A Matter of Duty (3 page)

He raised the cigar to his lips again, but then paused. What a fool he was! Why hadn’t he thought of it before? The answer was obvious: Rowe must be persuaded to buy the
Cyclops
, one of the few cutters in England capable of tackling the
Spindrift
. Rowe was still in London, at his house in Berkeley Square, and could be approached the day after tomorrow, when an appointment at the War Office with Lord Palmerston would be taking Captain Geoffrey Lawrence to the capital.

He dropped the cigar and crushed it with his heel. And in the meantime, there was the delicious Miss Cherington to provide a diversion. She’d be his before he went to London, he promised himself she would.

Turning, he went back inside. Behind him the first heavy drops of rain began to fall and another roll of thunder echoed across the night.

T
here were thunderstorms all over the south of England that night, and Cowes didn’t escape their attention. The Isle of Wight lay about two hours’ sailing time due south from the mainland, across the stretch of water known as the Solent. Before the battle of Trafalgar had made the high seas safe for British merchantmen, the Solent had been a collecting place for convoys awaiting a Royal Navy escort, but now these waters were peaceful and each August society had begun to descend upon Cowes, on the island’s northern shore, for a regatta and private yacht racing.

The town nestled around the mouth of the Medina, the river that flowed from south to north of the island, almost dividing it in two. On the mainland opposite, across the Solent, was the wide mouth of Southampton Water, the seven-mile-long inlet that had since Roman times made the port of Southampton one of the safest and most important in England. The Solent and the waters around the island were ideal for yacht racing, and this year, for the first time, the regatta had the royal seal of approval, in the presence of Prince William, Duke of Gloucester, and his sister, Princess Sophia; as a consequence there were more stylish persons to be seen on the island than ever before.

Cowes’ new fashionability had seen great changes to the town, with many fine villas appearing on the rising hills on either side of the Medina, and several new Gothic castles standing grandly against the skyline. But there were great houses on the island that had been there before the regatta, and foremost among them was Highclare, some two miles west of Cowes, facing across the Solent toward Southampton Water and the New Forest. It was an elegant property, set in a noble park, and had been the seat for nearly two centuries of the Earls of Redway, aristocrats of proud lineage. The present earl, the sixth, was a reclusive old gentleman who’d shunned society since the deaths in a carriage accident some five years before of his beloved wife, son, and daughter-in-law. He very rarely left Highclare now, although he occasionally had houseguests, and the family was represented in society by his handsome grandson, Christopher, Lord Highclare, known as Kit to his many friends.

Kit was most definitely not a recluse; indeed, he was much sought after because of his wit, charm, and considerable eligibility. He was a leading light in yachting circles, and was master of the celebrated racing cutter, the
Spindrift
, which vessel had emerged victorious when Lord Rowe’s reckless sailing had led to the sinking of the
Mercury
. There were many gentlemen who aspired to the
Spindrift
’s new crown, and foremost among them was Lord Grantham, who’d issued a challenge to a race around the island. Now Cowes talked of little else but this forthcoming event, on the outcome of which there was much wagering.

But on this rain-washed, thundery night, yacht racing was far from everyone’s mind as society crushed into the Fountain Inn to attend a concert in the presence of the Duke of Gloucester and Princess Sophia. Very few cared to stay away, for to be seen with royalty was
de rigueur
, and so the town’s narrow twisting streets were quiet, with lantern light reflecting dismally on the wet cobbles. The Medina was windswept, and the elegant yachts rocked at their moorings on the choppy water. Growls of thunder rolled over the lowering skies, and the darkness was punctuated now and then by stabs of brilliant lightning.

There were some yachts tied up at the harbor wharves, their sleek, costly shapes a sharp contrast to the sturdy ketches and wherries that were to be found at Cowes all the year round. On the quayside the Mermaid Inn was bright with lights, and the sound of male laughter issued from its doorway as a lone fisherman staggered out into the night, his sea boots ringing unsteadily on the cobbles as he began to make his way home. The nearby shipyards were dark and silent, but a lantern swayed on the corner of a warehouse, lit especially to illuminate the deck of one of the racing yachts moored nearby. The fisherman hardly noticed the yacht as he wended his uneven way past, but had society witnessed the vessel’s hasty preparations to sail on the night tide, it would have been very surprised indeed, for the yacht was the
Spindrift
and it was quite unthinkable that she should leave while the regatta was at its height.

Kit was on the deck with his small crew. His fair hair was ruffled by the blustering wind, and his voluminous cloak flapped around his tall, athletic figure. He knew the hazards of sailing in weather like this, but felt he had to respond to the urgent note he’d received from a close friend in distress in London. Storm or no storm, the
Spindrift
would cross the Solent tonight and be in Southampton as quickly as possible.

Kit only hoped his mistress would be able to slip away from the concert at the Fountain Inn to see him before he left. He’d sent a message, but maybe it wouldn’t reach her in time; maybe, too, she’d choose to ignore it, for he was supposed to be with her right now and there was nothing she disliked more than being let down. As he worked to make the
Spindrift
ready, he pondered what society would say if it knew about the liaison, because the lady was none other than Lady Rowe, wife of the man who already had so much cause to loathe the future Earl of Redway.

Rowe wasn’t a man to cross; he was a ruthless duelist who’d dispatched a number of opponents to the hereafter, and so Kit knew his affair with Thea was unwise in the extreme. But there was no place for wisdom where love was concerned, and Kit was very much in love. He hadn’t entered lightly into the affair – it went against his principles to put horns on another man, even such a man as the unpleasant Rowe – but because he loved Thea so very much, he’d thrown all caution to the winds. She was the love of his life, the woman he wanted as his wife, and his commitment to her was total; he only wished he could be certain she felt the same way.

Tonight he knew he’d somehow reached a crossroad. His honor forbade him from continuing with the affair if she wouldn’t leave Rowe and come finally to him, and so she had to decide which man meant more to her: the husband who treated her with cold possessiveness, or the lover she professed to adore. Kit’s heart was heavy as he worked, for Thea had no idea that he’d finally reached this stage; what her reaction would be to having such a decision forced upon her without warning was in the lap of the gods.

At that very moment, Thea was sitting impatiently in the crush in the Fountain Inn. Her fan tapped irritably against her white-gloved palm, and the plumes springing from the golden circlet around her head quivered with barely suppressed anger. She was an exceedingly beautiful woman, with warm honey-blond hair cut into fashionably short curls, and violet eyes that were both haughty and challenging. Her figure was full and slender-waisted, and her skin alabaster clear. The spangles adorning her damson silk gown flashed in the overheated air, and her face was as stormy as the night outside. Where
was
Kit? He’d promised to be here by now after spending the day out at Highclare with his grandfather. It wasn’t often that she and Rowe were so providently apart so that she could spend so much time with her secret lover, and Kit chose now to absent himself without reason!

The orchestra continued playing, and her fan tapped ever more impatiently. She glared at the musicians, among whom a certain Mr Griesley was distinguishing himself on the hautbois, or at least was endeavoring to do so above the disgraceful chatter of the audience.

A plague on Mr Griesley, she thought uncharitably, and the devil take his wretched hautbois! Kit had never let her down before, and it was an experience she resented very much indeed.

A footman approached her discreetly. ‘My lady?’

‘Yes? What is it?’

‘I’m charged to give you this.’ He handed her a note and then quickly withdrew.

To the strains of the hautbois and the loud drone of conversation, she read the brief communication: ‘My darling, forgive me for not being with you, but I must see you as quickly as possible on board the S. Don’t delay, I beg you. K.’

Slowly she folded the note and slipped it into her sequinned velvet reticule. Why on earth was Kit on the
Spindrift
at this hour? What could possibly be more important than his promise to be with her? For a moment she considered ignoring the note, as a token of her severe displeasure, but then she thought again. Kit was an exciting lover, and she enjoyed the danger of a liaison with the man her husband hated most in all the world. Perhaps she’d be wiser to answer the note. She glanced toward the Duke of Gloucester and Princess Sophia, seated in golden chairs directly in front of the unfortunate Mr Griesley. Their permission would have to be sought if she was to leave the concert halfway through. What would be the best excuse? She thought for a moment. A headache, yes, that would be ideal, for the princess was a martyr to them herself.

Thea rose discreetly to her feet, slipping around the edge of the tightly packed audience to curtsy before the royal brother and sister. Sophia Mathilda was a plain but charming spinster of thirty-eight, with a diamond tiara in her prematurely graying hair, and a heavily embroidered green velvet gown encasing her plump person. The duke was a few years younger, with a large, stout body and spindly legs, and he liked to dress very grandly, with much gold braiding and as many orders and decorations as he could muster. He was pompous and boring, and always expected to be treated with full ceremony, but even though he was staring fixedly at the orchestra, it was nevertheless he who noticed Thea first.

‘Lady Rowe?’ he murmured, his popping eyes moving slowly over her.

‘Your highness, I crave your pardon, but I’m exceedingly indisposed with a headache and beg your understanding and indulgence to—’

Princess Sophia’s attention was dragged away from Mr Griesley’s excellence. ‘Certainly, Lady Rowe,’ she said quickly, waving her away. ‘I trust you will soon be recovered.’

‘Your highness is very kind,’ replied Thea, bowing her lovely head gratefully and then withdrawing as quickly as possible.

She hurried from the packed room, her damson silk skirt whispering richly and the plumes of her head streaming softly.

Behind her, Mr Griesley gave his all with the hautbois.

A
s Thea’s landau drove onto the quay, a flash of lightning illuminated everything, and then there was darkness again, broken by a loud roll of thunder directly overhead. The rain seemed to intensify, tamping on every surface and running in rivulets along the gutters. From the Mermaid Inn there still came the sound of laughter and singing, and the lantern swung on the warehouse close to the
Spindrift
.

Kit heard the landau approaching, and he immediately came ashore. He took out his fob watch. The tide was almost ready, there were only minutes to go before he’d have to set sail for the mainland.

The landau drew to a standstill, the team stamping and tossing their heads as the downpour soaked them. Kit flung open the door and looked in at Thea. His top hat threw his face in shadow, but she saw his quick smile.

‘I’m glad you came,’ he said softly, his voice almost drowned by the noise of the storm.

The wind was chill, making her shiver a little as it touched her bare arms. She drew her shawl more closely. ‘Why are you here, Kit? What’s happened?’

‘I have to go to the mainland tonight.’

Her eyes widened. ‘In
this
weather?’

‘Yes.’

‘But it’s madness! What possible reason can you have that’s important enough?’

‘I can’t tell you here. Come aboard.’

She was loath to agree, for she still felt angry with him for failing to join her at the concert, but she slipped her hand into his and alighted from the landau. The rain was cold and the wind snatched at her flimsy damson skirt.

He led her quickly across the quay and over the gang-plank onto the deck of the cutter, ushering her toward the stern, where a narrow hatch led belowdeck to the vessel’s single, exceedingly small cabin. As Kit closed the hatch behind them, the noise of the storm was immediately stifled.

The cabin was spartan, containing a narrow, curtained bunk, a small table and chair, and a sea trunk. During the day it was lit by a fine window in the stern, but now, in the darkness, light was provided by two gimbel-mounted candlesticks on the wall. The flames had shivered as the hatch was opened and the night air swept in, but they swiftly settled again.

Kit untied his wet cloak, hanging it on a hook, then he removed his top hat and gloves, tossing both onto the table before turning to face Thea. He was wearing a plain, excellently cut brown coat and very tight buckskin breeches that outlined his fine form to perfection, leaving very little of his anatomy to the imagination. His top boots were the work of Hoby of St James’s Street, and his cravat was tied in the very latest fashion. He was above average height, with broad shoulders and slender hips, and always managed to look effortlessly elegant and graceful. There were centuries of breeding and quality in his lean, sunburnt face and clear blue eyes, and a hint of devil-may-care in his finely chiseled lips. His tousled fair hair was usually just a little wavy, but tonight, because of the downpour, it was wet and tightly curled. There was something of the prince and the Viking about him, and it was an exciting mixture that never failed to stimulate her. Looking at him now, she wanted nothing more than to submit to him, but she was still angry, and anger always made her contrary.

She faced him haughtily. ‘Why did you ask me to come here, Kit? If there’s something so vastly important waiting for you on the mainland that you must up and go even on a night like this, I marvel that you bothered to send word to me at all.’

He smiled a little. ‘You know full well that I’d never leave without good reason, and you also know that I wouldn’t go without seeing you first.’

‘Without sending for me like a lackey, you mean,’ she said petulantly.

‘Some lackey,’ he murmured, allowing his glance to move appreciatively over her.

She flushed a little, pleased in spite of herself. ‘You presume, sir.’

‘So I do.’

She felt her pulse quicken. ‘Why are you leaving Cowes so quickly?’ she asked.

‘I’ve received an urgent note from Tom Cherington. He needs me in London.’

‘
Needs
you? What can that good-for-nothing wastrel possibly need you for?’

‘I know your opinion of him, Thea, but he happens to have recently become a very good friend of mine. He also happens to have got himself embroiled in a duel at dawn the day after tomorrow, with your husband.’

She stared at him then. ‘He
what
? A duel with
Rowe
? Is he mad?’

‘Mad? No. Unfortunate? Yes, most probably, for he was unwise enough to detect Rowe cheating at cards. Anyway, the upshot of it all is that Tom has asked me to be his second. I regard it as my duty to go, and I must be there well before time if I’m to stand any chance of dissuading him.’ He met her eyes. ‘It has to be Tom who retracts, for we know full well that Rowe never will.’

She looked away. ‘Any man fool enough to cross Rowe deserves all he gets.’

A light passed through his eyes. ‘Thank you.’

‘I didn’t mean—’

‘It doesn’t matter if you did or didn’t, the fact remains that if anyone deserves to have to face your husband, it’s my good self. However, I’m not the one in question, poor Tom Cherington is, and I intend to offer him whatever support I can. He hasn’t any family – they’re all dead – and so he needs me.’

‘I need you too,’ she said quickly, wanting to persuade him to stay. She didn’t care a fig for Tom Cherington, who disliked her as much as she disliked him.

‘Thea, in this particular instance he needs me much more.’

She tossed her lovely head again, her anger still simmering. ‘Am I to hope you’ll deign to return within a few days? Maybe you’ve forgotten the race with Lord Grantham?’

‘I’d hardly forget that.’

‘And while you’re away I suppose I’m expected to amuse myself with my embroidery?’

He smiled, allowing his glance to move lazily over her. Thea, Lady Rowe, was fashioned for pastimes much more stimulating than embroidery. He found her totally fascinating, totally adorable, and he needed to have her as his wife, nothing less would do anymore. And that was what he needed to broach before the
Spindrift
set sail.

The warmth of his glance affected her, as it always did, and suddenly she found herself setting her anger aside to go to him. She slipped her slender arms around his waist, pressing close as she reached up to kiss him on the lips. She lingered over the kiss, moving her body sensuously against his and savoring the beguiling warmth that began to steal deliciously through her, as always happened with this man.

For a long, long moment he responded, folding her in his arms and almost crushing her, but then he drew back, cupping her face in his hands and looking deep into her eyes. ‘My darling,’ he said softly, ‘much as I’d like to take you right here and now, I fear I must resist the temptation, for I really do have to leave in a minute or so.’ He hesitated. ‘Thea, you don’t have to stay here, you could come with me.’

She stared at him, caught completely off guard. ‘Are you moonstruck? Go with you and have the world – and Rowe – know the truth about us?’

‘Yes. Thea, I want you to be my wife.’

She was at a Ioss for words, for she’d just been enjoying the illicit excitement of an affair with someone whose lovemaking turned her whole being to fire. She’d always known that he loved her, but although she was infatuated with him, she didn’t feel any deep and lasting love for him, and leaving Rowe on his account had never figured in her plans. Deserting her husband for Kit, of all men, would mean certain ruin, for Rowe would move heaven and earth to destroy her reputation. Her character would be tainted forever, because Rowe wouldn’t rest in his vendetta against her. She shrank from such notoriety and didn’t intend to risk it, not even for a lover like this and not even for the prospect of becoming the Countess of Redway.

She lowered her eyes. ‘Kit, can’t things remain as they are?’

One of the crew was at the hatch. ‘Begging your pardon, my lord, but the tide’s up.’

‘Very well.’ Kit continued to look at her. ‘No, Thea, things can’t remain as they are.’

‘But there’s no need to change. …’

‘I’m afraid there is. It’s no longer enough that you’re my mistress; my love demands more, and so does my honor.’ His eyes were incredibly blue and piercing as she looked unwillingly into them again. ‘Thea, you could leave him if you really wanted to.’’

She didn’t reply.

Slowly he released her. ‘I don’t think there’s anything more to be said; your decision is only too clear.’

She stared at him then. ‘What are you saying?’

‘That it’s over.’

‘You can’t possibly mean that! Kit, it’s nonsense, there’s no need to end anything!’

‘There’s every need. I may not like Rowe, but I like even less the way I’ve been making a cuckold of him. There’s little honor in bedding another man’s wife, and I’ve been guilty of doing just that because I love you so very much.’ His eyes were cool. ‘Now it seems that that love has been a little one-sided all along, for if you felt the way I do, you wouldn’t hesitate.’

She still couldn’t believe the sudden turn things had taken. ‘Kit, you’re being very unreasonable.’

‘Maybe I am, but I’ve realized that I can’t go on as before, it’s just not enough. I’m in love with you, Thea, I’m not just indulging in an affair to amuse my idle hours.’

‘I-I love you too …’ she began, thinking to somehow regain control of the situation. She put a hesitant, trembling hand out, summoning tears into her magnificent eyes. ‘Oh, Kit. …’

‘If you love me, leave him and come with me now.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You mean, you won’t.’

She raised her chin defiantly then. ‘All right, I won’t. I see no reason to suddenly change things.’

‘And I see every reason.’ He went to take down his wet cloak, swinging it around his shoulders. Outside, another roll of thunder rumbled over the sky, and on deck the crew were waiting for him. He snatched up his hat and gloves, putting both on and then looking at her. ‘I think it’s time to return you to your carriage.’

‘Kit, when will you return?’

‘Of what possible interest can that be to you? Our affair is at an end, and when next we meet, it will be as acquaintances, and nothing more.’

She stared at him as he went to the hatch and opened it. Cool, damp air blustered into the cabin, and thunder echoed through the darkness, rolling slowly away beyond the noise of the rain. He turned, holding a hand out to assist her onto the deck.

Slowly she took it. Anger swept willfully over her. How dared he treat her like this! How dared he cast her off simply because she wouldn’t come at his whim!

She said nothing as he helped her from the
Spindrift
and across the rainswept quay to the waiting carriage. She’d intended to give him a haughty look before driving off, but he’d already slammed the door and instructed the postilion to drive on. She sat numbly back against the rich upholstery, gazing out at the lantern swinging on the corner of the warehouse.

He remained on the quay, watching until the landau had turned the corner and passed out of sight.

A crewman was waiting anxiously. ‘We should be leaving, my lord.’

Kit turned and strode back on board, his wet cloak flapping around him as the wind picked up still more.

A few minutes later, the
Spindrift
slipped out of the shelter of Cowes harbor into the stormblown waters of the Solent. Behind, the lights of Cowes were invisible in the gloom, and the cutter’s sails strained as the full force of the weather caught them.

The rain lashed Kit’s face as he stared through the storm toward the mainland. What sort of madness was this? He was risking his own life for the somewhat dubious honor of watching Tom Cherington almost certainly forfeiting his.