Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) Page 6

  He still must view her as the homely child who was wretchedly sick on her wedding day. No doubt Penny had enlightened him that she was now the rage of London, touted as a great beauty-something which had surprised Bethlyn as well as everyone else who’d seen her when she first came to live with Penelope. It was after she’d arrived in London, eager to do her best by behaving scandalously, that she took more of an interest in her appearance with Mavis’s help and stopped eating so many sweetmeats. Somehow nature lent her a helping hand and smiled kindly upon her in the guise of Jeremy, Penelope’s grandson. They rode together every day in St. James’s Park, and within six months the plump, homely girl was gone and a beautiful young woman emerged. Briston, the oaf, didn’t even have the good sense to answer Aunt Penny’s letters, to wonder or care at how much his wife spent on clothes and frivolities. All the bills were paid by the man’s secretary, and on each of Bethlyn’s birthdays and wedding anniversaries, she received a lovely gift, no doubt sent by the secretary. Briston’s silence spoke more eloquently than hundreds of letters. The man hoped to forget she ever existed, that he’d married and deserted her, and he expected that she’d be content to remain in such a stupid and silly arrangement.

  “I won’t be ignored!” Bethlyn cried, startling Mavis, who entered the room carrying a rose silk gown over her arm. “The horrid man won’t ignore me any longer. I’ll force him to take note of me.”

  “Mr. Eversley may hear from your husband within a few days. Please don’t do anything rash, Bethlyn. Forget about the man and dress for the ball. Sir Jeremy is in the drawing room with your aunt and ready to leave.” Mavis’s face had turned white with apprehension that Bethlyn would soon engage in another foolhardy escapade to gain the attention of her absent husband.

  Bethlyn threw down a ruby necklace, one of her anniversary presents, like it was a piece of rubbish. “Look at this!” she cried and turned from her dressing table in a huff, the blue satin of her robe swishing in her wake. “Another one of ‘my husband’s gifts’ to me, but where is the wretched man? This trinket can’t keep me warm on cold nights or give me the children I long for. He bought me and placed me on a shelf, having found no use for me. I’ve done practically everything but parade in the buff along the Thames. If I thought that would gain my husband’s attentions, I’d gladly disrobe. But I must finally admit that Ian Briston has denied my existence. Well, not any longer, Mavis, do you hear! Not a moment longer.”

  With her mind made up on that score, Bethlyn rushed from the room and down the white oak staircase and into the drawing room, very much aware of Penny’s shocked intake of breath and Jeremy’s gale of amused laughter at her state of dishabille.

  “Young lady, you’re disgraceful!” Penelope rebuked.

  “Hurry upstairs and dress. Jeremy doesn’t wish to see you like this.”

  “I do, Grandmama,” Jeremy said. ‘‘I’d wager that I’m the only gentleman in London to see Bethlyn in her robe, and damn if I don’t like it!” A suspicious gleam danced in his eyes and he tapped Penelope on the shoulder. “She’s up to something.”

  “Oh, no!” proclaimed Penelope. “What now? I do so dread having to write my nephew another letter.”

  “Rest assured that this time I shall spare you your letter writing chore, Aunt Penny,” Bethlyn spoke and managed a tight smile. “Since my husband has shown an appalling lack of good manners by ignoring your letters and the letter from Thomas Eversley, I find I have no other choice but to sail to the Colonies and face the man in person. Before this year is over, I shall discover if I’m to be his true wife. The time has arrived for a face-to-face confrontation.”

  Penelope placed a frail hand on her heart. “Don’t do this, child. Accept things for what they are. I fear you’ll regret this trip. What if he doesn’t want you?”

  Bethlyn lifted a silk clad shoulder in a shrug. “I shall order him to release me from the marriage. I believe that when he realizes my situation, he’ll agree to an annulment because I’ll specify that he can keep control of his company. Fear of losing it might be the reason he hasn’t answered any letters. He loves Briston Shipping more than any woman, I think. He married me to retain it. And I feel he is a kind man, considering.” Bethlyn remembered how solicitous he’d been when she became ill, that he was the only one to help her. Still, that one kindness didn’t make up for years of neglect.

  “You’d do well to consider this some more,” Jeremy advised her. “With the American privateers preying on English ships, you might find yourself in a great deal of danger.” His caution surprised her. Usually they agreed on everything, and Jeremy could always be counted upon not to put a damper on her plans. How could he not see she was desperate? She’d told him often enough of her desire for a real home, a husband and children, that she wasn’t growing any younger. She thought he’d understand.

  “I agree.” Penelope nodded sagely.

  “Well, I don’t! I’ve wasted six years of my life, years when I could have been a wife, a mother. Does the man think he can deny me children? Must I bed someone else and pass the children off as his? Do you think he’d accept them and support them? I sincerely doubt he’d be amenable to such folly.” Bethlyn’s face flushed, and she turned her impassioned gaze upon Jeremy. “I thought you were my friend. Whether I have your support or not in this makes no difference to me. I am going to the Colonies.”

  ~

  Two hours later Bethlyn and Jeremy danced in the mirrored ballroom, supped with the Stanhopes and the other guests, and she listened to a litany of reasons from Jeremy why she shouldn’t make the trip. However, her mind was made up that her future must be settled in a direct confrontation with her husband. “I’m going,” she said over and over.

  By the time the ball had ended she’d danced with every eligible, handsome man in the room, and some who weren’t so eligible or so handsome, fended off at least ten indecent proposals, and convinced Jeremy that if he was worried about her, he should come with her. “You can act as my bodyguard and protect me from those nasty American pirates,” she playfully teased him.

  ‘‘I’ll come with you,” Jeremy said, and kissed her cheek in a brotherly fashion. “But I don’t want to be gone for too long. You know I can’t refuse you anything, Bethlyn, but I’m getting older, too, and I think it’s time I settled down a bit and looked around for a wife.”

  “Ah, I knew it. I saw you watching Lady Madeline Stanhope all evening. She’ll make you a perfect wife. I promise you, Jeremy, that we’ll be home before the spring. But if you don’t wish to go, I’ll understand.”

  “I’m going with you. If anything happened to you, I’d never be able to forgive myself. Since your husband doesn’t feel the need to protect you, I will, until he either takes you to wife or annuls the marriage and you find a man worthy of you.”

  Bethlyn couldn’t stop the tears which welled within her eyes. Jeremy was such a dear, sweet man. She’d known him for so long, trusted him, depended upon him, but there was nothing but a deep and abiding friendship between them. Sometimes she thought that if things had been different, they’d have made a perfectly good marriage. However, that would never come to be and she knew now that Jeremy’s sights, as well they should be, were centered on Madeline Stanhope. There was no hope for herself as long as Ian Briston kept her trapped in this marriage. She wasn’t free to love anyone, not even her own husband.

  “I should like to sail as soon as possible,” she told Jeremy. “Please contact Thomas Eversley for me. We can sail on one of my father’s ships.” She smiled ruefully. “One of my ships actually, one of my husband’s, since all of them are owned by Briston Shipping.”

  When she climbed into bed later that night, no thoughts of revenge against Ian Briston filled her mind. She felt that soon everything would be settled one way or another. Soon after she closed her eyes, she fell asleep, not dreaming that all would be decided, but in a way she hadn’t fathomed.

  4

  “My lady, please reconsider; Mr. Eversley will be quite
displeased. He specifically ordered that you and Sir Jeremy Smithers travel to the Colonies on Venture not Nightingale. I can’t insist, of course, but no one goes against an order of Thomas Eversley.” Harold Dempster wiped his perspiring brow with a fine linen kerchief and threw an imploring glance in Jeremy’s direction, having already decided that Bethlyn wasn’t about to be pacified by such an unusual request. Dempster had been in the employ of Briston Shipping as Thomas’s secretary long enough to recognize a stubborn streak a mile away. From the forward thrust of her chin and the nail-hard line of her mouth, Dempster quickly ascertained that he’d lost the battle. And probably his position as well, once Thomas Eversley returned from Woodsley to discover that this stubborn chit of a girl had sailed on Nightingale instead of Venture. If only young Smithers could dissuade her.

  Jeremy, however, appeared to be taking a devilish delight in the war of wills between Bethlyn and Dempster. He offered not a word to persuade her to heed reason and sail on Venture. Standing with his arms folded across his frock-coated chest, he leaned against the back of a large, cushioned chair upon which Bethlyn was seated. An amused grin which turned up the corners of his mouth grew larger the more Dempster perspired. But a warning bell went off in Jeremy’s head as he realized that something wasn’t right about this situation, but he couldn’t decide what the problem might be and doubted he’d get a straight answer from Dempster.

  Instead of speaking, he remained silent and allowed Bethlyn to have her head. He found he loved watching when Bethlyn was riled. No one possessed more blazing brown eyes than she or had the endearing habit of tilting her head to the side like an inquisitive puppy. To see her rear herself upward, as she did now, her back arching in a suggestive but unwitting way always provoked a naughty laugh from him. She turned and glanced at him for a moment, quelling any further sound with that dazzling and fiery gaze.

  “I see no difference as to which ship I choose, Mr. Dempster. I’m certain Thomas had my best interests in mind when he chose Venture, but I am eager to sail on the evening tide. The problem with Venture’s hull isn’t my concern at the moment. Repair it. As I understand, Nightingale is set to sail today. Sir Jeremy and I shall be on that ship, sir.” Bethlyn’s voice was low and steady, but the curtness of her tone left no doubt that she had already made up her mind. No one would dissuade her.

  “Your ladyship, allow me to send to Woodsley for Mr. Eversley. I’m certain when he explains the situation to you, you’ll be quite amenable to waiting an extra week while Venture is repaired. Nightingale hasn’t the niceties of Venture, and for such a lady as yourself…”

  Bethlyn raised a hand, halting Dempster’s further prattle. “Mr. Dempster, I’m not a hothouse flower, I assure you. I shall be pleased with whatever accommodations the Nightingale’s captain can make for me.” She rose from her seat and extending her hand to Dempster, she waited while he resignedly took it and placed an obligatory kiss upon it.

  Dempster heaved a huge sigh. “As you wish, my lady. I’ll speak to Captain Montgomery myself.”

  Bethlyn nodded her thanks and placing her hand on Jeremy’s arm, they left the offices of Briston Shipping.

  Ensconced upon velvet cushions in Penelope’s cabriolet, Bethlyn noticed Jeremy appeared uneasy. “I did the right thing, Jeremy,” she spoke in a rush before he could say anything. “Thomas Eversley is not about to tell me on which ship I may travel. After all, I own Briston Shipping. Thomas Eversley and Harold Dempster are in my employ.”

  “No doubt Dempster is already penning an urgent message to Woodsley, beseeching Eversley to return to London,” Jeremy stated.

  “Let him!”

  Her quick retort startled Jeremy. Immediately she offered an apology. “Forgive me, dear Jeremy. I’d be lost these past years if not for you. I fear I must learn to control my temper and not allow my nerves to get the best of me. It isn’t every day that I sail to America to discover if my ‘husband’ has a use for his wife.”

  A ready smile from Jeremy told her that he’d forgiven her. “Grandmama will miss you, as will I.”

  Touching Jeremy’s cheek with her lips, Bethlyn felt on the verge of tears. “I know you want the best for me.”

  His voice cracked a bit when he spoke. “I hope all works out well for you, Bethlyn. That confounded colonial better learn soon what a treasure you are, otherwise, I might be forced to prove your worth at the point of the rapier!”

  “Goodness, Jeremy! I do hope Madeline Stanhope knows what a tiger you are.”

  “She does,” he admitted, and had the good grace to blush.

  ~

  Later that day, after a teary and warm farewell to Penelope, Bethlyn, Jeremy, and Mavis boarded Nightingale. The huge ship sat in London’s harbor while the crew mopped the deck and readied the rigging for the evening sail. Harold Dempster personally escorted them aboard and introduced them to Captain Montgomery. The captain seemed courteous but nervous as his eyes darted past them to a door at the starboard end of the ship.

  “I have strict rules aboard my ship,” Montgomery explained harshly, almost as if he expected one of them to already disobey. “All meals are to be taken in the cabin. Your ladyship, I’ve prepared my cabin for you and your maid. Sir Jeremy, you’re to bunk with me and the first mate in his cabin. No one ventures out of the cabins except at midday and late evening.”

  “Why?” Bethlyn interrupted. “We’re not ill-mannered children.” For a moment she seemed to catch Captain Montgomery off guard with her pointed statement.

  She couldn’t fail to miss the heated gaze the man threw in Dempster’s direction, but when he spoke to her, his voice was laced with respect. “Well, my lady, I must think of your safety. You’re quite a beautiful young woman, as is your maid. I wouldn’t wish my men to be blinded by such beauty and remiss in their duties.” He shot her an ingratiating smile. “And Sir Jeremy, I’m certain, is much too refined to be in the company of unruly sailors.”

  “Very wise decision, Captain. Now would you please show us to our accommodations. Her ladyship would like to unpack.” Jeremy took Bethlyn’s elbow and steered her towards a doorway off of the deck before she had ample time to comment further.

  Taking leave of Harold Dempster, they followed after Captain Montgomery, and when the man stopped to speak to his first mate, Bethlyn whispered to Jeremy, “They’re trying to keep something from us.”

  Jeremy nodded sharply. “Better not to know, I think, Bethlyn. You might be better off for your ignorance.”

  “Posh! I’m going to discover the secret on Nightingale. I swear I will.”

  Jeremy was afraid she’d say something like that.

  ~

  A sliver of a moon shone through the porthole and bathed Bethlyn’s hair and face with silver fingers. The night felt warm, and she’d opened the window earlier, hoping to catch a breeze. Still, she was unable to sleep and quite restless as the Nightingale rode the crest of the waves. Finally she sat up on the bunk and plumped the pillow to lean against the wall and watched moon-kissed clouds skitter across the sky.

  It was then she heard the high flutey laughter which drifted from somewhere on the deck above her. She barely gave the sound a thought until she remembered that she and Mavis were the only two females on the ship, and Mavis was sleeping quietly on a cot not two feet from her.

  Were there other women on the ship? Could some of the men have brought their wives though Briston Shipping forbade such a policy?

  The voices became clearer, the female ones interlaced with male laughter, then they melted away into the night.

  “Mavis,” Bethlyn whispered and gently shook Mavis, who instantly came awake. “Did you hear women’s voices?”

  Mavis’s sleepy-eyed gaze settled on Bethlyn. “Yes, but I thought I was dreaming. I didn’t know there were other women on board ship.”

  “Neither did I,” Bethlyn admitted. Minutes later Mavis was sound asleep again, but Bethlyn was wide-awake. She contemplated the situation minutes longer and finally she made up her
mind.

  Rising from the bunk as not to disturb Mavis, she reached in the dark for a gray calico gown, the only thing available to her at the moment. She hadn’t packed more than a few gowns and the necessities she’d need for the voyage, not certain she’d be welcomed by Ian Briston. If the man did want her as his wife, she could send for her other clothes and personal effects later. For now, ordinary traveling gowns would have to do, and she was glad that the dark-colored gown would blend in with the shadows of the passageways.

  She pulled the gown over her chemise-clad figure, then quietly made her way to the door. Easing it open a bit, she involuntarily grimaced at the squeaking noise it made and glanced towards Mavis. Mavis’s steady breathing told her that her friend was in deep slumber. A sigh of relief escaped from between Bethlyn’s lips. She doubted Mavis would be pleased to know of her midnight jaunt and most probably would inform Jeremy first thing. However, Bethlyn was determined to discover who these women might be, and why Captain Montgomery or none of the crew had mentioned them.

  Standing in the passageway, Bethlyn wasn’t certain which way to go. Two doorways stood on either side of her, the hall being lighted by the small lantern swaying from a wooden beam. She felt suddenly exposed but confident that no one would see her if she made her way up the short flight of stairs to the upper deck. Somehow she knew she’d find the crew and the mysterious owners of the feminine laughter there and would put to rest the secrets surrounding this voyage.

  Moving towards the right doorway, she placed one foot on the stair, bunching the material of her gown in her hand to prevent tripping on the hem. Bethlyn never got the chance to move further. Glancing up, she saw the imposing figure of Captain Montgomery hovering above her.

  “May I be of assistance, my lady?” he inquired in such a silken voice that a chill ran down Bethlyn’s spine.

  The blood rushed to her face, and Bethlyn wondered if she looked as guilty as she felt. She attempted to hide her discomfiture with a ready smile.