The Pirate's Desire (11 page)

He did not answer; hopefully reeling from her well-placed blows to his crumbling fortress of lies.

“You are French,” she hissed. “How could you attack and steal from your own countrymen?”

“I fight against Napoleon. He is no friend of my family.”

“Your English family, or your French family?”

“Neither!” His voice whipped. “Did you know Napoleon sided with the Jacobins during the Reign of Terror?”

“Yes.” Lucinda knew a little about that bit of history. “But he did not take part in the killings, did he?”

“It does not matter. He favored the blood bath in the name of ‘order.’ My grandfather and uncles were executed then. If you want to point to a bloody opportunist, look to Napoleon. He is no friend of my family. He is a war mongering dictator, and with the help of Joseph Fouché instituted a police state in France. I could say more,” he said grimly. “But that is enough.”

So that explained why he fought on the side of the British. It did not explain, however, his activities aboard his privateer ship. “I understand. Still, it remains that you are little more than a pirate. Perhaps that is why you can afford a townhouse in London. And how you can own your own ship.”

“I do not steal…”

“Never? Tell me you have never stolen in your entire life.”

He did not answer.

Lucinda felt a sickened stab of victory. Surprisingly, it hurt, like a knife through her own heart. “I have proven my point. Stop pretending to be a man you are not. I know the truth.”

He closed the distance between them. “I am
not
a thief, nor a pirate.” His harsh voice shook with suppressed emotion. “You speak of things you know nothing about, Lucinda. You slander my character based on a few words from a weasel such as Humphrey.”

“He merely stated facts…”

“Facts that do not pertain to me!”

Lucinda’s heart pounded, and for a minute she did not know what to say next. He had refuted every one of her arguments. He said he was not a pirate
. Or a thief
. Was she to believe him now? Part of her did believe him, heaven help her.
Was
he telling her the truth?

It didn’t matter. Too much was at stake. She could not trust him with Ravensbrook, for an error in judgment on her part right now could dearly cost not only herself, but Ravensbrook, and everyone else on her estate.

Much as it sickened her to twist the knife home when she was uncertain of her facts, now was her final and best opportunity to drive him off for good; to make him hate her as she surely should hate him. Guilty or not, he would despise her next words. “I will not believe you until you provide proof.”

“How am I to provide proof?”

“It is impossible, isn’t it?” She let that sink in. “Just as it is impossible that I will allow a man such as yourself to run Ravensbrook. Leave now, Mr. Montclair. Let this be the end of our unsavory acquaintance.”

She sensed, rather than saw his hands clench into fists. She stood still, waiting. He could hit her, or he could leave. The first was an extreme measure she steeled herself to endure. Either way, a triumph.

Long seconds ticked by. Trepidation, and also an unwelcome pinch of shame coursed through her. She could well be falsely accusing him of deeds of which he was innocent. And yet here she was, levering possible untruths to pry him out of her life. Did the end justify the means? In that moment, she just did not know.

Finally, his voice came quietly through the night. “Stable your horse, Lucinda.”

Uncertainly, she wavered, trying to read his expression. Was he giving up? Was this his last request to her? At last, without a word, she did as he bid.

After Old Ben was safely in his stall, she discovered Riel waiting for her. The sliver of the moon, now shining above the trees, gilded his powerful black frame in silver.

He said, “Promise me you will not take your horse out again at night.”

Lucinda stood very still. Who was he, to be making demands? “I promise you nothing.”

“I am not leaving Ravensbrook, Lucinda.” Determination bit through that low tone. “And if you ride your animal at night you will know the consequence. I will not let a foolish girl be the death of herself or her horse.”

Each of his words hit her like a punch to her heart. She had failed. He was not leaving, after all.

“No documents have been signed, Mr. Montclair. You are not lord over me yet. By Friday you will be gone.”

“We will see, Lucy. We will see.”

He walked beside her back to the mansion; a dark, unsettling presence. Anger simmered in him. She sensed it as palpably as her own heartbeat. Yet still he had not snapped. Still he insisted upon staying. Why? Why would he choose to remain?

Except to keep his word to her father.

An honorable act.

When they neared the house, Lucinda hurried ahead of Riel, not wanting to see him any longer. She felt disturbed—even ashamed by her accusations. Was he innocent, after all?

On the other hand, he was angry with her. Hadn’t she achieved her ultimate goal, then? To infuriate him more and more—step by step—so he’d ride off and never return?

Lucinda hadn’t known her small bit of victory could feel so empty. Her acquaintanceship with Riel Montclair was tearing her up inside; more with every passing hour. The end could not come soon enough.

Thursday morning
Lucinda awoke late. The reception had gone on past midnight last night, and she had collapsed in bed exhausted, both physically and emotionally, at one a.m.

The funeral was over, and her father buried.

Pressure built in her eyes, but she did not cry. Last night she had cried enough for a lifetime.

After a long while, she rang for Effie to help her dress.

A disturbing idea, half-remembered from her restless dreams, returned as she readied for the day. She considered it, and then expanded upon it. Hope flickered, but mixed with a healthy dose of fear. Yes. It was the perfect plan to rid herself of Riel Montclair forever. Today was her last chance to convince him to leave.

Lucinda had no desire to see Riel this morning. Not yet. He was the chief reason why she’d gone to bed so distraught last night. The man disturbed her every second she was near him. For the remainder of the evening, she had sensed his gaze upon her, watching to be sure she didn’t run off and attempt any more foolishness. It irritated the part of her that cherished her independence and freedom. The part that did not want a guardian of any kind.

And the guilt she’d felt over attacking him—perhaps unjustly—did not help matters, either. But the truth remained; he
was
hiding something from the Royal Navy. She didn’t know what it was, but it couldn’t be good.

Did he plunder enemy ships? Did he plan to plunder Ravensbrook? Much as part of her did not want to believe these things, logically, s
he just
did not know the truth
.
And that meant she must move forward with her final plan, no matter how disturbed and uncomfortable it made her feel.

Lucinda ate a long, lingering breakfast in her room, and then reluctantly exited to face the day. To face Riel. For she still had a job to do, much as the discomfort of it tempted her to give up. But she would not. She had a plan now. At the perfect time, she must put it into motion.

Drawing a fortifying breath, she carefully considered from every angle the awful plan she’d formed. Without a doubt, it would antagonize Riel so utterly that he’d
abandon
Ravensbrook at daybreak tomorrow, and never return. Just the thought of putting it into action made her feel slightly sick. As well, her despicable behavior would not only emotionally distress her, but might end up physically harming her, as well. Would it be worth it?

Yes,
she told herself. Better a little pain now, than years of it later.

After spending a few enjoyable minutes chatting with Sophie, whom she found sitting in a comfortable chair on the terrace with a book, Lucinda stiffened her spine and approached her father’s study.

Tomorrow morning Riel would sign the guardianship papers. So today her behavior must eclipse yesterday’s worst by tenfold, if she wanted her plan to succeed. She’d start slow, however, and build momentum until the final act this evening.

She could do it. Much as it would certainly sicken her at various points.

Riel sat at her father’s desk, his broad shoulders leaning forward as he studied the ledgers.

“I am here for my lesson,” she announced.

He looked up. Tension tightened his features, and unfriendliness flattened his black eyes. Good. She tried to ignore the prick of unhappiness that his clear dislike caused. He was still upset about last night. Now only to build upon that foundation, and learn how to decipher the ledgers at the same time.

Girding up her courage, she lifted her chin higher than usual and entered the room. “You
do
plan to keep your word and teach me the books, don’t you?” She injected a cold, regal note into her tone.

He eyed her for an uncomfortable moment. “Mr. Chase has agreed to teach you how to manage the petty monies while I am gone.”

That did not answer her question. Although Lucinda felt a quick stab of pleasure at the small token of responsibility he had afforded her, that alone would not accomplish her greater goal. She forced herself to finish the distance to the desk. “Will you keep your word?” she demanded.

Lucinda didn’t like the hard words spilling from her mouth, and even less the dislike that flashed in his eyes. She didn’t like anyone hating her. Even Riel. This was going to prove harder than she had thought.

“Sit.” With a flick of his wrist, he slid the Queen Anne chair beside him again.

Lucinda lowered herself gingerly.

Tightly coiled displeasure simmered in him. She had succeeded in stoking his ire still further. She should feel pleased, not distressed. Wasn’t it her goal to be rid of him?

Yes. She must persevere. If she kept the pressure on, tonight he’d snap, and she would gain her most important goal.

A slither of unease accompanied that thought. Truly, a dangerous game.

Did she want him to leave? Or not?

Yes.
She
did
, she assured herself. This evening’s plan would surely tip him over the edge, and he would leave tomorrow. Right now—during the day—she must only keep him wound up so tight that this evening his tenacious self-control would finally crack.

One of two things would happen then. Either he’d strike her, which she would report to Mr. Chase, who would surely champion her cause…or Riel would finally gallop off in a fury, unable to see the back of her fast enough. With the first, the solicitor would never allow Riel to sign guardianship papers if he saw a bruise upon her person. He’d call the constable, who would permanently escort Riel from Ravensbrook’s premises. Either way, she would achieve her objective. However, unease and fear quailed within her.

Riel watched her, his black eyes hard. She swallowed.

Gathering her wits and courage, Lucinda reached for the ledger and found the place where they had left off yesterday. “Explain what these monies are used for,” she ordered, her voice cold. Unfortunately, it trembled, ever so slightly.

“Give it up, Lucinda,” he said softly.

She met his gaze. “I do not know whereof you speak. Teach me the ledgers. Now, please.”

Footsteps shuffled in the doorway. “Lemonade?” Mrs. Beatty carried a tray bearing a pitcher and two glasses. “Lady Sophia thought a cool drink might refresh you.”

“Thank you,” Lucinda and Riel said at the same time. She cast him a quick, uneasy glance. After delivering the drinks and leaving the pitcher, the housekeeper left.

Mrs. Beatty’s appearance had interrupted Lucinda’s focused mindset. She struggled to reacquire her resolve to behave like an icy brat. “If you would be so kind,” she said haughtily. Looking down her nose, she pointed to the ledger.

To her shock, Riel snapped the book shut on her finger.

“How
dare
you?”

He gave her a thin-lipped smile. “Now the true Lucinda comes out.”

“I will thank you to teach me…”

“I will thank you to behave like a civilized young woman. Do not treat me like a servant, and do not stare at me as if butter won’t melt in your mouth.”

She glared back. “You agreed to teach me the ledgers.”

“And so I will.” He leaned back in his chair and sipped his frosty drink. Though he pretended to be relaxed, his white knuckled fingers gripping the glass belied it.

Lucinda struggled for an answer. She wanted to antagonize him still further, but she also truly wanted to understand how the ledgers worked. Perhaps accounting was not a lady’s typical occupation, but the money was hers. Before she ceded control of Ravensbrook to anyone, including her future husband, she wanted to understand how her father had run it. She wanted to make sure Ravensbrook would be cared for properly, and the only way to achieve that goal was to understand it thoroughly herself.

“Teach me, then,” she commanded.

He lowered his glass with a soft click and flipped shut another book.

“Stop!”

But he continued to close ledgers.

She flew to her feet. “Fine. I’ll study them on my own!” She made a wild scrabble for the books, and gathered them all into her arms. To her surprise, Riel did not stop her.

He leaned back in his chair and watched as she hugged the ledgers tightly to her bosom. A smile that was not a smile curved his lips. “Enjoy your studies.”

Teeth gritted, Lucinda swiped up her drink, not caring that great splotches spilled on her dress. “That is exactly what I shall do. Good day, Mr. Montclair.”

Whirling, she stalked from the room, her back as stiff as a poker. She longed to slam the door, but had no free hand. As she crossed the threshold, she heard a faint sound behind her. Was that a
chuckle?

Lucinda ground her teeth. She would show him. She would learn it all without his arrogant, condescending help.

And then Lucinda realized a horrible truth.
She
was the infuriated one. Not Riel. Darkly, she remembered this evening’s plot. She would win the ultimate victory over him then. It could not come quickly enough for her taste.

That ruffian had to go, and now.

* * * * *

Lucinda spent the afternoon struggling to make sense of the ledgers. She even tried to enlist Sophie’s help, but the older lady laughed and dismissively fluttered her fingers. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about it, child. Ask Riel. He understands all of those bothersome, tedious facts.”

“You never wanted to understand?”

“Why would I? My husband took care of it for fifty years. And now I have Riel. Why should I bother myself? Iveny is run splendidly.” Sophie sipped her tea. Tiny tea leaves swirled in the hot liquid. Lucinda had noticed that Sophie always spooned in dried leaves from a small pouch she kept close at hand. Perhaps a special blend.

Her mind turned to other questions. Iveny. She had thought the Baron’s land was in France. But wasn’t Sophie from England? “Does Riel—Mr. Montclair—own your estate?”

“Yes, but he still considers it mine. My husband and I agreed it would pass to Riel when my husband died. Riel is the only of our remaining relatives we could stand. I love him dearly.”

“Iveny is in England?”

“Yes.”

Lucinda mulled over this fact. “But I thought he said he owns an estate in France.”

“So he does. I’m his aunt on his mother’s side. He also owns property in France through his father’s relatives.”

“But he’s taken Iveny’s title.”

“Because titles were abolished in France.” Sophie’s bright blue eyes twinkled at her confusion. “If he chose to use his French title, he would be the equivalent of an English Duke. The Duke of Montclair.”

Shock rippled through her. Riel, a Duke? Disenfranchised though he was…but still.

“Does it make a difference, dear?” Sophie asked, her eyes sharp.

“Of…of course not. I’m just surprised.”

“Riel is a man full of surprises. One need only take the time to unwrap them.”

To that, Lucinda could attest. Unfortunately, she felt certain many of his surprises would not come up smelling like roses, like his aunt believed. Lucinda admitted she was uncertain about his pirating activities. But she still sensed something dark in Riel Montclair. Much as he might try to claim honor and truth, he
was
hiding something. She knew it. What had his man Haskins said? They didn’t want to make the British suspicious of them.

Not only that, but where did Riel plan to get his promised bounty to pay his crew? A prize he’d receive at the end of this week, no less.
Tomorrow
, more specifically.

Yes. Riel was not a spotless lamb. These were just two of many reasons why she must drive him from Ravensbrook with all speed. The fact he irked her beyond measure was only the icing on the cake. He would go tonight.

* * * * *

At supper that night, Lucinda made polite conversation with Sophie
. But in the back of her mind,
her secret plot roiled. She tweaked and tuned it as she forked up dessert, which was a delicious raspberry trifle. By turns, she felt excited and sick with nerves.

Lucinda managed to finish the meal without speaking to Riel more than once. A social faux pas of the highest order. Did he notice the snub? Or had her rudeness failed to anger him still more? Frustratingly, she could not tell.

Sophie put down her napkin. “Good night, dears. I must thank Mrs. Beatty for the delicious meal. Will I see you before you leave tomorrow, Riel?”

“We’ll meet Mr. Chase at eight o’clock, but I should return about nine and leave shortly after. Will you be up by then, Auntie?” A surprising twinkle gleamed in Riel’s dark eyes.

Sophie patted his hand with an answering twinkle. “You naughty boy. You know my weakness and never cease to flaunt it.” To Lucinda, she said, “I am a most awful lie-abed. I cannot seem to rouse myself before nine o’clock. But for you, dear boy,” she returned her attention to her great-nephew, “I will get up at eight o’clock sharp.”

Riel smiled and lifted Sophie’s hand to his lips. “Your sacrifice is appreciated.”

Sophie giggled like a schoolgirl and retrieved her hand. “Enough of this foolishness. Goodnight, Lucinda.”

“Goodnight. …La,” Lucinda gave a fake yawn, “I believe I will retire, as well.” She stood with Riel as Sophie slowly shuffled from the room. Lucinda gave Riel the barest of nods. “Mr. Montclair.” She headed for the door.

“We will leave for Mr. Chase’s house at seven-thirty.” His mild voice stopped her in her tracks.

With a faint frown, Lucinda turned to him. “How good of you to inform me.”

“Will you be ready?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I will be ready, Mr. Montclair. Of that you may be certain.”

“Good. Before you retire, please return the ledgers to me. I want to study them before returning them to Mr. Chase.”

“Perfect.” She could not squash her gleeful smile. Now she knew where he’d be all evening. Then Lucinda realized her slip. “I mean,” she said quickly, “I will fetch them immediately.”