a devilish grin.

  Nathaniel thought for a moment. It wouldn’t be easy to replace Mary. As one of the housemaids, she had access to every room in Bridlewood Manor. And being uneducated, she remained above suspicion. “Very well, when we put in at Bristol, send her a message telling her I’ll come.”

  Turning and finding Trenton gone, Nathaniel left Tiny and John to their revelry and went below, where his first mate was already scratching numbers in a large black book.

  “Not bad,” Trenton said as Nathaniel entered the captain’s cabin. “Eighty crates of tobacco. Should bring a good price.”

  Nathaniel didn’t answer. He was still thinking about Mary and Bridlewood and, as always, his father. “What?” he asked, glancing up.

  “I said, according to the ledgers, we’re doing well. If every ship goes like the Nightingale and the one we took a few days ago, it won’t be long before we’re both rich.”

  Nathaniel smiled. Rich had a pleasant ring to it. Not that he knew from experience. Before Martha was killed, he had grown up in a small shack with her sister, Beatrice, and Bee’s eight children. Bee’s husband had run off after the birth of their last son—Nathaniel had never known why—but the formula of so many living off so few, namely Martha, destined all to a life of poverty. Though he loathed thinking of it, Nathaniel would never forget the hard, stale bread, the cold winter days without any coal, and the dark nights when they’d been too poor to buy candles.

  Yes, Nathaniel thought, if one couldn’t be loved, one could at least be warm, comfortable, and full, always. “But it won’t be this easy for long,” he replied. “These ships were no challenge because their crews hadn’t any prior warning. They were at sea before we took our first ship. But word will have gone out now, and things will begin to change.”

  Trenton grunted. “Nothing ever stays easy for long.”

  “Like Mary, for instance.” Nathaniel stretched out on his bed, propping his arm behind his head.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Trenton’s face showed concern.

  “She wants to meet me.”

  His first mate’s chair scraped the floor as he shoved the ledgers away and stood up. “Don’t tell me you’re going to go along with that. If your father catches you at Bridlewood—”

  “I know, but we can’t lose her. Our whole operation depends on the information she gives us.”

  “To hell with the operation. You go to Bridlewood, and your life will depend on her, too.”

  Nathaniel shrugged and gave Trenton a grin. “You, my friend, have a problem with trust.”

  * * *

  The hilltop village of Clifton, famous for its pure air and picturesque vistas of the Severn estuary and the Welsh hills, sat one mile to the west of Bristol, high above the River Frome. Nathaniel had long admired its beauty, and he was not alone. Some of Bristol’s wealthiest residents, most of them Quakers, owned homes in Clifton.

  Nathaniel and Richard made their way through Bristol, up to Clifton, and then to the duke’s country estate where they waited by the pond to meet Mary. They stood in silence, patting the noses of their hired mounts to keep them quiet, as the moon’s light peeked through the crooked branches of the many oak trees surrounding the water. Mary was supposed to arrive at midnight, but it was well past that, and
Nathaniel was becoming uneasy.

  “Does she usually come on time?” He tried to see through the trunks and limbs and leaves that completely blocked his view of the house.

  “She’s not the most punctual girl I’ve ever met,” Richard responded. “But then, she’s never in much of a hurry to get back, either, ye ken?”

  Nathaniel saw the gleam of Richard’s teeth as his mouth spread into a smile. “I’d find another maid to dally with, if I were you,” he replied. “There’s no telling what my father would do if he found you here. He’s certainly not a man of conscience.”

  “You worry too much,” Richard said. “How could he prove my connection to you?”

  “Entirely too easily. You’re not nameless and faceless when you board his ships, you know—”

  The snap of a twig made Nathaniel fall silent. Someone was coming. His eyes bored into the darkness, but still he jumped when Mary popped out of the trees behind them.

  “‘Ere I am,” she laughed. “Did I scare ye?”

  Nathaniel didn’t answer. Mary was a wiry young girl with medium-brown hair and a heart-shaped face. She had sharp little teeth and a flat, shapeless figure, nothing much to recommend her, but Richard gave her a hug.

  “Did you miss me?”

  “No, an’ I know better than to believe ye missed me.” She laughed again, her eyes turning to Nathaniel with apparent interest. “Oooo, ye did bring ‘im. But ye never told me ‘e was so ‘andsome.”

  “That’s because he’s an ugly bloke in the light,” Richard responded. “His hair’s as black as one of those American savages everyone talks about, not the flaming red of me own, and while I admit his eyes are blue, they sometimes look as pale as ice. You should see him when he gets angry, which I must admit, he does, and entirely too often.”

  Nathaniel couldn’t resist a smile at this quick accounting of his attributes, or lack of them, but he hadn’t come to be inspected like a horse. He was ready to get hold of the heavy book Mary hugged to her breast, and doubly eager to be away from Bridlewood.

  “Well, ‘e wouldn’t be ‘is father’s son if ‘e didn’t ‘ave a temper,” Mary responded. “The duke’s been a miserable soul ever since the two of ye took that first ship. I can scarcely keep a straight face when ‘e starts rantin’. I swear, the mention of ye makes ‘im apo—apo… what’s the word?”

  “Apoplectic,” Nathaniel replied dryly, deriving a small bit of pleasure from picturing his arrogant father out of his mind with rage.

  “That’s it. ‘E’s apoplectic near ‘alf the time.”

  Nathaniel felt the maid’s hand on his forearm.

  “But ‘ow did ye get so tall?” she asked. “Yer a full ‘ead taller than yer father.”

  “Perhaps I’ve my mother to thank,” Nathaniel responded. “May I?” He put his hand out for the book she still held to her flat chest, and finally she shrugged and relinquished it.

  “‘E’s in an awful ‘urry,” she remarked to Richard, a grimace claiming her plain face.

  Nathaniel quickly lit one of the candles he had brought in his pack and laid the book open, searching for the information he needed. The pages were filled with the names of ships, the dates, times, and locations of their departures, their destinations, even a list of their anticipated cargo.

  Nathaniel smiled as he memorized the schedule for the following two weeks, but the smile froze on his face when he heard voices, men’s voices, coming through the trees.

  “There’s someone at the pond,” a stranger shouted, “Come on!”

  Running feet pounded the ground, making apprehension prickle down Nathaniel’s spine. Whoever it was, they were close. And they were coming closer still.

  He glanced up to see a look of shock, then fear cross Mary’s face. Snapping the book closed, he shoved it into her arms and pushed her back into the cover of the trees. “Run,” he whispered. “Go back another way and return this. The sound of our horses will draw them after us and keep you safe for a bit, but you must hurry.”

  Nathaniel leaped onto his horse as Richard did the same, then he glanced around, wondering which direction to go. The water was on one side, their pursuers were on the other, and he had no idea what he might encounter in front or behind him.

  “How do we get out of here?” he asked Richard.

  Richard shrugged and pointed. “I’ll go this way, you go that way. We’ll meet back at the tavern, where Trenton is waiting for us.” Then he dashed away, leaving Nathaniel to charge ahead in the direction specified and to pray they could both escape.

  Chapter 2

  Tree branches clawed at Nathaniel’s face and clothing as he goaded his horse through the thickest part of the forest. Whoever he had heard back at the lake sounded as though they were on foot, but there was no way to know for sure. God willing, even if they had mounts, he could outdistance them.

  After climbing a rocky hill and descending an embankment on the other side, Nathaniel came to a stream. He couldn’t hear anyone behind him, but he wasn’t about to wait to see if he was being followed. Nudging his horse with his heels, he spurred it into the stream, then gasped as the icy water soaked him almost to his thighs.

  Heading up a small dale and around the outskirts of the village, Nathaniel hoped to find Richard as he circled back to the east. But except for a few rambling carriages heading home from some dinner party or play, the road remained empty. Perhaps Richard was ahead of him.

  Known for its hot wells and the medicinal spring rising out of Saint Vincent’s Rocks, Bristol drew tourists by the droves, and Nathaniel encountered more carriages as he came into the city. He passed Queen’s Square, then turned left, heading to Farley’s Tavern.

  Trenton was waiting there, as planned, when he arrived.

  “Where’s Richard?” Nathaniel asked, still breathless with excitement.

  Trenton looked up from the table in surprise. “What do you mean? He was with you.”

  Nathaniel glanced around, still wary, then slipped into the booth. “Someone surprised us, and we had to split up.”

  “Then he’ll come.” Trenton stared at Nathaniel for a few moments, his fingers drumming agitatedly on the table, then added, “Maybe you should head back to the ship and get ready to sail. With that arm of yours, you’ll hardly go unnoticed. I’ll wait for Richard.”

  Trenton’s logic made sense. Nathaniel’s arm would only increase the chances of getting them all caught if he stayed. Nodding, he stood and tried to imbue his next words with a conviction he didn’t feel. “If he hasn’t come by three o’clock, we’ll have to sail without him.”

  “God willing, he’ll be here by then.”

  “God willing,” Nathaniel repeated, and headed out.

  * * *

  Nathaniel encountered nothing more exciting than a drunk beggar lying amid the garbage in the gutters as he wound through the back alleys of the city toward the wharf.

  The ships waiting at the docks tugged and swayed against their ropes, groaning loudly, as if protesting their captivity, while the familiar scents of salt, guano, and rotting wood rose to Nathaniel’s nostrils. He easily spotted the Vengeance and hurried aboard, but the wait proved agonizing.

  When Trenton finally arrived at the ship, it was after four in the morning. Unfortunately, he was alone.

  “What happened?” Nathaniel asked as soon as his first mate climbed aboard.

  “Let’s get out of here. Mary sent a note to the tavern. The duke’s got Richard.”

  Nathaniel groaned and dropped his head in his hand. “Did they catch her, too?” he asked, looking up.

  “Evidently not. With over fifty servants in the house and on the grounds, it could be some time before your father figures out who you were there to meet. With any luck, he never will.”

  “We can’t leave Richard,” Nathaniel said, watching Richard’s brother John make his way over to them. “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Well change it back. There’s nothing we can do for him now,” Trenton argued. “Th
e duke has hired some men, and they’re scouring the city looking for us.”

  Nathaniel glanced back at the lights of Bristol and cursed. What now? He hadn’t known Richard long, but the man had already proven himself a loyal friend. Still, getting them all caught served no purpose. “Raise anchor,” he said at last.

  “Wait! We have to go back,” John exclaimed.

  “No, Trenton’s right,” Nathaniel told him. “No doubt my father hopes we’ll do just that. We’ve got to outsmart him somehow, get Richard back another way.”

  “And how are we supposed to do that?” John asked incredulously.

  “By using our heads.” Nathaniel pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping some brilliant idea would occur to him. “Anything is possible with a little bit of leverage,” he said at last. “What if we took something the duke wanted badly enough that he’d be willing, even eager, to trade—”

  “Yes!” Trenton slammed a fist into his hand and looked excitedly at Nathaniel. “That could work. What about the cargo from his last ship?”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “He’s too rich and too angry to give Richard up for money. It has to be something else… something he simply can’t refuse.”

  “Wait.” A gleam entered Trenton’s eye. “Your father has a daughter, doesn’t he?”

  “Aye.” Nathaniel watched Trenton’s face split into a smile as his friend’s thoughts became obvious. Then a grin tempted the corners of his own mouth. “Aye,” he repeated softly, “that he does.”

  * * *

  Manchester was famous for its spinning mills. More than seventy sprawled off its wide streets, kingpins amid the pubs, pawnbrokers, rambling warehouses, and surrounding slums. Some were four or even five stories high and housed as many as a thousand workers. All were ugly, irregularly shaped giants that hummed and whirred and belched soot into the air through long snouts that turned everything a dismal gray.