This Rake of Mine (32 page)

"The curse or the wine part?" the girl asked.

"Both." Leading the way, Miranda moved slowly inside the jail. "Jack?" she whispered. "Jack, are you in here?"

"Miss Porter?"

Miranda blinked her eyes in the darkness. Only the barest sliver of moonlight fell inside through one of the narrow windows high in the wall. And when finally her sight adjusted to the meager light, she saw him.

He was on the floor beside a figure, which she presumed was Mr. Jones. Crossing the room in a flash, she knelt beside the bars. "Is he hurt?"

"Aye," Jack said, without looking up. "But not too bad. His hand is broken, but it should heal just fine if we can get it set properly."

"Jack, I—" she started to say, but she stopped when he finally looked at her, his blue eyes narrow and dark.

"What the devil are you doing here?" he said. "I would have thought you and your charges would be to Hastings by now, comfortably and properly encamped at Lady Caldecott's."

"Our plans changed," was all she could mutter past the lump in her throat. There was so much more she wanted to say.

Tally, in the meantime, had gone to work on the lock on the cell door.

Jack glanced over at the girl, then back at Miranda. "Is she doing what I think she's doing?"

"How do you think we got in here?"

He let out a short laugh. "No wonder Parkerton pulled his daughter out of that school. Just what exactly do they teach at Miss Emery's… besides decorum and larceny?"

"How to apologize," she said ever so softly.

"Apologize for what?" he asked.

"For this," Miranda said, daring to look up into his eyes. "For everything."
For having ruined you all those years ago. For driving you from Society. For believing in lies for so long. For being unable to forget
.

And in a tremulous moment, Miranda felt a sense that he had not only heard her unspoken plea but also knew. Knew what was in her heart. And once Tally freed him, she would have nowhere else to hide.

Instead of scaring her half to death, it made her want to tear the bars free.

Tally finally got the pick to work, and the lock turned. She grinned at both of them as she pulled the door open. "What a difference a good pick set makes. Why, the ones Kit gave me aren't anywhere as good as the set your Aunt Josephine has."

"My who?" Jack said, slowly turning around and looking at first Tally, then Miranda.

"Lady Josephine," Tally replied as if the sudden arrival of Jack's deceased aunt into their midst were barely worth repeating, least of all mentioning.

Miranda nodded when he looked at her again. "Your aunt arrived a few hours ago."

"And so you know—"

Miranda nodded again. "Yes, we know." Then she smiled. "Probably more than you would like."

"That means if Aunt Josephine is back, then—"

He didn't finish, and Miranda had to imagine that he still wasn't ready to give away any more secrets than he had to.

So she helped him along. "Yes, she returned with the gold."

He went over to the door and glanced up at the moon. "It's just after midnight, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"So I might still have time—" He strode back and helped Bruno to his feet.

'To get the gold to the beach?" Miranda suggested. "You needn't worry. That's been taken care of."

He swung around and stared at her. "What the devil have you done?"

Miranda bristled at his tone. "Helped you, if you must know. While we are getting you out of jail, your aunt is poised to deliver the gold to Captain Dashwell."

Jack shook his head as if he couldn't believe it.

Mr. Jones was more eloquent. "Bloody hell."

"Whatever is wrong?" Miranda asked. "I believe your aunt is quite capable of—"

"Being murdered."

"Murdered?" Miranda whispered, a chill of premonition running down her spine.

Jack stormed out of the jail, and Miranda followed hot on his heels.

"Who is going to murder them, Jack?"

He spun around on her. "My aunt is walking into a trap. Sir Norris has the militia and excise men poised to intercept Dashwell's ship. He thinks the thing is full of tea and lace, and he means to help himself to it. And if he doesn't get what he wants…"

Miranda felt her blood run cold.

Behind her, Tally took a deep breath. "Felicity! Pippin!" she finally managed to say.

Jack looked from one to the other. "Don't tell me those two girls are down there with her?"

Miranda nodded. "Oh, Jack, what have I done? How will I ever forgive myself if something happens to—" She wavered again, and this time he caught her. Hauled her into his arms and held her close.

"Nothing will happen if we get there in time," he promised.

Down on the beach, Felicity and Pippin flanked Lady Josephine. Behind them, Mr. Stillings stood, having finally been recruited, albeit reluctantly, to aid his country.

The moon overhead cast an eerie light over the beach, giving them a good view of the waves beyond. Pippin held the spyglass to her eye yet again, but she didn't see any sign of the ship they were awaiting.

"Is this Captain Dashwell trustworthy?" Felicity asked.

Lady Josephine snorted.

Apparently not.

"What if he doesn't come?" Pippin asked.

"He'll be here," Lady Josephine said with conviction. "There's gold to be had."

And even as she said the words, Pippin rose up on her tiptoes to see over the waves and was rewarded with the sight of a ship coming around the point. "There!" she said, gesturing at the arriving ketch.

Lady Josephine snatched up the glass and searched the vessel from stem to stern. Then she snapped the spyglass shut. " 'Tis him." She handed the glass back to Pippin, then hoisted up the hem of her gown.

Much to Pippin's amazement, the lady had a pair of pistols holstered to each ankle.

She pulled the first two free and handed one to Felicity and one to Pippin. "Know how to use them?"

Both girls nodded.

"Good. Nice to know not every miss in England is as useless as that gaggle of geese they trot about London." She pulled the other pair free, tucking one pistol into the sash at her waist and holding the other at her side. "Never hurts to be ready"—she glanced at one, then the other—"for anything."

Pippin drew a deep breath and held the pistol a little tighter.

The ship had dropped a longboat into the water, and a handful of people were scrambling down the lines to get into it.

Pippin's heart was hammering as she watched it come ashore. She glanced over at Felicity, who, to all intents and purposes, looked as calm as if she were waiting for the next course of dinner to be served. But Pippin knew better. She could see the way her usually composed cousin's hand trembled, the pistol in her grasp wavering ever so slightly. It was the most she had ever seen her cousin unnerved.

That Felicity, with all her Continental manners and experiences, was frightened actually calmed Pippin's nerves. For once, they were on equal footing.

The longboat cast off and started to row ashore.

Lady Josephine stood regal and erect, and Pippin did her best to effect the same pose.

As the boat came through the surf, surging toward the beach, a tall man leaped from the bow and caught hold of the rope. Another joined him, and they pulled the boat in, stopping in front of Lady Josephine. If this was Captain Dashwell, he was much younger than Pippin had thought he would be.

"Well, if it isn't the old girl herself," he said, doffing his plumed hat and bowing low. "I see reports of your demise were premature. That or the devil tossed you out of hell?"

Instead of being insulted, Lady Josephine grinned and took the man into a hug. "Dash, you are the most incorrigible, impertinent young man."

"And you wouldn't have me any other way," he said, extracting himself from the lady's grasp. Then he stepped back and eyed Felicity and then Pippin. "And who do we have here?" He sent Pippin the most audacious, saucy wink, the kind that suggested he didn't have an inkling of propriety or proper introductions.

And worst of all, it made her knees go weak with a sense of danger and something she'd never felt before.

"You leave them alone, Dash," Lady Josephine told him. "They aren't your type. And they both know how to shoot a rat when they see one."

"My lady, you wound me," he said, his hand covering his heart.

"Enough of this nonsense. Unload your passengers right this minute," she ordered. "Can't believe you didn't put them ashore last night. It isn't like you wouldn't be paid."

He snorted, much as Lady Josephine had earlier. Apparently he trusted his English counterparts as much as they trusted him.

"You'll get your cargo when I get my gold," he told her.

Lady Josephine nodded toward a pile of driftwood behind them, where the mule had been tied.

He grinned and strode up the beach, flipping open the first pack and pulling out a handful of gold coins. Nodding in satisfaction, he whistled, low and soft, like a seabird to the men in the longboat.

They pulled up one man, then another, and cut the bindings that had their arms tied around their backs. The pair were then shoved roughly over the side and into the surf.

From the water rose a tall, darkly clad man, who came ashore with all the elegant stride of a Corinthian. The other, not quite as tall but dressed in similar clothes, followed at his heels.

The first man wasn't but a few feet from them when Felicity gasped. "Uncle Temple!"

The man stopped dead in his tracks and stared open-mouthed at her. "Duchess? Is that you?"

"Uncle Temple," she said again, running to the man's arms. "What are you doing here?"

"You've found me out, I daresay," he said, giving her a good hug, then tucking her hand into the crook of his arm and escorting her up to Lady Josephine.

"Lady Josephine?" Temple said, a sense of delight and wonder to his words. "How is this?" He shook his head. "More of Pymm's machinations, I daresay."

"You know my husband," Lady Josephine declared. "Always one step ahead of our enemies."

"And his friends," the man muttered. "But it is very good to see you again."

He took her hand and kissed it.

"You know Lady Josephine?" Felicity asked.

Temple nodded.

"And so you are—" She stopped short of saying the obvious. "So all those times you visited us and Papa, you were actually—"

"Helping, where I could," he demurred.

Felicity nodded. "And my father? He knows?"

"Lord Langley," Lady Josephine announced, "is the finest agent the Foreign Office has ever had."

In the meantime, Dash had brought the mule down to the edge of the water, where he was trying to unload the beast into the longboat, but the animal was balking at being so close to the surf.

Pippin went over and caught hold of the reins, her other hand stroking the poor thing and talking softly to it until it settled down.

"You have a way about you," the cheeky young captain said as he walked back and forth, working alongside his men.

Pippin tried to remember what Miss Porter and Miss Emery had said about such situations, but she couldn't remember a single lesson on meeting wayward Americans in the middle of the night. So she thought it was better to say nothing than to encourage the rogue.

"Do you have a name?" he asked when he returned for the last of the gold. This close she could see that he wasn't much older than she.

And he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. None of the pallid features of the dandies her brother brought home, but tanned from the sea, with his hair tied back in a queue like a pirate.

"What? No name?" he pressed, coming closer still, until she could smell how the very sea seemed to envelop him—odors of salt, pitch, tar, and gunpowder drifting forth.

And an air of masculine power to him that she had never experienced and had to imagine she never would.

She pursed her lips shut, but he stood before her, his brow arched, his eyes dancing with a teasing light.

"Pippin," she whispered. Certainly telling him her nickname wouldn't be a breach in etiquette. It wasn't like they would ever meet again.

"Pippin, eh?" he said. "I would call you something else. Something befitting such a pretty lady. I would call you Circe. For truly you are a siren to lure me ashore."

She felt her cheeks color. "I don't think that is proper," she said, mustering a bit of courage.

"Not proper?" the man laughed. "Not proper is the fact that these bags feel a bit light." He turned toward the party on the beach. "My lady, don't tell me you've cheated me yet again?"

Lady Josephine winced, but she had the nerve to deny her transgression. "Dash, I'll not pay another pence into your dishonest hands."

"Then I shall take my payment otherwise," he said, and before anyone could imagine what he was about, he caught hold of Pippin and pulled her into his arms.

She gasped, first at how quickly he moved, then at the strength with which he held her.

"I've always wanted to kiss a lady," he said, just before his lips met hers.

She thought at first he meant to plunder her, like one would think a pirate might, but his kiss was nothing like that.

Sure and tempting, he kissed her, sweeping aside her protests, and letting his lips ply hers. His tongue swept inside her mouth, sweeping over hers and leaving her breathless with the intimacy of it.

She tried to breathe, she tried to think, but it was impossible.

This was her first kiss, and she had never imagined that it would be… be… so incredible.

And then, as his hands started to roam over her body, taking liberties that were certainly not proper, he lit a fire beneath her skin that stole what was left of her breath.

His kiss had her hearing the screech of rockets overhead, until she opened her eyes and realized that the night had erupted into day. Suddenly, it seemed, Captain Dashwell had come to the same realization.

He wrenched away from her and looked up.

Overhead, to her amazement, there
were
rockets, streaking across the sky.

"Christ!" he swore. And as gently as he had held her, he shoved her down face first into the sand and threw himself over her as the first of the militia's bullets started to pepper the beach.