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“I’ve bought a house,” he said, running a hand through his hair, looking at the sofa as though he was trying to decide whether to flop back down.
“You could have sent a note.”
“Could have,” he said. “Too drunk to write.”
The only other time this had happened—it had to have been at least four years ago now—she’d spent three days alone in Valencia with no idea where he was. “A house?”
“Figured I ought to do something with all that money.” He gave a laugh. “Hardly made a dent in it.”
A whiff of tawdry perfume reached her nose. “You’ve been whoring.”
He paced away, and she let him go. “I’m told it’s in excellent condition.” He sank into a chair and dug his fingers into his hair. “Old country estate—got a mind to go look at the place.” He looked up at her with haunted blue eyes. “Marry me, Katherine. Be my wife and come live with me in my godawful house.”
“William, please don’t do this.” It was Valencia all over again, and her heart ached for him.
But pain ripped across his face—that same pain she knew was always there, lurking just below the laughing surface, just out of sight where nobody could see it. He stood up, pressing a hand to his forehead. “I shall never be free of what happened in Barbary. Never. Bloody Christ, Katherine, you’re the only one who’ll ever understand.”
He was wrong. Even she couldn’t really understand, because his captivity had been so much different from hers. She’d become a member of a household, made friends, been cared for. Not so for William. He’d told her of the underground prisons, the crushing labor, the beatings. But she couldn’t begin to imagine the hell he’d been through.
He needed the freedom of the sea as much as she did.
“I’m taking Anne away from here,” she told him. “Tonight.”
“Away!” He faced her abruptly.
“Will you help me gather the crew? Ready the ship?”
“What’s happened?” he demanded.
She told him briefly about her failures, the outrages, and fresh anger flared up. “They will never give me Dunscore. I’ll not allow the committee to humiliate me, only to strip me of Dunscore, anyway. Anne and I will return to sea where we belong.”
He absorbed that news. “Yes.” He paced a few steps away. Turned back. His lips curved a little drunkenly. “God, Katherine—excellent idea.”
A nerve pulsed in her temple, and she started toward the door. “Quickly—let us go upstairs. Help me ready Anne for the journey.”
“God,” he repeated as they crossed the entrance hall. “This is perfect. What I wouldn’t give to feel that Mediterranean sun on my face again.”
“To hear the shouts of the linemen when we raise the sails in the morning,” she agreed, already feeling a surge of anticipation. Those shouts were the sounds of freedom.
“The taste of Spanish cerveza.” New purpose fleeted through William’s haunted eyes. “I shall scour the taverns until I’ve found every last one of the crew, else I’ll hire others,” he said as they climbed the stairs. “With luck we shall set sail in the morning.”
“We will set sail in the morning.” Anything less was unacceptable. “In a month’s time, we shall pass through the strait.” And once they arrived in the Mediterranean, she would decide what to do next.
Now he gave a laugh. “Should we free India from her father’s prison and take her with us?”
“Ha. I’ll not have Cantwell sending anyone after me. Poor India will have to make her own way, I’m afraid.” She began to feel a little giddy, drunk like William, but with anticipation. The first order of business would be to strip off this gown and put on her tunic and trousers.
Anne would be so pleased. She hated London. She would never have to wear a stiff dress now.
But when she topped the stairs, there were voices coming from the direction of the rooms. In front of Anne’s chamber, two trunks sat on the floor and Dodd stood arguing with Miss Bunsby, who blocked the door with her arms folded across her chest.
“What is this?” Katherine demanded.
“Anne is asleep,” Miss Bunsby said.
“I gave orders for our things to be packed immediately. Move aside.” Katherine pushed past her and reached for the door. It was locked. The nerve in her temple became a vicious pounding. “Unlock this door at once.”
Miss Bunsby was unmoved. “You’ll not take her to your ship, only to raise her hopes and then realize you’ve made a mistake. It would be cruel.”
“How dare you.” Katherine turned on her. After what had happened tonight she would never, ever change her mind.
The faint ringing of the bell sounded below. “Someone is here, your ladyship,” Dodd said.
“Do not answer.” She held out her hand to Miss Bunsby. “The key.”
“She has hidden the key, your ladyship,” Dodd said irritatedly. “My set is below stairs.”
“Uppity baggage you’ve got here,” William said.
Miss Bunsby scorched him from head to toe with disapproving eyes. “I am Anne’s governess.”
“And I am her mother,” Katherine snapped. Below, the bell rang incessantly. “You will bring me the key, get your things and leave this house at once.”
“With all due respect, your ladyship has tried that before.”
“I shall have you thrown bodily into the street!”
“Keep your voice down. You’ll wake Lady Anne,” Miss Bunsby hissed.
Katherine turned on Dodd. “Answer the bloody door and kill whoever is on the other side. And bring your keys.”
“You mustn’t do this,” Miss Bunsby said firmly as Dodd hurried away. “What will she think when you tell her you’re returning to the ship? Anyone can see you’re in a state, your ladyship. Please—wait until morning when you’ve calmed yourself.”
William grabbed her by the arm. “Best show me where that key is—”
“Unhand me!”
“—then I’ll escort you out, bags or no.”
As if the devil himself were orchestrating some hellish play, Captain Warre strode down the hallway with Dodd on his heels. “I’ll be bloody damned if I’ll let you return to that ship,” he said to Katherine, pointing that finger at her. “What in God’s name do you hope to accomplish by this?”
Miss Bunsby was still trying and failing to pull herself from William’s grasp.
“Sailing back to the Med and having done with all this nonsense,” William told him. “Perhaps you have a mind to join us?”
“William,” Katherine said sharply.
Captain Warre looked at him. “You’re drunk, Jaxbury.”
“Perhaps.” William shrugged a little. “Wouldn’t get in her way if I was you.”
“Make her see reason, your lordship,” Miss Bunsby begged. “Do not let her wake Anne for this.”
Captain Warre glared at Katherine. “Is what happened with Winston what’s prompted this? For God’s sake, the man would proposition a stone if he could figure out how to get his cock inside it. It’s nothing to take personally.”
“Mama?” Anne’s faint cry came through the locked door.
“Now you’ve done it,” Miss Bunsby whispered harshly.
“Mama?”
“Get the key.” Katherine’s voice was ice.
William released Miss Bunsby, who disappeared into an adjoining room and returned seconds later with the key. Katherine snatched it from her and shoved it in the lock with shaking fingers. Like night settling over the city, reality slowly chilled her temper. Behind her, Miss Bunsby and Captain Warre and William crowded in.
“Your ladyship, please,” Miss Bunsby begged.
She shut the door in their faces and went into Anne’s room alone.
“Mama?”
“I’m here, dearest.”
“I heard shouting.”
Katherine went to the bed and gathered Anne in her arms, suddenly fighting back tears. “A small disagreement. Nothing to worry about.” She imagined the servants streaming into Anne’s darkened room in the middle of the night to pack her things, waking Anne to dress her quickly and whisking her away to the ship...
What on earth had she been thinking?
“Is something happening?” Anne asked.
“No, sweetling. I’ve just returned home later than expected.” She smoothed Anne’s hair from her face and held her close, breathing in her comforting little-girl scent. No sound came from the hallway now. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“It’s all right, Mama.” Anne sighed. “I had such fun today. Do you think Lord Deal will really take us in his phaeton when we get to Scotland?”
“I’m sure he will, darling.” Anne had loved the phaeton ride they’d taken with Lord Deal earlier a bit too much, but it was the first time Anne had laughed since leaving the ship. Just like her grandpa, she’d wanted to go faster and faster. It made Katherine want to take her in a phaeton every day, just to see the light on her face.
Katherine’s chest felt so tight it was hard to draw breath. She would do anything for Anne. Anything in the world.
Even marry?
“Miss Bunsby says a phaeton is dangerous, but I think it is such fun.” Anne snuggled against Katherine’s side. “Miss Bunsby always worries.”
“I know she does.” And thank God for it. Katherine had come so close to failing Anne again with her impulsive decisions. So close. But this was the end.
Tomorrow she would go before the committee. There was a small chance they would simply dismiss the bill as ridiculous and allow her to keep her birthright. But more likely, they would exact some kind of price in exchange for dismissing the bill. They wanted to control her, and they thought they knew how to do it.
Marriage. The word ripped her like a cannonball tearing through wood. Everything inside her rebelled at the idea of willingly entering captivity again.
But the time was past when she could simply abandon whatever could not be had on her own terms. For Anne’s sake it was time to accept what needed to be done in order to keep Dunscore and secure Anne’s future.
If they wanted her to marry, then she would—but she would bloody well do it on her own terms.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#ulink_90434a06-7dbf-56db-b50a-d2365c56460f)
“‘LADY DUNSCORE HAS become a dire threat to London male ego at large. Recommend gentlemen button coats in public. Lady Dunscore’s threat expanding in scope—seems a matter more suited to the army.’” Admiral Wharton looked up from the letter and glared at the committee. “That, your lordships, is the kind of report Captain Warre, Lord Croston, has seen fit to give us.”
James looked from the committee toward Katherine and knew it was only by the grace of God that she was here and not sitting in gaol, which was exactly what the admirals would have ordered if she had attempted to follow through with her plan last night.
Thank God—thank God—this would end today.
All nineteen lords to whom the bill had been committed for consideration were gathered around the table, backlit by a tall bank of windows that arched all the way to the high-vaulted ceiling. Others crowded into the room—the Scottish contingent of peers, a few lords he knew were hopeful they might somehow secure Dunscore for themselves and a handful of members from the Commons. Jaxbury had been summoned as a witness, along with several others of the Possession’s crew.
Against a side wall, standing a foot shorter than the paneled wainscoting, Holliswell, the greedy bastard, watched the proceedings stone-faced.
From the committee’s table, Edrington raised a brow at Admiral Wharton. “Pray, what did you expect Croston to learn from his assignment? That Lady Dunscore was pirating barges on the Thames?”
Wharton shot James a thunderous look, and James nearly smiled. “We do not perceive Lady Dunscore to be a threat to His Majesty’s realm at this time, your lordship,” Wharton said.
“Indeed,” Edrington said sarcastically. He turned his attention to Katherine. “Tell us, Lady Dunscore—when exactly did you make the decision to return to England?”
James caught Nick’s eye and sent him a silent message. Withdraw your support.
Nick looked away.
“When I received news of this bill,” Katherine answered.
“Why did you not return sooner?”
“There was business to attend to.”
“Why not return the moment you were able, Lady Dunscore?” De Lille asked sharply. “Before you had any ‘business’ to attend to?”
James tensed and fixed his eyes on Katherine.
“I had just spent four years in captivity, your lordship. I preferred to have my ostracism on my own terms.” She smiled, but mirthlessly. “I do not play the pianoforte and I’ve never been good with a needle, and there are only so many books a young woman can read.”
Her answer was met by scowls and a few raised brows.
“I know at least one young woman who would beg to differ with you on that point,” Linton remarked wryly, bringing a grunt from Marshwell and a sharp look from De Lille.
“How remarkable that you’ve never mastered the pianoforte, Lady Dunscore,” De Lille said, “yet you’ve apparently grown proficient at captaining a sixteen-gun brig.”
Katherine raised a brow at him. “Is it, your lordship? I suspect if you ask Captain Warre, you’ll find he has the same affliction.”
Good God. “Indeed,” James told them. “I confess I couldn’t plunk out a minuet even on my best day.”
At one side of the table, Winston sat casually in his chair. “So instead of returning home to your family,” he said to her, “you chose to captain a ship.”
