Deception (2 page)

Jared smiled slightly. “Yes, quite fortunate.” He wondered what Wingfield would say were he to learn that Jared controlled not only the
Sea Flame
but the entire Flamecrest fleet.

“Yes, well, I feel much better knowing you’ll see that the shipment and the diary get safely to my niece. Now I can get on with the next leg of my journey.”

“You are bound for Italy, I believe you said?”

“And then on to India.” Wingfield’s eyes filled with the anticipation of the inveterate traveler. “Always wanted to see India, you know.”

“I wish you a good journey,” Jared said.

“Same to you, sir. And, again, my thanks.”

“My pleasure.” Jared pulled his gold watch out of his pocket and consulted the time. “Now you must excuse me.” He slipped the watch back into his pocket and got to his feet.

Wingfield looked up at him. “Turning in for the night, eh?”

“Not yet. I believe I’ll take a walk along the quay to clear my head before I go upstairs to bed.”

“Watch your back,” Wingfield advised in a low tone. “Don’t much care for the looks of this bunch in here. No telling what sort of villains are outside at this hour.”

“Do not concern yourself on my behalf, sir.” Jared inclined his head in a polite farewell. He turned and walked toward the door.

One or two of the men who sat hunched over their mugs eyed his expensive boots with a speculative glance. Then their eyes slid upward to the knife strapped to his leg and higher still to the black patch over his eye.

No one rose to follow Jared outside.

The breeze off the sea stirred Jared’s long, untrimmed hair as he stepped out into the night. Unlike Wingfield, he was dressed for the warm climate. He wore no neckcloth. He detested neckcloths and cravats. The collar of his finely woven cotton shirt was open and the sleeves were rolled up on his forearms.

Jared started along the stone quay, his mind on the business at hand, his senses attuned to the night. A man who had lost one eye had good reason to take care of the other.

A lantern bobbed at the far end of the quay. As Jared drew closer he watched two men step out of the shadows. Both were big, nearly as tall as Jared, and almost as wide across the shoulders. Their rough-hewn faces were framed by silvered whiskers and manes of white hair. They walked with bold, swaggering strides even though each was past sixty.
Two aging buccaneers
, Jared thought, not without affection.

The first of the two men hailed Jared with a smile that gleamed in the shadows. The color of the older man’s eyes was washed out by the moonlight, but Jared was quite familiar with the unusual shade of gray. He saw the same color in the mirror every morning when he shaved.

“Good evening, sir,” Jared said politely to his father. Then he nodded to the other man. “Uncle Thaddeus. A fine night, is it not?”

“About time you showed up.” Magnus, Earl of Flamecrest, beetled his brows. “I was beginning to think
your new acquaintance was going to keep you talking for the better part of the night.”

“Wingfield is very fond of conversation.”

Thaddeus hoisted the lantern higher. “Well, lad? What did ye learn?”

Jared was thirty-four years old. He had not considered himself a lad for many years. In fact, he often felt aeons older than anyone else in the family. But there was no point correcting Thaddeus.

“Wingfield believes he has found Claire Lightbourne’s diary,” Jared said calmly.

“Bloody hell.”
The satisfaction in Magnus’s face was plain to read in the glow of the lantern. “So it’s true, then. The diary has finally been found after all these years.”

“Damme,” Thaddeus exclaimed. “How the devil did Wingfield get to it first?”

“I believe it was his niece who actually located the volume,” Jared said. “You will notice it was found here in France. My cousins were obviously wasting their efforts two months ago when they went chasing off into the hills of Spain to look for it.”

“Now, Jared,” Magnus said soothingly, “Young Charles and William had good reason to believe it had been taken there during the war. You’re just a mite annoyed with your cousins because they got themselves captured by those damn bandits.”

“The entire affair was something of a nuisance,” Jared allowed grimly. “Furthermore, it cost me nearly two thousand pounds in ransom money, not to mention a great deal of time and effort spent away from my business affairs.”

“Damnation, son,” Magnus roared. “Is that all you can ever think about? Your business affairs? You’ve got the blood of buccaneers in your veins, by God, but you’ve got the heart and soul of a tradesman.”

“I’m well aware that I’m something of a disappointment to you and the rest of the family, sir.” Jared leaned on the stone wall that fronted the harbor. “But as we’ve discussed the matter on several previous occasions, I do not think we need go into it again tonight.”

“He’s right, Magnus,” Thaddeus said quickly. “Got more important things to deal with at the moment. The diary is practically in our grasp. I say we have at it.”

Jared arched one brow. “Which of you made an effort to have at it last night? Wingfield says his room was searched.”

“It was worth a try,” Thaddeus said, unabashed.

Magnus nodded. “Just took a look around, that’s all.”

Jared bit back an exasperated oath. “The diary has been stowed on board the
Sea Flame
since yesterday afternoon. We’d have to unload the whole damn ship to get at it.”

“Pity,” Thaddeus muttered, defeated.

“In any event,” Jared continued, “the diary belongs to Miss Olympia Wingfield of Meadow Stream Cottage in Dorset. She has bought and paid for it.”

“Bah, the diary is ours,” Magnus said stoutly. “It’s a family heirloom. I say she has no right to it.”

“You appear to have forgotten that even if we get our hands on it, we shall very likely not be able to decipher it. However … ” Jared paused just long enough to get his father’s and uncle’s full attention.

“Yes?” Magnus asked eagerly.

“Artemis Wingfield feels certain that his niece will be able to unravel the code in which the diary is written,” Jared said. “Apparently Miss Wingfield excels at that sort of thing.”

Thaddeus brightened immediately. “I say, lad, your course of action is clear, then, ain’t it? You’ll have to follow the diary to its destination and then proceed to
insinuate yourself into Miss Wingfield’s good graces so that she’ll tell you all she learns.”

“Brilliant notion.” Magnus’s whiskers jerked in excitement. “Charm her, son. Seduce her. When she melts in your hands, get her to tell ye everything she learns from the diary. Then we’ll snaffle it away from her.”

Jared sighed. It was difficult being the only sane, sensible soul in a family filled with eccentrics and Originals.

The search for the Lightbourne diary had preoccupied all the Flamecrest males except Jared for three generations. Jared’s father, uncle, and cousins had all pursued it at one time or another. So had his grandfather and his great-uncles. The lure of treasure had a truly mesmerizing effect on a clan descended from a genuine buccaneer.

But enough was enough. A few weeks earlier his cousins had very nearly gotten themselves killed because of the diary. Jared had decided it was time to end the nonsense once and for all. Unfortunately, the only way to put a stop to the matter was to recover the diary and see if it did indeed contain the secret of the missing treasure.

No one had argued when Jared had announced that it was his turn to pursue the mysterious fortune that had vanished nearly a hundred years earlier. In truth everyone, his father especially, was only too pleased to see Jared show some interest in the matter.

Jared knew he was considered useful to the family because of his talent for business. But that did not account for much in a family famed for its dashing, hot-blooded men.

His relatives considered Jared depressingly dull. They said he lacked the Flamecrest fire. He, in turn, considered that they lacked self-restraint and common sense. It had not escaped his notice that they were quick
enough to come to him when there was a problem or when they needed money.

Jared had been putting matters right and attending to the boring little details of life for the Flamecrest clan since he was nineteen. Everyone in the family agreed it was the one thing at which he excelled.

It seemed to Jared that he was forever rescuing one member of the family or another.

Sometimes, when he sat up late at night making notes in his appointment journal, he wondered fleetingly if someone would ever come along to rescue him.

“It’s all very well for you two to talk about charm and seduction,” Jared said, “but we all know that I did not inherit the Flamecrest talent for either.”

“Bah.” Magnus waved that aside with a sweeping motion of his hand. “The problem is that you’ve never applied yourself to the matter.”

An expression of grave concern crossed Thaddeus’s face. “Well, now, Magnus, I wouldn’t go so far as to say he ain’t tried his hand at that sort of thing. There was that unfortunate situation three years ago when the lad tried to woo himself a wife.”

Jared looked at his uncle. “I think we can dispense with a discussion of that subject. I do not intend to seduce Miss Wingfield or anyone else into telling me the secret of the diary.”

Thaddeus scowled. “How will ye go about worming it out o’ her, then, lad?”

“I shall offer to purchase the information,” Jared said.

“Purchase it.”
Magnus looked shocked. “Ye think ye can buy a legendary secret like that with mere money?”

“It has been my experience that one can purchase almost anything,” Jared said. “A straightforward, businesslike
approach works wonders in virtually every conceivable situation.”

“Lad, lad, what are we going to do with you?” Thaddeus moaned.

“You are going to let me handle this my way,” Jared said. “Now then, let us understand each other. I will pursue the diary. In the meantime, I want your word that you will remember our agreement.”

“What agreement?” Magnus asked blankly.

Jared’s jaw tightened. “While I’m engaged in this undertaking you are not to interfere in any way in Flamecrest business matters.”

“Bloody hell, son, Thaddeus and I were running the family business before you were even born.”

“Yes, sir, I know. The two of you ran it straight into the ground.”

Magnus’s mustache jumped in outrage. “Not our fault we had a bit of a bad spell there. Business was poor during those years.”

Jared wisely decided not to pursue the point. They all knew that the earl’s lack of business sense coupled with the equally poor abilities of his brother, Thaddeus, had combined to destroy what little was left of the Flamecrest family fortune.

It was Jared who had taken over at the age of nineteen, barely in time to salvage the one decrepit ship that the family had still owned. He had pawned his mother’s necklace to raise the money he had needed. No one in the family had ever really forgiven him for his shocking want of sentiment, including his mother. She had actually mentioned the matter for the last time on her deathbed two years ago. Jared had been too grief-stricken to remind her that she had enjoyed the fruits of the new Flamecrest fortune to the hilt, as had everyone else in the clan.

Jared had rebuilt the Flamecrest empire from that
one ship. He sincerely hoped he would not have to repeat the feat when he returned from this crazed venture.

“Hard to believe that at long last the missing Flamecrest fortune is nearly within our grasp.” Thaddeus squeezed his hand into a triumphant fist.

“We already possess a fortune,” Jared pointed out. “We do not need the stolen treasure Captain Jack and his partner Edward Yorke buried on that damn island nearly a hundred years ago.”

“It was not stolen treasure,” Magnus thundered.

“If you will recall, sir, Great-grandfather was a pirate while he lived in the West Indies.” Jared’s brow rose. “It’s highly unlikely that he and Yorke came by that treasure in an honest fashion.”

“Captain Jack was not a pirate,” Thaddeus said fiercely. “He was a loyal Englishman who sailed under a commission. That treasure was lawful spoils taken off a Spanish vessel, by God.”

“It would be interesting to hear the Spaniards’ version of the story,” Jared remarked.

“Bah.” Magnus glowered at him. “They’re to blame for this situation. If the blasted Spaniards hadn’t given chase, Captain Jack and Yorke wouldn’t have been obliged to bury the booty on that damned island and we wouldn’t be standin’ here tonight workin’ out a way to get it back.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared said wearily. He had heard this many times before. It never failed to bore him.

“The only real
pirate
around was Edward Yorke,” Magnus continued. “That lying, cheating, murderous knave who betrayed your great-grandfather to the Spanish. It was only by the grace of God that Captain Jack managed to escape the trap.”

“It all happened nearly a hundred years ago. We do not know for certain that Yorke betrayed Captain
Jack,” Jared said quietly. “In any event, it really does not matter much now.”

“Of course it matters,” Magnus snapped. “You follow in a proud tradition, my boy. It’s your duty to find that missing treasure. It belongs to us and we have every right to claim it.”

“After all,” Thaddeus said gravely, “you are the new Guardian, lad.”

“Bloody hell,” Jared said under his breath. “That is a lot of nonsense and you know it.”

“T’ ain’t nonsense,” Thaddeus insisted. “You won the right to the title years ago, the night you used Captain Jack’s own dagger to save your cousins from that smuggler. Have ye forgotten?”

“I’m hardly likely to forget the incident, as it cost me an eye, sir,” Jared muttered. He did not, however, want to get into an argument over yet another idiotic family legend. He had his hands full dealing with the old tale of buried treasure.

“No gettin’ around the fact that you’re the new Guardian,” Magnus said with a sage expression. “You blooded the dagger. Furthermore, you’re the spittin’ image of Captain Jack, himself, as a young man.”

“Enough.” Jared removed his watch from his pocket and held it close to the lantern so that he could read the face. “It’s late and I must rise early tomorrow.”