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“What if they press charges against me?” She paced by him to the fireplace in a panic, her fear in control.
“You are not a pirate, and there will be no charges.”
“The questions people ask me—”
“Impolite, certainly, but reflecting a curiosity that works to your benefit.”
“The conversation we overheard, the invitations—”
“Katherine, stop.”
“The odds that they’ll decide to let me keep Dunscore without any conditions—”
“Stop.” This time he grabbed her arm as she walked by. She jerked to a halt and shot her attention to his face.
Please help me. Please do something. She couldn’t beg for help. She wouldn’t.
“It’s too soon to give up,” he said. “Which isn’t to say there’s anything easy about surrendering your fate into someone else’s hands—especially when you’re used to being in command.” His voice was low and calm. It filled the cracks in her resolve like soft tar. Oh, God—she was staring at him the way he must have stared at the Possession’s hull as he’d floated in the water.
“No. No, it isn’t easy,” she said woodenly.
“You’ll have to be cautious about what you tell the committee. You mustn’t lie—”
“Of course.”
“—but you should be...prudent.”
Prudent. A hundred unanswerable questions crowded her tongue. He stood there like Gibraltar, strong and constant, and the desire to be in his arms again nearly overwhelmed her. Instead, she paced toward the fireplace. She’d promised herself she would not lean on him. She needed to say something to distance herself, but now her tongue felt leaden and all she could think was, Please tell me it will be all right.
“What will they want to know?” she asked.
“Everything, no doubt. Things they have no business knowing.”
“And I risk their disapproval if I refuse to answer, as well as if I tell them what they want to know.”
“Unfortunately. Except...”
She spun back. “What?”
His brows were furrowed, and he watched her with troubled eyes. “There’s more than mere high seas drama to your story, Katherine. I would never suggest that you exploit your unfortunate circumstances, but if it would elicit even a small measure of sympathy from the committee members to remember that you were just a girl, and—”
“You want me to describe my capture.”
“It might be helpful.”
“And my captivity.”
“If the story might affect the outcome, yes.” In his eyes she could see that he wanted the story not just for its effect on the committee, but for himself. He wanted every detail, every tragic turn of events, so he could add them like stones to the weight of his debt. Everything he was doing was because of his own guilt—not affection, not even lust.
The past yawned open and began to suck her in, and she fought back hard. She didn’t want his pity. More than anything, suddenly, she wanted his understanding. But she wasn’t going to get it.
He hadn’t moved, and neither had she. They watched each other from several yards away. “You should know that I’ve forgiven you,” she said flatly. “You did what you thought best at the time. I understand that.”
His eyes sparked, and his lips curved mirthlessly. “An ill-timed absolution, given that I’m likely to be instrumental in front of the committee tomorrow.”
“Nonetheless. There is nothing you could have done to stop what happened.”
“You don’t know that,” he said sharply, then calmed. “We can do no good rehashing this. We should return to the crush. I shall do all I can tonight, and tomorrow in front of the committee. I’ll not walk away until everything is settled.”
I don’t want you to walk away ever.
But he hadn’t brought her to this room to calm her fears. The truth of that still burned in his eyes. If she reached for him right now, he would put his arms around her, pull her to him, and she could lose herself in his strength and forget about everyone in that ballroom, if only for the time it took to—
To what? Show him how weak she really was?
She forced her lips into a stiff curve, straightened her skirts and moved toward the door. “Excellent. Then by all means, let us go see what more can be done.”
* * *
NOTHING MORE COULD be done. She knew it in her gut as sure as she could sense the tide changing.
Captain Warre stayed nearby, close enough to lend his influence at the right times, but far enough not to interfere when someone asked her to dance. With each passing minute, she could sense his frustration growing. It was a palpable thing that could not be drowned out by music and laughter.
All was in vain. She knew it to be fact two hours later, after a string of new dance partners, a dozen introductions from Honoria, two very improper suggestions from men who were not even on the committee and a direct cut from Lady Wenthurst. Yet still she kept trying. Hoping. And all the while her breath grew more labored and her smile grew more brittle.
If she did not escape immediately, it would shatter.
She managed to evade Captain Warre while he was talking to a group of men. Desperate for air, for something to soothe her throat, she found a fresh glass of wine and escaped to the private rooms. Within minutes she found the open French doors she’d seen earlier. Unnoticed, she stepped onto the far end of the stone balcony that stretched along the back side of the house. Far to her left, where a set of doors opened into the ballroom, a crowd of people stood talking. Silently she retreated even farther into the shadows.
She set her glass on a stone cap and gripped the railing, desperately inhaling the cool night air. The wine warmed her blood, but a scream pushed at the back of her throat. What in God’s name was she doing here? All this judgment was exactly what she had chosen to avoid by making her life on the Possession.
Was she really going to subject Anne to this now after protecting her from it all this time?
Earlier today she’d almost been able to forget all this, riding with Anne in Lord Deal’s phaeton, hearing Anne squeal with delight. Feeling Lord Deal’s reassuring gaze on them both. For a short time, it had seemed as if everything might turn out all right.
She stared into the darkness as she might have done aboard the Possession, except this railing was stone and the only view was a shrouded garden at the back of the house. Instead of crashing waves, small crescendos of laughter reached her ears. Everything was not going to be all right.
She imagined Captain Warre stepping onto the balcony behind her. Taking her hand and sweeping her away—her and Anne both, to a magnificent ship that they would sail to an exotic land, perhaps the West Indies or China, where they would—
She inhaled sharply. Good God.
Honoria’s voice lilted through her mind. Suppose a man did show honorable intentions—a tolerable man, naturally.
No. Honoria was a fool if she thought Captain Warre had anything like honorable intentions—or that Katherine wished he had.
A shiver feathered her skin. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied by tomorrow’s hearing, would she have thrown caution to the wind and made love with him in that room?
The answer flamed through her blood, and her skin flushed hot in the cool air.
“Pray tell, Lady Dunscore...” A male voice startled her from the shadows between the great columns that lined the outside of the house. “What has given you such an air of agitation?” The Duke of Winston stepped into view, accompanied by another man she recognized as Lord Wenthurst.
She faced them with her chin high. “Good evening, Your Grace. Lord Wenthurst.” She didn’t bother to curtsy. This was the man James had been prepared to duel for the sake of her honor. She raked him with her eyes. One flash of her cutlass would send the poor earl scurrying back to his wife.
The duke, however, was another matter entirely.
The earl cleared his throat. “A pleasure, as always, Lady Dunscore. I, er...” His gaze shot past Winston in the direction of the ballroom. “If you’ll excuse me.” He gave a quick nod of his head and ducked past Winston.
The duke remained, observing her, demonic in a coat of such deep red that it looked as black as his hair.
“Tell me what can I do to ease your distress,” he said smoothly.
“Your powers of observation deceive you,” she told him. “I am not distressed. You are free to return to the festivities.”
“And leave you here alone? Forsooth, madam.” He moved in next to her. “I was sorry not to receive a response to my invitation.” The breeze toyed with the queue at the back of his neck.
“I have received so many such invitations, Your Grace. I confess they have become a blur.”
He smiled, a flash of white teeth in the shadowy night. “Have they? Then please—allow me to refresh your memory.”
She could allow him to do more than that. He chaired the committee. His influence would be enormous. The scent of his cologne reached her and for a crazed moment she imagined offering a smile instead of scorn. Inviting him to pay a call. Taking him to her bed.
The thought had barely formed before it made her want to be sick. “I will save you the embarrassment of propositioning me again by issuing a standing ‘no,’” she said, furious with herself. “Let me be perfectly clear. I will be no man’s mistress.” A brisk gust of wind stripped the heat from her skin and gave her a sudden chill.
“Such directness, Lady Dunscore. You shock me.”
“I very much doubt that anything could shock you, Your Grace.”
His laugh was a rich sound in the night that had probably melted the knees of dozens of romantically misguided girls. He leaned one hip casually against the thick marble railing. “Perhaps not, but I’m always up for a challenge. I have a feeling that you could shock me most extraordinarily given the right circumstance.”
“What a pity you will never find out. Good evening.” She needed to leave this ball. Now.
“You do realize, of course,” he called after her quietly, “that I chair a committee that may hold a very particular interest for you.”
She froze. Slowly she turned back. “Am I to understand,” she began coldly, “that you are using your influence on the committee to blackmail me into a seduction?”
“Perhaps to bargain for a kiss, if that’s what it takes. One touch, Lady Dunscore—” he laughed even more wickedly, lowering his voice to a near-whisper and leaning toward her “—or shall I say, one stroke, and after that there won’t be any bargaining necessary, I assure you.” His eyes burned across her breasts.
“Such confidence, Your Grace.” Voices drifted behind her from the crowd gathered outside the ballroom. “You must be very sure of your skill.”
Apparently sensing victory, he pushed away from the railing and took a step toward her. “I’m very sure when I meet a woman who would appreciate my strengths.” There was just enough light filtering from the windows to see his strengths bulging hard inside his breeches.
“Oh, yes. I certainly can appreciate them.” She feinted with her left hand as though she meant to touch him.
“Then by all means, let us— Bloody hell!” The duke jumped back three feet when she whipped her cutlass from its hiding place in her skirts.
She smiled. “Tell me again about your strengths, Your Grace. I want to be able to appreciate them fully.” A few startled voices grew louder behind her as people began to notice something out of the ordinary was happening. They would draw a crowd, of course. She didn’t care.
“For God’s sake, woman, put that thing down!” he bit out.
“Only if you put yours down, as well.” She lowered the tip of her cutlass to his crotch, and someone behind her gasped. Her blood sang with satisfaction. “Oh, but look how quickly you comply,” she added.
“Good God, she’s going to emasculate him,” someone muttered.
The duke gave her that smile again and held his hands up. “You have me entirely at your mercy, Lady Dunscore. Only have a care for my future family.” A few nervous laughs erupted.
“You’ve made such a point of telling me how eager you are to share your family assets with womankind, Your Grace—”
“Katherine!” Captain Warre called out from somewhere behind her.
“—that I would feel remiss if I didn’t help you.” Lightning-quick she moved her cutlass to a chorus of gasps and cries of alarm, and in the blink of an eye two delicate cuts left the duke’s manhood on the edge of being exposed to the world. To his credit, he didn’t flinch.
“Well, now,” she said, smiling. “It looks as though I can shock you, given the right...circumstance. Say the word, and I shall deliver the coup de grâce.”
Behind her, the crowd was in an uproar. A hand curled tightly around her wrist. “Put that away,” Captain Warre growled in her ear.
Winston calmly held the gaping fabric in place. “I should have heeded your warning, after all, Croston,” he said lightly. “The lady is certainly a threat to one’s anatomy.”
“I rather suspect you are your own worst enemy, Winston.” Captain Warre’s voice was flinty.
Katherine tore from his grasp and dove through the crowd.
“Wait!” Captain Warre’s command barked behind her, but she didn’t stop. This was it—she’d had enough. Knots of people backed out of her way in a chaos of talking and questions. She heard him calling to her but kept going, hurrying faster, running now as people scattered to her right and left, until finally she realized that she did not hear his voice anymore. She made it to the entrance and ordered the footman to get her a hack instantly. There wasn’t time to wait for her coach. Within moments she was clattering toward her house.
She had actually considered him. For a moment she had actually considered taking the duke to her bed in exchange for his support.
This entire business had gone too far. There was no reason for this desperation, no reason that she should consider debasing herself, no reason for any of this. It was time to end it—now, before the Lords ended it for her.
* * *
“THERE IS A gentleman waiting for you in the salon, your ladyship,” Dodd announced in a hushed voice the instant she walked through the door.
“Send him away. And have our trunks brought from the attic. Anne and I will be returning to my ship. I want our things packed within the hour.”
Dodd’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth but wisely shut it again. “The gentleman has refused every request to leave, your ladyship.”
There was no time for this. Whoever it was, she would show him that the spectacle was over. “Then he shall meet with my cutlass.” She veered from the staircase and headed for the salon.
“I think it important to advise your ladyship that the man is intoxicated,” Dodd said with great disapproval, hurrying at her side. “Extremely so. Although perhaps, by now—”
“William!” Relief slammed through her when she saw him sprawled on a sofa.
He sat up. “Good evening, Captain.”
“That will be all,” she said to Dodd. One look told her everything about why William hadn’t called before now. “You’re drunk.”
“Maybe a little.”
More than a little. His hair stuck out at all angles. His clothes were disheveled. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face was as unshaven as his worst day at sea. “I’ve been worried, and Anne has been beside herself.” Fear warred with fury at the sight of him.
