Dark Before the Rising Sun (12 page)

“You seem to have a rather strange effect on women,” Sir Morgan commented, wishing as the words left his mouth that he had not.

But apparently Dante Leighton had not taken offense at the offhand remark and, in fact, replied conversationally. “'Tis a pity, but many a damaging rumor has started because of some innocent incident. For instance, our little friend there was in my room last evening. She and another highly imaginative creature were clearing the table of dinner when a pile of clothing on the bed began to move, and, because I am a man of questionable character, they immediately assumed the worst. They ran out of the room screaming. 'Twas a shame they did not stay to see the cat crawl out from under the clothing. They believed it to be some sorcery of mine,” Dante said with a suddenly weary smile. “I have always thought it wise to remember that not everything is as it may seem,” he added in a quiet voice, and there was an unmistakable warning to his words.

“A salutary lesson I shall indeed bear in mind, Captain,” Sir Morgan responded, and the tension lessened somewhat as their eyes met candidly.

Lost in thought, they did not become aware until they stood before it that the door to Lady Rhea Claire's room stood open.

Neither could have been prepared for the scene inside. Lady Rhea Claire was standing in the center of the room, dressed in the outlandish buckskin outfit. But that was not what startled the two men. It was the fact that Rhea Claire was being held in the arms of a strange man. His broad back to the door, he held Rhea against his chest, his hand smoothing one of the long golden strands of her unbound hair. Then, to the utter amazement of both men, the man pressed his lips against her cheek in a gentle, loving kiss. Even more shocking was that the lady was not protesting. Indeed, she was snuggling closer to the gentleman.

The two people were unaware that their privacy had been intruded upon, but Jamaica, lying on the bed, sensed trouble brewing and, with feline dispatch, disappeared beneath the bed.

Perhaps it was the sound of Rhea's weeping which severed the invisible bonds holding Dante immobile, or perhaps the proprietorial way in which the man rested his cheek upon Rhea's bowed head. Whatever the reason, Dante was upon the man before Sir Morgan even thought to interfere.

Dante grabbed hold of the man's shoulder and spun him around, his hand going to his sword, but Rhea stepped between the two men.

“Dante, no! Please! You do not understand. This is my father!” Rhea cried.

Staring up at Dante, her face tearstained, her lips quivering, she said quietly this time, “This is my father.”

Something flickered momentarily in Dante's pale eyes, but whether it was fear or uncertainty, neither showed clearly on his face as he held the older man's hostile gaze. Even had it not been for Rhea's declaration, Dante would have recognized the face of the Duke of Camareigh.

It was a face one remembered: it was scarred. Across his left cheek, a thin scar etched its way from just beneath his eye to the corner of his mouth, adding a sinister cast to his aquiline features. The years had not changed him much, Dante thought, remembering all those years ago when he had sat across from him over a gaming table. He was still tall, no stooping of shoulders; he was still lean, no bulging of his waistcoat. But there were more lines on his face to mark the passing of the years, and the expression in his sherry-colored eyes was more world-weary and cynical, except when his eyes rested on his daughter's face. Then they mirrored all the warmth of their coloring.

Yes, Dante remembered those eyes well, and their contempt for a reckless young man, contempt the duke had not bothered to hide when he won a fortune from the dissolute Marquis of Jacqobi. Dante had felt a fool the last time he faced the man, and now, as he stepped back and released Lucien Dominick's shoulder, he realized that the years hadn't changed that either. He still felt a fool. Only this time there was enmity in the duke's eyes, which he also did not bother to hide.

No, the Duke of Camareigh was not easily forgotten.

Sir Morgan received a similar impression. At Lady Rhea Claire's impassioned plea, Sir Morgan had come to an abrupt standstill, thinking discretion the better part of valor in this instance. But his hand continued to rest lightly on his sword hilt as he felt the Duke of Camareigh's penetrating gaze come to rest on him. Sir Morgan knew the duke had not missed a single detail of his appearance while sizing him up and deciding whether he would be friend or foe. And Sir Morgan suddenly found himself wondering how so arrogant and harsh a man as the Duke of Camareigh could have sired so gentle and agreeable a daughter as Lady Rhea Claire. She took after her mother, he speculated idly, beginning to grow increasingly uncomfortable under the duke's imperious scrutiny. He had come up against interfering civilians in positions of authority too many times not to know that they could cause no end of trouble for a mere officer of the Crown, especially when that complaining civilian was a member of the House of Lords and mixed socially with high-ranking ministers, perhaps even with Sir Morgan's superiors at the Admiralty. If the Duke of Camareigh took a dislike to him, Sir Morgan knew, then the wrong word in the right ear would have his career in ruins.

“Father, this is Sir Morgan Lloyd, of HMS
Portcullis
. He escorted us safely back to England. We owe him a great deal, for he came to my rescue while we were in Antigua.”

With relief, Sir Morgan heard Lady Rhea Claire introducing him.

“Captain,” the duke said, inclining his regal head slightly, “if what my daughter says is indeed true, and I have no reason to doubt her, then I owe you a debt of gratitude which can never be fully repaid. It is an honor to make your acquaintance,” the duke told him in all sincerity, and Sir Morgan suddenly found himself the recipient of a rare smile from the Duke of Camareigh.

“The honor is mine, Your Grace. Lady Rhea Claire is being too kind, for I did little more than my duty required. I am just thankful that I could be of some small service to her ladyship,” Sir Morgan responded. Another man might have been suspected of unbecoming false modesty, but not Sir Morgan, whose deep sense of duty was evident in the straightforwardness with which he spoke and met the other man's eyes.

“Actually, the man who carries the onus of hero is Captain Leighton, who rescued Lady Rhea Claire from the Charles Town docks. His actions kept her out of the hands of her former kidnappers, who had been pursuing her with murderous intent.”

In Sir Morgan's mind, he had just been speaking the plain truth, or at least what he knew of the truth, and so he was unprepared for the look of gratitude in Lady Rhea Claire's eyes as she heard his praise for Dante Leighton.

However, the Duke of Camareigh did not see the captain of the
Sea Dragon
in the same light.

“That was well over six months ago. I would hazard a guess that your route was rather leisurely circuitous? Or am I mistaken in thinking that England lies in a direction opposite Charles Town than do the West Indies?” the duke asked in that overly polite soft tone that Rhea knew only too well masked displeasure.

“Father, I can explain. Please, I must tell you so many things about—”

“Rhea, allow the
gentleman
to explain why he has kept you aboard his ship for so long.”

Dante had been standing quietly through the last few minutes of conversation, a thousand different memories spinning through his mind while he stared at Lucien Dominick, the embodiment of all he had left behind so many years before. For a brief moment, as the memories threatened to overtake the present, he felt the old confusion and sense of betrayal. But he was no longer the frightened, beaten young lord who had fled London. He would no longer be intimidated by anyone. And what was his, he vowed silently, he had the power to hold.

Something of Dante's antagonism and immovability must have transmitted itself to the duke, for his gaze narrowed as he stared at the younger man, noting for the first time the aristocratic features stamped on the bronzed face. There was a certain arrogance in the way he stood, holding himself proudly tall, as if daring anyone to condescend to him. Suddenly something seemed familiar.

“Leighton?” the duke murmured thoughtfully, a slight frown marring his brow. “The name is not unfamiliar. You
are
English, are you not?”

“Indeed, Your Grace. Although I have held the title of captain for these many years, I am also the Marquis of Jacqobi,” Dante said curtly.

It was the duke's turn to hide his surprise at the revelation of Dante's full identity, and it must have come as a shock to discover that the captain of the
Sea Dragon
, a notorious smuggling vessel, was also a peer of the realm.

The duke remained silent for a moment, as if finding it difficult to digest this unexpected piece of information. The fact of Dante being a titled lord changed many of the duke's assumptions. But there was one thing it did not alter, and Lucien Dominick would have demanded an answer to that question from even His Majesty.

“I still do not have an explanation for your having kept my daughter aboard your ship. Nor do I understand why I was not contacted immediately upon your arrival in London. You have been here for several days, but had I not a man watching the docks in London I still would not know of your arrival. Is that correct?” the duke inquired, just barely containing his anger.

“You seem to have forgotten that my daughter was brutally kidnapped from our home and that our family has suffered the agony of not knowing whether she was alive or dead. And now to discover that she has been here in London, while we have continued to wonder whether we would ever again see her alive.” The duke searched his daughter's flushed face for an explanation. Noting the sadly guilty look in her eyes, he shook his head in disbelief. That she could have been party to such a cruel deception. “Rhea?”

“Oh, Father, please try to understand,” Rhea whispered brokenly, her tear-filled eyes beseeching his forgiveness for her unintentional cruelty. “A single day has never passed without my longing for you and Mother and the rest of the family. If you only knew how I have longed to see you, how I have missed you! I wanted to inform you of my safe return to England, but Dante and I did not wish to have him meet my family while he was under suspicion of kidnapping me from Charles Town. He knew he would not be allowed to leave London until he has answered those false charges, and I was one of the few people who could give evidence refuting the charge.

“Father, Dante has been cleared of any complicity in my kidnapping from Camareigh, or of having kept me aboard the
Sea Dragon
against my will. Sir Morgan was correct when he said that I would most likely have died in Charles Town if Dante hadn't taken me aboard the
Sea Dragon
. Houston Kirby, the ship's steward, nursed me back to health, and all on board could not have been kinder to me. We owe them our gratitude, Father, not our condemnation. How could I abandon them now, when they were in need of my support?” Rhea pleaded. “I had no other choice but to remain and testify on their behalf. Dante and his crew have been cleared of all charges. The crew has disbanded. And as soon as the treasure was divided among the crew members, we were leaving for Camareigh,” Rhea said quietly, her glance moving between the two men who meant more to her than life itself. When her eyes met Dante's, there was a subtle change in her expression.

The duke did not miss that tender exchange of glances, and it did not soothe him. It was becoming disturbingly clear that this Dante Leighton exerted a great deal of influence over Rhea.

“I think you should know that Rhea had every intention of letting you know that she was in London, but I persuaded her otherwise. For purely selfish reasons, I played upon her deep affection and love for her family,” Dante admitted with brutal frankness. It would have been difficult to know whether Lucien Dominick or his daughter was more surprised by the admission.

“Dante?” Rhea asked, confused.

“'Tis true, my dear,” Dante responded, purposely using the endearment. “You see, I had no intention of returning you to the bosom of your family while I was locked up in a cell in Newgate. I feared that, once behind bars, I might never again see the light of day. Knowing something of Lucien Dominick and of the power a duke can wield, I suspected he might react as I would have if my daughter had become involved with a man such as myself. Am I not correct, Your Grace?” Dante inquired. Meeting the duke's unblinking stare, he knew he was right.

The duke did not deny the accusation, and suddenly Rhea knew that Dante had been right. “Father? Say it is not true. You would never do something so horrible as to keep an innocent man in prison.”

“There is nothing I would not do to ensure your happiness, or to avenge a wrong done to one of my family,” the duke said softly. In that moment he showed Rhea the ruthless side of his nature, which she, his beloved daughter, had never been fully aware of.

“I think you should also be aware of the fact,” Dante continued, “that Rhea had very little choice about staying aboard the
Sea Dragon
when she sailed from Charles Town.”

“Dante, please,” Rhea interrupted, her pale cheeks flushing. “It is not necess—”

“No, Rhea, I think it very necessary that your father know the truth. I want him to hear it from me, now, and not through rumors later on,” Dante said evenly. “Upon arriving in Charles Town aboard the
London Lady
, Rhea escaped her kidnappers and fled along the docks. It was my ship, the
Sea Dragon
, that she chanced to climb aboard while seeking safety. She was half-delirious when I found her in my cabin, and, because of certain circumstances, I disbelieved her story of having been kidnapped and of being the daughter of the Duke of Camareigh. I thought her a spy sent aboard my ship to cause mischief. I could not risk her giving some information she had accidentally stumbled across to my enemies, so I kept her aboard. When we sailed, Rhea sailed with us.”