Whisper of Scandal (11 page)

“You’ve heard the news, then,” Alex said.

“I’ve heard Ware made you joint guardian to his bastard child along with his widow,” Purchase said. He tilted his head to one side. “And that you’re trying to stop her traveling to Spitsbergen to fetch the girl home.”

“The word is that you were in Queer Street because Cummings and his fellow bankers had refused to sponsor your wild-goose chase to Mexico,” Alex said, “so you plan to allow Lady Joanna to charter your ship for her foolish voyage to Spitsbergen.”

Purchase laughed, his teeth a white flash in his tanned face. “Bad news travels fast. I’ll make that Mexican fortune and prove you wrong yet, Grant.”

“Maybe,” Alex said. “In the meantime can I persuade you not to agree to a charter with Lady Joanna?”

Purchase was silent for a moment and then he shook his head slowly. “I am already committed. I signed the papers this afternoon.”

Alex felt a sharp flash of surprise followed by an equally sharp stab of anger. Joanna, it seemed, had wasted no time.

“Damn her,” he said through his teeth. “Ignorance combined with money is a fatal combination.”

Purchase raised his brows. “You are mighty vehement, Grant. Why?”

Alex could feel his temper tightening intolerably as it had done in Lincoln’s Inn Fields when Joanna had
made it so plain that she intended to ignore his advice and travel to Spitsbergen.

“The Arctic is no place for a woman,” he said abruptly, trying to control his anger. “You know that, Purchase.”

Purchase shrugged elegantly. “I’ll allow that it is a harsh climate.”

“Harsh!” Alex exploded. “It’s lethal! And this is a woman who cannot live without luxuries! She has no concept of privation or hunger or even of pitiless cold—”

“She’ll soon learn,” Purchase said dispassionately.

“She will soon die.” Alex stopped, shocked by the violence of his feelings, struggling to wrench them back under control.

Owen Purchase was looking at him with an arrested expression on his face. “I didn’t think you liked her, Grant.”

“I don’t,” Alex snapped.

Purchase shrugged again. “If it is not concern for Lady Joanna that prompts your feelings, then what is it? Guilt about your wife?”

Alex felt his stomach drop.

Guilt.

Not to his closest friends had he ever expressed his sense of blame over Amelia’s death, yet the shame stalked him every day. He had been the one who had forced Amelia to travel with him. His was the responsibility for her death.

In the early days his guilt had been all-consuming; it had been a ravenous beast that had almost swallowed him whole, almost destroyed him. Somehow over time he had found a way to live with it, to pacify it, almost to
soothe it to sleep. And then Joanna Ware, in her naiveté, had expressed her determination to go to the Arctic and the beast had awoken and its claws were as sharp or sharper than before. All his memories had flooded back to haunt him. Amelia had traveled—and she had died as a result. And somehow, he did not know why or how, did not want to know why, that made him angrier than ever with Joanna.

“You read too much poetry, Purchase,” he said shortly, turning away from confidences, turning away even from his thoughts and the implication of what they meant. “Your imagination gets the better of you.”

Purchase laughed. “If you say so.” He leaned forward. “Lady Joanna paid in full, in cash, in advance.” He made an eloquent gesture. “What can I say? I am an adventurer these days, Grant, and I don’t turn down offers like that. You’ll know that Dev and I are crewing for her. We sail in a week.”

“A week?” Alex exclaimed. “You’ll never be ready in time. Provisioning alone would take you longer than that.”

“Money talks,” Purchase said, “and Lady Joanna’s money is mighty persuasive.”

“It’s madness.” Alex slumped back in his seat, aware of a mixture of exasperation, frustration and a certain very reluctant admiration that Lady Joanna Ware had proved that obstinacy was one of her finest qualities.

“I don’t suppose,” he added, “that your ship is reinforced to withstand the ice either.”

“
Sea Witch
is no bomb ship,” Purchase allowed. “Her decks aren’t reinforced, but she’s a tough little vessel for all that.”

“Sea Witch,”
Alex said. “Are you trying to curse her?”

“I thought it was appropriate,” Purchase said, grinning. “She handles like a woman in a temper.” He laughed. “And she’s all the more challenge for it.”

Alex moved his tankard in slow circles on the tabletop. “You’ll not reconsider the commission?” he asked.

Purchase shook his head. “Sorry, Grant.”

“Then give me passage, too,” Alex said.

“As crew?” Purchase smiled.

“As a guest,” Alex said. “I’ll pay my way.”

“Why?”

“Because I am Nina Ware’s guardian, too, and I feel an obligation to see her safe.”

Purchase’s clear gaze considered him thoughtfully. “Seems Ware chose well when he named you joint guardian, Grant. You may hate him for shackling you, but you will always do your duty.”

“Quite,” Alex said tightly. In the previous day, he thought bitterly, he had fought more battles between honor and inclination than ever before. “So?” he asked.

“You’ll have to ask Lady Joanna if you can come,” Purchase said, grinning hugely and clearly enjoying the moment. “She has the final word.”

Alex swore. “Purchase—”

“Don’t worry, you can always work your passage as cabin boy if she turns you down,” Purchase said, his grin widening still more until Alex’s face relaxed into a reluctant smile. “That’s better. What the hell has happened to you to turn you into a bear with such a sore head?”

“Lady Joanna tries my patience,” Alex said succinctly. He thought of Joanna stating defiantly that she would take fruit to Spitsbergen with her to ward off the scurvy and maintaining that her clothes would be warm enough to keep out the Arctic cold, and was gripped by acute irritation. He had not known whether to shake her or kiss her and the fact that he wanted to kiss her at all was precisely the problem.

“Ah.” Owen Purchase straightened in his seat. “Lady Joanna is a fine woman…”

Alex glared. “That’s your lust talking, Purchase.”

Purchase laughed. “I could call you out for that, Grant, but I like you too much to kill you. I’ll admit to a certain partiality for Lady Joanna.” He shifted on the bench, crossing his long legs at the ankle.

“You want her for yourself,” Alex said sharply.

Purchase did not deny it. “She was too good for Ware,” he said.

“I am surprised to hear you say that,” Alex said stiffly. “You admired Ware as much as I did.”

He was surprised. No one criticized David Ware. Ware had been a hero. Everyone knew it.

“Ah, come on, Grant,” Purchase said, his drawl even more pronounced than normal. “Ware was a damned good captain but a damned poor husband.” His mouth thinned. “You know that—you were the one forever dragging him out of whorehouses so that he didn’t miss the boat.”

“And in return,” Alex said sharply, “he saved my life, Purchase. Not a bad bargain.”

“Ah, well…” Purchase’s cool gaze was thoughtful on him. “I understand your sense of obligation.”

“I doubt that you do,” Alex said. He rubbed the ache
in his leg, the constant reminder of his debt. “Ware could have left me to die in that crevasse, Purchase. He should have done, because he risked his life for mine instead of ensuring one of us survived to lead our men back to safety. So don’t speak to me about his weaknesses.”

“I’ve never denied that Ware had physical courage,” Purchase said. “But don’t you see he did it for his own glory? You’re right—he should have left you. That would have been the responsible thing to do, but instead he had to play the hero.”

“Enough,” Alex said through shut teeth. He could see that Purchase’s desire for Joanna was skewing his judgment. Perhaps they had been lovers and she had poisoned Purchase’s mind against her husband. Perhaps they were still lovers. His bad temper tightened like a ratchet.

Purchase drained his tankard. “One more thing and then I’ll stop pushing my luck. Did you never think Ware’s discipline a little on the harsh side?” Over the rim of the beaker Alex saw that Purchase’s eyes were bright and hard with contempt. “Sure, his men obeyed him, but they didn’t love him like yours love you—if I can be so inappropriate as to speak of love to an Englishman.”

“A Scotsman,” Alex corrected, but with a faint smile.

“Even worse,” Purchase drawled. “No wonder you’re so dour. It’s the iron in your soul.”

“Dev says it is my Calvinistic upbringing,” Alex said. He stopped, shook his head. “Let’s not talk about this, Purchase. We’ll only argue and I don’t want to quarrel with you.”

For a moment the tension hung on the air, but then the other man’s face relaxed and he nodded.

“Another one?” Purchase asked, holding up his tankard inquiringly.

Alex shook his head. “I need to find Lady Joanna and persuade her to allow me to accompany her on this voyage of hers. For the child’s sake.”

“Try some charm, if you have it in you, Grant,” Purchase advised. He cocked his head. “Anyway, you’re in luck. Lady Joanna is currently around the corner at the Castle Tavern.”

Alex peered out of the grimy window. The evening was well advanced and the spring light was fading now, leaving the sky streaked with pink and gold. Torches flared in the street outside and the lights of the inns and coffee shops and gaming hells dappled the cobbles. The evening crowd, raucous and rowdy, already three sheets to the wind on ale and gin, thronged the narrow alleyway. Holborn at night was the last place Alex would have expected to find Lady Joanna Ware.

“What the deuce is she doing there?” he asked.

Purchase gestured to one of the extremely pretty tavern girls to refill his tankard. “She’s a Lady of the Fancy,” he said.

“A what?”

“She supports the pugilistic club,” Purchase said. “She is their mascot. I believe there is a match tonight.”

“A mascot? Lady Joanna attends boxing matches?” Alex could hear the incredulity making his voice rise.

“It’s a fashionable sport with the ton,” Purchase said. “The Duke of York is one of the patrons attending tonight.”

“I don’t care if the King attends,” Alex expostulated. “It simply isn’t appropriate for a lady.”

“By all means tell Lady Joanna that when you see her,” Purchase said amiably, winking at the tavern girl as she slid into the seat Alex had vacated. “It should help your cause tremendously in persuading her to permit you to accompany us to Spitsbergen.” He paused, then sighed and reached for his beer again. “Good luck, Grant,” he added. “You’re going to need it.”

“T
HERE IS A GENTLEMAN
to see you, ma’am.” Daniel Brooke, the extremely deferential ex-prizefighter who now worked as manager of Tom Belcher’s inn, the Castle Tavern in Holborn, came into the small private parlor and bowed to Joanna. It looked extremely comical, for Brooke was a short, broad, bald and muscular man, who looked almost as wide as he was tall. He was the younger cousin of Jem Brooke, a man to whom Joanna had cause to be very grateful. Jem, also a prizefighter in his time, had for a short while protected her from David’s wrath after their terrible quarrel over her failure to provide her husband with an heir. The morning after David’s assault on her, Jem had mysteriously arrived on Joanna’s doorstep saying only that a gentleman had sent him to help her. Joanna had had no inkling as to the identity of her knight errant or how he had known of her situation, but Jem was a tower of strength, his size, bulk and skill supremely reassuring when David had attempted to barge back into the house later that day, asserting his marital rights. Jem had thrown him out into the street with one hand.

Once David had returned to sea and she no longer needed a bodyguard, Joanna had helped set Jem up in a tavern of his own out at Wapping where he now served particularly tasty whitebait suppers. But somehow along
the way she had become the toast of the prizefighters, patron and mascot, a Lady of the Fancy—and she did not have the heart to tell them that she abhorred fighting, abhorred violence of any kind, unsurprisingly enough.

That was why she was sitting here alone, nursing a glass of stout, whilst in the adjoining room an impromptu ring had been set up and a fight was in progress between the champion, Hen Pearce, and a young hopeful. It was her second glass and the rich malt taste of the beer was both warming and strong. Joanna seldom drank and then usually wine or champagne. This was earthier, but it relaxed her. It had been a week of shocking disclosures in which the worst elements of the past had been raked up and her feelings exposed mercilessly. Her emotions felt frayed and raw, but for a little while in this tavern with fifty men outside who would raucously defend her to the death, she felt obscurely safe.

The door opened and Joanna shuddered as a wall of noise washed through, the sound of flesh against flesh, the sympathetic groans of the crowd as the youngster took a hammering. Joanna put her fingers in her ears.

She became aware that Alex Grant was standing in front of her, immaculate in his casual evening attire. His lips were moving. She took her fingers out of her ears.

“What on earth are you doing in a prizefighting tavern if you dislike the sport?” he demanded.

How marvelous. Within the space of ten seconds he had managed to destroy all her feelings of relaxation and put her back up. The prickles of irritation jabbed her.

“How do you know I dislike it?” she countered.

“You are sitting in here alone with your fingers in your ears and an expression on your face as though you were sucking lemons,” Alex said. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to try to find myself a bodyguard to accompany me to Spitsbergen,” Joanna said. She gestured Brooke forward. “Lord Grant, this is Daniel Brooke, a former prizefighter. Brooke, Lord Grant.”

Brooke bowed politely to Alex, but there was a steely light in his eyes, as though he was spoiling for a fight.

Just say the word, his demeanor seemed to suggest.

Joanna saw Alex’s gaze sweep over Brooke with the same look of shrewd appraisal that the prizefighter was giving him. Many men would be intimidated by Brooke’s raw aggression, Joanna thought, but Alex held his ground. He was at least half a foot taller than Brooke, leaner and less bulky, but in his own way he had a dangerous edge. Perhaps it came from having knocked about those corners of the world where only reckless adventurers chose to tread. A man had to be strong, resourceful and courageous to survive in such places. But this was perilous ground. Joanna gave herself a little shake. Those were the kind of thoughts she had had about David when first she had met him. David Ware, the hero…

The two men measured each other and Joanna felt something elemental in the air, then Brooke stepped back and nodded once, and the tension diminished.

“A bodyguard,” Alex said, and he, too, nodded, and Joanna saw the tight muscles in Brooke’s shoulders ease a little more.

“Good gracious, Lord Grant,” she said. “Do I discern approval from you?”

A smile lifted the corners of Alex’s mouth. “A journey of the type you plan to undertake is full of surprises, Lady Joanna,” he said, “and not all of them pleasant.”

“So I thought,” Joanna said. “Unfortunately, Brooke has turned me down because he does not like the cold. It is bad for his joints.”

“A hazard of the profession, I suppose,” Alex said.

“May I offer you a drink, sir?” Brooke inquired courteously.

“Thank you, but no,” Alex said. “I am here only to speak with Lady Joanna.” He turned to her. “You are aware that prizefighting is illegal, my lady?”

“The Dukes of York and Clarence are watching, as are three London magistrates,” Joanna said. “I do not think we shall be troubled by the law.”

Alex gestured to the armchair across from hers. “May I?” His gaze fell on the glass of stout. “Is that beer?”

“Stout,” Joanna said. “I enjoy a glass of malt beer.” She waited for the inevitable condemnation.

Alex turned to Brooke. “Perhaps I shall take a drink after all, thank you, Brooke. Brandy, please.”

Brooke bowed and went out.

“You are extremely polite tonight,” Joanna said.

“No sane man would be otherwise with a prizefighter in attendance,” Alex said. He looked at the glass of stout again. “Are you foxed, Lady Joanna? Dark beer is the strongest.”

“I know,” Joanna said. “It is delightful.”

“You
are
foxed.”

“There are so many things about me that you can disapprove of,” Joanna said sweetly. She slewed around in her seat to look at him. “Why are you here, Lord
Grant? And how did you know where to find me, for that matter?”

“Owen Purchase told me,” Alex said.

“Ah. Then he will also have told you that Lottie and I have commissioned him to take us to Spitsbergen.”

“He did.” Alex frowned. “Mrs. Cummings plans to go, too?”

She thinks it will be an adventure,” Joanna said. She sighed. “I suppose that you tried to dissuade Captain Purchase from accepting our offer?”

“I did. I failed.”

Joanna smiled a little at his honesty. She was beginning to see that one would never get Spanish coin from Alex Grant, no matter how uncomfortable the truth. It was a quality that would have made her like him under normal circumstances, but his mistrust of her, those poisonous seeds that David had sowed, would always stand between them.

“Captain Purchase is very loyal,” she said. “Or perhaps it is just the money I offered him.”

Alex laughed. “Purchase is, as you so rightly point out, an adventurer.” His look changed, became keen. “Though he does appear to hold you in esteem. Do you know him well?”

“Not in the way that you are implying,” Joanna snapped, sensitive to the implication in his voice. “Lord Grant, your opinions are offensive. I can see that to you it is unaccountable that anyone might think well of me if they are not my lover!”

“I beg your pardon,” Alex said mildly, taking the wind out of her sails. “I meant to imply no such thing. Brooke appears to hold you in esteem, too.”

“The prizefighters are devoted to me,” Joanna said.
“I am a Lady of the Fancy.” She laughed as she saw his expression. “Oh, dear, Lord Grant—that moment of approval really was brief, was it not?”

“I do not care for prizefighting,” Alex said stiffly, “nor for the sort of celebrity it bestows on you, Lady Joanna. To be acclaimed by the boxing fraternity is not my idea of success.”

“Of course it is not,” Joanna said, her temper fraying. “One would have to paddle up the Ganges in a canoe to gain your appreciation, Lord Grant. Oh, but I forgot—” Her tone was scornful. “That does not apply if one is a woman.”

She saw that his face had set into its customary stern lines. “It is true,” Alex said, “that I prefer women to stay at home.”

“In their place,” Joanna said. “Of course.”

There was a cold silence between them whilst Brooke delivered Alex’s glass of brandy and slipped out of the room again as discreetly as the best-trained butler. Joanna could feel Alex’s gaze on her face, intense and thoughtful. Despite the friction between them it made her feel prickly and hot. There was something about Alex’s quiet appraisal that stripped away all pretense and defense and left her emotions naked. She wished it were not so. Alex Grant was a man who distrusted and disliked her and as such he was the last person for whom she wanted to feel this disturbing current of attraction. It pulled and pushed her in contrary directions, provoking her, arousing her against her will.

“You have not answered my question,” she said abruptly, breaking the sharp sense of awareness between them. “Why are you here?”

“To beg you to allow me to accompany you to
Spitsbergen,” Alex said. His tone was ironic. “Purchase tells me you have the final word. If you turn me down I shall have to work my passage as a cabin boy.”

Joanna gave a spontaneous burst of laughter. “A cabin boy? You?”

“Indeed. Even Devlin would be giving me orders.”

“That would be a terrible waste of your experience and expertise.” Joanna considered him. “You offered to pay Captain Purchase for your passage?”

“I did. He still maintained that it was your decision.”

“How very gratifying that he cannot be bought,” Joanna said. “The answer is no.”

She saw a faint smile touch Alex’s lips and knew he had been expecting her blunt refusal.

“Let me try to persuade you to change your mind,” Alex said. He shifted. “It is not too late.”

“Change my mind about going to Spitsbergen?” Joanna said.

“About the entire business,” Alex said. His dark gaze slid over her thoughtfully. “You live very much at the whim of society, Lady Joanna. There will be those who not only disapprove of you going to Spitsbergen but of you rearing your husband’s bastard child. I suspect that John Hagan, for example, will be appalled. What happens to you if the ton withdraws its favor from you?”

There was a hush in the room. Outside the door the tumultuous roar of the boxing crowd swelled and fell like the flowing tide.

“Then I starve,” Joanna said lightly. She had confronted those fears earlier. She refused to let him frighten her. “But fortunately, Nina will not, will she,
Lord Grant? I assume that David has left you the means to support his child since you are to be our trustee?”

There was a rather odd silence. Joanna raised a questioning brow. For once, she thought, Alex Grant was actually looking a little… What was it? Embarrassed? Discomfited?

“Ware left a treasure map,” he said gruffly.

Joanna blinked. “I beg your pardon? A treasure map?”

Alex put a hand into his jacket and extracted a flimsy piece of paper, yellow with age. He unfolded it and handed it to her. Joanna gaped. It was a very rough drawing of an island with inlets, bays and coves, crudely executed but with a large X marking a spot close to a beach on a long peninsula. There was, for good measure, the sign of the skull and crossbones.

“Well, really,” Joanna said. “Why could David not deposit money in a bank like normal people?”

There was a hint of color along Alex’s cheekbones. She wondered if he had thought the same thing. He did not strike her as the sort of man to have much truck with buried treasure. She found that she was smiling. It was so gratifying to see Alex Grant at a disadvantage for once.

“Did you bring this back from Spitsbergen along with the letter?” she queried.

“No!” Alex practically snapped the word. “Churchward gave it to me. It was with Ware’s will.”

“It looks all a hum to me,” Joanna said. She shook her head. “How typical of David to be so mysterious.”

“It is all rather unsatisfactory,” Alex said stiffly.

“Well, that was David all over,” Joanna said. “He was most unsatisfactory in so many ways.” She glanced
at Alex. His dark gaze was fathomless. “But I forget,” she said, unable to erase the bitterness from her voice. “David could do no wrong in your eyes, could he, Lord Grant? He was above reproach even if he expected you to dig up Nina’s fortune as well as everything else.” She shifted in her chair. “And for that reason I repeat that I cannot permit you to accompany me to Spitsbergen. You neither like me nor trust me and the journey will be uncomfortable enough without turning around and falling over your disapproval at every turn. If you wish to take ship to find this so-called treasure then that is your choice—and your responsibility, but you are not coming with us.”

Alex’s frown had deepened. “It makes absolutely no sense to sail separately, Lady Joanna.”

Privately, Joanna acknowledged that. It did not, however, change her feeling that the last person she wanted on her ship was this disapproving stranger.

“We need not be enemies,” Alex continued. “For the sake of the child we could try to be friends.”

“You aim too high,” Joanna said. “Let us keep our expectations within reason. We could try to be civil.” She shook her head. “The answer is still no. You are forceful by nature… You would be forever trying to tell me what to do and then we would quarrel. Simply being near you makes me feel—”

“Makes you feel what?” Alex raised one dark, quizzical brow.

“Makes me feel infuriated!” Joanna exclaimed, jumping to her feet. It was true. The room felt too small, airless and close, dominated by Alex’s presence, the antagonism simmering between them like a kettle coming to the boil.

Alex got to his feet, too. “So,” he said, “you swore that you would do everything in your power to bring Nina safely home and even in that you lied.”

Joanna stared at him, flayed by his contemptuous tone. “What do you mean by that?”

“Only that anyone with any sense would see that it is in Nina’s interests for you to accept my escort,” Alex said. “But you are so headstrong that you will not agree to it.”