Elizabeth Boyle (81 page)

They whispered timeless words to each other, soft, quiet confessions for their ears only.

Lily opened her eyes and looked around the shadowy room. This was her new home, one that many a woman would envy. But she knew the real treasure of Weston Hall was the man who held her in his arms.

She couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt any other way than she did at this very moment or how she could have felt any other way.

Webb Dryden, I’ll love you ‘til the day I die
.

W
hile the Christmas Eve assassination attempt on the life of the First Consul of France, Napoleon Bonaparte, is a historical fact, there is no evidence that Joseph Fouché knew about the incident beforehand. Despite Napoleon’s nearly bloodless takeover of the country in 1799, France at the time of
Brazen Heiress
was still rife with dissent, including Royalist factions and pockets of those still clinging to the extreme views of the Jacobins. Bonaparte was loathe to give up any of the power he held, and it has been suggested by historians that the Secret Police, headed by Fouché, created plots against Bonaparte to strengthen their position and authority under the First Consul. The Christmas Eve bomb gave Fouché the excuse he’d been looking for to mount a witch-hunt of Napoleon’s enemies, executing both Jacobins and Royalists for the crime. Like our own modern-day speculations on twentieth-century assassinations, isn’t it easy to suppose that Fouché, as I have suggested in my story, knew all along that a bomb awaited the First Consul on the
Rue Saint-Nicaise
?

Brazen Angel
— Lady Sophia D’Artiers plays a dangerous game of deception that pits her against the most unlikely of adversaries, her betrothed, Giles Corliss.

Brazen Heiress
— Lady Lily D’Artiers is lured into spying by her childhood love, the bold and dashing Webb Dryden.

Brazen Temptress
— Julien D’Artiers’ double life as the toast of the
ton
and an American privateer are about to collide when he finds himself face to face with the one woman who could unmask him: his wife.

One Night of Passion
— Georgie has one night to find a man to ruin her and the dashing Captain Colin Danvers comes to her unlikely rescue.

Stealing the Bride
– Stealing another man’s bride was the least of Temple’s sins, falling in love with Lady Diana Fordham was far more dangerous…

Once Tempted
– Only Robert can help Olivia clear her sullied name, yet one kiss reveals that the rogue in her arms isn’t the man she thinks he is.

It Takes A Hero
– Rebecca Tate will have to take a page from one of her own scandalous novels to keep the dashing Rafe Danvers from ruining her success.

Hero, Come Back
featuring Elizabeth’s novella, “The Matchmaker’s Bargain” – James Reyburn returned from the war a wounded man, but love has a way of healing all wounds, even a broken heart.

Something About Emmaline
– Inventing a wife was just a convenience for Alexander, until a real-life Emmaline arrives on the baron’s doorstep and in his bed.

This Rake of Mine
- Miranda Mabberly hid from society and her ruined past for seven years until fate and a bit of matchmaking put her back in the arms of Mad Jack Tremont, the very rake who ruined her.

Love Letters from a Duke
– Felicity Langley has every intention of marrying the Duke of Hollindrake until she finds her heart stolen by another, her footman.

Confessions Of A Little Black Gown
– When Thalia Langley mistakenly receives the wrong trunk, she knows better than to don the seductive black dress she finds inside.

Memoirs of a Scandalous Red Dress
– Lady Philippa Knolles has loved Captain Dashwell since the first moment he stole a kiss from her. Now she has one last chance to claim his heart.

How I Met My Countess
– The Earl of Clifton always knew that one day he’d meet his perfect countess. He just never counted on meeting Lucy.

Mad About the Duke
– Elinor Sterling wanted nothing less than a duke for her next husband until a mysterious solicitor catches her heart.

Lord Langley is Back in Town
- Lord Langley has come back to London after years in His Majesty’s service to find the only way to save his scandalous hide is to take a bride and proper Minerva Sterling is the perfectly respectable choice.

His Mistress by Morning
– An imprudent wish and a bit of magic lands Charlotte Wilmont in the arms of Sebastian Marlowe, but not at all as she’d imagined.

Tempted by the Night
– Lady Hermione Marlowe has loved the Earl of Rockhurst from afar for ages and refuses to listen to all the scandalous rumors that swirl around the rakish man. That is until an imprudent wish gives her a glimpse into the earl’s secret life.

No Marriage of Convenience
– The Earl of Ashlin needs a respectable wife and Riley Fontaine is anything but…

Elizabeth Boyle is the NY Times bestselling author of regency-set historical romance novels. Her favorites moments as an author include winning the Dell Diamond Debut, the Romance Writers of America RITA award and falling over backward into Puget Sound during a photo shoot. Having successfully hunted software pirates for a living, Elizabeth feels equally qualified to delve into the antics of rakes, spies and privateers in her writing life.

To learn more about Elizabeth and her books, please visit her website,
www.elizabethboyle.com
for story excerpts, series information, family trees, e-booklist, and fun giveaways.

Visit Elizabeth’s website:
www.elizabethboyle.com

“T
hese acts of predation must cease!” The judge’s voice boomed throughout the oak paneled courtroom. The black-robed magistrate of the Admiralty court continued his high-pitched rail at the ragtag group of prisoners standing before him. The tattered lot shuffled their feet, the chains binding them together rattling as if in punctuation to the judge’s rambling dissertation on their fate.

In the last bench near the doorway, the Lord Admiral shook his head. “Leave it to Porter to use such a toplofty speech on an illiterate pack of thieves,” he whispered to his companion, Captain William Johnston.

“Practicing for his turn in the House of Lords, I’d wager,” Captain Johnston replied. Porter’s father had been poorly of late, and it was well known that Porter was pulling at the tide for the old man to stick his fork in the wall—leaving him free to resign from the Admiralty bench and assume his father’s title and seat.

If only Captain Johnston could be so lucky to have a dying father—at least a wealthy titled one.

Instead, he was the fifth son of a poor fisherman who had barely a net to cast out, let alone a title. No, Will Johnston, unlike his well-connected friends, had through his own talents risen to the rank of captain in His Majesty’s Navy.

Still, what was a captain without a ship? A poor excuse for a sailor marooned ashore on half pay, that’s what he was.

He barely listened to the proceedings before them, for he knew that Porter loved the sound of his own voice and the poor buggers would be half dead before they ever saw the hangman.

He was almost as anxious as the smugglers to learn what Porter had in store for them. For when they were done, he’d learn his fate as well.

The Lord Admiral hadn’t dragged him down here to Porter’s courtroom if it wasn’t for some reason. Peter Cottwell, Lord Admiral of His Majesty’s Navy, didn’t do anything without a reason. Will held out a tenuous hope that Peter didn’t need a favor, rather that he was about to extend one.

A ship. The Lord Admiral had the largesse and the power to grant one. And Will needed a ship.

Almost as much as he needed a drink. Shifting in his seat, he crossed his arms over his chest and held back the shakes threatening to reveal his poor condition to the very man who could give him what he wanted.

He’d kept his promise to his dear Mary and not taken a drop this morning before his meeting with the Lord Admiral.

The Lord Admiral. Will glanced over at the man beside him, his pressed and crisp uniform glittering in sharp contrast to the wrinkled tatters worn by the prisoners.

A real laugh it was to see Peter Cottwell strutting about in an admiral’s uniform. An admiral! Why he, Cottwell, and Porter had been nothing but frightened boys when they’d first sailed together some forty years ago on the
Faithful
.

Now look at them—Peter was an admiral, Porter, a respected magistrate, and Will, a tired, broken captain.

Still, Peter wouldn’t have called him down here to meet with Porter if it wasn’t to toast Will’s new ship.

The image of the beautiful lady rose up before his weary eyes. Beneath his feet he could almost feel the pitch of the deck as the bonny new ship danced with the waves, the sun in his eye as he charted a new course, the smell of tar and pitch and new paint filling his nostrils.

Never mind that a war raged out on those seas. A man could forget about his thirst when such things surrounded him, ruled his life.

“The merchants are all up in arms, not to mention some rather high-ranking investors in the House of Lords. Why, after that damned pirate de Ryes sunk the
Greco
and the
Joyful
, he sailed right up into a Scottish harbor and demanded the villagers provision him out of the government stores. Damned cheek, these Americans. Need to be taught a lesson,” the Lord Admiral remarked.

“So I’ve heard,” William murmured. He had no desire to go out and seek fame and fortune by hunting down the likes of de Ryes. No, he just wanted a nice packet to sail. Steady work, commanding a packet. No worries about privateers seeking their fortunes against you. Just back and forth between England and some far-flung port with a cargo of Admiralty missives about requisitions and promotions.

The Lord Admiral shot a scornful look up at the prisoners before them. “If I don’t find a way to stop de Ryes, I’ll be spending my retirement scrubbing barnacles off the nearest prison hulk. And you right alongside me, my friend.”

Captain Johnston looked up, startled out of his own hazy dreams. He was already on half pay, and even that he knew was only through the generosity of his old shipmate, the Lord Admiral.

But go after de Ryes? He licked his lips and thought about the bottle of rum he had hidden in his study back home.

De Ryes.

The notorious American privateer had sunk far better sailors than Will, and now the Lord Admiral thought to send
him
out into that fray?

“De Ryes?” he said, hugging his chest tighter to keep his voice from shaking like an old woman’s. Will might need a commission, but not one that would leave him in an icy Atlantic grave.

“Aye, de Ryes. That’s why I asked you to join Porter and me. I need your help. ‘Tis rumored de Ryes has full run of the
ton
, as well as his own contacts in the Admiralty. He’s right under our nose, and I can’t find him to save my life. Our lives.”

“De Ryes, in London?” Will shook his head. “Who’d believe the man would have so much nerve?”

“Aye. It’s why he’s able to take his pick of only the best prizes, the most important ships. He knows their cargo and when they are sailing.”

“And how do you expect us to help you find him?” Will ventured. While his wife, Mary, was the daughter of a viscount and still had some standing in the
ton
, their financial situation had limited their social connections. The type of society that would give de Ryes access to such highly secret information could come only at the top levels. A level Will couldn’t afford.

“Milord, no one knows what the man even looks like,” he said cautiously

“Don’t milord me, old friend. In a case like this, it’s Peter, like it was on the
Faithful
. You and Porter are my oldest friends. I need your help. I thought we’d share a pint, like we used to, and perhaps we could, between the three of us, come up with a plan to catch this rascal.”

Will saw his ship of dreams sink under the waves, dashed by the desperate tones he heard in Peter’s voice. There would be no ship, not today.

Besides, he knew the Lord Admiral and how he worked—the crafty sea dragon had called him down here for a reason. Perhaps he even had a plan, one he needed Porter and him to implement, to do his dirty work.

A better man, Will knew, would have been insulted by these games, but a better man wouldn’t be on half pay and beholden to the likes of Peter Cottwell.

Something he would be for the rest of his days.

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Mary had been so proud of him this morning when he’d left their little house, full of promise of the riches that would at last be theirs.

How could he tell her, once again, that he’d failed?

Up at the bench, Porter cleared his throat. “I pronounce that each able-bodied member of this crew be immediately transported for indefinite service in His Majesty’s Navy. And you, Captain Hawthorne, fate has a different course for you. I order that you be hanged by your neck until dead.”

Captain Hawthorne?
Will’s gaze jerked up toward the bench. He hadn’t heard that name in . . . well, long enough for him to have almost forgotten it.

Almost.

He perked up in his seat to study the prisoner at the end of the row.

Hawthorne
. It couldn’t be the same man. Too slight, and too straight for a man in his sixties. Will glanced over at the Lord Admiral to see if the name affected him in any way, but Cottwell sat with his usual ramrod posture and unruffled features.

As if he’d known the prisoner’s name all along. A shiver of unease trembled over Will’s already shaky limbs. ‘Twas as if Peter had gathered them together to remember—to remember what they owed him.