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Authors: Francine Howarth

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“Of course I have, but we can get word to
him, can we not? I shall apologise for my late return from a walk.”

  
“You saw him leave?”

  
There was no point telling an absolute lie.
“I did, and would have hailed him had I ascended the steps by the bridge before
his carriage passed beyond my calling.”

  
“We are ruined, Emerald, ruined, and I
could not, try as might, get Moorby to withdraw his claim upon you. I offered
him the best of the horses, offered him things of value from the house, and he
laughed in my face. He will see you sold to the highest bidder, and no amount
of begging will have him reconsider you as his wife. Had you allowed the man a
kiss and grope he would have escorted you to London a happy man.”

  
“Is that what you think, really, think Ned?
Because if you do then you are a much bigger fool than I had come to realise.
That beast, that utterly despicable beast molested me with every intention of
having me as you intended the other night when drunk.”

  
“Rape, tried to rape you?” Tears welled in
Ned’s eyes, and for the first time since his return from war he reached for
her, drew her into his arms and sobbed in her hair. “I am so sorry, so sorry.
Believe me, Emerald, if I could take back every harsh word I have thrown your
way I would. If I could bring back Tobias, I would. If I could take away that
night in which I acted no better than Moorby, I would. But this debt on IOU to
the earl I cannot honour, cannot raise sufficient funds.”

  
“Ned, please,” she said, tears flooding
forth, “think, think hard. There must be legal recourse to prevent trade of a
woman in exchange for money. I am not a slave owned by the earl. I am a lady of
rank.”

  
Ned drew breath and let slip his tight
hold, his eyes once again revealing the old Ned she had so loved before his
becoming a soldier. “My head is so full of suffering and misery, Emerald, that
I dare not think, dare not let myself lapse into memories. Wine deadens the
senses, and affords this ungodly wretch at least some restful state of
oblivion.”

  
“What ever demons you have, Ned, you need
to fight them, not allow them to overwhelm and consume your every waking
thought.”

  
“Easier said than done, Emerald, but you
are right, there has to be a way to stop Moorby, even if I have to call him to
a duel in order to pig-stick him as he deserves.”

  
“No Ned, not that.”

  
“Then what?” he asked, clasping her hand,
as together they strolled toward the blue room. “Would you rather I stab him
down a dark alley. He frequents enough in search of gambling dens, as I well
know.”

  
“We need a lawyer.”

  
“I cannot afford a lawyer, Emerald. We have
no money.”

  
“I have my jewels, and mother’s. Enough for
a lawyer, I feel sure.”

  
Light came to Ned’s eyes, as though a
shadow of despair had slipped from his face. “I had quite for-gotten about
mother’s jewels.”

  
“Just as well, in consideration of your
recklessness in gambling away the roof over our heads and my . . .”

  
“Emerald, can you not see how sorry I am
for what has happened?” he said, cutting her dead. “I have long hated the
loathsome creature that has settled within me. I have on occasion thought to
end the pain and the suffering of its evil influence.” Again, the shadow fell
upon him. “I fear it, Emerald, fear its power over me. I fear a curse cast upon
me by a man I neither knew nor cared about.”

  
She paused in the doorway, turned to face
him. “Curse, what curse?”

  
“I had to do a terrible thing, and in doing
it a man spat in my face and babbled some foreign gibberish. I naturally
laughed off his rant as soldiers do. Then a sergeant, who had a grasp of the
man’s tongue, warned me to be careful and to guard against letting loved ones
come to any harm. He said I had been cursed, and the worst possible curse. A
curse of death, shame and destitution, and I have, have I not, brought all
three upon us.”

  
“Ned, I think I understand the torment you
are in, but father’s death was an accident, a riding accident, and mother’s
death due to ill health and fever. As for your gambling, you always were
inclined to carding games as a child, and perhaps it was inevitable that you
might take carding more serious as a grown man.”

  
“I shall never understand, you, Emerald,
for you excuse my every sin . . . Well, almost every sin, and so willingly at
that. You truly humble me.”

  
“Then humble brother had best away to
London and try to fix this sorry mess we find ourselves in.”

  
“I shall, dearest sister, I shall.” He drew
her hand to his lips. “Away to Lincoln’s Inn methinks and find us the best
lawyer we can afford.”

  
“Ned, I’m putting my faith in you, for once
the jewels are gone, as you rightly stated, we shall have nothing.”

  
“The sooner I go, the sooner we shall know
our fate.”

Chapter Five

~

 

Seven weeks in London and
only one letter from Ned in all that time. It was so brief as to merely impart
knowledge of a lawyer secured. With no sleep for the last few days in worry of
thinking it rash to have allowed him to go to London alone, she did not want to
think the worst of him. But, with jewels in his possession might he have been
tempted, tempted to gamble their value in hope of gain sufficient to be rid of
Moorby?

  
On such a lovely June day she had thought a
walk as far as the bridge would do her good. After all, four days and nights of
endless rains, and a chill fever the like she had not suffered since a small
child had befallen her. Once the bridge was reached her strength and will to
stroll further ebbed, as though she had run all the way to the beach and back,
when she had not even descended the steps nor walked along the creek. She
leaned over the parapet; the waters below swirling and gushing beneath the
stone structure as evening tidal swell rushed upstream.

  
Might her buccaneer return some day? She
might never know, and it pained still to think him gone. The not knowing where
and what he might be embroiled in was quite upsetting. How foolish to have
thought of him as hers, for she knew nothing about him and no time to make
subtle enquiry through Ned as to old acquaintances before he too, departed
Penhavean.

  
Her favoured captain, as he was and always
would be, had made it plain he was no friend of Ned’s. Why was that, what had
Ned done or said, when both had served aboard the same ship? And what of Ned’s
confession:
“I had to do a terrible thing.”
What had he done? And had
her buccaneer witnessed Ned’s terrible deed? So many questions remained
unanswered, and Ned was away far longer than anticipated.

  
Chill shivers rippled down her spine, and
despite warmth from the sun she hauled a silk-tasselled satin shawl from loose
rest of arms and snuggled it tight about her shoulders, the rustle of her gown
was a terrible reminder of her imminent fate. It was, after all, the very gown
worn the evening the earl had abused her trust in him, but new gowns were quite
out of the question. She had to make do as best she could with what she had.

  
She glanced along the creek toward the bend
heart aching for something that could never be, and so turned about and took
her leave of the bridge. What if Ned had failed in his promised endeavour to
secure her safe from unknown male clutches? Where might she end up?

  
As she strolled back toward the house a
wild briar rose caught her eye. She could not resist the temptation to pluck
one bloom, just one to take back and to press as a memento of Penhavean, for
she would have to leave the estate, one day, perhaps soon. About to snap the
rose from thorn clad stem, was it her heart beating wildly, or was it the
thunder of horse’ hooves upon the ground? She swung round and indeed a horse
was at the gallop, and on approach to the bridge from the other side of the
creek.

  
It was Ned, and waving his hand in wild
gesture as he reined to canter and thence to the trot; his news spilled forth
in haste upon drawing level with her. “Penhavean is yours.” Hers, how could
that be? He leapt from the saddle his arms about her in tight hug. “I shall
miss the old place, but I know it will always be safe in your hands.”

  
“Mine, how can it be mine?”

  
“I failed to secure you safe from
betrothal, but be assured you will not be bride to the Earl of Moorby, and this
estate is a wedding gift from your future husband.”

  
Her heart sank at news of betrothal, and
although Penhavean was hers what of the man who now presumed ownership of
Emerald Lady Penhavean? “To whom, then, to whom have I been sold, Ned? What of
the lawyer? You said in your scant letter that you had engaged a lawyer.”

  
“I did, and he did his best to initiate
proceedings against the earl for unjust repayment of debt by way of demanding a
slave in payment, which, as we all know, slavery was abolished in this country
a year past. Unfortunate for us, though, the courts of justice grind ever slow,
and we simply failed in getting a court summons served before Moorby had passed
my overall debt to another.”

  
“Who is this other, Ned, and why did the
lawyer not pursue the case with him?”

  
“I withdrew the charge upon good reports of
the man and, of his willingness to see you safe at Penhavean forever. And by
all accounts his lordship is a handsome fellow of considerable means. Though I was
given to understand his title has come to him quite recent on the death of his
late uncle, Lord Welldon, Admiral of the fleet, and owner of a grand estate in
Devonshire.”

  
“What of you, Ned? What does this all mean
for you? And, when will this Lord Welldon require to see his purchases?”

  
“Steady up, Emerald, one question at a
time,” said Ned, a laugh the like unheard in so long she could barely remember
when it had last happened, though recalled an incident of his clinging to a
branch of an old tree whilst sliding to the ground in a most undignified
manner. “I have the chance of a new life in the Americas, as a partner in trade
and commerce and two ships in my care to ply back and forth across the Atlantic
Ocean.”

  
“All well and good, if that is really to
your liking, but you love Penhavean, do you not? It was your inheritance, Ned.
And, if I now own it I can give it to whomever I please, and I shall give it to
you.”

  
He laughed again, caught up her hand and
placed a kiss upon it. “I love Penhavean, yes, but not as you do, nor as you
have all of your life. I have liked to think of it here, and I able to come
back whenever it suited me to do so, but restlessness within me has always
existed, Emerald. You know that and know that I love nothing more than
adventure and exploration, and remember how I loved my time as a soldier aboard
ship and when warring on land. Well, now I have a chance at a different kind of
adventure. Come, let us walk to the house.” He grasped the reins of his horse;
its nostrils flared though breathing not unduly laboured. “Good old Cornet, you
did me proud today,” he said, a hefty pat to his favourite steed’s neck.

  
“And this adventure, what does it entail?”

  
“In simple terms, buying and selling of
goods, and making sure both ships set sail with full cargoes in either
direction.”

  
Her buccaneer came to mind. “Legal cargo, I
presume?”

  
“But of course, Emerald, I shall be trading
in merchandise of great value and good profit margins. I intend to be a
merchant of some taste.”

  
She had to know. “And how did you come by
this position of merchant extraordinaire?”

  
“A long story, and suffice to say, I shall
be in partnership with a thoroughly decent fellow, one I owe much to and never
repaid in kind as I should have.”

  
A sudden loud boom of cannon fire from near
to the inlet shook the ground beneath their feet, and Cornet trembled from head
to toe Ned, to her surprise, was quick to sooth the animal with kindly strokes
to neck. This was the Ned of their younger years, the loving and caring Ned.

  
“Well, I do declare a ship of his majesty’s
fleet has just entered the creek, for that was a naval twenty-four-pounder,” he
said, reeling his horse in order to calm its agitated state.

  
How vain of her to momentarily hope it her
captain returned, but perhaps he had and now a battle would ensue between his
ship and a naval vessel. She had not been out of the house in days, nor
ventured to the creek since his leaving. But why, why would a naval ship enter
the creek, if not in pursuit of a buccaneer? Her heart dived, for she did not
feel well enough to go and see for herself. “How can you possibly identify that
awful noise as a naval cannon, and why would a naval craft enter the creek?”

  
Ned chuckled, seeming quite amused at
happenings within the creek. “I know a Royal Navy cannon fired when I hear one,
the clarity of its trajectory path whistles a particular tune to the
experienced ear.”

  
“Surely, one cannon must sound much like
another.”

BOOK: Her Favoured Captain
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