The Rogue's Surrender (The Nelson's Tea Series Book 3) (30 page)

Guilt over what Delgado had done to Garrick washed over her.

The officer cleared his throat, jarring her from her musings. “You must allow me to introduce myself. I’m—”

“The brave naval captain who gallantly sailed in to San Sebastian to face Delgado and stole
El Aguila
right out from under
La Mota’
s nose,” she said all-too quickly.

He quirked his brow then bowed his head. “Ah, so they’ve already told you about me, eh? Or have our courses crossed before?”

“Oh, no. Forgive me.” She grabbed her hands before her and wrung them together in a desperate attempt to cover her nervousness. She was meeting the man who’d saved Garrick from Delgado, a man who also happened to be Garrick’s sister’s husband.
Dios mio
, in her estimation, she was in the presence of a true hero. “I am quick to speak when I should have given you the opportunity to finish.”

“Quick to shoot, slow to steady. Just like my wife. I believe the two of you shall get along famously.” He grinned, revealing a winsome smile. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, you are
Señorita
Vasquez, yes?”

“
Sí
. But… please call me, Mercy.”

His brilliant gaze penetrated hers with an honesty she found hard to resist. “Mercy.” He clicked his feet together and bowed his head, giving credence to his profession as an officer and a gentleman. “I must confess, it isn’t everyday a man gets such a glowing recommendation.” He took her hand and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles. “A pleasure indeed.”

“
I
am the one who is pleased,” she admitted honestly. “I applaud anyone who has put Admiral Roche and the entire Spanish navy to shame.” Mercy’s respect for the captain couldn’t mount higher. Would he and his wife hold the fact that she hailed from Spain against her? She could only pray that wouldn’t be the case. “My people speak of little else,
Capitán
—”

“Henry, please. We do not stand on ceremony here, and in fact, I find the balance bold and refreshing. Don’t you?”

“Poor devil,” Percy said, moving nearer. “
You
would.”

Was the duke alluding to the fact that Henry had once tried to woo his wife?

Henry blanched momentarily before Percy slapped him on the shoulder like an old friend, dismissing any doubts that the duke harbored resentment against the man. “You are fearfully and unfashionably late, sir.”

Henry shifted onto his good leg.

Was it bothering him after the long ride from London to the country? Mercy didn’t have time to ask.

“What you required took time, but I’m happy to report that Fleming has been seen on Thames Street and in several taverns nearby, including the Cat’s Hole.”

“And the
Priory
?” Percy asked.

“Being watched.” Henry clasped his hands behind his back, assuming an officer’s pose, though he shifted his weight for the second time in as many minutes. “Several of my men are stationed along the docks to ensure nothing happens to her.”

Percy grimaced as he rubbed his shoulder. “And the gold?”

“There have been… inquiries. I can assure you, every one answered to your specifications.” Henry’s gaze fixed on the shoulder Percy rubbed absentmindedly. The captain stiffened. “Forgive me. Is there something I can do for that?”

“You can convince my husband to sit down.” Constance curtsied to Henry’s bow. She extended her hand, and Henry planted a kiss there, his eyes raking over Constance familiarly for a scant second before he resumed his previous stance.

Mercy exchanged a glance with Constance. She silently commended her cousin for securing Henry’s affections, even after all that the captain had done as a double agent to disrupt her early married life.

“We’ll succeed in drawing Fleming and Roche out due to your magnificent priming.” Percy slapped Henry on the shoulder, wincing with the effort. “I am obliged to you.”

Henry swept out his arm. “Take your good wife’s advice and rest. We’ve got days to discuss the particulars and prepare. Nothing else needs be done now.”

Constance reached out to Henry, touching his face with quiet grace. “Thank you, Henry.”

Percy gave Henry another nod then gazed down at his wife, allowing her to lead him to the chaise longue once more like a besotted lamb.

Witnessing the genuine affection sparking round her, Mercy understood why Nelson had selected the men he’d chosen for Nelson’s Tea. They’d come from different social molds and environs, but loyalty and duty had fired them into unbendable iron. With that knowledge, she was suddenly overcome with a desire to have known the members who’d sacrificed everything, including their bodies and families to live a double life.

Alone again with Henry, Mercy studied him. Nearly the same height as Percy and Garrick, she got the distinct impression that even with his life-altering injury, Henry was more lithe and agile than his limp accredited him as he gazed fondly at Garrick and Adele.

Mercy’s gaze strayed to Adele and she was filled with little doubt Henry loved her more than life itself.

“So be done.” Garrick stated as he set Adele aside and leaned on her shoulder. “Allow me to get my bearings, sister.”

Henry gave Mercy a nod then moved toward the two siblings, his face illuminated with joy. “I’m damned glad to see you back with your hide attached, ye old blackguard.” He took Garrick’s extended hand and slapped Garrick’s arm.

“Did you get my message?” Garrick asked.

Henry nodded. “Everything you asked for is in play.”

Garrick tilted his blind eye away from Henry as he looked down at his sister. “Does Father know?”

“Clap the jigger-tackle on your spirits, brother. Aye, our parents know you’ve returned safe.” Adele winked as if she also knew something else unspoken between them. “And if you hadn’t already killed Murray, he ordered me to tell you, he would’ve seen the deed done himself.”

Adele reached for Garrick’s face. He didn’t flinch. She did, halting mid-air before settling her hand on his cheek. “I cannot count the times we’ve depended on the scathing bastard. It pains me fierce to know he was dead set against us from the start.”

“Aye.” There was something undeniably hellish in the unfathomable depths of Garrick’s stare, making her glad that Murray was dead so that Garrick wouldn’t have moved heaven and earth to chase him down and murder him again.

What would he do when he was in the same room with Fleming and Roche?

Fear gripped Mercy’s heart. Her limbs weakened. Heaven help her, she couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to Garrick.

Adele turned her head. She lowered her hand and glanced at Mercy with an uplifted brow. “Are you all right,
señorita
?”

“’Tis nothing,” she lied. The entire room was filled with people who were now real in her eyes, not just names to be crossed off in a book. If Percy’s plan didn’t work…

“So this is the reason you sailed to Spain, eh, brother? I think it’s time you introduce me, don’t you?”

“Aye.” Garrick’s voice, a deep baritone, husky and magnificent, coursed through Mercy like a song, easy, luxurious, rippling inside her veins with unstoppable power. “That… I do.”

Constance, dressed in
white with an overlay of silver gossamer, fingered a curl near Mercy’s face then turned her around to face the mirror.

Mercy gazed into the long looking glass, breathing in an exhilarated sigh. Her reflection materialized as the most artful rendition of herself she’d ever seen. Thanks to her cousin, she’d been utterly and undeniably transformed from shipboard waif to exquisite lady, and her hair shone bluish-black, sparkling in the candlelight.

Constance’s modiste, Mrs. Lovett, had outdone herself, creating a
tour de force
worthy of a princess.

Mercy turned this way and that, captivated by the romantic sway of her dancing skirts, imagining herself on the ballroom floor mingling in and about blissful couples ignorant of what the night had in store.

If only tonight allowed for frivolous pursuits.

She closed her eyes, visualizing Garrick’s reaction to her transformation. She hugged herself, imaging his hands enveloping hers as they moved in time to the music. Would she actually get the opportunity to dance with Garrick? Or would the shocking plot they’d put into motion prevent them from enjoying any of the entertainment Constance had planned?

“You look exceptionally pretty, Mercy.” Constance placed her hands on Mercy’s bare shoulders. “And you are bound to turn more than several heads, including — if I may be so bold — my darling husband Percy’s.”

A youthful giggle escaped Mercy’s chest. “Oh, cousin. Percy only has eyes for you. There is no question in my mind who he will notice.”

What I wouldn’t give for Garrick to look at me the way Percy looks at Constance.

She shook off her melancholy and examined her ball gown. White was a fashionable hue. The color set off her olive skin. The low-cut bodice formed an empire waistline just below her breasts in keeping with modern style. Short, but elegant, sleeves trimmed in exotic silver-embroidery with hand-stitched ruby-colored flowers turned ordinary into extraordinary, complementing her ivory silk gloves. Similar embroidery swept down from her bodice to the floor, lining the hem, and the short train billowing out behind her added to the regal elegance.

Mrs. Lovett had also constructed a matching silver and ruby mantilla, an ode to Mercy’s Spanish heritage. The duchess ushered her to a chair before the vanity and pinned the semi-circle headpiece onto her crown.

“The way Mrs. Mortimer styled your hair sets off the mantilla to perfection.”

“Mrs. Lovett is exceptionally talented.” Mercy pursed her lips, glancing this way and that in the mirror. “But is this really me?”

“Are you impersonating my cousin?” Constance snickered then grew more serious, knitting her brows together with a frown. “Were you not allowed gowns like these to attend soirees in Spain?”

“
Sí
. Of course,” Mercy hurried to reassure her. But in all those events, she had never doted on her appearance. In Mercy’s line of work, the idea was to disappear, to move in and out of couples like a wallflower with no one noticing whether or not she was dancing or sitting in the corner. “What I mean to say is… perhaps I have never…”

“Say no more.” Constance took Mercy by the hand and peered over her shoulder. “I know exactly what weights heavy on your heart.”

“Do you?” Mercy stared at her reflection. What about her inner turmoil was obvious? Transparency killed spies, endangering innocents.

She straightened her shoulders, not so easy a task when she carried the burden of twenty lives there.

“You
fear
,” Constance said, allowing her accusation to hover over Mercy like a dagger before the kill. “That we will not accept you for who you really are, don’t you?”

Mercy blinked. She would never forgive herself if something did happen to her kind, gentle cousin.

Constance tsked. “Well, you need not worry your head over such things. You are in England now.” She smiled. Caressing Mercy’s cheek, she wiped a tear that escaped Mercy’s eye. “England is your country. Though we cannot replace those you’ve lost,
we
are your family now. No one can ever take that away from you.”

Oh, but they can.
More unchecked tears burned behind Mercy’s eyes, making the fight to keep Constance in focus all the more difficult.

“Wait. I know just the thing to revive your spirits.” Constance moved to her vanity and opened a drawer. The wood scraped oddly into the expectant silence. When she turned back toward Mercy, she carried something small in her hand. “You must wear these.”

Constance opened her hand, revealing a pair of ruby earbobs. Mercy gasped in surprise. She lifted one between her fingers and held it up to the candlelight. The facets sparkled like wine poured into spotless crystal.

“These gems were meant for this dress, cousin, for you. Wear them tonight.”

“But I cannot. They are yours.” Mercy clutched her hand to her heart. “No. No. I do not deserve something so exquisite.”

“Nonsense. Percy gave these to me for our first opera.” She sighed and lowered her hands. “Oh, I remember that night like it was yesterday.”

“Were you celebrating a special occasion? Anniversary, perhaps?”

Constance laughed. “If only that had been the case. No. That was the night I discovered Percy’s secret.”

“I do not understand.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. You see, the man who saved my life on board the
Striker
, Thomas Sexton, and the man I married, Percival Avery, were one and the same.” She moved to the vanity and laid the earrings onto the polished surface.

“What did you do when you discovered the truth?” Mercy asked.

Constance smiled. “I left him and fell right into a trap that led to Lord Burton.” She moved to Mercy and grasped her arms. “This is why you must wear the earrings tonight. Do you understand? These baubles brought me good luck. My husband found me and saved my life. And, so you must wear them dearest cousin, especially tonight. If anything happens to you and you do not have them on, I will go mad.”

Mercy clasped Constance’s hands in hers. “I will do as you ask. Thank you for offering your jewelry to me, though I would prefer you wore them.”

“Percy has provided for my every comfort.” Constance retrieved the earbobs and returned, unclasping each one as she handed them to Mercy, first one then the other.

When Mercy finished attaching them to her ears, she turned to face her generous and loving cousin. “How do I look?”

“Like the cousin I have always dreamed to have by my side.” Constance took Mercy by the hand and together they moved to the door. “Come. Let us venture downstairs. I imagine Percy and Garrick will be waiting to escort us to a ballroom full of expectant guests eager for an introduction.”

Was Fleming already in attendance? Had Roche taken the bait? “Perhaps I should follow you shortly, after you and Percy have been properly introduced.”

“Oh, no! It’s customary for Blendinghams to enter the ballroom with family by their sides and, if I should admit it, I’m happier this rule is in place.” She worried her bottom lip. “Tonight will be quite the test for my husband’s vanity. I fear he’s not quite fully recovered. The wound on his side has mended somewhat but still hasn’t healed completely. Russell gave in to Percy’s demands, but this whole affair is quite dangerous, if you ask me.”

“You must stay close to him, cousin,” Mercy said with heartfelt concern. “Do not let him out of your sight.”

“He will see right through my mothering attempts to waylay him. I know him. And yet I worry one slip of foot, one unintentional jab to the ribs will fell him.”

Percy was entirely too stubborn for his own good. “He does insist on doing things his way, doesn’t he?”

“I wouldn’t be alive today, if he didn’t. And do not think that gives me solace.” Constance winked playfully.

The duke reminded Mercy of her father. She smiled a sad smile, worrying whether or not her parents were still alive. Would she ever know the truth? Would she be forced to live out the rest of her life never knowing what had happened to them? Would she ever see Eddie again?

Her heart seized with a rising sense of panic. Would Garrick make good on his promise to deliver her brother tonight?

She submerged her worries and instead focused on Constance. “We have been in the country for two weeks. Percy is as healthy as the horse he complains he wants to ride. You have nothing to fear where he is concerned.”

But what if something
did
happen to the duke?

Constance patted Mercy’s hands conspiratorially. “I am sure you are right and I am only being a silly love-sick fool.”

When they walked out of Mercy’s bedchamber, Constance leaned in conspiratorially. “I cannot lie. These past few weeks have tested my nerves beyond imagining. I also confess that I am nervous about meeting your brother. I am eager to meet my new cousin, of course, but saddened something may happen to him in the midst of this plot to undo Lord Fleming’s evil work.”

“Eddie is astonishingly accomplished and handsome, if I may speak plainly. He can also take care of himself.” Mercy smiled, cherishing memories of Eddie bringing her flowers he’d plucked from their mother’s coveted garden, and years later, a much older Eddie grinning ear to ear after he’d won his first fencing match. The irreplaceable moments brightened her countenance as they moved through the long hallway to the stairs that led to the grand staircase. “I cannot wait for you to meet him.”

Until then, peaceful bliss must exist in ignorance. Mercy didn’t want anyone or anything to extinguish the beautiful light in Constance’s eyes.

Sounds carried to the upper landing as they descended the grand staircase leading to the second floor.

Percy, his faced powdered, a signature mole positioned on his cheek, waited in a perfectly coiled powdered wig. Outfitted in an outdated glimmering silver coat and trousers, sporting high-heeled pumps, he wore an elaborately embroidered waistcoat and perfectly tied cravat. He cocked one hip sinfully to the side and twirled a quizzing glass in his hand.

Hearing them approach, he turned and glanced upward expectantly. “Odd’s fish! I count myself more than flabbergasted. Aren’t you the titillating pair?”

Garrick choked. “That… they are.”

Something in Garrick’s response drew Percy’s ire. His brow cocked at a strange angle and he turned on Garrick. “Loose your moorings. Prime your patch, the night has only just begun.”

The duke pursed his lips. He gave his head an effeminate shake then lifted his free hand to aid Constance down the rest of the staircase. “
This
was the best he could do?”

“I think Garrick looks splendid,” Constance said, tapping her husband’s arm. “Don’t you, Mercy?”

Garrick’s unwavering stare penetrated Mercy’s body, filling her with disruptive heat. He leaned on his silver-headed cane and waited for her to respond.

Mercy fought to control her racing heart and allowed one word to escape her mouth. “Indeed.”

Garrick looked more than splendid. He’d worn his usual black, but he appeared civilized, more sophisticated and tailored in a matching coat and trousers, waistcoat and stark white cravat. The strangling accessory elongated Garrick’s neck, forcing his chin upward, making her imagine he’d complain the damned thing choked him like a noose.

None of that mattered as euphoria shot through her veins, jolting her into awareness of him. Tonight offered a glimpse at what they could have had were it not for Fleming, Roche, Napoleon, and Fouché.

Would they be destined never to know a life other than this moment? Would Garrick go back to Talland Bay or return to the sea when all was said and done?

Her knees began to quiver at the thought as she inspected the exceptional cut of his suit and he extended his hand. The man before her now seemed more distant than the one she’d grown to adore, standing on the
Priory
’s deck, shirt laces undone, hair hanging loose instead of tied back in a queue. This style was too severe, almost menacing.

Percy broke the ice. “Oh! What a delight you are, my lovely ladies.” He turned to Garrick, clearing his throat. “Don’t you agree, my boy?”

“Hmm?” Garrick’s gaze pierced through Mercy’s confidence as Percy nudged Garrick’s arm.

This was the second time he’d been struck speechless. Had her appearance been the cause? What was he thinking?

“Yes. Indeed, you are well-primed.” Garrick attempted to cover his gaffe. “Both as pretty as flowers on the chalk cliffs of Talland Bay.”

Percy burst out laughing. “Not accustomed to complimenting the opposite sex are you, my boy?”

Garrick growled then leaned close to Percy. “I. Am. Not. Your boy.”

Constance quickened her steps, gliding toward her husband as if walking on air. Grace and kindness oozed from her in varying degrees. “Are you ready to join our guests?”

Percy reached for Constance’s hand, grimacing slightly. He held up one finger. “I cannot tell you how glad I am that you have arrived, my darlings. Garrick is not one for small talk. Makes for a terribly bored duke, I must say.”

“Is your queue too tight, Garrick?” Constance fussed.