“I had no idea,” Andrássy said, his blue eyes moving slowly about the room, a little glazed with emotion. “I had hoped I would be able to track down one or two of Maria’s descendants, but . . . never this many. And you don’t even seem surprised by me.”
Edward chuckled. “You aren’t the first member of this family to show up full grown, my boy, albeit one more distant than we might have expected. And I am sure we are all interested in hearing what you read in the journal about our great-great-grandmother Maria Stephanoff.”
Anthony handed Andrássy a drink, which he merely held as he spoke. “The journal belonged to my great-grandfather Karl Benedek, Maria’s son. Karl’s father, understandably, didn’t want to speak of his indiscretion with a Gypsy woman, and he didn’t until the night he thought he was dying. Maria’s caravan was merely passing through and he allowed them to spend one night on his land. She came to him and offered herself in payment. She was young and pretty, but he still refused her, until she said a son would come of it. He had no children, even after going through four wives trying to obtain one. He was desperate enough to believe her that night, but come morning he was angry over what he guessed was a deception.”
“But it wasn’t a lie?”
“No, it wasn’t. Somehow Maria knew and swore she would bring him the boy when he was born. He still didn’t believe she was carrying his child, but just in case, he refused to let her leave. He kept her a prisoner until exactly nine months later when she gave birth to a son. He let her go, but he kept his son, whom he named Karl. Maria said the boy would be able to find her if he ever needed her, no matter where in the world she was. Such an odd thing to say. My great-great-grandfather never saw her again and did not tell his son, his only heir, about her until the night he thought he was dying.”
“Did he die that night?” James asked curiously.
“No, not for another ten years, and he and Karl never spoke of his strange tale again. But when my great-great-grandfather did die, Karl went in search of his mother, Maria. He found her in England, still traveling with her band of wandering Gypsies. Her granddaughter, Anastasia, had just married an English marquis.”
“Wait,” Jason spoke up with a frown. “That can’t be all that Karl wrote about Anastasia’s husband. Merely that he was a marquis from this country?”
“No, Christopher, Marquis of Haverston, was the name written in the journal. I went to Haverston first, only to be told the current marquis was in London. I was given this address, but I almost didn’t come here tonight since I am only passing through England on my way to America to search for my stepsister Catherine’s real father. I had planned to get her settled and out of my life before I tried to find any descendants of Maria’s here. I simply couldn’t resist the chance to meet at least one of you before I left England.”
James guessed, “I’m beginning to suspect we don’t want to meet your stepsister?”
Andrássy sighed. “No, you don’t.”
“Not to worry, dear boy,” Edward said. “My brother James deals remarkably well with difficulties that arise in the family, so we’ve learned to leave such things to him, trivial or otherwise.”
By the young count’s expression he had obviously taken offense. “I didn’t come here for help. I am capable of dealing with my responsibilities and she—”
“Yes, yes, she’s your albatross, we get that,” Anthony said, putting an arm around Andrássy’s shoulder. “But you haven’t heard my brother complaining about being your champion, have you?”
James raised a golden brow. “Give me a moment,” he said, but was ignored.
Anthony continued, “As luck would have it—ours, yours, who knows—we happen to be sailing for America in the morning. You’re welcome to join us. No need to say another word about your sister if you’d rather not. Think of it as giving us a chance to get to know you a little better, and vice versa. You might want to consider it fate that led you here tonight.”
Andrássy didn’t agree, but he didn’t decline, either. And before he decided either way, the rest of the family wanted a chance to speak with him. James and Anthony stood aside, watching how readily the family took to him. Jack and Judy had him cornered now.
“They’re going to talk his ear off,” Anthony remarked.
“Jack will,” James agreed. “She’s rather good at that. And if she thinks he ought to come with us, the matter is as good as settled.”
“You don’t doubt he’s one of us, d’you?” Anthony inquired thoughtfully. “You weren’t exactly throwing open those beefy arms in welcome.”
“There’s no harm in checking into his background,” James replied. “I’ll ask Jeremy to see what he can find out about him while we’re away. But considering we’re heading into Anderson territory, it might not hurt to have another Malory relative, however remote, on our side.” James paused a moment. “On the other hand, I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to stick him on a ship with us. Once he gets to know us, he might want to run in the opposite direction.”
“Speak for yourself, old man.”
“Regardless, it’s been known to happen. And on a ship, there’s nowhere to run.”
Anthony chuckled. “Do we need to wake up Knighton tonight? Get rid of all our aggression before we sail? Might work for a week or so.”
“No need. I had a ring installed in The Maiden George’s hold for us. I do like to plan ahead.”
Chapter Eight
“You sure you want to do this, Cap’n?” Corky Menadue asked hesitantly as he stood with Nathan on the London dock.
Nathan smiled. “Get my ship back? Damned right I do.”
“I meant work your way over to the colonies.”
“I believe they call them states now.”
“But it ain’t like you couldn’t pay for passage instead,” Corky said, and not for the first time.
Nathan looked down at his first mate. He had inherited Corky when he’d inherited The Pearl, but he’d known the older man most of his life. Corky had been Jory Tremayne’s first mate, and Nathan had pretty much grown up on his father’s ship—until Jory had kicked him off it. Such impotent rage he’d felt back then, but nothing he’d said or done would change Jory’s mind. It was for his own protection, Jory insisted, as if Nathan couldn’t protect himself. And he was haunted by the thought that his father might still be alive if he had been there the night his father was shot.
“Forget about Grigg! I told you, assure you, I’ll see him hanged for you.” Not if Nathan could find him before Commander Burdis did. But he had a ship to find first.
Nathan reminded his old friend, “The other vessels aren’t leaving for another week and they’re not bound for Connecticut, which is where I need to go. This one is actually going about fifty miles west of my destination. Damned lucky, and about time some luck came my way. Besides, time isn’t on our side even if I wanted to waste the coin on passage, which I don’t. The Pearl will be sold if we don’t get there soon.”
“I’m just worried about your temper. Last captain you took orders from was your father and that was five years ago. D’you even remember how?”
Nathan barked a laugh, but Corky added, “And this captain is some kind of nabob, if you can go by the high wage he’s paying us. And I know how you feel about nabobs.”
“You don’t have to come along, you know,” Nathan told his curly-haired friend.
“And what else would I be doing until you come back with The Pearl?”
After Burdis had released Nathan, he’d found Corky and most of his crew in the haunt they frequented in Southampton, where Nathan had settled after leaving Cornwall. At first they’d been shocked to see him and then quite rowdy in expressing their relief that Nathan was a free man. After he’d been captured by the revenuers, they hadn’t expected to ever see him again. He didn’t begrudge them their escape the night his ship and cargo had been confiscated. In fact, he was fiercely glad they had escaped because they wouldn’t have been handed the boon he’d been given. He still couldn
’t quite believe he was walking free again.
Burdis turned out to be not such a bad sort—for a nabob. He’d arranged for Nathan to have a bath, a good meal, and his personal belongings returned to him, even his pistol. Then they’d transported him to his home port of Southampton.
After telling his men what had happened and what he had to do now, they’d wanted to snatch a ship for him that very night. He’d been tempted, but with the commander’s terms still fresh in his mind, he’d had to tell them no, that he needed legitimate passage.
“If you steal a ship other than your own, our deal is off,” Burdis had said. “No more breaking laws of any sort for you, Captain Tremayne.”
Too many bleedin’ conditions, but he was going to abide by them since it meant a shot at getting his ship back.
When he’d elected to follow in his father’s footsteps, he’d known it wouldn’t be easy. Still, he’d enjoyed the challenge of smuggling, enjoyed thumbing his nose at the revenuers when they gave chase. They never came close to catching him when he was in the Channel. But constantly having to find new places to store his cargoes had taxed his patience and caused him no end of frustration.
He’d thought he’d finally solved that problem a few months ago when he’d figured out the perfect hiding place: the abandoned house a little ways inland in Hampshire. The house had an extra advantage as its closest neighbor was the Duke of Wrighton. No revenuers would dare snoop around there. But he hadn’t counted on the duke’s having nosy servants. If that wench hadn’t come ghost hunting or meeting up with her lover, which is what he suspected she’d really been doing, he wouldn’t have been forced to move the cargo so soon and wouldn’t have gotten caught because of it.
After he’d sent word to his crew in Southampton to bring the ship to their usual unloading cove, so it could be reloaded, one of his crew must have mentioned the plan to someone in Grigg’s crew. Or maybe someone in Grigg’s crew had heard his men talking about it. It wouldn’t be the first time the two crews had ended up in the same tavern. He preferred to think that than that he had a traitor in his crew. But the ghost-hunting wench was still ultimately to blame.
He hadn’t been joking when he’d told Burdis he blamed a woman for his capture. He should have put more effort into securing her silence. A kiss usually softened them up, but not her. He’d gambled that he’d be able to get her feeling friendly and agreeable toward him, so she’d keep his presence a secret. Maybe he should have lit her lantern so she could see whom she was dealing with. One of his smiles tended to work wonders on wenches, too. But kissing her hadn’t yielded the result he’d hoped for, and he had ended up insulting her instead. He hadn’t needed to see her to tell she was bristling from it.
“We’ve time for a pint and a quick tumble, Cap’n. You game?”
“Thought I asked you to stop calling me that? I’m not your captain for this trip.”
Nathan was bored, though, just standing around waiting for wagons to show up. He glanced around the London dock, but the last wagon had left ten minutes ago and no others could be seen heading their way. There would probably be more, though, and he didn’t want to risk a delay in sailing to America by getting fired because he wasn’t there to unload wagons. Every day mattered with The Pearl on her way to being altered and sold. It was annoying enough that the ship he’d signed on to in Southampton was making this short detour to London to pick up passengers.
“Come on,” Corky cajoled. “We were told to wait, but no one said we couldn’t do that waiting in yonder tavern. Watch from the door for the next wagon if you’ve a mind to, but the rowboat ain’t even back from the ship yet to carry another load. And it’s going to be a long voyage. One more wench to see me off is all I’m interested in tonight.”
Nathan snorted. “You just enjoyed the company of a wench three nights ago in Southampton. Were you too drunk to remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” Corky grinned. “But that was then and this is our last night on land. Three weeks at sea is a bleedin’ long time.”
“The voyage could be as quick as two weeks and besides, you don’t need to be here. You can still head back to Southampton to wait for my return.”
“And leave you without a first mate for the return trip? It’s a shame we heard about this ship too late to get the rest of our boys on her.”
“I wouldn’t have known that her captain was hiring a crew at all if I didn’t stop by to tell Alf and Peggy I’d be gone for a few months.”
Old Alf was the caretaker of a cottage a few miles up the coast from Southampton. Nathan had been steered to the couple when he’d been looking for someone to care for his nieces while he was away on The Pearl. It had proven to be a nicer arrangement than he’d first thought, since the cottage had its own private dock, and Alf let him use it as a berth for The Pearl.
Alf had been generous in that after his wife, Peggy, had agreed to watch the girls for Nathan. He hadn’t even charged Nathan a fee, merely laid down the rule that no cargo was ever to be unloaded there, since he knew what business Nathan had got into. Alf refused to say much about the bigger vessel at his dock, or why she sat empty, and Nathan was in no position to pry when the elderly couple was doing him such a big favor.
“At least you got me on her with you,” Corky said.
“Only because they still needed a carpenter and I bargained to have you included. Alf even hesitated to mention the job, since he knows I no longer practice carpentry. It was his wife, Peggy, who brought it up. Every time I visit the girls, she nags me to go back to work that won’t land me in prison. The old gal worries about me.”
“She’s fond of your nieces and worries they will be left without a guardian again. And she’s right, you know. Look how close you came to fulfilling her fears this time. Are you sure you even want your ship back?”
“Are you going to nag now, too?”
“Is that pint of ale suddenly sounding like a good idea?” Corky countered.
Chapter Nine
Nathan chuckled and gave in, steering his friend across the docks. The tavern Corky had his eye on stood between a warehouse and a ticket office. Nathan didn’t know London at all, had never been there before, and had never heard anything good about it either. But taverns were taverns, and this one looked no different from the ones he’d find at home in Southampton. While Nathan had no interest himself in a woman his last night on land because he had too much on his mind to spare any thoughts on a wench, a pint of ale would indeed be welcome.
He’d never asked for them, but now he had responsibilities that he didn’t have last year when he would have been the one to suggest a quick tumble. Not anymore. Not since his sister died and he was the only one left in their family who could care for her two children. Not that he hadn’t had an agenda before that happened. He just hadn’t been in a hurry to achieve his goals.
His nieces, Clarissa and Abbie, were darling girls. He never expected to get so attached to them so quickly, but each time he visited, it was getting harder to say good-bye. At seven years of age Clarissa was the younger and the more exuberant of the two. She never failed to throw herself into his arms with a happy squeal when he arrived. Abbie was more reserved at nine years of age. Poor thing was still trying to emulate her father’s snobby family, thinking that’s how she ought to behave. But she was starting to come around. She expressed delight now when she saw him and he’d even felt dampness on her cheek when she’d hugged him good-bye a few days ago. My God, that had been difficult, walking away from them this time.
They didn’t deserve to live in poverty just because their parents had passed on. He had to do right by them, give them a home, a stable one. One way or another, he was going to provide them with the comfortable life they used to have.
The girls had been raised so differently from him, but then his sister, Angie, had married well. She’d had a fine house in Surrey and her daughters had had a governess, tutors, and fancy dresses. It was too bad it had all come with such disagreeable people for in-la
ws, the lot of them thinking they were grander than they were just because they held a minor title. Nathan hadn’t liked Angie’s husband because it had become apparent soon after the wedding that he had only married her because she was descended from an earl. Nathan hadn’t even been able to visit her or her children without sneaking in to do it because his brother-in-law had found out Jory was a smuggler and assumed Nathan was one, too.
But everything his nieces had had was gone now, taken back by their father’s family when he’d died, killing Angie with him, because he’d been foxed and driving his carriage too fast. Nathan hadn’t thought it possible, but he’d come to hate the nobility even more than he already did when those heartless snobs turned their backs on their own granddaughters just because they’d never approved of Angie. All the girls had left were the fancy dresses that didn’t even fit them anymore, and an uncle who only hoped to accomplish goals that a sane man would realize were impossible.
He ordered that pint, then another. He was starting to feel the anger that tended to show up when he thought about his situation too long. Maybe what he should be looking for this last night on land was a good fight.
Ale in hand, Nathan turned to glance about the room, looking for someone who might accommodate him, but the tavern was so crowded, he didn’t doubt one punch would lead to a full-scale brawl. While it wouldn’t be the first time he’d spent a night in jail for starting one, he couldn’t afford for that to happen tonight if he wanted to get The Pearl back.
He started for the door, but turned about when five new customers stepped through it and he recognized one of them. What the hell? Hammett Grigg’s men in London, of all places? The last time he’d seen Mr. Olivey, Hammett’s first mate, who was the one he recognized, had been in Southampton five years ago. Grigg and a handful of his crew had tracked Nathan down to find out where Jory was holed up. Still furious with his father, he’d told them he didn’t know and didn’t care. They’d actually had him watched for a while, thinking he could lead them to Jory. But he never saw his father again, and Hammett and his men finally found Jory on their own. . . .
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