Dark Before the Rising Sun (42 page)

Bess's warm gaze lingered on that bronzed chest, so muscular and broad, tapering down to narrow hips covered by a soft buckskin molded to those hard thighs. She realized that she had been in love with a mere boy all those years ago. Dante had become devastatingly handsome. He still had the power to make her heart pound.

Suddenly, when her gaze locked with his, she became embarrassed, for she couldn't help but wonder if he, too, was remembering those long nights they had spent together. Bess bit her lip, wondering as well if he were remembering her cowardly betrayal.

But when she looked more deeply into familiar gray eyes, she was surprised to see an amused look there. Was he laughing at her? She was prepared to deal with anger, yes, but amusement?

“How did you know I was back?” Dante asked as he moved closer to Rhea and Alastair.

“I didn't. We were out riding and saw the smoke rising from a house I thought stood empty. Then we saw the wagons moving down the path and followed. I felt it my duty to investigate,” Bess explained, her cheeks flushing a deep pink. “I must say I certainly did not expect to see you here,” she added, although whether that was true or not, Bess didn't want to admit to herself. Deep down inside, she had possessed a wild hope that she would find Dante returned to Merdraco.

As soon as she saw the smoke she knew she had to come, even though he might not have welcomed her. He had every right to hate her still, but perhaps he had forgiven her. She silently prayed it was true as she drew close to the house she had once dreamed of living in.

“Why are you here at the lodge?” she asked. “I would have thought you'd move into the main house. Or aren't you planning to stay at Merdraco?”

“I have come home to stay, Bess,” Dante said quietly. “But we shall have to live at the lodge for now. While I was away from Merdraco, someone—and I think we both know who—broke into Merdraco and deliberately made it unfit to live in,” Dante said harshly. His forbidding expression sent a shiver through Bess Seacombe. Dante Leighton had become a man who could hate.

“We?” Bess asked.

“Yes. I did not return alone,” Dante said, his gaze lingering on Rhea's flushed face.

Bess did not miss the softening of his expression as he stared at the young maid. She sighed. He hadn't changed all that much after all. In fact, he was probably more expert at seduction than he had been when they'd lain together. Bess found herself wondering what it would be like to be held in his arms again.

A moment passed and then Bess tapped her riding crop in irritation, for she seemed to have lost Dante's attention to the golden-haired maid. Not quite understanding her sudden jealousy, she said, “Your servants are impertinent, Dante. And this maid of yours was hardly accommodating when I demanded to see her master. She even went so far as to demand my name!”

“Her master?” Dante asked, glancing between the two women. He frowned, but then he became aware of the misleading impression of Rhea's costume. He laughed. “I doubt she considers me her master,” Dante murmured. “Do you, little daffadilly?” he asked as he saw the golden daffodils she was holding.

Dante didn't wait for Rhea's reply, but went on quickly. “I have been remiss in not introducing these two people—no, three people,” Dante corrected himself as he reached out and took his son from Alastair.

Lady Bess Seacombe raised a delicately arched brow. Was he really going to introduce her to servants? Even if one happened to be his mistress, the idea was astonishing. “Do you really think that is necessary, Dante?” Bess asked patronizingly. “I heard rumors that you lived in the colonies, where, I am told, servants are treated as equals to their masters and where tradesmen are the most respected members of society. Indeed, they seem to
be
society, for those colonials respect any man who works, even one who dirties his hands. 'Tis an outrageous practice which can lead only to difficulties. I am surprised that you should adopt such a revolutionary policy, Dante.”

He startled Bess by laughing. “I had forgotten how regal you were, Bess,” he said, recalling she never let anyone forget she was a titled lady in her own right. “This gentleman is Alastair Marlowe, a former member of my crew aboard the
Sea Dragon
, and a very good friend of mine. And this lady is my wife.” Dante spoke the words proudly.

“And this is my son,” Dante continued, his words ringing in Bess's ears and destroying her dreams. She had hoped…no, she wouldn't even think about what she had hoped, she told herself as she stared down at the woman who was mistress of Merdraco and wife to Dante Leighton.

“Rhea, this is Lady Bess Seacombe, an old friend of mine from many years ago. Almost too many to count,” Dante added. He intended no malice, but his words slapped Bess in the face as she stared down at his incredibly beautiful, young wife. Bess had to admit that Rhea was a beauty.

“Well, what a surprise. And when did the blessed event take place? I'm sure I'd have remembered seeing the banns posted,” Bess remarked.

Dante smiled. “We were wed this past year.”

“I am surprised I did not read about it.” Bess's questioning voice cast doubt on the fact.

“We were wed in the colonies.”

“Ah! Now I understand. I should have guessed by your bride's quaint attire. You really will have to teach her propriety if she is to accompany you in polite society,” Bess suggested kindly. “I should be happy to tutor her in the art of being a lady.”

“I shouldn't think that would be necessary, Bess, or that you were qualified,” Dante said, his voice cutting. “As it so happens, my wife is English. In fact, you may have met her parents.”

“I shouldn't think that likely,” Bess responded incredulously. “I doubt we move in the same circles.”

“Her parents are the Duke and Duchess of Camareigh. Before we wed, my wife was Lady Rhea Claire Dominick.”

Bess could have howled. “Well! 'Tis an honor, for I have met your parents in London on several occasions.”

“Lady Bess. It is a pleasure to meet an old friend of Dante's,” Rhea said coolly, not intending the word “old” as a criticism. But that was how Bess took it, for she wanted badly to dislike the chit who had captured Dante's heart and who wore his ring.

“In truth, we were rather more than friends. I remember when he left here. He had hardly a farthing to his name, and now he has come home to Merdraco with a very, very wealthy bride. It seems your luck has changed for both you and Merdraco,” Bess said, leaving no doubt that she believed Dante had wed Rhea for her fortune. “But really, Dante, did she even have a season in London before you snatched her up? Not taking any chances with that dowry,” Bess said, for her pride was smarting, and she wanted to strike out and hurt the man she refused to admit she still felt something for, even if he felt nothing for her.

Apparently unaffected by her words, Dante glanced at the other two riders. “And would this be your daughter, Bess?” Dante queried with the polite interest of a casual acquaintance and nothing more, his barb striking deep.

Bess's nostrils flared with temper. But she steeled herself and, smiling proudly, said, “Yes, this is my daughter, Anne, and my son, Charles. Children, come and meet Dante Leighton, Marquis of Jacqobi.”

As the two approached, their horses moving slowly, Anne Seacombe stared in bemused fascination at the man who very easily could have been her father. This was the man her mother had been so very much in love with. “Hello,” she said demurely, her dark brown eyes wide with wonder as she stared at that muscular chest. She began to understand her mother a little better.

“You are very lovely, Anne,” Dante said with a smile, charming Anne further. “You remind me of your mother when she was that age. Only she was not as shy. Were you, Bess?” he asked, relenting for a moment as he remembered her riding across the moors, her dark curls blowing free, daring him to catch her.

“You should remember, Dante,” Bess reminded him with an intimate look. Then she glanced down at Rhea pityingly. “Dante and I were quite close at one time. I doubt whether he told you that we were affianced?” she said. She was sure that Dante had not told his wife about his former lover. And because she'd wanted to place doubts in Rhea's mind, she'd brought up a subject that she should have left buried.

“Indeed, Lady Bess,” Rhea answered smoothly, her smile understanding this time as she stared at the older woman, “Dante has told me
everything
about his relationship with you.”

Bess's lips tightened with her indignation and then with shame as she met Dante's gaze and knew that Rhea spoke the truth. “I see,” Bess mumbled, mortified before Dante and the duke's daughter he had married. When they discovered that the high-and-mighty Lady Bess Seacombe was an impoverished widow, they would probably laugh their heads off.

But Bess did not know the manner of woman Rhea Claire was. She would never enjoy another's unhappiness. And as Rhea watched the play of emotions crossing Lady Bess's face, she sensed some of her anguish. She didn't know that the woman was nearly destitute, but she knew that Lady Bess had lost Dante through her own selfishness, and she pitied her even if she couldn't forgive her. With that in mind, Rhea said tentatively, “It must have been a long ride. We would welcome you and your son and daughter to join us for tea.”

Rhea's friendly invitation seemed to startle Dante and Alastair as much as it had Bess, for they all stared at her as if she had lost her mind.

“I am afraid the lodge is in a bit of an uproar. We are in the midst of cleaning it, as you may have noticed from my attire, but I promise the tea will be strong and hot, and served in china, which will have been unpacked by now. And Hallie's scones will be quite delicious,” Rhea said with a smile which included the lad sitting quietly on his mount. At the mention of pastry, Charles Seacombe's homely little face showed its first spark of interest.

Bess was flummoxed. She realized that the offer was being made with sincerity, when all she wanted was to heartily dislike Lady Rhea Claire, whose existence destroyed her hopes.

Bess was a proud woman. Perhaps that was what had caused her downfall, for it was almost impossible for her to admit that she needed help. She'd choke on those scones if she had to sit across from Dante and his wife, pretending that she was pleased about their happiness, for it was only too apparent that theirs was a love match. She was about to refuse, her chin rising with affronted dignity, when the sound of horses' hooves along the lane drew everyone's attention. All eyes turned toward the approaching riders. They moved as though they had a purpose in visiting, and from the expressions on the riders' faces, they were not bringing good tidings.

It oft falls out,

To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean.

—Shakespeare

Lady Bess Seacombe was the only one not surprised by the visitors. Dante, Rhea, and Alastair were disbelieving, although pleased, for one of the riders was none other than Sir Morgan Lloyd. They had bid him farewell in London thinking he was returning to the colonies. They did not know the young man accompanying Sir Morgan. But his red coat with its gilt buttons and his black tricorne with its gold lace binding identified him as an officer of the Crown. Dante surmised this was not to be an informal visit from Sir Morgan Lloyd, his old nemesis with whom he had established a truce.

Alastair frowned and tried to catch his captain's eye, but Dante's attention was on the two riders, his gaze narrowed, which confirmed Alastair's suspicions that something was amiss; for it brought back memories of the captain standing on the deck, his narrowed gaze searching the horizon for that first sighting of the enemy. Rhea saw nothing strange in Sir Morgan's being accompanied by another officer, and she stepped forward, her arms still full of flowers, and a smile curving her lips.

“Sir Morgan! How wonderful to see you again,” Rhea exclaimed, her words of welcome and recognition startling both Bess and Lieutenant Handley, for neither had thought this to be anything but a meeting of strangers. Both remembered a conversation at Seawyck Manor when the good captain had professed little knowledge of Merdraco or its master.

“Lady Rhea Claire,” Sir Morgan shocked them by speaking the lady's name with a gentleness that neither Bess nor the lieutenant had ever heard in that stern voice. “I had remembered your uncommon beauty, m'lady, but I confess to being once again entranced by it. You are a breath of spring after a very long, bleak winter,” Sir Morgan said with so charming a smile that Bess raised a haughty eyebrow. The man had been barely civil to her. Indeed, the impertinent fellow had issued her a warning to watch her step, and here he was fawning over this fair-haired chit and smiling one of his rare smiles.

“You are too kind, Sir Morgan. But what brings you here to Merdraco? I thought you would be in the Carolinas by now. What a coincidence to find you here. I am afraid that we are ill prepared for entertaining, for we have just arrived at Merdraco,” Rhea explained apologetically, glancing toward the lodge, “although we would be delighted to have you stay. I hope you accepted my invitation and paid a visit to Camareigh? I know my mother and father would have been delighted to see you, Sir Morgan. Is that how you discovered where we were?” Rhea was about to inquire about her family when she was interrupted.

“I do not think a social visit was Sir Morgan's intention, Rhea,” Dante spoke for the first time. He had been watching Sir Morgan's expression while Rhea conversed with him, and Dante knew that something was bothering Sir Morgan Lloyd, so he was not surprised when that man turned a hard eye on him.

“I am afraid, Lord Jacqobi, that I am here on official business. It is my intention of…”

“…of giving you fair warning that I shall rid this coastline of its infestation of smugglers,'” Bess concluded for him. “I give you fair warning now, Dante, that Sir Morgan Lloyd is a man who takes his responsibilities most seriously. Almost to the point of being a bore.”

“Lady Bess,” Sir Morgan said patiently, but his blue eyes were as frigid as the arctic winds. “Forgive me, I hadn't noticed your presence until now,” he said, which must have been bending the truth a bit, for he could not have missed that scarlet figure perched arrogantly on her black stallion, which in his opinion, was too much horse for the lady. “And may I compliment you on your remarkable memory. I can only hope that you have the good sense to follow my warning and not simply to mimic me.”

“Indeed, sir,” Bess smiled provocatively, her dark eyes shimmering with defiance. “I have found myself pondering your words of advice often, or at least until I find myself nodding off,” she confided to him. “But what is this? You are friends with the lady? Now, this is an extraordinary coincidence. Or did you purposely get yourself transferred here so you could resume an old friendship? I must agree the idea has merit,” she said with an arch look at Dante before glancing at his embarrassed wife. But it was on meeting Sir Morgan's flinty stare that she remembered, too late, the reason for Sir Morgan's presence. She began to feel ashamed, for she had not intended to be insensitive to his loss.

“I met Sir Morgan when I was in the colonies. He came to my aid and I consider him a gentleman and a friend,” Rhea said stiffly. Bess didn't miss the blush that spread across her rival's cheeks.

“How very interesting. Do you know, I still find it difficult to believe that you have actually been to the colonies. You certainly have traveled rather extensively for one who has no doubt led a rather sheltered life. I suppose that is where you met Dante? Or was it in London? Of course, I'm not at all surprised that I didn't hear of your nuptials, since I haven't been to London in over a year. Lud, but it seems an eternity since I left the country. I don't know when was the last time I attended a soiree, or…well…” Bess stopped herself, for she certainly didn't wish to admit to her lack of funds. “Actually, I must admit that I mistakenly thought
that
young man,” she said, indicating a dumbfounded Alastair, “was Lady Jacqobi's husband. And the father of her child,” Bess said with an apologetic laugh which had nothing to do with being sorry. “Isn't that just
too
awful of me? But you have to admit they do make a handsome couple and seem well suited to one another, both appearing rather naive. Wouldn't you agree, Dante?”

“Experience has nothing to do with maturity. I found Lady Jacqobi to be one of the most courageous and perceptive young women it has ever been my privilege to meet,” Sir Morgan said, surprising everyone again by his unexpected comment, and it certainly set Bess's teeth on edge.

“My, my, it would seem as if the good captain is not only heroic but honey-tongued as well. You will have to keep an eye on this perfect wife of yours, what with these two handsome and obviously lovesick gentlemen by her side. I shouldn't turn my back for long, if I were you, Dante. I should hate to have to console you, my dear,” Bess said ruefully, but the look in her eyes was telling Dante something altogether different.

“You were never very good at consoling, Bess,” Dante said, and Bess felt her cheeks pinkening from the snub. To add to her annoyance, she caught Sir Morgan's hawk-like stare on her. She felt a sudden urge to raise her riding crop to him and smash that damned holier-than-thou attitude off his face, for Sir Morgan Lloyd had the strange ability to make her feel small. Bess sent him a smoldering look that should have left him a smoking cinder in the saddle.

“Perhaps you won't need consolation. Perhaps this marriage of yours is one of convenience? At least on your part, Dante?” Bess inquired matter-of-factly before she met Rhea's untroubled gaze with a puzzled one. “I am sure, once he set out to woo you, that you fell head over heels in love with Dante. He can be such a persuasive lov—” Bess let her words trail off discreetly. “Of course, Dante gambled away his fortune and has been in search of another for ages. Has he found one with your dowry?”

“Mother, please,” Anne Seacombe was embarrassed enough to speak up, even though she knew she risked being punished later.

“As a matter of fact, madam,” Alastair said shortly, unable to hold his tongue any longer either, “Dante Leighton is a very wealthy man. He needed no wealthy wife. And were you more observant, you would see that the captain is very much in love with Lady Rhea Claire.”

Bess eyed the handsome young man with dislike. “How can this be true? Are you wealthy, without having to wed?”

“I would not have returned to Merdraco otherwise,” Dante answered simply. “And had Rhea been a beggarmaid, I would still have married her,” he added, and the look that he and Rhea exchanged hurt Bess in a way that no stinging rejoinder could have and left her speechless.

“Laid her on her beam-ends,” Alastair said beneath his breath, using a seafaring phrase for a ship in danger of capsizing.

“If you haven't come on a social visit, then what is your business here, Captain?” Dante drew the conversation back to the naval officer's visit. To see the former captain of the
Sea Dragon
standing there at ease, holding his son, one would have thought the question merely conversational.

For a moment, Sir Morgan's gaze lingered regretfully on that peacefully sleeping babe. Then he seemed to put the feeling aside and said in an authoritative voice, “I am giving you fair warning, Lord Jacqobi,” Sir Morgan began, only to be interrupted by Bess's amused voice.

“Oh, lud, here we go again,” she complained, ignoring Sir Morgan's irritated glance. There was something about the man that seemed to bring out the worst in her and made her act more outrageous than she thought wise. But sometimes she was helpless to control her tongue.

“As a former smuggler, you are, Lord Jacqobi, the man most likely to be the leader of the local smuggling gang,” Sir Morgan stated. He indicated the lieutenant. “In fact, Lieutenant Handley here thinks you are indeed their leader.”

Lieutenant Handley looked chagrined, for he preferred to make his remarks behind a person's back, not to that person's face, especially if that person was a very wealthy marquis who happened to be married to a duke's daughter. “Well,” he said with a nervous laugh that sounded more like a gurgle, “I do not believe I actually said that in so many words. And surely you do understand, m'lord, that everyone must be suspect if we are to rid this area of the Sons of Belial,” he said with an earnest glance at the man he had been so quick to accuse.

“Indeed. I agree with you that
everyone
must be under suspicion,” Dante surprised the lieutenant by admitting, his eyes meeting Sir Morgan's for a moment.

“I can scarcely believe it,” Bess said with another shake of the scarlet feathers crowning her head. “You, the Marquis of Jacqobi, a smuggler? That will amuse certain people,” she said obliquely. “Is that how you became rich? Well, I s'pose there is hope then for the rest of us,” she spoke unthinkingly, not realizing what she had said until she heard Anne's gasp. She glanced up to see a slight smile curving Sir Morgan's lips. “Well? Where the devil do you think my dressmaker got the lace for my chemise? After all, Sir Morgan, even the vicar drinks tea smuggled in from across the Channel,” Bess defended herself, trying to make the best of her mistake.

“I was not accusing you of anything, Lady Bess,” he said softly. “But I am afraid I must disabuse you of something, should you think of making the trip across the Channel yourself. Lord Jacqobi did not come by his fortune because he was a smuggler. The captain of the
Sea Dragon
found a sunken galleon with a hold full of gold and silver. His methods in achieving his goal are well worth remembering—and I do remember them, Captain, never forget that.

“I warn you now, Captain, if you think you can resume your smuggling activities from Merdraco, or indeed, if you are the leader of this smuggling gang, I shall deal with you as you dealt with Bertie Mackay in the Straits of Florida. You do remember that, don't you?” Sir Morgan asked.

Alastair was frowning, for if he remembered the incident correctly, and he should, for he was aboard the
Sea Dragon
at the time, the captain had set one of Bertie Mackay's men adrift in a gig. The man had come aboard the
Sea Dragon
to spy. Accompanying him in the gig was a lantern. Soon the gig was carried away on the swiftly moving currents, and with the lantern's light glowing in the dark of night, the rival smugglers aboard the
Annie Jeanne
, which had been following in the
Sea Dragon
's wake, found themselves being misled by the very same light which earlier had been used by the spy to signal Bertie Mackay's ship. And as the
Sea Dragon
's bowsprit swung toward the Carolinas, Bertie Mackay and his crew of cutthroats had been sent on a wild goose chase and had nearly run aground before discovering that they had been tricked.

Alastair shook his head. Why would Sir Morgan wish to put Dante adrift in a gig? That did not sound like the Sir Morgan he knew. But then, as Alastair eyed the naval officer closely, he realized that the man had changed in the months since they had seen him in London.

“Sir Morgan.” Rhea spoke his name doubtfully, her violet eyes searching his face for some sign of the man she remembered so fondly. “I cannot believe you are the same man who came to my rescue in St. John's Harbour when I was in trouble.”

“I only wish that I had realized then exactly who you were and had been able to return you to your home in England before you became further involved with Dante Leighton and his crew. I fear that you have married a man who will be unable to settle down and give you a peaceful life. He has become used to a life of adventure, and he will never attach himself to the life of a gentleman of leisure. Wealth changes nothing, Lady Jacqobi. It was the excitement of privateering that kept Dante Leighton sailing, not desire for wealth.”

“You are wrong, Sir Morgan,” Rhea told him, her eyes full of regret as she stared at his hardened face.

Sir Morgan inclined his head slightly. “For your sake, and for that alone, I hope you are right and I am wrong,” he said.

“I seem to recall a conversation in which you warned me against continuing my unlawful activities. Like the lieutenant here, you seemed to think that once a smuggler, always a smuggler,” Dante reminded him. “Perhaps. But you are correct about one thing, Sir Morgan. I did enjoy adventure and excitement. But I think I am going to find enough excitement in being master of Merdraco to satisfy my adventurer's heart.