Elizabeth Boyle (97 page)

“Baxter!” Lady Mary scolded. “Whatever is wrong with you?”

The dog sent an accusing glance at Maureen, then turned back to his mistress, whimpering at her reprimand.

Maureen wondered if the fussy little dog could smell the stench of the Thames on her, though she’d done her best to wash it away.

She smiled down at the traitorous little pug. At least Baxter couldn’t betray her.

“Now, where were we?” Lady Mary said, turning her attention back to the matters at hand.

“My health?” Maureen prompted.

“Ah, yes, you poor girl. I thought turning in early would be so relaxing for you, but I can see you barely slept a wink.” She swept into the room. “Look who I found, Peter. Our dear Maureen. Quite fatigued this morning with all you are putting her through.” The lady sent a significant glance at the Lord Admiral. Not waiting for the man’s response, Lady Mary continued into the parlor, directing Lucy where to put the tea tray, as if the shabby room had a surplus of side tables.

Maureen followed and, after bidding her salutations to Captain Johnston and the Lord Admiral, settled onto a stool next to Lady Mary’s chair—the only piece of furniture left unoccupied.

“Mary, my girl,” Captain Johnston said, after his wife had finished serving the tea. “Peter needs you to put all your wits into this venture of his.” After a nervous glance toward the Lord Admiral, he continued hastily. “I’m sure Miss Hawthorne would agree that it is in everyone’s best interest to see this business concluded as quickly as possible, wouldn’t you, lass?”

“Yes, sir,” Maureen told him. “I want to see the last of London as soon as possible, and I am sure my crew is of the same sentiment.” She turned to the Lord Admiral. “My crew is being well cared for, aren’t they?”

The man had the audacity to look affronted. “Of course they are. I promised you myself they would be seen to, and they are awaiting your return in living conditions far better than those of many a good honest sailor in his King’s navy.”

She blew on her tea and looked up at the man as she asked, “Aboard the
Retribution
?”

“Why, of course,” he said. “Where else would they be?”

She smiled. “I can’t imagine. Though it will make it so much more convenient when I sail out to have my full crew at hand.” She paused for a moment. “Would it be permissible for me to visit them? As their captain, mind you, I can’t help but be protective of them. See to their welfare. I’m sure as one captain to another you’d agree.”

Much to her chagrin, Lady Mary intervened before she was able to force the wily man’s hand.

“Go down to the docks? Have you gone mad, Maureen?” she said with the same scolding tone she used on Baxter for his frequent indiscretions on the carpet. “Why, it is not only unseemly, but out of the question.”

“Lady Mary, this really is up to the Lord Admiral,” she told her.

Her guardian was not about to let that stop her. “Peter, I do protest. I will not have this girl mucking about the docks undoing all my hard work. Why, five minutes down there and she’ll be as wild and unmanageable as she was when you brought her here. No, I won’t stand for it.”

The Lord Admiral nodded to the lady, only too willing to defer to her judgment in this matter. “If you say so, Mary. You know more about these things than an old sailor like myself would know.” He turned to Maureen. “You’ll be with your men soon enough. Just find de Ryes, and you’ll get exactly what you’ve earned.”

Maureen wondered if he meant her ship and crew or the smuggler’s hanging she’d been sentenced to from the beginning.

“Mary, my girl, what have you got planned for Maureen tonight?” William asked, rejoining the conversation. “Like the Lord Admiral is saying, time is of the essence.”

Maureen looked up at the ruddy-faced captain and not only saw misgivings behind his quickly hooded glance but also heard the reluctance in his voice. She rubbed her bare arms, as if suddenly feeling the first draft of winter rush over them.

He knows. He knows the Lord Admiral can’t be trusted, she realized. And this wasn’t the first time Captain Johnston had been caught by the Lord Admiral’s net.

Nor does he know how to get out of it, she concluded.
No more than I
.

“Yes, Lady Mary,” the Lord Admiral said. “A speedy resolution to all this would be best for everyone.”

Lady Mary’s brows furrowed. Maureen knew the lady wanted nothing more than to see their charade continue for the rest of the Season, using the Lord Admiral’s munificence to give her the social whirl she’d dreamed of for years. “I suppose we could add a few more appearances to our schedule, but I can’t run the poor girl into the ground.” She turned her worried gaze to the Lord Admiral. “She’ll be no good to you, Peter, if she takes ill with too much night air or not enough rest.”

As if to do her part, Maureen brought her hand to her mouth and coughed delicately.

Her ladyship beamed with appreciation.

“Just the same,” the Lord Admiral said, his mouth set in a straight, hard line, “she’s no good to me if she can’t find this man. I need him found and found immediately. I’ll do my best to secure invitations for both of you to Lady Weston’s ball tonight. If he’s going to be anywhere, this would be the evening for him to surface. Everyone with any connections will be there.”

“Don’t go to the trouble,” Lady Mary said. She raised her nose in the air. “The viscountess sent over invitations yesterday. She was quite apologetic that she hadn’t sent them earlier.”

The Lord Admiral looked as if he didn’t quite believe her but wasn’t about to lower himself to an argument. “I surmise, given the bills that have been arriving at my house daily, that she has an adequate gown in which to attend?”

The lady sighed, then reached down to scratch Baxter’s head. “I believe we can find something that won’t embarrass her standing with the
ton
, though I am still trying to find just the right costume for the Trahern masquerade.”

“Well, never mind costumes for something she won’t be attending. I have a feeling tonight will be the end of Captain de Ryes.” He turned to Maureen. “An end we both look forward to, wouldn’t you agree?”

She nodded, unwilling to speak.

For in truth, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

Arriving at Lady Weston’s ball that evening, Maureen wondered what the Lord Admiral was thinking sending her to this party—a crush so thick she would have been surprised to find anyone, let alone a notorious privateer within the press of bodies.

Even worse was her introduction to Lord and Lady Weston, Julien’s sister and brother-in-law. Rather than looking down her aristocratic nose at the less socially connected Lady Mary and her unknown goddaughter, the vivacious Lady Weston went out of her way to welcome them, especially when Lady Dearsley arrived and made quite a fuss about Lady Mary’s return to society.

At her aunt’s behest Lady Weston sought them out after the receiving line was finished and introduced them to her friends and family.

Maureen found herself charmed by Julien’s sister, much to her chagrin. It was terribly difficult to continue plotting a man’s demise when his sister was so kind. It was even harder to believe that he’d turned out so black-hearted with such a genuine and generous sister.

And the aloof and disarmingly beautiful Lady Trahern, whom Maureen had heard so much of from Lady Mary on the carriage ride over, was just as pleasant, telling Lady Mary that she was thrilled they would be attending her masquerade.

Maureen had kept as much as she could to the background during all this, unwilling to become any more familiar with Julien’s relatives than she had to.

They were, in some strange sense, her family as well, and she didn’t like the idea of accepting their warmth and hospitality any more than she felt a right to the motherly affection Lady Mary showered over her.

“Lady Mary,” Lady Weston was saying, “have you met my nephew, the Earl of Hawksbury? He’s a rascal and a terrible rake, but I still adore him.”

Maureen didn’t pay much attention to this introduction, taking only the slightest glance at the nephew in question.

The young man hardly looked the reprobate his aunt described, though he was dressed like the other young bucks circling the room, in the latest state of fashion.

“Lady Mary,” he said, “please forgive my lady aunt. My mother says I inherited my talent for finding trouble from my Aunt Lily, and my aunt considers that a great compliment.”

With that he took Lady Mary’s hand and brought it to his lips, though his gaze moved over the lady’s shoulder and sought out Maureen.

Maureen was startled to find herself staring into a pair of moss green eyes exactly like Julien’s. From the chestnut hair to the tanned features, the resemblance between the two was startling.

For a moment the man’s youthful features took her back to the decks of the
Forgotten Lady
, to the first time she’d leaned over the rail and seen Julien’s handsome face close up.

Her eyes obviously reflected her shock, for the young earl grinned at her. “This wide-eyed lady must be your enchanting goddaughter I have heard so much about, Lady Mary.” He turned to his aunt. “I’m afraid she sees the similarities between me and Uncle Julien.” Stepping forward, he took Maureen’s hand. “Fear not, I haven’t my uncle’s reputation or reprobate ways. You are safe with me, dear lady.”

She doubted that, considering the friendly way he held her hand and the way he lingered over her fingers before finally relenting to let her hand go.

“We’ve met your uncle,” said Lady Mary. “Such a handsome man, and so kind. I hardly see what all the fuss is about. He seemed perfectly amiable to me, though Maureen gave him quite a set down.”

This drew an exchange of looks between nephew and aunt that Maureen couldn’t quite interpret. Obviously, it wasn’t every day a young lady of the
ton
rang a peal over the esteemed head of Julien D’Artiers.

“Then if my uncle is the cause of your discomfort, I must insist on escorting you two ladies about the room,” the earl said. He grinned at Maureen. “Especially given your obvious dislike of him, Miss Fenwick. For I know he is prowling about somewhere, and he would delight in causing a scene. Besides, I was promised Miss Fenwick’s first dance, was I not, Lady Mary?”

“Why, of course you were!” Lady Mary fluttered her fan. “How ever did you know I loved sugared almonds?”

“Every lovely lady does,” he told her, but again his gaze fell on Maureen.

She glanced sideways at the young man. She wondered how fast he’d retreat if he knew he was trying to charm his uncle’s wife.

It was almost too humorous, too ironic.

Lady Mary, in the meantime, had conveniently disengaged herself from Maureen and the earl and was happily chatting with Lady Dearsley on one side of the room, leaving Lord Hawksbury free to escort Maureen about the ballroom. While he entertained her with endless accounts of the other guests, she glanced again at his familiar features and let herself pretend for the moment that this was Julien and this was the first time they were meeting.

If things had been different, this was how they might have met—in a ballroom with an innocent introduction. They would have danced and flirted and maybe even fallen in love without the disastrous consequences.

What was she thinking?

She was the daughter of a smuggler, and a smuggler herself. She wasn’t a lady; she didn’t belong here.

And yet… she remembered the line from the naval history.

Ethan, Lord Hawthorne
.

If her father had been titled, as the book indicated, how different would her life have been if she’d been raised in England rather than at sea?

Ever since she’d learned of her father’s secret past, there had been a litany of questions in the back of her mind.

Who was she? Did she have family beyond Aunt Pettigrew?

She might have. Looking about the room, any one of the multitudes could be her family.

As far as she’d been told, Aunt Pettigrew was the only one left in that line. Why, she didn’t even know her mother’s maiden name, only her first name, which she’d seen in her father’s bible written in the column marking the family deaths.

Ellen Hawthorne, died of fever, 21 September 1790.

The puzzle of finding her father’s lost place in society almost outweighed her desire to see his murder avenged, especially when she looked around at the young misses, most of whom were in their first Season and flushed with the prospect of falling in love.

Would she have ever fallen in love with someone like Julien?

She couldn’t help but think she would have. She glanced at his nephew. Though the two men could be taken for brothers, there was also a difference.

The Earl of Hawksbury hadn’t the wariness about him that Julien had always worn like a second coat. Vigilance brought on by living by the hard rules of the sea.

But then again, she told herself, this young member of Julien’s family was an earl and heir to his father’s titles. What would he know of the hardships of war or the problems of the world, raised as he probably had been in a cradle of luxury and security?

She and Julien had too much in common; they understood each other—a connection she’d never grasped until now. Never wanted to believe.

As she looked up this time, her gaze crossed the room and fell on him.

Julien.

Across a room, across time, it seemed they were bound together, no matter how much she hated it, how much she wanted to disavow it, how much she wanted to change it.

His gaze met hers, and for a moment it was as if they were in another place, another time. Just the two of them, staring at each other across the narrow channel between their two ships.

The
Destiny
and the
Forgotten Lady
.

Together, yet separate.

If he acknowledged her it was so brief and so fleeting, she wondered if she’d imagined it. A flash of recognition, a need in his gaze she knew only too well, but when she looked again it was gone, his attention diverted by the lady at his side.

Because the room was so crowded, Maureen couldn’t see who Julien’s latest victim might be.