Lord Sinister (Secrets & Scandals Book 3) (3 page)

He halted and lowered his hands to his knees, his lungs burning as he gulped in deep breaths of air.  For a minute, he just listened.  Dock workers shouted while loading cargo onto the swaying ships.  Seagulls cried out as they circled low over two women gutting out a pile of fish.  Street vendors called out fresh oysters, flowers, or fruit for sale.  Alex straightened and wiped his nose with his sleeve, knowing none of those vendors sold anything fresh.

“Oy, Alex, what are ye doin’ here so late in the day, me lad?”

He turned to Mr. O’Malley and shrugged.  “Just thinking.”

The elderly man nodded as if he understood, his expression turning sad.  “Heard what happened.  How’s yer mither?” he asked and shifted his whale-bone pipe from one side of his mouth to the other.

Alex gazed up at the rows of fish hanging on hooks nearby, knowing they would have been caught this morning.  “She’s well, sir.  She wasn’t badly hurt.”

“Good,” Mr. O’Malley said as he took down one of the blackfish and began wrapping it up in newspaper.  “Here, take this to yer mither.”

Alex shook his head, backing up a step.  “I can’t, sir.  I don’t have any money.”

The man snatched the pipe from his mouth and glared.  “This ain’t charity, lad.  Yer mither saved me sweet Bertha’s life last month.  I be payin’
her
back.”

Contrite, Alex took the fish.  “Thank you, Mr. O’Malley.”  He started to turn away but stopped when the grizzly old fisherman started speaking again.

“If yer interested, there be a ship called the
Sweet Siren
leaving for England the day after tomorrow.  At dawn.”

He felt his shoulders droop.  “Thank you for the information, sir, but we haven’t enough money for tickets aboard a ship.”

Mr. O’Malley sucked on his pipe, a faintly sweet aroma threading through the pungent smell of fish.  “Well, now,” he began, rocking back and forth on his heels, “me ‘n Mrs. O’Malley didn’t have tickets when we left Ireland nigh on twenty years ago.  We packed some food and just sneaked aboard a ship.”  The elderly man ended his words with a wink.

Alex blinked in disbelief.  “Didn’t you get caught?”

The old seaman looked affronted and pulled the pipe from his mouth.  “O’course nay.  As quiet as church mice we was.”

After thanking Mr. O’Malley again, he started back, his heart much lighter than before.  The cool afternoon had slipped into a cold evening as the building shadows grew longer over the road, and he didn’t want to be out after dark.  His mother would worry.

He ran the entire way back home, careful not to drop their dinner, excitement building with each step he took.  There was hope of getting to England yet.

Taking the stairs in record time, Alex removed his key and opened the door.  “I’m home, Mama,” he called.  “And I’ve found a way for us to get to England.”

CHAPTER 2

Julian lowered the spyglass and frowned.

“It’s not catching up to us, is it, Master?” his first mate asked with a thread of worry.

“I’m afraid so, Luke.” He kept his gaze on the black clouds building behind them, his mind whirring with calculations of wind speed and direction in addition to their current location.

“Can we outrun the storm?”

“Possibly.”

“Shall I give the order to try and skirt the storm, then?”

Lifting a brow, he asked, “Should you?”

His first mate glanced to the darkening sky, looked up at the snapping flags, then back.  “I think it wise, sir.”

With twitching lips, Julian nodded.  “I agree.  Yes, give the command.” When Luke turned to the crew and began issuing orders, he smiled and shook his head.  His first mate, although younger than most, would do fine in his stead.

Hearing the crack of sails, smelling the crisp sea air, and feeling the swaying ship beneath his feet caused a pang of sadness to well up inside him.  His smile fled.  He would miss the sea.  Although he’d make small trips from time to time, it would no longer be a part of his daily life.

No, he’d made a promise to his family the day his father found out he had been commanding a ship, not merely taking trips.  Second sons, not heirs, had such occupations.  And after a few heated words, a compromise was struck.  Upon his thirtieth birthday, he would return to England for good.  To do his duty and take a wife.

Julian grimaced.

Even as the thought of marriage soured his stomach, he had to give it serious consideration.  He would produce the next Kenbrook heir.  He’d known that all his life.  But looking for a suitable wife might just kill him.  All those wretched balls and fetes.  He scowled at the thought of spending endless evenings in the presence of pea-brained debutantes and their scheming mamas.  He’d rather be skinned alive.

Yet, he would ride it out like he had countless storms at sea.  And in the end, he would be the victor.  He would find a beautiful and biddable young lady with a pristine reputation and excellent pedigree.  Perhaps that good friend of Megan’s?  Huntington’s sister.  What was her name?  Thank God he only had to go through this torture once, Julian thought as he retreated to the sanctuary of his cabin.

A few minutes later, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his palms planted on either side of the large map spread out before him, studying the various routes from America to England he’d used in the past.  For the last several months, he had been making careful notes of his knowledge as commander to pass on to Luke.  Although he had every confidence in the man, conveying detailed information would help ensure the
Sweet Siren
remained the most prosperous ship in the fleet.

Two sharp knocks sounded at the door.

“Enter.” Julian kept his gaze fixed on the parchment.

The door opened, bringing a gust of chilled sea air along with sounds of furious winds and snapping sails, then closed, muting the clamor.  “Sir?”

Discerning an odd note in Jonas’s voice, Julian’s hand stilled from reaching for a quill, and he glanced up.  “What is it?”

The burly master-at-arms cleared his throat and shuffled a bit further into the cabin. “Sorry to be disturbin’ ye.”

He straightened, allowing the map to roll back together.  “What is it, Jonas?” he asked with a little more authority in his voice.  What had happened?  And why did the man have such apprehension about telling him?

Jonas pulled off his cap and crushed it between meaty palms.  “We have a stowaway, sir,” he said, his words rushing together.

“A stowaway?”   That stunned Julian.  It had been better than a year since someone managed to sneak aboard his ship.  And recalling how the bloody scoundrel had almost killed several of his men, he erupted in anger. “You’ve captured this stowaway I take it?”

The large man hesitated, lowering his gaze to the floor.  “This ain’t no ordinary stowaway, Master.”

Unable to believe his ears, he rounded his desk and planted both hands on his hips.  “I don’t care if John Jacob Astor himself has sneaked aboard my ship, take him to the hold.”

“Even if ‘e’s a she, sir?” Jonas asked, chancing a quick peek up.

Julian opened his mouth to concur, but caught himself just in time.  “A she?  Are you trying to tell me the stowaway is a woman?”

“Aye, sir.”

“I bloody well don’t believe this.”

“And the wee missy’s a mite sick, too,” the man added quietly.

He leveled his master-at-arms a look of severe displeasure.  A look that also asked just how in the hell could this have happened.  “Where is she?”

Although Jonas was much larger, the man swallowed and backed up a step.  “Dr. Halston is lookin’ at ‘er in the guest cabin, sir.”

Swearing under his breath, Julian stormed the short distance down the companionway.  But as he reached for the latch, the door opened and Marcus Halston, the ship’s surgeon, exited.

“Master,” the doctor stated nervously, shifting his black bag from one hand to the other.  He blocked the entrance and spoke quickly, but in soft tones.  “The lady is quite ill, sir.  Dehydrated and starving.  She wouldn’t have lasted much longer.”

Julian sighed, some of his anger evaporating at the news of the woman’s dire situation.  “It’s all right, Marcus, I’ll not throw her overboard.  I just want a few answers.”

The man remained stubbornly in the doorway, his eyes worried.  “She must rest, sir.  Perhaps later—”

“I won’t be long,” Julian said, wondering if his entire crew had gone daft.  Usually, everyone obeyed him without even a hint of hesitation, no matter what his orders.

Reluctantly, the doctor moved to the side.

Entering the dim cabin, he approached the bunk, surprised to see such a small form outlined beneath the blanket.  Good God, surely not a child!  He heard her moan and watched her turn her head.  Then she opened her eyes.  And he stood there, blasted over the skull by a hundred-pound boulder of recognition.

“Did you find some water, Alex?” she asked, her voice weak, breathless.

Julian could only stare down at Amelia Jamison, his gaze roaming her small heart-shaped face, bluer than blue eyes and full lips.  Lips, he noticed with a frown, cracked and peeling.  He also took note of her sunken, wan cheeks and the dark smudges beneath her dazed eyes.

Then he remembered how she tried duping him into marriage almost ten years ago.  He could still feel that bloody noose around his neck.

With that memory encasing his heart like a stone shell, Julian folded his arms over his chest.  “Just what in God’s name are you doing on my ship, Amelia?”

Her eyes sharpened and filled with alarm.  “Julian?”

A commotion sounded at the door and he turned in time to see two bodies flying into the cabin.

“Come ‘ere, boy,” Jonas ordered, his lips twisted into a deep scowl and his thick dark brows lowered over furious eyes.

The boy shook his head, backing away.  “Not without seeing my mother first.”  He spun around.

For the second time in as many minutes, Julian was stunned speechless.  He stared at the child, yet couldn’t believe his eyes. Black hair, high cheekbones, gray eyes.  No, it wasn’t possible.

It couldn’t be possible.

Jonas raised his arms, his fingers stretched out like claws, and stomped toward the boy.  “Now ye’ve gone an’ made me mad, ye little sneak.”

“Please.  Please don’t hurt my son,” Amelia said, her feeble voice capturing Julian’s attention.  He turned in time to see her slide from the bed and take a wobbly step in the boy’s direction, a thin arm reaching out as her glazed eyes widened in terror.  Then she started to collapse from lack of strength.

He swore and lunged forward, catching her before she hit the hard floor.

“Mama!”

“Oh, no ye—”

“It’s all right, Jonas,” Julian said before the big bear of a man could capture the boy by the collar.  “I know this woman.  You may leave.” He nodded toward the portal.  “And send Dr. Halston back in here,” he added, settling Amelia’s light, limp body back down onto the bunk.

Jonas’s brows shot up, but he had the good sense not to argue.  “Aye, sir.”

The boy stepped forward, a worried frown pulling at his lips as he glanced at his mother’s ashen face.  “Is she…?”

“No, just swooned.” He studied the child’s features, trying like hell to find something on that familiar face to tell him what he was thinking was wrong.  How in the deuce could this be possible?

As if recalling something, the boy looked up.  “You know my mother, sir?”

Those gray eyes were so much like his. Julian cleared his throat and nodded.  “I knew her years ago.”  For the first time, he noticed the boy’s shabby clothes.  He turned and found Amelia’s dress just as old and threadbare.  That made no sense to him.  She came from a very wealthy family.  “What is your name?”

“Alexander Wesson, sir.”

The tightness in his chest loosened, his breaths coming out easier.  Amelia had married, which meant Alexander wasn’t his son.  Surely she wouldn’t have given up so easily those years ago if she really had been with child.  In the least, someone from her family would have gone to his father.

Yet, a strange feeling came over him, something unsettling.  And the longer he looked on the boy standing before him, the stronger the sensation grew.

The doctor rushed into the room, disrupting Julian’s thoughts, and gave him a reproving glare.  “You should leave, Master.”  Then he noticed Alexander and jerked to a halt, but recovered his surprise quickly.  “Both of you should leave,” he said.

The boy stepped forward, his young face defiant.  “I am sorry, sir, but I will not leave my mother.”

Marcus looked down at the child, started to say something, then stopped, his eyes growing round as they cut to Julian and back.

Uh, oh, not good.

He did not want the man coming to any unnecessary conclusions.  He shook his head to convey a warning not to ask any questions.  Then he turned to the boy.  “Dr. Halston is here to help your mother.  Come, we’ll stand right outside the door.”

Alexander hesitated, his brows pulling together as he frowned.  Then he glanced once more toward the bed and nodded reluctantly.

Once they stepped out of the cabin, Julian realized how much calmer the sea had become.  He turned.  “I believe we’ve escaped the storm.”

The boy’s sullen eyes remained on the closed portal as he nodded.

Julian sighed.  There could be no mistaking how much mother and son cared for each other.  “She’ll be all right,” he said, “Dr. Halston is a very good doctor.”

Eyes fixed on the door, the boy sniffed once before giving a jerky nod.

“So tell me, Alexander, where’s your father?”  Julian thought it a logical question to ask, one that should be asked.  One that needed to be asked.

“My father died before I was born, sir.  I-I’m not certain how.”  He paused and glanced up, his bright gray eyes glassy.  “Mama would get real sad when I asked about him so I stopped asking a long time ago.”

He had nothing to say to that.  Well, hell.  What could he say?  Prove to me right now you had a father who died before you were born?  No, that wouldn’t do.

“Are you the captain of this ship, sir?”

“I am the commander of this ship, but since this is a merchant ship I am called ‘Master.’”

Alexander nodded, then his eyes went dull and he looked down.  “Please, sir, don’t send my mother to prison.  None of this is her fault.  I talked her in to it.  You see, we were robbed and our tickets aboard another ship were stolen.”  His shoulders slumped.  “Send me to prison instead, sir, but don’t send Mama.  I-I don’t think she’d survive it,” he finished in a whisper.  “She’s been real sick.”

“I’m not sending either of you to prison.”

Slowly, Alexander’s head came up.  Seeing gratitude in those swimming eyes made him uncomfortable.

Then the boy smiled.  Julian’s entire body tightened.  There was no mistaking that smile.  Bloody hell, he thought, sucking in an unsteady breath. 

He had a son.

CHAPTER 3

Amelia woke to the murmur of low male voices.  Terror shot through her.  Had someone broken into…

Releasing the trapped air in her lungs, she relaxed.  She and Alex were no longer in their apartment in New York.  They were on a ship.

Julian’s ship.

She shuddered as she remembered his last words to her all those years ago.  His gorgeous face twisted in rage as he called her a liar and told her to leave.  Fear paralyzed her as the awful memory she fought so long to suppress came rushing back in shocking detail, and for a moment, she reverted back to that spineless wisp of a girl cringing at shadows.  But that girl was gone, dead the moment she realized her father would not help neither her nor the innocent child growing inside her belly.  As she held her precious, tiny boy in her arms for the first time, she knew she would do anything to see him healthy and happy.  Whatever it took, she would take good care of Alexander.  And out of sheer desperation to keep that promise, she had become strong.