Nicola Cornick, Margaret McPhee, et al (12 page)

Lucinda, her heart soaring, glanced at Sally for confirmation.
‘It’s true,’ Sally said. ‘Don’t ask how. I think that Owen Chance might have
let him go, though he will never admit it if he did.’ She laughed. ‘Mind you, I
think that Stacey would not have forgiven him had he not, so the poor man was
caught whatever he did!’

Lucinda bit back an irrepressible grin. ‘I hope that Mrs Saltire
will relent now of her refusal to permit them to wed.’ Stacey had been in
shocking disgrace since breaking her engagement to Mr Leytonstone, and in even
more trouble when rumours of a rather passionate embrace with Owen Chance had
started to circulate in Woodbridge.

‘She will,’ Sally said. She gave her mischievous smile. ‘I
reminded her this morning that Mr Chance is related to the Olivers and also has
a very rich uncle who has no direct heirs…’

‘But never mind about Mr Chance for now!’ Rebecca besought. She
caught Lucinda’s hand and pulled her down to sit on the bed. ‘What are you
going to do, Luce? Do you think Daniel will come looking for you? If he did,
would you go with him?’

Lucinda sat down a little abruptly. In the soaring euphoria and
relief of hearing about Daniel’s escape she had had no thought for the future,
but now she realised with a little lurch of dread that Daniel was still a
fugitive and a condemned criminal, and that no doubt he would be sought all the
more urgently now that he had escaped yet again.

‘I hope he does not come back to find me,’ she said, with a
little shiver. ‘I could not bear for him to risk capture just for me.’

Rebecca’s face fell. ‘But, Lucy, what will you do?’

Lucinda looked from Rebecca’s face to Sally’s. ‘I will do as
Daniel asked me,’ she said, ‘and go to Allandale, if I may.’ She saw the
understanding in Sally’s face, for only that morning she had confided in the
Duchess the secret that she had been hugging to her heart—that she was now
almost certain she was going to have Daniel’s child. Sally had been immensely
comforting, extremely practical, and not in the least judgemental, but she had
agreed with Lucinda that she should be well away from Midwinter when the
pregnancy started to show.

‘I am sure that can be arranged,’ Sally Kestrel said, clearing
her throat. ‘I know it was one of the matters Justin was attending to in
London, Lucy, so perhaps you would wish to speak to him of that? He has asked
to see you anyway, when you are ready. He has something to give to you.’

Left alone, Lucinda scrubbed at her eyes to wipe away the smudges
of her own tears, and moved over to the window to stare out into the dark. She
remembered the night—was it only six weeks before?—when she had gone out to
look for Stacey and instead saved Daniel from capture by Owen Chance. She
wondered where, in all that dark night and darker sea, he was now.

As she walked slowly down the stairs to see the Duke, she
reflected that no doubt Justin had done his best to secure leniency for Daniel,
but that it was probably irrelevant now that he was once more a fugitive from justice.

Justin Kestrel stood up as she was shown into the library, and
gestured towards the decanter on the table.

‘Would you care for a glass of brandy, Mrs Melville?’

Lucinda smiled and shook her head. ‘No, thank you, Your Grace. I
think I may need to keep a clear mind.’

Justin inclined his head. ‘I hope you do not object if I do?’

‘Of course not.’

Justin raised his glass to her. ‘To…the future, Mrs Melville? You
have heard, no doubt, that Lord Allandale has escaped custody?’

Lucinda nodded. It felt strange to hear Daniel referred to thus.
Her throat felt dry. ‘I have heard.’

Justin reached for a packet that was resting on the desk in front
of him. ‘There is something I should like you to have,’ he said. He appeared to
be weighing his words. ‘Should you ever see Lord Allandale again,’ he said, ‘I
would like you to give it to him.’

Sensation pricked between Lucinda’s shoulderblades suddenly,
excitement vivid and alive in her blood. She looked at the Duke. He was
watching her with a faintly quizzical smile, and his eyebrows lifted in slight
but unmistakable question.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I will do my best. But…I am not sure that
is very likely, Your Grace. Lord Allandale is still a wanted criminal, after
all.’

‘Of course,’ Justin agreed affably. He got to his feet and went
over to the long windows that led out onto the terrace and faced the sea.

‘Where, after all,’ Lucinda continued, ‘could such a man be
sought? It would be well-nigh impossible to find him.’

Justin drew back the heavy red velvet curtains and gazed out
thoughtfully into the night. ‘Who can say?’ he concurred. ‘A man would have to
be mad—or in love, perhaps, which almost amounts to the same thing—to go back
to the very same place he frequented before.’ He turned to look at her. ‘The
tide turns very soon, I believe.’

Lucinda got to her feet. ‘Then if you would excuse me, Your
Grace?’

‘Naturally.’ Justin Kestrel smiled. ‘Do not forget the packet. A
Christmas present—or a wedding present, perhaps?’

Lucinda blushed. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘If you could give my
thanks and best wishes to everyone, I should be most grateful.’

On impulse she reached up and kissed him. He seemed pleased.

‘I hope it will not be too long before we all meet up again,’ he
murmured.

Excitement sped Lucinda’s feet as she hurried up the staircase.
She had to trust Justin Kestrel now, even if she did not quite understand what
he was entrusting to her. But he had made his instructions quite plain, and now
she had to have the courage to fulfil them.

Once in her room, she dragged a heavy portmanteau out from under
the bed, but then stood looking at it in a sort of despair. If she were to go
it would be with nothing at all. She had no time.

The clock in the hall struck the quarter. The door of the drawing
room opened and she heard a snatch of conversation.

‘Where is Lucinda? I thought she might join us this evening…’

The door closed.

In sudden desperation Lucinda grabbed her writing box. Rebecca,
Sally and Stacey particularly—they all deserved something more than to be
abandoned so abruptly. For who could tell when she would see them again? But if
she left a note there could be no going back.

For a moment she hesitated. She was running away to an uncertain
future—running away from the life she knew and from all that was familiar.
Almost she did not dare. And yet…And yet…

If she had understood Justin Kestrel aright, Daniel might even
now be waiting for her—and surely a life with him, whatever form it might take,
was a thousand times better than any life without him?

‘I do believe that I would give up everything else in my life
just to have you,’
she had said to Daniel that night he had held her in his
arms and their child had been conceived. Yet now she hesitated, unsure of her
courage, unsure of his love.

Go,
she thought, suddenly fierce.
He said he would love
you for ever. He loves you now.

Anger overtook her then—anger at her own weakness and her lack of
faith. She jumped up and grabbed the quill.

Two minutes later and it was done. She ran down the stairs,
leaving the note on the silver tray in the hall and taking a lantern from the
sconce. The door slammed behind her. The snow of the drive crunched beneath her
slippers. Within a minute her feet were soaking and frozen. No matter. Daniel
had told her that he would take her barefoot, and now she was asking him to do
precisely that.

Branches snagged at her hair, pulling it loose from its pins, as
she ran down the path to the creek. Dusk was falling already, the short winter
day fading into dark. Her heart was thumping painfully now, her breath coming
in short gasps as much from fear as exertion. If the tide had already
turned…She could not bear to think of it.

The path narrowed as it reached the creek, trees pressing close. She
stopped on the edge of the pool. The tide was full and the
Defiance
was
gone.

Catching her breath on a sob, Lucinda sped along the path that
bordered the water. The frosty air stung her cheeks. Her shawl caught on a
bramble and she let it go. The creek was widening, a shining ribbon that caught
the last white winter light and momentarily dazzled her eyes. A heron rose,
flapping from the reed beds. As the trees fell back and Lucinda came out into
the bay she saw the ship at last, a quarter of a mile out, its riding lights
pinpricks against the dusk.

It was stupid, it was pointless, it was
hopeless
, but she
ran out into the bay until the water reached her waist and the sudden cold
knocked all the breath out of her body.

It was then that she realised she could not swim, and that if she
carried on she would soak whatever was in the packet Justin Kestrel had given
her.

She stumbled, the muddy seabed catching her ankles, trying to
pull her down. A little wave buffeted her, then a stronger one, and she
staggered.

This was so foolish. A part of her was watching, incredulous that
she was going to die running after a pirate ship on a dark night in December.
Would they ever find her body? And if they did, what would they say?

She always seemed so sensible…Who would have thought it?

This time when the wave hit her she went down, flailing, and the
water closed over her head and she thought it was the end.

But something—someone—caught her tightly and dragged her, kicking
and struggling, to the surface. A hook tangled in her gown, pulling her in the
most undignified and unceremonious way possible into a longboat.

‘What the
devil
are you doing here?’

Daniel. She felt so weak with relief that she almost cried.

‘I was coming to find you.’

In the light of the ship’s lantern she could see that he looked
furious. And then, miraculously, he looked so happy she almost cried again.
‘And I was coming to find you,’ he said.

He was pushing the wet hair away from her face. She noticed that
his hand was not quite steady. ‘You must be mad for trying to swim, Lucy. You
could have drowned! You
were
drowning!’

‘I know.’ Foolishly, she smiled. ‘Thank you for saving me.’

He kissed her, and she was aware of nothing but the warm beat of
his blood against hers and a heady relief and happiness so acute that she
wanted never to let it go.

Daniel released her gently. ‘We have to get you back to the ship,
Lucy, before you die of the cold.’

That foolish smile was still on her face, she knew. ‘I feel very
warm,’ she said. ‘I am absolutely fine.’

Daniel laughed, but he turned and gave an order and there was the
rattle of a chain and the splash of an oar as the longboat turned. The boat
rocked dangerously. Lucinda felt sick, and wondered if she would ever be cured
of it or if the rest of her life would be spent retching in a chamber pot. She
found she did not care. Daniel was here, and his arms were about her, and he
was holding her as though he would never let her go, and that was enough.

The cold was starting to bite now. Her teeth were chattering so
much that she could not stop, and when someone wrapped a blanket about her, her
fingers were so numb she let it slip away. Daniel took the blanket and rubbed
her hard with it until her arms felt raw.

‘Ouch! Stop! I will have no skin left.’

Daniel did not reply. He pulled her close, so that his chin was
resting on the top of her head and she could hear the steady beat of his heart.
He did not need to speak. They held one another in wordless contentment.

Once on the ship, in the privacy of the cabin she had seen once
before, Daniel poured hot soup down her throat rather than brandy, and she
remembered at last the packet of papers that Justin Kestrel had given her.

‘The ink will have run,’ she said ruefully, passing over the
sopping bundle. ‘I am so sorry, Daniel. I do not know what was in them.’

‘He wrapped them in oilskin,’ Daniel said. His eyes were
gleaming. ‘He must have known that you were going to come looking for me.’

‘Well,’ Lucinda said, ‘he did rather encourage me.’

There was a crackle as Daniel unwrapped the papers. Then he went
very still. Lucinda looked up. In the candlelight Daniel’s face was grave.

‘What does it say?’

‘It is a Royal Pardon,’ Daniel said, a little gruffly. ‘And an
offer of a commission in the Navy.’ He cleared his throat. ‘His Majesty writes
that he needs good sailors, and it would be a monstrous waste wilfully to lose
one, so he hopes that I will have reconsidered the offer that Justin made me.’
He gave a reluctant laugh. ‘He also states that it reflects badly on the
country for a peer of the realm to be an attainted criminal, and urges me to
take up my title and lands and choose a wife.’ A smile lit his eyes. ‘And as a
final sign of goodwill he asks for a bottle of what he calls my “rather fine
French brandy” before I give up my former ways.’

Lucinda put her soup spoon down slowly. ‘Then I do not
understand,’ she said. ‘If the Duke of Kestrel knew that you were going to be
pardoned, why did he not tell Mr Chance, so that you did not have to go to the
trouble of escaping?’

Daniel smiled ruefully. ‘The last time Justin Kestrel offered me
a pardon I turned him down flat, because I thought I could not give up my way
of life.’ He held out Justin’s note to her. ‘He says that this time he wanted
me to have a choice. He knew that abandoning my life as a privateer would be
difficult for me after all this time, but even so, I think he knew what my
final choice would be.’

Lucinda was still, captured by the look in his eyes.

‘And what is your choice?’

Daniel thrust his hands into his pockets and turned away. ‘I
won’t pretend that it will be easy for me, Luce,’ he said. ‘I have lived like
this for over ten years, and a part of me is desolate to think of giving it up,
but…’ He turned towards her. ‘I love you, and I would give my life for you, and
you are too precious and important to live the life of a pirate’s wife. So…will
you be the wife of a Navy captain instead?’