My Fair Captain (6 page)

Societies like the one they were discussing, like the one Nate grew up in, did not tolerate same-sex relationships.

The admiral laughed. “Did I forget to mention that Regelence is a very patriarchal society? So much so, in fact, that the aristocracy makes certain their offspring, especially their heirs, are male and genetically altered to have a preference for the same sex.”

* * * * *

The Lazy Dog Tavern, downtown Classige, Pruluce on planet
Regelence.

Ralph Benson leaned against the wall, holding his breath. When he’d followed the other valet here, he’d had no idea the man was on the take.

He’d come with the other castle servants to share a pint after the royal family turned in for the night. He never suspected this info would fall into his hands.

Taking a drink of his ale, he nodded at a passing waitress, still listening intently to the valet as he spoke.

“I think I have our man set-up to get the cloning technology once he marries into the family. After he gets his new spouse addicted we’ll work on influencing the father.” The valet stopped talking briefly, listening to whomever he was talking to on the televid, Ralph supposed. “No, the royal bitch does not know. She only knows that she will get the money when she gives him the schematics.” Again the valet paused. “Azrael has no idea I am here but I think he might suspect us. And remember, we always have her child to use if we have to—”

Ralph pushed away from the wall. He’d heard enough. He didn’t understand most of what he’d overheard but he knew enough to discern

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their Queen was involved, which was what he was here for. He had to get word to Colonel Hollister somehow.

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My Fair Captain

Townsend Property: the outskirts of Classige, Pruluce, the capital
country of Regelence.

Gazing out the window at the passing landscape, Nate felt like he’d been transported back in time to his youth. The whole thing seemed surreal, the clothes, the coach, everything. It brought forth conflicting emotions. He found himself sitting more rigid than normal. Whether it was his repressed “lord” surfacing or the assignment he couldn’t say. The thing was, he’d never been what one would consider a pretentious lord, even when he was one, but this was a role, an acting job. The sooner he figured out who was in on the stolen weapons the better.

A growl combined with a rustle of fabric brought his attention back inside the lift. He suppressed the urge to smile, knowing Trouble would only take it as encouragement. The kid had been fidgeting and bitching since they’d changed clothes on the space dock three hours earlier.

Nate knew damned well the pest was trying to gain his sympathy and it wasn’t working. If he had to wear a waistcoat and cravat, so did Trouble. The kid should be thankful Regelence had a nice temperate climate. There had been days on Englor when it was downright unbearable to be anywhere but lounging at home in the air conditioning.

Squirming and nearly worming himself off the leather cushions, Trouble made agitated little grunts and groans.

“Stop fidgeting.”

Trouble snorted and fell to his side on the seat. Grabbing the fabric over his thighs, he tugged and wiggled, assumingly trying to ease his

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britches downward a bit. Soon enough one hand came up, yanking at the neckcloth, followed by melodramatic choking sounds. With much production, the kid finally slithered to the polished wood floor and glared up at Nate.

Nate raised a brow.

“Kill me now.” The pest’s arms flopped to his sides on the floor. His face screwed up and he closed his eyes on a wail.

Nate’s lip twitched. The kid really did have a flare for dramatics—he was quite the drama queen. “What happened to ‘I’m super spy Double-o-Trouble’?”

The pale brows drew together and one aquamarine eye cracked open.

“That was before I was forced to wear smothering clothes. This rains meteors, Hawk.” Trouble pushed himself off the floor and back onto the seat with a sigh. “These pants are so tight my balls are practically in my throat. Or rather they would be if this noose I have around my neck wasn’t restricting the space in there.” He pulled at the starched white cloth tucked into his collar again. “I don’t see why I have to wear this getup. I’m supposed to be a servant.”

“You’re a valet. How can you be expected to dress me, if you can’t even dress yourself?”

“I didn’t dress you.
You
dressed me.” He motioned to the cravat that Nate had tied into an intricate knot. “Why can’t I be the earl and you be my valet?”

“Because an earl does not flop around on the floor and complain about his unmentionable anatomy being in his throat.”

Trouble’s eyes widened. “Damn, Hawk, you sound like you have a stick up your ass.”

Nate turned back toward the window, studying the vibrant green grassy slopes and trees, keeping Trouble from seeing his grin. “Lords don’t mention foreign objects up people’s arses either.”

“Speaking of things up people’s asses—”

“Trouble…” he warned. He had no idea what the pest was about to say, but it certainly wasn’t the kind of talk the imp should use. It wasn’t

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My Fair Captain

at all proper and he needed to be getting into character. Of course, it was Nate’s own fault because the kid had been raised around sailors for half his life.

“Whaaat? I’m just saying… This is a gay society, right? So, does this mean I can find a boyfriend?”

Nate groaned. “No, you may not. This is a job. You are supposed to be gathering information.” The thought of his son in possible danger wasn’t a pleasant one. It brought to mind the pest’s last escapade that nearly got him killed.

A smile crept across the boyish face. “What if I have to get cozy with the enemy to get information?”

“Now why do I have the feeling you will find yourself in just that sort of situation?”

The pest shrugged and squirmed a little, pulling at his waistcoat.

“Remember, you are the prestigious servant of an earl. We are not on holiday.”

The red light over the hatch blinked, indicating an incoming transmission. Nate peeked out the window again and noticed they were approaching a large, ornate iron gate. Looking at Trouble, he pressed a finger to his lips and touched the intercom button.

“Good afternoon, Lord Deverell,” a baritone male voice greeted as the gates swung open allowing them entry. “I’m Jeffers, the head butler.

Welcome to Townsend Castle. Thomas, my assistant, will meet you at the front entrance.”

“Thank you, Jeffers. Will you please send additional servants to help my valet with my belongings?”

Trouble rolled his eyes.

“Yes, milord.”

“Thank you.” Nate frowned at his son. It was time to get serious. The sooner they figured out who stole those damned weapons and how, the sooner they could get back to the Lady Anna and stop living a farce. The intercom clicked off.

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Apparently, the pest had decided to behave and take on the role he was to play. He still wore a grimace and was stretching his neck strangely, compensating for the cravat, but he sat straighter and had composed himself.

“Remember, when we stop, you will go through the side servants’

entrance and stay either downstairs or in my room. Likely your own room will be a very small one connected to mine.
Try
to act proper, no cursing, watch your posture, and for Galaxy’s sake, stay out of trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got i—”

“Ahem.” Nate gave him an arched look.

“I mean, yes, milord.” Trouble sighed. “I remember the lesson on proper behavior and in case I need further instruction, I have an electronic reference book on my reader in my suitcase.”

Nodding, Nate retrieved the beaver hat from the seat next to him.

“Good, go get things settled in our room while I handle things with our hosts.”

The lift came to a stop, the door raised and the steps descended from the vehicle. Nate put on his hat before exiting the carriage. A quartet of servants stood at the bottom of the front stairs, judging from the uniforms, a head servant and three footmen.

A tall, slender, gray-haired man stepped forward and bowed.

“Greetings, Lord Deverell. I’m Thomas, the assistant butler. Welcome to Townsend Castle.”

“Thomas.” Nate tipped his head slightly. “My valet will need help with my things.”

“Yes, milord.” He snapped his finger and the three younger men rushed toward the lift and began removing luggage from the storage below the passenger compartment. “If you will follow me, milord, I’ll take you to the study for your meeting, unless you’d prefer to freshen up?”

“No, thank you, Thomas. I’d prefer to meet with their majesties now.”

“Very well, milord.”

Trouble got out of the coach and talked to the footmen.

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My Fair Captain

Giving one last hope that Trouble stayed out of trouble, Nate ascended the wide cement steps leading to the gothic style castle. It was a beautiful structure with ivy clinging to the gray stone walls. It reminded him vaguely of Hutchins Hall, the estate nearest his boyhood home, Hawthorne. Only, Townsend Castle was considerably larger than Hutchins Hall.

The large wooden door opened, revealing a vast marble entryway. It spoke of refinement and wealth, yet it was quite masculine. The foyer was brightly lit by a crystal chandelier that sparkled off the gleaming jade-colored marble. It was like walking into a museum, pristine and showy. It had been a while since he’d been anywhere so classy.

“Might I take your hat and gloves, sir?”

Nate pulled off his gloves, handing them and his hat to Thomas.

Acutely aware of how his boots clicked on the natural stone and echoed in the stillness of the vestibule, he followed Thomas.

The door shut with a heavy thud behind Thomas and the voice that had greeted Nate in the coach spoke. “Thomas, please show Lord Deverell to the study. You are needed in the conservatory posthaste.”

Grimacing, the butler turned to Nate, bowing again. “If you will come with me, milord.” He raised his arm, indicating a door ahead of them and to the left before the hallway became a huge open space. It was massive with two grand staircases along the side walls.

Somewhere in the castle a door slammed and a huge ruckus ensued.

It sounded like…barking? The yapping grew louder and frantic clicks reverberated off the marble.

Thomas’ shoulders drooped and he groaned before he quickly remembered himself. He glanced back at Nate and smiled, hurrying his steps. “Right this way, milord.” Thomas reached the door and it swung open.

Around the corner a herd of about ten dogs, large and small, scrambled down the hall toward the entry. Their toenails clicked and scraped, trying to obtain traction on the marble.

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“Ho there. Jeffers, the door!” A handsome man with an abundance of short, dark curls barreled around the corner following the dogs, nearly trampling Thomas.

Only Nate’s quick reflexes kept the butler upright. He caught the older man’s shoulder, steadying him, and watched the young man sprint after the pack of wild beasts.

The teenager was dressed for riding, in buff-colored pantaloons and shiny black boots. His blue coattails flew behind him as he slipped and slid over the polished stone. “Sorry, Thomas,” he yelled over his shoulder and continued out the door after the dogs.

Placing a hand against the wall, Thomas took a deep breath. “Thank you, milord.” Under his breath he mumbled what sounded like, “Lord Terror.”

Before Nate could ask what that was about, a squealing, naked, wet, little girl ran past, followed by an older woman.

“Lady Mischief,” Thomas muttered.

Nate blinked. Good Galaxy, he’d landed in a fucking nuthouse.

“Pardon?”

Thomas’ eyes widened comically. “Oh dear. Nothing, Lord Deverell, nothing. I was talking to myself. Bad habit, that.” He extended his arm toward the room again.

Entering the dark masculine room brought back memories of Nate’s father’s study at Hawthorne. It had wall-to-wall mahogany bookshelves and large leather furniture. Nate inhaled deeply. Sweet tobacco, bay rum and leather filled his senses, just like the study in Hawthorne Manor.

He’d always loved that room.

“Please make yourself comfortable. Is there anything I can—”

Stomping ensued, followed by, “Muffffinnnn!” A tall man, who looked to be slightly older than the one chasing the horde of canines, stuck his head in the door. His golden eyes widened at the sight of Nate. “Oh, excuse me, I didn’t realize we were expecting company.” His dark head popped back around the door and his hurried footfalls trailed off.

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A grin tugged at Nate’s lips as he took a seat on a small burgundy sofa vertical to the desk.

Thomas grimaced and glanced at the door. He was obviously in a hurry, but reluctant to be rude and leave Nate without seeing to his comfort. “Milord—”

Nate waved him away. “I’m quite all right. Go.”

“Thank you, milord.” The older man bowed and left the room.

If the household was always so unruly, it was no wonder the thieves had not been detected. According to the information he had, Jeffers, the castle computer, had been out of commission at the time of the theft.

Nate had not been given any details about the computer’s downtime, other than to say Raleigh Townsend would brief him when Nate arrived at the castle.

The window to Nate’s left shattered.

Shit.
Nate hit the ground, landing flat on his stomach. A white polo ball rolled across the wood floor and onto the rug, coming to a stop inches in front of Nate’s face.
What the…
He picked up the ball, got to his feet and crossed to the broken window.

“Hello there.” A young man with wide shoulders and a friendly smile waved from atop a sorrel horse. “Sorry about that. I didn’t hit you, did I?”

Nate shook his head. “No, you didn’t hit me.” He held up the ball.