How to Be a Proper Lady: A Falcon Club Novel (22 page)

London. Not in a distant land. Not gone forever, destroyed as it should have been with the rest of his mother’s belongings when she died five years after her husband sent her bastard son away.

In London. And so Jin would be in London by late summer, after he returned Viola to her family in Devonshire.

“Thank you for this, Gupta.” He stood. “Where would you like your fee delivered?”

Joshua blinked, his eyes widening. Jin supposed he ought to reward the man with more, with some display of satisfaction or anticipation. But at present he hadn’t the will for it.

Shaking his head once, Joshua stood and tucked his satchel beneath his arm neatly. “To the usual place, Mr. Smythe.”

Jin held out his hand. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Gupta.”

“Likewise, sir. I hope you will not forget Gisel Gupta the next time you have need.”

“I will contact you.”

Joshua stepped away from the table.

“Gupta. Wait. I do have need of you at this time. In Boston.”

“Yes, sir. Boston is a fine city.”

“I need you to find a sailor and interview him for me. The sailor’s name is Crazy.”

Two minutes later, he watched Joshua weave through the tables and chairs and walk across the pebbly yard to his horse, then mount and ride away.

He glanced down at his untouched glass of rum. He might indulge in a moment of celebration. For three years he had paid Joshua Bose to search out the box. For twenty he had thought about it, imagining that box held his salvation—the key to his identity. Now, finally, he knew it to be within his reach. But he had no taste for rum, or any of the other spirits he’d had before him over the past three days.

Three days, and the sweet, rich flavor of her still lingered on his tongue. Three days and he could not yet erase her scent from his senses. Three days that already felt like a millennium.

He still wanted her. He wanted her hands on him and her soft lips caressing his skin and her dark eyes hot with desire and pleasure as he had her. He wanted her again. Goddamn it, he wanted her every day for a month. A year. He told himself to cease thinking of her. He failed at it.

Castle would follow her home; he was certain of it. He had passed the planter heading toward the
April Storm
as he left Port of Spain.

He had engineered it, but he did not like it. Castle might be an unexceptionable sort, but he didn’t like the opportunist bastard.

But, no. That was unjust. Castle was not a bastard. Jin had spent the evening with the harbormaster and naval officers and their wives learning about Aidan Castle, and he was unsurprised. Castle was the favored son of a modestly situated family in Dorset, a solid member of the respectable English gentry, a man who might as well try his hand at marrying into a noble family through an illegitimate daughter.

Jin was the bastard. The man without family or home. The mercenary. The thief. The murderer who would never fully atone for the evils he had done. Not when he was still committing deeds that went against his conscience.

She did not wish to return to England, to leave her life on the sea, and yet he was forcing her to do so. Perhaps his guilt was mitigated by what he was giving her in return. She deserved better than Aidan Castle, but she loved him. Jin might take comfort in his good deed if he weren’t so damned distracted by his own desire.

The journey would take a month or six weeks if the wind stayed with them. The neat little thirty-gun brig he’d purchased the previous day would make it a comfortable trip. But it was going to be a hellishly long month trying to remain aloof from her. If he touched her again, he would be playing them both false. He was not the man for Miss Viola Carlyle.

When she had come into his room at the hotel seeking to seduce, he told himself it would not harm either of them to enjoy another night together. But when she asked if he wished her to leave, he’d had the insane urge to grasp her hand again and insist that she never leave. The panic that had sloshed through him then lingered even now.

“Captain Seton?”

Slipping his palm over his cuff, the slim weight of the dagger tucked within his sleeve at ready use, he turned.

“Aha! I knew not that I would be so fortunate so swiftly! They told me at the wharf that you had gone in this direction not two hours ago.” The naval officer rode toward the canopy on a fine dappled gray, in blue and white uniform with gold encrustations of rank and honor on his shoulders and chest. Behind him two other officers drew their mounts to a halt at a distance, the wind blowing about their hat plumes.

Jin released the dagger hilt and moved to the edge of the lean-to, into the sun.

“How may I help you?”

The officer removed his hat and bowed smartly from the saddle. “Captain Daniel Eccles, at your service, sir.”

Eccles, Halloway’s lieutenant when the Royal Navy finally caught up with the pirate Redstone.

“As I am at yours, Captain.” He bowed.

Eccles smiled broadly. “May I join you for a drink?”

“Of course.”

Eccles motioned his officers to dismount and introduced them. They were sober-browed and neatly disposed in their crisp uniforms, so different from the ragtag collection of sailors aboard the
April Storm
. But men of the sea were largely the same at heart. With few words they made themselves agreeable and showed their intelligence, and both were gentlemen, as was Eccles.

“That must be your ship anchored at Scarborough,” Jin said, watching them drink. “She is impressive.”

“I was fortunate to get her. But I did not see the wily
Cavalier
at dock. Where is she berthed, at Crown Point?”

“She has been sunk.”

Eccles’s eyes widened. His officers glanced at one another.

“Sunk? The
Cavalier
?” His brow wrinkled. “I hadn’t thought it possible, not with you at the helm.”

“It was, I admit, unexpected.” As was this tightness in his chest that would not abate. “Where are you bound? I understand from the port official at Port of Spain that you have been cruising this sea for some months.”

“Ah, then my next question is answered. I hope he gave you the letter I left with him for you.”

“He did. Thank you.”

Eccles smiled. “When my admiral commands a task of me, I obey, of course. You have influential friends at Whitehall, Seton. I think I am nearly jealous.”

“A man with a ship like yours needn’t be jealous of anyone, Eccles.”

The naval officer laughed. “You are quite right. But we are bound for England shortly, in fact. Our cruise is at an end and we’ve only to take on provisions, then will be heading home.”

Slowly Jin leaned forward, finally taking up his glass of rum. Here was a solution.

“Captain Eccles, I myself have been given a challenging task for which I am in need of assistance. I wonder if you could help me.”

“If it is within my power, of course. Any favor for the man who turned the crafty
Cavalier
’s purpose from thieving to good work. Redstone would not have done it, no matter how we hounded him.” He regarded Jin quite seriously. Eccles knew Redstone’s true identity, as only those who had been there on the sea off the coast of Devonshire that day. The pirate Redstone who had preyed on the vessels of wealthy peers had not been forgotten—or entirely forgiven. It was ironic, given that Jin had actually captained the
Cavalier
most of the time Alex Savege—in his other persona—had been its master. Yet now Jin was the hero and Alex ever after the mistrusted villain despite his noble lineage.

Not irony. Rather, a mockery of decency.

“Thank you,” he replied. “I have the honor of conveying a lady from Trinidad to Devonshire, the daughter of Lord Carlyle. I have no doubt she would be infinitely more comfortable aboard a ship of the line in the company of naval officers, than otherwise.”

Eccles nodded. “We have accommodation for ladies aboard. Modest, but suitable. My wife is with us and will be glad for feminine company. Will you join us aboard then?”

“I will accompany you in my vessel.”

Eccles nodded. “The more guns the better should we meet with threats.”

Jin swallowed the last of the rum, and felt the heat slide down his throat into his gut.

“Eccles, might you have room aboard your ship for yet another passenger? I have an acquaintance, also on Trinidad now, who may be looking for passage to England shortly as well.”

“We can make space for him if you wish.” Eccles lifted his glass. “Any friend of yours is welcome aboard my ship. Who is he?”

“A planter. English-born but now quite American. And he is a friend of the lady. His name is Castle.” The man who would spend the month with her instead of him, as she would have if he had not found her and altered her life.

He glanced at Joshua’s half-filled glass still on the table. After three years, his search for his father would soon come to an end. And after two years, he would finally cease living with Viola Carlyle as the purpose for his actions. His quest would be over, his debt paid.

Eccles raised his rum. “To England, then,” he toasted.

Jin shifted his gaze to the querulous sea. “To England.”

Chapter 18

Fellow Subjects of Britain,

The arrogance of the aristocracy never ceases to amaze. Consider the following, which I received yesterday from the Head Bird Man:

My lady,

It is with great pleasure that I alert you to the news that Sea Hawk has returned to England and is forthwith available for you to run to ground. I fear that once you become acquainted with him you will have no use for the remaining members of our inconsequential little club; as many sea captains, he tends to turn ladies’ heads. If this comes to pass, my heart will suffer for loss of your attention. But I cannot regret that finally you may discover the identity of one of us. Therefore, if you should in fact learn his true name, pray do me the honor of conveying to me your meeting place and time so that I might hide in the bushes and sigh over the loss I am myself now bringing about. A lady must be given that which she wishes, however, and if I am able to fulfill your desires even in this manner I will eagerly do so, even though it is to my disadvantage.

Yours devotedly, &c,

Peregrine

Secretary, The Falcon Club

He teases as though I were some demirep he could charm with childish flattery. He imagines women bereft of the capacity to reason, susceptible to empty foolishness instead.

Note this, Peregrine: I am unmoved by your flirtation. I will discover Sea Hawk’s true identity and will reveal him and all of you to the poor citizens of Britain whose wealth you squander playing games like little boys at Pick-Up Sticks.

—Lady Justice

Chapter 19

“I
t is . . . bigger than I remember.” Viola stared through the carriage window at the house rising before her.

Not house. Mountain.

Savege Park was a rambling mass of stone, mortar, parapets, and about a hundred chimneys, with dozens of windows to the west reflecting the ocean, and windows to the east mirrors of emerald green hills dotted with sheep and striped with late-summer crops.

The country home of her sister, the Countess of Savege.

Not five miles away, Glenhaven Hall, the manor house of the Baron of Carlyle where Viola had lived her first ten years, was tucked behind a high bluff. But when they had disembarked in Exmouth and Jin offered her the choice, Viola decided to come here first, to meet Serena before again encountering the man who was not truly her father.

Possibly she had made a mistake.

“But I only saw it once or twice, I think,” she mumbled. She was weary from the swift journey, her bones and muscles rattled from the carriage’s constant bumping, but her nerves jittered like a cabin boy in his first squall.

“It’s a pity your friend, Mr. Castle, is not here to enjoy the sight,” the gentleman sitting beside her said pleasantly. Mr. Yale was always pleasant, although slightly satirical, and certainly inebriated. But the latter did not seem to affect his gentlemanly address or the clever glint in his silver eyes. During the long drive he had provided agreeable company. Distracting company.

Jane, the dust-colored-beanpole maid Jin insisted she accept in Trinidad, barely said a word.

Jin had ridden.

For a man who six weeks earlier said that he would not allow her out of his sight until he delivered her to her sister’s home, he’d been conspicuously absent lately. In Trinidad before departing they had a single conversation in which he introduced her to Jane and told her she would be traveling to England with the navy. It seemed he had many influential friends. Like the Admiralty.

During the voyage she’d seen only glimpses of him across the sea. They were two ships strong, and encountered no unfriendly vessels. Captain Eccles’s frigate boasted one hundred twenty guns, and the ship Jin had acquired in Tobago was remarkably fine—not as beautiful as the
Cavalier
but considerably better than the
April
. Viola had not been worried, merely perpetually out of sorts.

Aidan’s company aboard hadn’t helped. His announcement at Port of Spain that he must travel back to England to visit his family astounded her. He insisted he could leave the repairs to his farm in the hands of his steward. But his solicitous, appreciative attention on board had swiftly begun to chafe, and Seamus’s company was predictably awful. The naval officers as well as Captain Eccles’s wife provided some relief. But mostly she’d kept to herself reading in her cabin. She didn’t like being a passenger aboard another master’s ship. She wondered how Jin had borne it.

And now he was fulfilling his promise to deliver her home. He had been a shadow for a month. Shortly, he would disappear altogether.

It must be for the best. She could not forget him if he remained constantly in her life.

“Yes, I suppose Mr. Castle would like it,” she replied, shifting her gaze from the sprawling mansion to Mr. Yale. At the dock in Exmouth, Aidan had taken one look at the darkly attractive Welshman who was to accompany her and Jin to Savege Park, and his face went stony. Viola didn’t know why he should bother being jealous. The elegant Londonite was certainly handsome, his black hair, coat, waistcoat, and breeches giving him a decidedly mysterious air. But he couldn’t hold a candle to the former pirate. Still, Aidan had been fidgety about leaving her to see his parents in any case, constantly repeating during the final days of their voyage how sorry he was not to be able to be there for her reunion with her family.

“He’s no doubt accustomed to this sort of thing,” she murmured, “being English, of course.”

“As are you, of course.” Mr. Yale slanted her a sidelong glance.

He hopped gracefully out of the coach, then proffered his hand. She maneuvered her skirts over the steps without tripping. Despite the gentle admonishments of Mrs. Eccles, she’d worn trousers and coat during the voyage. But when Captain Eccles informed her they were to dock, she changed into the dress. She hated herself for it. She hated her weakness.

The cause of that weakness dismounted, gave his horse into the care of a waiting servant—a servant wearing,
good Lord
, black and gold
livery
—and moved toward them. His gentleman’s clothes suited him, his garments simple although their quality seemed finer even than Mr. Yale’s.

But she didn’t care about that. Just as that morning in the gray of dawn at Exmouth, she met his dispassionate gaze and the nerves in her belly clumped together in a sticky mass.

The door of the mansion swung open and a woman came to the top of the stair. She was beautifully gowned, elegantly coiffed, and—despite fifteen years—perfectly, achingly familiar. The same thoughtful, smiling eyes sparkled with tears now. The same lovely long fingers spread upon her cheeks. The same wide mouth opened in an O of wonder.

“Vi-Viola?” she uttered. “
Viola?
” she whispered.

Viola nodded, a few times, tiny quick jerks of her head.

Serena flew down the steps, skirts fluttering, and enveloped her in an embrace. She was half a head taller, and fragrant of cinnamon, and Viola buried her nose in Serena’s square shoulder, cinched her arms about her sister’s waist, and squeezed her eyes shut. She had not known what to expect. But somehow,
this
had not occurred to her. This homecoming. This love. She thought, perhaps, that she was a very poor prophet of her own life.

Serena loosened her hold only enough to draw back and curve her hand around Viola’s cheek.

“I do not know where to begin.” Serena’s eyes, wonderfully mismatched blue and violet and bright with tears, seemed to drink her in. “I would exclaim what a beauty you have become, but you always were a beauty. I would barrage you with a hundred-score questions, but you must be weary from your long journey.” Her arms tightened. “But mostly I will stare in utter bemusement. I cannot believe it is you.”

“It is I.” Viola spoke in barely a whisper. Now, here, beneath the adoring gaze of her sister, her insides jumbled entirely. Only three further words came to her. “I am sorry.”

Serena’s winged brows tilted. “Whatever
for
?”

“For not coming home before this.”

The smile slipped from her sister’s lips, but her eyes remained soft.

“Oh, Vi, we have a great deal to talk about, you and I.” She laughed a sweet laugh between sorrow and joy, and hugged her again. “Fifteen years of a great deal,” she whispered. She grasped Viola’s hand tightly. “But first, I must give thanks.” She turned to the men standing back somewhat.

“Mr. Yale, it is a pleasure to see you. I hope you will make a lengthy visit.” She spoke with regal grace and curtsied with perfect poise, her elegant gown and honey hair shimmering in the light of the lamp a servant held to dispel the falling dusk. “Thank you for assisting in bringing my sister home today.”

Mr. Yale bowed. “My greatest pleasure, Lady Savege.”

Serena’s fingers slipped from Viola’s. She walked to Jin, extended her hands, and grasped his. She said very softly and somewhat thickly, “How shall I ever begin to thank you?”

Jin’s eyes glittered as Viola had never seen, with a light powerful and entirely at peace. “You need not.”

“In fact, I
cannot
. There is nothing I could say or give you to compare.”

The corner of his perfect mouth tilted up ever so slightly. “I am justly compensated.” His gaze shifted to Viola.

She could not breathe. His words and gaze always caused the same state inside her rebellious body—thorough lack of functionality. Only this time, it was worse, because shortly, when the earl paid him, he would leave.

“Miss Carlyle, may I escort you in?” Mr. Yale offered his arm.

Serena swirled around. “Oh, no, sir! I will not allow her one moment in another’s company until I have had at least a sennight to myself.” She circled Viola’s waist and drew her toward the stair, bending her head. “My husband is briefly from home but will return within the week, I hope. When I received Jinan’s note from the courier earlier today I sent off a missive to Alex entreating him to speed his journey. He will be so glad to know you. But I beg of you, do not allow anything Mr. Seton told you about him to predispose you one way or the other. You must fashion your own opinion.”

“Mr. Seton told me nothing of Lord Savege, in fact.”

Serena chuckled. “That is very much like Jinan, of course.” She looked over her shoulder. “Gentlemen, do come in and allow Mr. Button to provide you with refreshment in the drawing room while the servants see to everything.”

Servants were seeing to everything indeed, a veritable army of footmen in black with gold piping carrying luggage or simply standing at duty as Serena led Viola across the three-story entry hall to a sweeping staircase. The floor was tiled with gray and white marble, the stairs carpeted in Oriental luxury, the banister gleaming wood, all lit with dozens of candles. On the wall of the balconied landing above, a portrait hung of Viola’s sister. With an infant.

She stared. In the picture Serena wore an opulent gown of gold, diamonds hanging on her neck and ears and in her hair. She cradled in her arms a tiny child garbed in white. The mother’s gaze rested on her sleeping babe with quiet tenderness.

“Oh, don’t look at that silly thing. Alex insisted. He is an overly proud papa. But I loathed every moment of the sitting, and Maria did as well. She fussed throughout.”

“You have a daughter,” Viola whispered.

Serena squeezed her waist. “Your niece.”

“You named her Maria.”

“After Mama.” She took Viola’s hand. “Now come. Mrs. Tubbs has made up for you the very best chamber, and tea and a hot hip bath both await. Then dinner once you are dressed, if you are able. I cannot complain, but I haven’t a notion as to why Jinan insisted you make that entire journey in a single day. It is sixty miles to Exmouth, if only that, and over hills. You must be exhausted.”

“Not very,” she barely managed. Her eyes were wide as a child’s. The corridor went on and on, turning corners and going up and down stairs before Serena finally halted before a beautifully fashioned oaken door.

The chamber within was not quite as large as the
April Storm
’s quarterdeck, but nearly if one counted the adjacent dressing room. Partially paneled in warm wood, the walls painted a delicate shade of rose, and appointed in soft gold and ivory fabrics with a sumptuous curtained bed and a delicate gilt-edged dressing table and sparkling mirror, it seemed a fairyland. Like the fairylands Serena had so loved to dream about as a girl.

“Is this your bedchamber?” Viola uttered.

“No, silly. It is yours. There is your bath, and a maid will be here momentarily to assist, although I would like to remain while you settle in, if you will allow me.”

Viola turned back toward the corridor. “I think Jane is—”

Serena took her arm and drew her again into the room, closing the door behind them.

“Mrs. Tubbs—that is my housekeeper, a very excellent person—will see that your maid has dinner and ample rest before she returns to your service tomorrow. For tonight my own maid will be yours.” Her brow puckered. “Will that suit you? I am terribly sorry. I should have asked first, but I assumed that after your long journey . . .” She bit her lower lip, an action so thoroughly familiar, as though from a dream, but in fact from memory. “Viola?”

“Hm?”

“You are unwell, of course.” Serena’s voice wobbled. “Exhausted, no doubt.” She crossed to the dressing table where a silver tray with a delicate porcelain pot and cups were arranged about a plate of sugar-coated biscuits. “You must have a spot of tea. It will put you to rights, I am certain. Oh, dear.” The china clinked in her hands. “My nerves are a disaster. You would think I have never before reunited with my sister whom all except me presumed dead for a decade and a half.” She turned her face away, the cup and pot suspended. Her shoulders shook.

“Oh, Ser.” Viola’s eyes overflowed.

Serena turned her head, her cheeks streaked with tears. She set down the dishes, and they walked to each other and enfolded each other in their arms. They remained like that for a very long time.

S
erena sent their apologies to the gentlemen, and ordered a light supper to be delivered to Viola’s chamber instead. Viola bathed, changed into her usual shirt and drawers, and saw quite clearly Serena’s thoughts on her lovely face. That she had always been able to read her elder sister’s thoughts even when they were children did not dissipate the twisting in her stomach.

“You don’t like my nightclothes.”

“Nightclothes? Oh, I
am
relieved.” Serena’s mouth tipped up. “I thought perhaps you intended to go about the house like that. It would scandalize the servants, you know.” She giggled.