Yet with his next words he proved her mistaken. “He seduced you.”
“He cannot bear all the blame.”
“Oh, but he can. And he will, for I shall kill the bastard!”
Eliza flinched. “I told you not to call him that.”
“Why?” he demanded to know. “Why should you care what I call him? It’s what he is, after all. A bastard intent on ruining his own family.”
“That’s unfair!” she shouted, desperate to defend Cyprian against Michael’s accusations. “Who’s to say how you or I would behave under the same circumstances?”
“I would never kidnap my own brother, nor rape my own cousin!”
“It wasn’t rape!” she cried, as tears of frustration stung her eyes. “It wasn’t! I wanted it. I wanted
him
.”
At Michael’s crushed look, she bowed her head. “God help me, but I love him.”
Cyprian Dare supervised the reprovisioning of the
Chameleon
with practiced ease. Water kegs. Salted meats. Wine and rum in kegs. They were traveling light with the hold filled primarily with ballast, for he expected to bring a full load of smuggled goods aboard near Royan, France, for delivery to one of his contacts in Littlehampton. But his main reason for departing his Alderney stronghold was because he could think of nothing else to do.
Haberton would be fast upon him, no doubt. Between Oliver and Eliza, Haberton would soon know precisely where his son was, and Cyprian had no intentions of letting the man off the hook so easily. Yet his cat and mouse game with his bastard father brought him no satisfaction
any longer. Aubrey was enjoying himself too much. And Eliza was gone.
He paused in the middle of checking the eyepiece of his sextant and stared vacantly into space. She must be back in the bosom of his family by now. And rejoined with her fiance. How had he taken this whole situation? Was this Michael of hers a pompous ass? Had he rejected her or had he welcomed her back with open arms?
Cyprian’s fingers tightened on the brass navigational instrument. Neither scenario pleased him and if he weren’t so furious with himself he would have laughed at his own perversity. She’d fled from him at the first opportunity, yet his anger at her and everyone who’d helped her hadn’t lasted even a day. He’d known she was leaving; he’d driven her away.
Yet the thought of her wed to this Michael Johnstone was enough to drive Cyprian mad. He wanted her back, even though he knew it was impossible.
“When do we sail, Captain?”
Cyprian looked up at Aubrey’s bright call. The boy wore torn breeches and an overlarge cable knit sweater. Plain stockings covered his skinny legs and a pair of brogans protected his feet. He needed a haircut, but then who was to say how a sailor must wear his hair?
“We go on the next tide.”
“Will you leave word for Oliver, so he knows where we are?”
Cyprian gave the boy a wry look. “Don’t worry. He’ll be told.”
Aubrey eyed him keenly. “You’re not still angry with him, are you? We’re all to blame, you know. Me and Xavier and Ana too.”
“I know who’s to blame,” Cyprian answered, his smile fading.
“If Eliza hadn’t—”
“I don’t want to talk about your cousin,” Cyprian cut him off.
Aubrey drew back a little at his sharp tone, but the boy’s gaze remained fixed on Cyprian. “Well, she could have married you instead of Michael.” When Cyprian didn’t respond he went on. “You asked her, didn’t you?”
“Mind your own business. If you haven’t enough to do, I can find some additional tasks for you.”
Under threat of extra chores Aubrey left. But his question lingered after him, accusing Cyprian with its complexity.
Yes, he’d asked her. But he knew it had been in the most insulting way he could term it. What had he been thinking? Why had he felt the need to hurt her that way?
But then, why had he done any of the things he’d done to Eliza?
He didn’t want to examine his motives. He didn’t want to think about her at all. Yet he seemed perversely unable to do anything but. She consumed his thoughts, waking and sleeping. He could not enter his own bedchamber without imagining her in his bed. He could not bear the sight of his big bathtub, or the door to her tiny cabin on the
Chameleon,
so near to his own. Worst of all was to see Xavier and Ana together, for their happiness in one another managed to magnify the emptiness he now felt.
“Son of a bitch.” He set the sextant down and ran his hands through his hair. He’d driven Eliza away when the last thing in the world he’d wanted was to lose her. If he’d only known how desolate he would feel. How bleak.
But how could he have known she would get under his skin that way? And why? Why had such an unlikely woman so thoroughly beguiled him? If he could just answer that question, maybe he could shake off this lachrymose mood that hung over him.
He picked up the sextant again and stared at it, remembering. She’d thrown it at him once. She’d been terrified of him, but not enough to bury her absolute fury.
What a brave little fool she’d been. But he’d been impressed by that bravery, just as he’d been impressed by her tenacity and her sweetness—and the passion she hid beneath that demure exterior of hers.
He’d not expected those qualities from a woman like her, wealthy, well-educated, and sheltered from the harsher side of life. Maybe that was why he wanted her so. He was no one of consequence, a bastard who’d clawed his way from puny cabin boy to powerful captain. He owned three ships and a sprawling and comfortable estate. Not a paltry accomplishment, all things considered. But for a man like him to possess a woman like Eliza …
To possess her would make everything else worthwhile. To possess her would be to prove his worth to the entire world—his father included.
Then Cyprian scoffed at his own perversity. He didn’t need to prove his worth to Lloyd Haberton. He had the man’s heir in his control; that was all that mattered. As for Eliza …
As for Eliza, it did no good to dwell on why he felt such an overwhelming need to have her back in his life. She was gone and she would not be back. He’d broken her heart with his cruelty. It was too late for regrets.
E
liza paced the library, fingering an occasional tome, but not really interested in books. Perry sat at the huge library table, books and papers and inkwell spread out as he concentrated on the lastest assignment his tutor had given him. But every few minutes he glanced up, studying his sister far more intently than he had been his books.
“You never used to pace,” he pointed out.
Eliza stopped, then sat down on a wine-colored leather reading chair, making a careful show of arranging her skirts. It was true, of course. She never used to pace. She used to be happy to sit quietly, to read or do needlework, or play board games with one of her brothers.
But no more. She’d changed. Her body had somehow healed—or perhaps she’d been better all along and just not realized it. It was her heart that was afflicted now. Rent in half. Shattered.
As quickly as she’d sat down, she stood up again. “If I’m distracting you, perhaps I should leave.”
“No. No, don’t leave. I’m bored with Plato.” Perry pushed away from the table and crossed to her. “I’d much rather have a nice talk with you.”
Eliza frowned. “I’m not feeling particularly nice today.”
“You
have
changed, haven’t you.”
“I’ve broken off with Michael.”
Perry just shrugged. “Mary Lena Blevins has been chasing him as if he were a fox and she a first-class hound ever since you left. She’ll help his broken heart heal.”
“Mary Lena? Oh, she’s not his sort at all,” Eliza said dismissively.
“She’s any fellow’s sort, Eliza.” He gave her a leering grin so reminiscent of Oliver that she should have laughed. But nothing could make her laugh today.
“Where’s Oliver?”
Perry chuckled. “Cornered in father’s office. Uncle Lloyd is browbeating him for not bringing Aubrey out with him, while Father is trying to determine where this Cyprian Dare fellow might be off to next.”
“I told them both not to blame Oliver for any of this.”
“Well, he was the one who revealed how he tricked you into hiring him to protect Aubrey,” Perry pointed out.
“He was just following orders.”
“Cyprian Dare’s orders,” Perry said, giving her a rather odd look.
“Yes, Cyprian Dare,” she replied, warning him with her eyes not to pursue that subject any further.
But Perry was clearly oblivious to it all, or else deliberately baiting her. “So, where do
you
think he’s off to? They don’t expect him to sit around Alderney and wait for them.”
Thoroughly annoyed with him, as well as every other male of her acquaintance, Eliza let out an inelegant snort and stalked the length of the room. “They’re wasting their time trying to track him down. Anyway, that’s just what he wants, for Uncle Lloyd to follow him, to exhaust himself trying to regain Aubrey.”
“You have to admit, Eliza, that it’s awfully good revenge, given the crime Dare holds our uncle to.”
Eliza gave him a sharp look. “How did you learn about that? It’s supposed to be confidential.”
His face pinkened. “I … um … I overheard someone speaking about it.”
“Perry, I cannot believe you are still listening at keyholes. I thought you would have outgrown such childish pranks by now. And who was incautious enough to be speaking of it where they might be overheard?”
“Why, you,” he retorted with a smug grin.
“Me? But the only one I told was—” She broke off as the realization struck her. “You overheard my conversation with Michael.” Her hand went to her throat in dismay. “How … how much did you overhear?”
Perry was a terrible liar. His blushes and his inability to stifle them were a family joke, and he’d long ago learned it was better to just admit to the truth. Now he gave her a sheepish look. “Well, I s’pose I heard pretty much all of it.”
“All of it?” She swallowed a lump of despair.
He nodded. “All of it.”
“So … so you know why … that is, why I …” She couldn’t continue. She was too mortified.
“I know you love the chap,” he said, generously avoiding what else he knew of her dealings with Cyprian. “How does Aubrey get on with him?”
“Aubrey?” Eliza laughed, a little hysterically, she realized. “They get along very well. He’s made Aubrey his cabin boy.”
“His cabin boy? But how does Aubrey manage? That chair of his must be awfully difficult to manipulate on a ship.”
“He doesn’t need the chair,” she said, still disconcerted by how much her younger brother knew of her personal relationship with Cyprian.
“Can he walk then? Was he cured in Madeira as you’d hoped?”
“Not exactly,” she demurred, realizing she’d let Aubrey’s secret slip.
“Does he use crutches now?”
Eliza threw her hands up in the air. “You are the most troublesome brother a girl ever had!”
But Perry only laughed and ruffled the top of her head. “You know you missed me,” he teased as she swatted his hand away. Despite herself, Eliza laughed too.
“Oh, yes, I dearly missed having you mess up my hair and listen in on my private conversations.”
“How am I to know what’s going on in this family otherwise? Everyone treats me as if I’m still a child. But I’m sixteen now. Sixteen and a half.”
Eliza looked at Perry, really looked at her baby brother who was almost a head taller than she now. He was practically a man, she realized with a start. Old enough to be interested in girls—women, she amended. For all she knew, he might already have had an alliance with one of the maids or some other creature of loose morals—She broke off at the unpleasant thought that she had no right to judge others.
She
was a creature of loose morals herself, now.
“Yes,” she managed to say. “Yes, I can see that you’re no longer a child.”
“I wish you’d tell mother and father as much.”
Eliza nodded. “I will.”
“You will?” His thick eyebrows raised hopefully. “If you’ll do that, Eliza—convince them to treat me as the man I now am—why, I’ll … I’ll do something equally generous for you. I’ll find something.”
“Yes, well …” Eliza resumed her pacing. How she wished he could do the one thing she truly wanted, make Cyprian come for her. Make him come to London, return Aubrey to his family, and take her back to
Alderney with him. She’d go anywhere he wanted, live anyplace he liked, even aboard the
Chameleon
if he would only say that he loved her and ask her to marry him as if he really meant it.
Come live with me and be my love.
The line from the poem came to her and she focused on the shelf of books beside her. She had nothing else to do today. Perhaps she’d just read poetry and become more maudlin than ever. But that was stupid, she decided. She squared her shoulders and looked at Perry.
“Let’s go and rescue Oliver from our father and Uncle Lloyd. I think you’ll like him once you get to know him.”
Within the hour she knew that had been an understatement. If Perry had emulated Michael before, to watch him now with Oliver Spencer was to actually witness a slow transformation. By the time the three of them had toured the stables, taught Oliver how to play lawn tennis and collected fishing gear and trekked down to the river, Perry’s speech was peppered with “mates” and his walk had taken on a definite swagger.
Their parents would be appalled, but Eliza was perversely comforted. Perry was no snob, and neither was she—despite Cyprian’s accusations to the contrary. Not that it mattered, of course. Not anymore.
From her perch on a bench, she gazed at the two young men fishing in the icy river as if they were old friends. Perry had taught Oliver how to cast; Oliver let Perry use his lethal-looking knife to gut the three fish they’d caught between them. It was like a replay of Aubrey and Oliver. Maybe the idyllic life of England’s landed gentry was too serene for young men. Maybe a little excitement was good for the soul. And the body, she added, thinking of her own returned strength and Aubrey’s. She should thank Cyprian for having snatched her and Aubrey away from their boring lives, for they’d benefitted in so many ways.
She’d never be able to thank him for letting her go, however. She’d never be able to thank him, or forgive him.
Dinner would have been a somber affair except that Perry kept pestering Oliver with questions about life at sea. LeClere too, after an initial reserve, warmed to Oliver. To his credit, Oliver swiftly adopted the manners appropriate to a formal dinner in a house like Diamond Hall. Between Perry and LeClere he was suitably dressed in a dark gray suit and a pale blue figured waistcoat and snowy linen shirt. His hair was washed and combed, and to anyone who’d not seen him in his sailor’s garb, he was every inch the gentleman. She saw his quick gaze as he watched to see where to place his napkin and which utensil to use. He held his crystal wine glass lightly and drank sparingly. Except for the one surreptitious wink he gave her, he was almost as proper as Michael Johnstone himself.
“Where are you from, Mr. Spencer?” Eliza’s mother asked. Despite her initial reserve toward him, she’d begun to thaw and that was all the opportunity Oliver needed. Now Eliza’s mother was quite charmed by him.
“I was born and raised my first few years in Lynton. That’s in north Devon along the Bristol Channel. My father was a cooper and my mother did laundry,” he added, not in the least concerned that such an upbringing should brand him unworthy of the likes of the Thoroughgood family. But he didn’t care and neither, it seemed, did anyone else. He was, after all, the one who’d saved Eliza. It warmed a small part of Eliza’s frozen heart to know her family could be so generous.
“Oliver said he went to sea when he was eleven,” Perry threw in.
“Eleven?” Constance Thoroughgood frowned. “That’s awfully young.”
“My parents died suddenly,” Oliver explained. He
glanced at Eliza. “Cyprian knew my father and he took me in. Made me his cabin boy.”
Like he’d done with Aubrey.
The unsaid words hung in the air a long, awkward moment. Everyone’s eyes flitted toward Eliza, then away, as if they expected her to swoon at the mention of Cyprian’s name—or else to dissolve into tears. She looked at her mother and caught the sorrowful expression on her face, then looked at the other end of the table toward her father whose lips had thinned in anger.
“If Aubrey fares even half so well as Oliver, then he shall do very well,” she stated as matter-of-factly as she could manage.
“But this man Dare was a friend of Mr. Spencer’s father,” Gerald Thoroughgood grimly replied. “He’s not so kindly disposed towards our family.”
He meant his brother-in-law, Lloyd Haberton, of course. But Eliza feared he meant her too, and it roused her ire.
“Cyprian will not hurt Aubrey. In fact, he’s already helped him enormously.”
“Helped him?” Her father set his glass down with a thunk and wine sloshed over the lip. “How can you say such a thing—”
“Gerald!”
He broke off at his wife’s sharp tone.
“This is unsuitable dinner conversation,” she rebuked him.
“But she’s not behaving at all like she used to,” Gerald complained to his wife. “Ever since—” He stopped of his own accord this time, but Eliza knew what he implied. So, she feared, did everyone else, and her face grew warm with embarrassment.
To her surprise Oliver cleared his throat. “Cyprian’s led a hard life, but he doesn’t take advantage of helpless people.”
Gerald stood up, quivering with anger. “He took advantage
of Eliza. No matter what she may say, he took advantage of her!”
“That’s not true.”
Every eye turned her way. Her mother knew the truth, as did Oliver and her eavesdropping little brother. Though her father didn’t want to believe it, she must convince him. She couldn’t bear for him to judge Cyprian so wrongly.
“Cyprian did not take advantage of me,” she stated slowly and succinctly.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” her father sputtered. “You’re just an innocent child who—”
“I’m a woman, Father. Just as Perry is no longer a school boy but a man, I am no longer a girl. I’m a strong, healthy woman and Cyprian Dare must receive a large part of the credit.”
“Credit! Why, when we catch him I’ll have him drawn and quartered!” He threw his napkin down on the table as if it were a glove and the linen-covered table was Cyprian’s face. “The man should be shot for what he’s done to you and Aubrey.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” Oliver put in mildly. “But I think you ought to know that Eliza’s in love with Cyprian.” He ignored Constance’s gasp and Eliza’s groan of dismay. “And he’s in love with her,” he added, shooting Eliza a lopsided grin.
It was positively the last straw. With a cry that was half frustration and half despair, Eliza pushed away from the table. “How can you say such a lie, Oliver Spencer? If I thought it was true—”