Castaway Dreams (45 page)

Her father picked up his teaspoon and tapped it on the table, thinking. Daphne sipped her tea, though she wasn't tasting it.

"Maybe you should go to the country for a fortnight or two, Daphne, to rest and recover from your adventures. There was talk after you ran off with Tyndale, unpleasant talk. If you decide what you want is to re-enter society, we will discuss the best way to accomplish this. I can see how your time away helped you in many ways, but society will not look at you as I do. In the meantime, you have given me a great deal to think about and we should not rush headlong into making decisions."

Daphne was about to protest, but held back. She did not want to rusticate, not while Alexander Murray was loose in the city. He might do something foolish like ship out to sea thinking it was best to not be around where he would tempt her like a new bonnet with flowers on it, flowers like the pretty little purple ones that grew in the shade on their island...

She pulled her mind away from bonnets and focused.

"Give me a few days, please, Papa. I still have fittings left on my dresses, so I must stay in town for now."

"Very well," Mr. Farnham said, rising to his feet. "But I trust you not to do anything foolish while you are in town, Daphne Farnham."

"I am done with adventures, Papa. You can be sure of that."

Alexander took one of his new coats from the tailor's hands and tried to shrug himself into it, grimacing at the snugness through the back and shoulders.

"Look at this, Quinn. I cannot freely move my arms. How will I wield a saw with this fit?"

"Dr. Murray, if you wear one of my coats during your surgeries I will hunt you down and perform a surgery of my own," the tailor said mildly. "Now, hold still, please. These coats are for social occasions, not for the cockpit. You are a gentleman of substance now, and your valet will help you into your coat for the best fit and appearance. You wish to look fashionable, do you not?"

"Must this have velvet at the collar? I look like some useless popinjay."

"Popinjay? No, sir, I would say more like a Scottish grouse, but one who looks quite presentable."

"Fine feathers do not make fine birds, Quinn."

Henry Quinn raised his brows at that ridiculous assertion. He was a tailor who'd had an unfortunate encounter with a press gang and ended up on the
Caeneus
during the war. Quinn left the sea just as soon as he was able and with his prize money opened this fashionable shop on Jermyn Street. He was also grateful to the man standing in front of him. It was in no small part because of Dr. Murray's skills that Quinn survived in one piece to come back to his tailoring. He peered now at Alexander over his spectacles.

"I would not tell you how to treat chilblains, Dr. Murray, so please do not presume to tell me my trade. My role is to ensure that when you wear my coats you make both of us look good."

"Damned foolishness. Do you have any idea, Quinn, how many coats I could buy in Glasgow for what you are charging me at your London rates?"

"And each of them would look like it came from Glasgow. Now, hold still, and let me adjust this cuff."

It was amazing what women could drive a man to do. Alexander wanted to rush to Daphne's house immediately following the meeting with Childes, pound on the door and demand she marry him, today!

He did not do that, of course. He was a reasonable and prudent man. While he did not need Mr. Farnham's approval or his money, it would help Daphne regain her footing in society if Farnham accepted her bridegroom. Showing up on Farnham's elegant doorstep looking like he could afford to keep Daphne comfortably would further his case.

Alexander glanced at his shabby brown coat, thrown across a chair and looking as out of place as he felt in this elegant establishment. In the pocket of that coat was tucked a special license--and wasn't that an expense to chill him to his bones! But knowing the paper was there, ready for him, ready for her, comforted him and, he admitted, gave him courage.

"Will these coats be ready for me by the end of the week?"

"Once again, they will be ready for you, as I promised." Quinn looked up and his eyes gleamed. "If anyone had told me you would be standing here as full of nerves as any bridegroom I've ever seen--well, I would not have believed it of our Dr. Murray."

"Nonsense. I am not full of nerves," Alexander insisted, shifting from foot to foot.

The door to the tailor's shop slammed open. Alexander had only once glimpsed the man standing there, but recognized him immediately.

"Mr. Farnham! Daph--"

"Where is she?" Farnham yelled, his gloved fists clenching and unclenching. "What have you done with my daughter, you bastard?"

Quinn stepped back, but looked at Alexander.

"Should I fetch help, Dr. Murray?"

Alexander raised his hand to silence Quinn, his attention on Farnham.

"What has happened to Miss Farnham?" he asked calmly.

"As if you did not know! Where is she? Is she in your rooms? By god you will tell me or I will have the law on you!"

"I have not seen Miss Farnham since I escorted her to your home."

"Then explain this!"

Farnham's blue eyes were amazingly like Daphne's, though seamed at the corners with lines. Those eyes narrowed as he thrust a paper into Alexander's hand.

Alexander read it and felt his eyebrows go up.

"Miss Farnham did not write this, or if she did, she wrote it under duress."

"Of course Daphne wrote it! You are all she has been talking about, 'Dr. Murray this' and 'Dr. Murray that'! It is clear to any fool you are the man she loves!"

That warmed his heart, but right now it was not as important as finding Daphne. He looked at the note again.

Dear Father, I have run off to be married to the man I love. Do not follow us, please, for this is my true desire. I will contact you after the wedding and sea you then.

"Her maid went to fetch her for luncheon and found this," Farnham said, but his voice held more desperation than anger now. "I just want her to come home, I do not care what she has done."

"She is not with me," Alexander said, tamping down his own fears. "She has been abducted and the longer you argue with me the farther away her captor will be."

"Abducted? Who--what--"

"This note is not from Daphne, or not written of her own free will. Look here--where are the curlicues and rainbows, and hearts over the
i's
? Did she take her dog with her? No? Then obviously she went under duress, for she'd never leave Pompom behind. What's more, being the highly intelligent woman she is, Daphne has given us the identity of her abductor."

"Intelligent? Daphne?"

Alexander yanked off his new coat, ignoring Quinn's wince as a basted seam ripped away. He pulled his old worn coat on, turning to Daphne's father.

"Clearly, you do not know the same Daphne Farnham I do. She is an intelligent and thoughtful person, and there is no time for further discussion."

"Now, see here, Murray--" Farnham started to say, but then he stopped. "I am beginning to believe there is a great deal I need to reconsider, but finding Daphne is most important of all."

Alexander was already moving toward the door, but he stopped now and looked at the older man.

"I will find Daphne, and when I do I will marry her and I will keep her safe, Mr. Farnham."

"How can I help you find her?" Farnham said simply.

"Have a horse waiting for me at my rooming house. I can travel fastest by myself."

"You know where she is?"

"I know how to find out. Quinn, you're with me."

* * * *

Horace Fuller was a prudent man. When he exited his favorite dockside tavern and was yanked into a piss-smelling alleyway, he held quite still, that being the prudent thing to do when a surgeon has a knife pressed up against your throat.

"Mr. Fuller. Do you have any idea how quickly you would bleed out if I sliced your carotid artery?"

He did, actually. He'd seen men die of such injuries during battle. He'd even inflicted a few himself a time or two.

"How did you know I was here?"

"My friend over there knows the docks better than I do. You and your captain are known in these parts."

Fuller looked to the other end of the alley, where a thin, well-dressed man lounged against a wall, blocking that exit. Fuller sighed.

"I told the boy it was a harebrained thing to do, but he never listens to me."

"That was too bad of Captain St. Armand, Mr. Fuller, and if you do not tell me where he has taken Miss Farnham, it will be too bad for you, too. Unless you wish to die to keep your captain's secrets?"

The surgeon was a few inches shorter than Fuller, but the grip on the mate's shoulder was solid as Gibraltar and the look in the man's eyes--it was disconcerting to hear someone speak so mildly when his eyes burned so hot. Fuller cursed the young fool who put him in this situation.

"If I tell you where he is, do you promise not to kill him?"

"Mr. Fuller, you should be hoping I do not kill
you
before our conversation is finished. I make no promises regarding St. Armand."

So Fuller told him about the abandoned mill on the road to Portsmouth.

"He said he didn't grab her right away because he needed to know she'd still be her father's heir, otherwise she's no good to him. Once he gets her alone with him for a few days she'll be more eager to...urk!"

Fuller rose up on his toes and sweat broke out on his forehead as the blade pressed a fraction deeper.

"When I find them, Fuller, if a single flounce of Miss Farnham's dress is undone I will hunt you down and remove vital parts of your anatomy."

"Careful with that sticker!" Fuller gasped. "Didn't you swear some kind of oath not to harm people?"

"Physicians swear oaths. Surgeons carry knives. You'd be wise to remember that."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Captain St. Armand! I don't think you meant it at all when you said you would shoot Mr. Fuller if I did not write that note. Mr. Fuller left us just as calmly as you please after you bundled me into your gig."

Captain St. Armand looked at Daphne with amusement as he uncorked a bottle of wine.

"Miss Farnham, of course I would not shoot Mr. Fuller. He's my mate and an old friend. My dear, you have a soft heart. I approve. I think my wife should have a conscience. It's a good thing for one of us to have."

"I am not your dear anything! Being carried off by pirates and forced to marry only happens in silly novels. Besides which, you made me leave my darling Pompom behind. You are not a nice man, Captain."

Daphne smoothed down her azure gown, taking a moment to admire the blush pink and lilac rosettes adorning the overskirt. It was a lovely new walking dress and now no one would see it because she'd been kidnapped by pirates. And here she'd promised Papa no more adventures! She looked at her captor from under her lashes. He held the glass of wine up to the candlelight, admiring its color, then brought the glasses and the bottle over to where she sat at the table. Captain St. Armand had bound and gagged her when he had hustled her into his gig, but untied her as soon as they were outside of London and on the road. Daphne did not like being tied up. Though there was that one evening with Alexander...

But that just made her angrier, this not-nice pirate thinking he could marry her. He gave her a glass of wine now and sat opposite her at the table.

The building where he held her was an abandoned mill, and she had to admit Captain St. Armand went to lengths to make it a comfortable prison. There were cushioned chairs and hampers of food and wine, and a crackling fire warmed the room as the wind picked up. He'd given her privacy to wash up, but he locked the door behind him when he left the room.

She tried not to notice the bed that dominated the space. It was large, smothered in silken pillows and satin covers in scarlet and gold. It looked inviting, but she had no intention of climbing into that bed, not unless Captain St. Armand was firmly on the other side of that locked door.

"I will not force myself on you, Miss Farnham," he said now as he took a sip of wine.

She turned back from frowning at the bed. St. Armand was not dressed like a pirate tonight, except for the small gold earring winking in the firelight. He wore a superbly tailored coat of bottle green cut to show off a striped waistcoat in a cream satin with stripes of a darker shade, over a fine linen shirt. The coat, his trousers, and his boots were from London's finest shops, she'd stake a custard on it.

He leaned back in his chair now, crossed one booted ankle over his knee, and gave her a smile, the one she'd come to recognize as his "I'm a dashing pirate rogue" smile, not the "If you don't obey me I will remove your intestines" smile he sometimes used aboard ship.

"I have no need for force, Daphne. Spending a few days locked in here, a few nights in my company, it will be enough to convince you. I am quite confident of the outcome."

Daphne shook her head, marveling at the man's foolishness.

"You are not only not nice, you are not an intelligent man, Captain St. Armand."

He raised his brows at that insult, but it amused rather than angered him.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you do not realize the trouble you created by snatching me away. You do not believe me? Let us examine the evidence: the note you made me write says I ran off with the man I love. Who do you think my father will think of first? Not you, certainly. My father will go to Dr. Murray, who, being very clever, will deduce I did not leave with you of my own free will. He will come after me."

He smiled condescendingly at her. Like she was a foolish girl, or a useless person.

"That's unlikely, Miss Farnham, since he has no idea where we are. You should hope your Dr. Murray does not meet up with me again. As you pointed out, I am not a nice man."

* * * *

Alexander pulled his coat closer around him as the wind picked up. Clouds scudded across the moon, turning the nightscape into a chiaroscuro of silver and black, but it was enough light for him to stay on the road, following Mr. Fuller's reluctant instructions. Amazing how much information a man would offer up with a knife at his throat.