The Return of Lord Conistone (25 page)

They had set sail.

The hatch remained closed, and the women below laughed and laughed. ‘Make the most of it, missy! You’re in for a treat on this voyage’.

Lisbon
. Ten days’ sailing, at least. She must have been utterly wrong, thinking she saw Lucas here.
You fool, Verena
. Pippa and the servants at Wycherley would be distracted with worry. She
must
speak to the Captain and explain! Surely he would help her to transfer to another British ship, heading back for Portsmouth.

And why should the Captain do that? At sea, his word was law and she didn’t have much hope for the law of Captain Jed Brooks. Best, perhaps, terrible though it seemed, to stay hidden down here. At least there was room enough for her to keep to herself, while the whores played cards or combed one another’s hair.

The first night she had been wretchedly seasick, but by the morning she was more used to the ship’s rolling motion. They were brought food—miserable food, but it was enough to keep her alive—and no one seemed inclined to trouble her. Sometimes, when the light of the lantern was good enough, she was even able to bring out her father’s letters to read. They were the only comfort she had.

For the whores on the ship, it was business as usual. As the days and nights went by, she grew to know the routine. Every evening the sailors would come down to bring up whores for the marines and officers, two or three at a time. The women would return later, jingling their money, and Verena would try to shut her ears to the coarseness of their talk.

One night a sailor came down alone, and led one of the whores close, too close to the corner that Verena had made her temporary home. In the lantern light she glimpsed him fondling the woman’s dark-tipped, heavy breasts, heard him coupling with her roughly.

Verena buried her head in her hands, trying to ignore the sailor’s growls of delight.

* * *

She stayed in her corner, coming out only for food and to relieve herself at what they called the heads. She slept when she could, wrapped in one of the coarse blankets they’d been thrown. Most of the other women ignored her—she was not competing for attention, and was therefore no threat. Though one of the younger ones, Annie, actually befriended her, and talked to her sorrowfully about her grim upbringing in Portsmouth and how this journey was almost a relief from the rough streets.

Verena thought,
When we get to Lisbon, I will find someone to help me. Lisbon, they say, is still held by the British; I will find someone in command and get back to England.…
She looked often at her father’s maps, remembering what she’d read in the newspapers about the British army marching across the mountains to reach Lisbon. Could Lucas really be a traitor? Could he?

* * *

On what must have been the eighth day, everything changed.

The hatch opened, and a sailor climbed down. ‘Right!’ he was yelling. ‘Six of you little beauties wanted up in the captain’s cabin. He’s havin’ a bit of a party, him and his friends, and they need some choice female company!’

Several of the women had already jumped to their feet, patting their hair and pulling their gowns low to display their full breasts.

‘Steady on!’ grinned the sailor. ‘Only six, mind! And none of the old hags! You two’ll do, and you—’ He was jabbing his finger at Annie and two of the younger whores. ‘And the pair of you, aye, the gigglers, and—’ His gaze suddenly fell on Verena. A broad grin spread across his pockmarked features. ‘How about
you
, now? Yes, you with the chestnut hair. You look like a dainty thing’.

She was desperate. ‘No. This is all a terrible mistake—’

Annie stepped in front of her, trying to protect her. ‘You leave her alone. She ain’t used to it…’ But it was in vain.

‘Come along,’ the sailor said softly. He was wagging his finger. ‘Captain’s orders. You’re all of you little ladies in for a treat’.

Her thoughts roved wildly as she was herded with the others up the ladder and along the deck to the Captain’s cabin.
I will explain to Captain Brooks who I am. I will threaten him with the law…
. She swallowed. If she made trouble, he could have her thrown overboard. No one would
ever know—because no one knew she was here. Oh, what a fool she had been.

The sailor in charge, gripping her arm so tightly that he bruised her skin, kicked open the door to the Captain’s cabin.

Captain Brooks and his companions were sitting round the table. The lingering smell of hot rich food indicated that they’d just eaten, and the stench of tobacco and wine in this fusty, low-ceilinged apartment was suffocating. Verena swayed on her feet. Annie put a steadying arm around her. ‘Chin up, now, dearie,’ she whispered. ‘With luck you’ll get a kind one. And any rate, it’s easier than having to service a dozen of the brutes down below’.

They were all pushed further into the cabin. There were six men, sitting round the table. The Captain. A couple of passengers, two marine officers… and
Lucas.

L
ord Lucas Conistone was leaning back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest. He was wearing a faded black coat over a shabby striped-silk waistcoat, and his necktie was undone. A rakish air clung to him; his dark hair was dishevelled, and his eyes hooded.

Verena, speechless, saw his expressionless glance flicker lazily across the new arrivals. He must have seen her! But— ‘Devil take it, Brooks, they look a mighty dull bunch,’ Lucas drawled. ‘If that’s your idea of entertainment, I’ll pass’. He reached for the port bottle and refilled his glass.

Just over a week ago, she had been cradled in this man’s arms. Just over a week ago, he had made powerful, passionate love to her and had asked her to marry him.

And now he was travelling to Portugal, on this foul ship. With her father’s diary, which was wanted by both French and English.

Captain Brooks, flushed with wine, thumped his fist on the table. ‘You’ll pass, you say? No, by God, you don’t get out of this so easily, Mr Patterson! You’re to—’ he broke
off, hiccupping ‘—you’re to choose a wench to keep you warm and cosy in that cabin of yours!’

Mr Patterson
. Lucas was travelling under an assumed name. If she’d had any lingering hope, it was gone. Lucas was going to Portugal—to sell her father’s diary to the French.

She must have shuddered in her anguish, for the woman next to her whispered in her ear, ‘Never fear, girl. Most of them are so drunk they’ll be snoring within minutes. Though there’s one handsome feller there—’ she indicated Lucas wistfully ‘—whom I’d take into my bed for free any time’.

Lucas, still seated, was stretching his arms before concealing a half-yawn. His eyes flickered over her once and she saw a familiar gleam in his iron-grey pupils. The woman was right. He was devastatingly attractive. Every part of him emanated strength, sensuality and utter ruthlessness.

And now—what would he do now, what would Captain Brooks do, if she exposed Lucas for who he was? Nothing, probably, except laugh at her. Why should they believe a single word she said?

Nothing that could happen to her now would be worse than the knowledge that Lucas was a traitor. Dear God.
Keep calm. Keep calm
. She kept her head high, though she felt sick with despair.

Captain Brooks was clearly drunk. ‘Never say you men don’t have everything you want sailing on board my
Goldfinch,’
he chuckled. ‘But some things come extra. Now, at this stage of the voyage, I reckon you’re all more than ready for some entertainment—and I’d wager there’s more than one of you men interested in that little chestnut-haired wench with the gold-brown eyes!’ His ugly gaze fastened on Verena. ‘Come, gentlemen, what am I bid for her?’

‘Reckon she looks a mite fancy to be in the trade,’ muttered one of his companions.

‘Ah,’ said Captain Brooks. ‘Perhaps so, Mr Wilkins, but that means there’ll be a bit of fight left in her, and surely you’d enjoy knocking it out of her and giving her the ride of her life…’

‘I’ll put down a guinea for her,’ said a burly-looking marine officer, his cheeks flushed with wine as he leered at Verena.

‘Thank you, Lieutenant Devenish,’ appoved Brooks. ‘One guinea on the table for her, gentlemen! What about you, Mr Patterson? You’re a man fond of buying fancy goods, I’m sure!’

Lucas said—nothing. Devenish licked his lips. But then another officer, a swarthy man who reeked of sweat, thumped down some coins. ‘Two guineas for the chestnut-haired filly!’

‘Ah!’ Captain Brooks looked delighted. ‘We have a race on, gents. Any advance? Mr. Wilkins?’

‘I’d be throwing money away,’ grunted Wilkins. He was gazing at Annie. ‘I’ll bid three shilling for the lively redhead there. Any advances?’

There were none, so Wilkins led Annie out of the cabin by the wrist, already pressing wet kisses on her and fumbling for her breasts. Lieutenant Devenish shoved more coins towards the Captain. ‘Three guineas’. Grinning, he got up and staggered towards Verena. ‘I think you’re mine, sweetheart’.

She flinched, shuddering. ‘
Never…
’.

Then Lucas unfolded his arms lazily. The muscles of his face scarcely moving, he drawled, ‘She’s not yours yet, Devenish. I’ll bid four guineas for her’.

Brooks shouted with delight. Devenish’s jaw dropped. ‘Devil take it, Patterson—four guineas?’

‘Exactly so’. Lucas counted the coins on to the table with his long, lean fingers. There was a stunned silence. Lucas drank more port and leaned back carelessly in his chair, linking his hands behind his head.

Lieutenant Devenish looked bullishly at Lucas. ‘Five, then, for the chestnut-haired jade!’

‘Six,’ said Lucas steadily.

There were gasps of amazement.

‘Come now,’ said the Captain, leaning across the table amiably to pat Lucas on the shoulder, ‘Why don’t you and Devenish share her, eh, Mr Patterson? While the rest of us watch? Three guineas each—now, wouldn’t that be capital sport?’

Verena felt her legs giving way.
No
. She would throw herself over the side, rather than that.

Lucas was saying flatly, ‘Six guineas for her in privacy, Captain. Or when we reach port I’ll drop a hint in an appropriate ear that you’re planning to carry contraband goods back to England’.

‘You wouldn’t damn well dare…’

‘Try me. And don’t think to get rid of me on the way. Remember, Brooks, I’m expected in Portugal by friends who’d have you shot if anything happened to me on board your ship’.

Were those friends French spies?
Verena’s thoughts ran riot. Meanwhile Captain Jed Brooks had visibly whitened.

‘Very well,’ he muttered. ‘Very well. Any higher offers? Lieutenant Devenish? No? Then she’s all yours, Mr Patterson. Let us drink to your very good health, Mr Patterson, before you go to take your pleasure with the slut’. He gathered up Lucas’s coins, then poured more port into all their glasses and managed a shaky laugh. He drank
deeply, but Lucas shoved his drink aside. Then, looking at Devenish and the Captain with cold scorn, he stood up.

She’d forgotten how tall he was. How broad-shouldered. How magnificently male. For the first time he looked at her properly and she tilted her head in an effort to meet his gaze defiantly.

‘You lucky cow,’ whispered one of the waiting women to her. ‘I’d give it ‘im for free, as often as he damn well liked’.

Verena clenched her fists. He was walking slowly towards her. Claiming her. This was intolerable. She whispered, through gritted teeth, ‘I will not go anywhere with you, Lucas! I will tell them who—’

For one brief moment she was aware of his grey eyes blazing; then he clamped her to him and crushed her mouth under his. And all rational thought was obliterated as he fastened his lips over hers in a kiss that drew the soul from her body. For seconds—minutes—there was nothing else in her world but this man, his strength, the taste of him, as she became caught up in the meaningful possession imposed by his mouth.

Every intimacy they’d ever shared was in that kiss. Her treacherous body ached for more. Her breasts longed for the caress of those firm, strong palms. Her womb was a throb of longing.

By the time he released her, she could barely stand. He hissed in her ear,
‘Leave this to me. Or we’re both dead’.

She wrenched herself away and tried to slap him, but he gripped her arm to lead her from the cabin, bowing his head almost politely to the Captain and the others. ‘Gentlemen. Wish me joy. You will observe that I’m set to have an entertaining night’.

They raised their glasses, laughing, envious. The women looked on wistfully.

Lucas got her outside and slammed the door so they were alone. He seized both of her shoulders and almost shook her.

‘You little fool. What in hell are you doing here?’ The skin round his mouth was white with anger.

She tilted her chin, her eyes flashing also, though she was exhausted and sick at heart to find all her worst fears come true. ‘I did not
intend
to sail on this foul ship!’

Disbelief etched creases around his eyes. ‘Then what—how—?’

‘I came to Portsmouth to find you, Lucas, before you sailed!’ She tugged herself free from him and put her hands on her hips. ‘You stole my father’s diary. And I want it back!’