7
Much to his amusement, the rain Conner had fictitiously predicted arrived during dinner. He made certain to say several times how glad he was he’d decided to stay, which the squire readily agreed with, making Thea glower.
Dinner had been every bit as awkward as Conner had expected. Thea was quiet and taciturn, while her beau attempted to pull her from her obvious doldrums by expounding on his latest plan for crop rotation, a subject Conner found painfully boring. Even the green-thumbed Thea couldn’t seem to muster a hint of enthusiasm. After dinner she’d abruptly excused herself, saying she was tired from the day’s events, and limped from the room.
The good squire had tried to excuse her behavior, which had bothered him far more than it had Conner. Thea had good reason for her irritation, although he was more than willing to risk her ire in order to make his point.
Still, Conner hadn’t minded the time alone with Fox. A toasty fire, a bottle of good whisky, and two hours of jovial storytelling had given Conner the opportunity to explore his enemy’s weaknesses.
Thus this morning, even though Conner had awoken with a fuzzy head, he was well satisfied that he’d not only gained the squire’s trust, but had also planted a few seeds of future discord. Conner went downstairs and found that breakfast had been set up in the empty parlor, but the fresh breeze outside offered some solace for his heavy head, so he opted to take a walk instead. The rain had left the morning cooler, the leaves and cobblestones freshly washed, the roads newly muddied. It was a sun-drenched day, the sky a pure blue, and he felt more at peace than at any moment since Anna’s death. His heart was slowly healing, and pursuing Thea was serving as a much-needed—and entertaining—distraction.
Turning his face to the sun, Conner leaned against the wall of the inn and mulled over his next move. He knew two things well—privateering and women. If he wished to win this game and have Thea to wife, then the decision to end her engagement would have to be hers—which meant he had to convince her that he was the far better choice of husband, and that could take some doing.
He’d picked up a few clues at dinner last night. The squire had been openly courting Thea, and her discomfort with that attention had been obvious, although the squire didn’t seem to notice. She was a private person, not given to public displays, but the squire hadn’t honed in on that yet. This lack of attention on the squire’s part emphasized the differences between the couple, which showed promise. Unfortunately, it also showed the squire’s commitment to wooing Thea, which couldn’t be quickly dismissed.
On the surface, Lance seemed uncomplicated and straightforward. If he was happy, he smiled. If he was sad, he frowned. There were no shades of gray to be pondered, no hidden agendas, and thus far, no covert attempts to thwart Conner’s presence.
Conner pulled a cigar from his pocket and rolled it between his fingertips, the fragrant scent lifting his spirits. This errand was proving far more difficult than he’d expected. Or rather, Thea was proving more difficult, and stubborn, and . . . He couldn’t say disappointing, because she was being true to who she’d always been, strong-willed and calmly focused on what she thought to be right. It was what he’d always liked about her, but he now realized that it also meant she wouldn’t be nearly as malleable as he’d rather foolishly imagined. Hmm. Was it possible his expectations of her as a wife were a bit off, too?
It was possible she wouldn’t quietly sit back while he went to sea for months on end, or established himself in London for part of a season without her presence now and again. In fact, now that he was no longer indulging in the brotherly braggadocio that had first sent him on this quest, he had to admit that while Thea wasn’t overly sentimental, neither was she without pride. She would demand a high level of respect.
He thought of the flash of her eyes when he’d blithely informed her of their impending marriage. While it revealed a large flaw in his earlier thinking, it hadn’t put him off. Instead, he was intrigued and challenged. She’d surprised him, and it felt as if he were seeing her for the first time, meeting her for the first time. He supposed that made sense as before now, he’d always visited her while she was at her home, with her parents or brother. But here she was on her own, and he was intrigued at the difference. The new Thea—or perhaps it was the more honest Thea—could not be easily won over, and he would have to adjust his plans accordingly.
He laughed softly and lit his cigar. Sparring with her was as exhilarating as a sea battle. He’d assumed he wanted a quiet, complacent wife, but he had to admit that he appreciated her spirit. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, which added a layer of challenge he was enjoying far more than he’d expected. His wife would need to be independent if she were going to run Dunskey House while he was at sea. Of course, it might also mean she’d expect him to visit their home far more often than he’d imagined.
Home. It was a distant word for someone who’d lost his at such an early age. For try as she would, Anna hadn’t been able to make any place feel the way their home had when their parents were alive. What would “home” mean with Thea? She was dashed good at organizing things; he’d seen the way she’d taken over the many, many temporary moves her family had undertaken. She was the one who evaluated their assigned living quarters and, when necessary, hired out a new one, decided which furniture (if any) would go, saw to the delivery of necessary items, made certain their travel arrangements were comfortable, oversaw the hiring of servants—the list was truly impressive. And she’d done this yearly, sometimes more often, depending on her father’s assignments.
He imagined Thea at Dunskey House and had to admit that he could see nothing but good coming from it. Damn, it would be nice having a well-organized, smoothly running home to come to when his ship was in port. He could see himself sitting before a fire, dinner ready nearby, Thea at his side, smiling as she refilled his whisky glass— He snorted. As if she’d refill my glass. It’s far more likely I’ll be refilling hers. But there was a certain charm in that, too.
He was making the right decision to woo Thea; he was certain. His only other option was to leave and find another female to meet the requirements of the will, and he couldn’t picture that. Although there were always plenty of women on the marriage mart who wanted money over all else, none were so interesting, so comfortable, so amusing, so . . . everything. Compared to Thea, the thought of marrying a stranger was distasteful.
He glanced up at her window, noting the lace curtains were still drawn against the morning sun. What would it be like to wake up in her bed, to roll over and pull her near? To place a kiss on her neck and warm her body to wakefulness—
His cock stirred, and he grinned. There were more benefits to be had by marrying Thea than he’d originally realized. Which was why he’d offered his carriage.
It would take time to dissuade Thea from her intention to marry Fox, time for Conner to convince her that he and she would make a better couple, so he had to slow the pace of their rather poorly planned elopement. The more time she spent in the good squire’s company, the better. Meanwhile, Conner would find ways to subtly point out the differences between Thea and her beau, and if possible, exacerbate them.
It was unfortunate he couldn’t race in and sink the squire’s ship immediately in a glorifying blaze—which would be most satisfying, but would put Thea on alert. But Conner could make certain the winds weren’t favorable for the eloping couple. If things worked as he hoped, the hapless squire’s pursuit would founder on rocks of his own making.
Conner smiled, thinking of the suspicion in Thea’s eyes when he’d offered his coach. Och, you know me weel, my dear. He’d have to steer lightly through the shoals of her suspicions and be careful not to throw up an alarm, but he was fairly certain he could do it—especially with such a rich prize awaiting.
Lance’s voice came from somewhere inside the inn, raised as if in greeting. Was Thea already up? Conner dropped his cigar and ground it out with his heel, and then moved closer to the parlor window, remaining out of sight. Through the glass, he could hear Lance saying in a placating voice, “Theodora, pray reconsider!”
Well, that was promising!
“No. I cannot believe you made this decision without consulting me.”
Oh ho, a fight! Conner leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, unable to keep from smiling.
“Theodora, you must understand. I thought of it late last night, and as I couldn’t imagine you’d disagree, I saw to it first thing this morning, before you awoke. Once you’ve had time to consider everything, you’ll agree I did what was best for us both.”
“I doubt it.” Her voice snapped like a cannon shot.
Thea was in rare form this morning—but then she was every morning. Everyone in her family knew that one never, ever addressed anything more than a calm “good morning” to Thea before she’d had her morning tea and toast.
Lance plowed on, unaware he was sailing straight into a storm. “You’re upset. I understand that, but you are not thinking clearly.”
Conner winced. Och, lad, you’re poking Neptune with his own trident this morning, aren’t you? You’re brave, I’ll give you that.
Apparently Thea’s expression must have expressed just that, for the squire added in a breathless, rather pleading voice, “Even on a romantic venture such as this, we must not be blind to the proprieties. You need a chaperone.”
Conner stifled a laugh. That was one of the many suggestions he’d made last night to the receptive, if tipsy, squire. It hadn’t taken much—just a couple of comments about people’s perception of Thea traveling alone for days on end with a single man, followed by Conner’s instant reassurance that he knew her so well that he would never make such a scandalous assumption.
“Good God, Lance, I’m seven and twenty! I haven’t had a chaperone since I was eighteen. And I’m observing the proprieties on my own, thank you very much. I had the landlady send a maid to sleep on a cot in my room. I told you I’d done that.”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts! I didn’t sleep a wink, for the girl snored as if she were sawing logs all night long. I don’t need you, nor anyone else, doing anything more.”
Och, Lance, that’s a shot over the bow. I’d stand down if I were you.
But Lance continued as if Thea hadn’t given him fair warning, saying in a stubborn tone, “If our trip is to be elongated and our marriage delayed, we need more than the services of the occasional chambermaid to protect your reputation.”
“Lance, we are eloping. It’s the nature of an elopement that one recklessly throws the proprieties to the wind, and embarks on adventure for the sake of it!”
“Good God, no!” The poor man couldn’t have sounded more horrified. “Theodora, if at any time you thought my actions were colored by any sort of impropriety, I hope you’d tell me so that I may correct them immediately!”
“For the love of heaven, Lance! I—” She bit off the end of the sentence and took a deep breath. “When we first spoke of eloping, you said it was an exciting leap. If it wasn’t a leap over the stifling bounds of propriety, then of what?”
“A leap toward marriage, of course.”
“Oh.”
Conner took hope in the disappointed note in Thea’s voice. Like all women, she’d been hoping for a touch of romance. Which I didn’t consider either, he realized with a grimace. But now I know better.
“Theodora, I would never be disrespectful or put your reputation in harm’s way. Never.”
There was a long silence, and then another deep sigh. “That’s very honorable of you. But I wish you’d asked me first. I’ll admit I wouldn’t mind having a lady’s maid, but I do not see the need of a chaperone.”
“I’m sorry. This elopement had been far more complicated than I anticipated. It’s a wonder you don’t demand I return you home.”
Conner leaned closer to the window, unable to still a flash of hope.
To his disappointment, Thea gave a gurgle of laughter. “Oh Lance, you cannot be pouting.”
“I’m not pouting! I am disappointed, but who would blame me? I hate seeing you upset.”
“You’re very kind.” Her voice was calmer now, and warmer, too. “I’m sorry if I took your head off. I don’t do well in the morning.”
“I’m shocked to hear that, for you look beautiful in that blue gown.”
Conner rolled his eyes. Good God, man. She will not fall for such a blatant maneuver as—
“That’s far too kind of you.”
Dammit, Thea. Conner’s earlier humor had fled.
“It’s true,” Lance persisted. “You are a lovely woman, Theodora. I’ve thought so since the moment I laid eyes upon you.”
Conner had to give the man credit; he was a fount of compliments.
Thea sighed. “I still wish you’d spoken to me beforehand.”
“I’ll do so next time, I promise. Just don’t give up on us.”
“Of course I’m not giving up on us.”
“Then you’ll still marry me?”
“I don’t make promises lightly. When I say I’m going to do something, I do it.”
“Theodora, you dear!”
Silence answered this, and for a wild moment, Conner wondered if the two of them were embracing. The image burned like hot tar, and he scowled fiercely and started toward the window. He’d think of a reason to explain banging on it later; he had an embrace to stop, b’God! But then he heard Thea’s cool laugh and she said in a calm voice, “I’m hardly a dear; I’m merely being practical.”
“So you see why a chaperone is necessary. It’ll answer the calls of propriety.” He hesitated, and then said in a less enthusiastic tone, “Plus, if you decide at any time that you’ve changed your mind and no longer wish to go through with our marriage, then you will go home with your name unsullied. It is because of that, more than Mr. Douglas’s suggestion, that I was determined to find a proper—”
“Wait. Conner put you up to this?”
Conner winced. He’d hoped Lance had been too tipsy to remember exactly who said what. The man has a stronger head for drink than I gave him credit for.
“No! Not at all. Getting a chaperone was entirely my idea.”
“But apparently Conner said something that made you think of it. What did he say?”
“It was nothing. We were talking last night and I can’t remember how it came up, but he mentioned quite innocently how glad he was there were so few people at this inn, as they might assume things if they saw you traveling alone with me.”
“That arse!”
“Theodora!” Lance couldn’t have sounded more shocked if she’d announced she’d killed her own brother with a dinner knife and had found the experience invigorating.
“I’m sorry. But I should have known he was behind this.”
True, Conner decided. She should have known he wouldn’t sit idly by while she ran off with the wrong man.
“Theodora, you greatly mistake. Mr. Douglas wasn’t behind anything. In fact, he never mentioned hiring a chaperone. That was my idea.”
Thea gave a very unladylike snort, and Conner choked back a laugh as he imagined the squire’s shocked expression. Oh, how I wish I could see that.
He moved closer to the window, his elbow bumping the shutter. He froze in place. Had they heard that? Surely not. It was a small noise and—
“Lance, you’re right. I do need a chaperone.”
Conner frowned.
“Theodora!” Lance couldn’t have sounded more pleased. “You don’t mind, then?”
“No, I’m flattered you went to such trouble. In fact, I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
Blast it. Conner scowled. This was not what he’d hoped for.
“You’ll like Miss Simmons,” Lance was saying. “I visited her this morning before you came down for breakfast, and thought her delightful. She’s the youngest sister of the local vicar, and until recently was a governess, but was let go when her charge came of age for her season in London. Miss Simmons is pleasant without being forward, kind, and very eager to be of use. I was quite impressed with her.”
“Wonderful. I will thank Conner for his fortuitous suggestion, although I daresay he was three sheets to the wind when he offered his assistance. He frequently is.”
What?
There was a surprised hesitation, and then Lance said in a cautious voice, “He didn’t seem drunk.”
“Was there whisky in the room?”
“We both had a glass or so, but he didn’t seem unduly affected.”
“He’s good at hiding it,” Thea announced. “Did you know he is also afraid of heights?”
Conner stiffened. Perhaps when he was younger, but not now. Hell, he climbed the rigging without even thinking about it.
“Strawberries make him break out in a horrible rash, too. And he cannot abide mice. He screams like a little girl every time he sees one.”
Ah. He gave a reluctant smile. So you know I’m here, and will tell faradiddles as punishment for my manipulation of your squire. Fair enough.
Thea wasn’t finished. “He wears only silk waistcoats, even when at sea, and he reads all of Miss Compton’s racy novels. In fact, he wept when the heroine died in The Evil Duke.”
His smile left him. She’d gone too far with that one, for it was the one truth she’d spoken, something only she knew, and an embarrassing moment for him although he’d been quite young at the time.
The jangling of an approaching coach pulled Conner’s attention from the couple inside the inn. He pushed himself away from the rock wall and sauntered toward the gate, crossing in front of the window. As he did so, he glanced into the parlor. As he’d hoped, although the squire’s back was turned, Thea faced the window.
Unable to resist, Conner stopped and made a bow so elaborate, it wouldn’t have been out of place in the French court.
Thea’s gaze narrowed, a flash of disapproval crossing her face. With an obviously deliberate move, she turned her shoulder to him and continued speaking with the squire, no doubt heaping more character flaws on Conner’s hapless head.
Grinning, Conner reached the gate just as his coach appeared, splashing through puddles as it turned from the road into the yard.
MacLeish was handling the reins, with Spencer and Ferguson perched beside him on the high seat. They brightened on seeing Conner.
The coach clattered to a halt, and Ferguson and Spencer hopped down, the younger man calling for a postboy to hold the team.
Spencer grinned. “Here we are, Cap’n! Fresh as the wind and ready to see you married.” He peered past Conner. “Where’s Miss Cumberbatch-Snowe? Is she ready to return home?”
“Sadly, ’tis nae going to be as easy as that.” Conner glanced at the sun. “You’re late. I expected you an hour ago.”
“We had word from the ship. After we left yesterday, Lady Winstead refused to evacuate your quarters. She caused quite a ruckus, she did.”
“She’s still there?”
“Och, nae, Cap’n,” Spencer said fervently. “But apparently ’twas an unruly scene.”
MacLeish, a great bear of a man with thick curly brown hair and a full beard, nodded solemnly. “She threatened to burn the ship, she did.”
“They said ’twas ugly, as she’d decided you’d sent her home as you’d found a more pleasant companion to replace her.”
Ferguson nodded. “From what we were told, she threw a tantrum fit for any three-year-auld.”
“I’m sorry the men had to deal with such,” Conner said, faintly surprised. He hadn’t thought Charlotte would care that he’d decided their liaison was over. She was married, for God’s sake, and should be concerned about a scandal, which would hurt her far more than it would hurt him.
Ferguson grinned. “Aye. MacDougal threatened to tie her to the mast whilst he sent for her husband.”
“That clipped her sails,” Spencer added with glee.
“Guid.” Conner wished he’d never wasted his time with the woman. “I hope you found a decent bunk last night.”
“Ferguson refuses to call it an ‘inn,’ though ’twas warm and dry. We cannae ask for more than that.”
“Dry?” The First Mate looked offended.
“Parts of it were until it rained,” Spencer said. He cocked a brow at Conner. “ ’Tis fortunate you sent the postboy yesterday to let us know you wished us to hold until you sent word, for we were almost here when we met him.”
“I worried as much. I’m glad you waited.”
“I’m nae sure why that helped. Did you nae find her ladyship?”
“Aye. She’s here, but so is her beau.”
“Beau?” Ferguson looked intrigued. “You dinnae talk her oot of that little obstacle, eh?”
“Nae yet. I fear it will take more effort than I’d first envisioned.”
MacLeish, who’d been following the conversation closely, crossed his arms over his broad chest, his expression one of lively interest. “What’s toward, Cap’n? Spencer said we’re on a mission of the heart.”
“So we are, and I’ve a plan, but ’twill require patience. For now, take the coach and the horses to the stables.”
MacLeish looked surprised. “You dinnae wish to leave now?”
“Nae. The horses will need to rest first.”
“But we only drove a few miles here and the coach was nearly empty. The horses are plenty fresh enough to—”
“MacLeish!” Spencer said sharply. “The cap’n is scheming, he is.”
“Aye, we’re on a quest,” Conner agreed. “And the prize is grand.” Grander, perhaps, than he’d admitted to himself when he’d first begun.
He’d need his men’s help. The more they knew, the more he could count on them to assist him. Most men of fashion surrounded themselves with servants who were often far more snooty and class-aware than their masters, and who refused to cross the line in the sand society drew between servants and masters. But life on a ship was more egalitarian and it served Conner well to have his crew about him, whether they were on land or sea, especially now, when he had a treasure in sight. “We’ve an adventure to plot, men. And ’twill take all of us to accomplish it.”
“You can count on us, Cap’n,” Ferguson said solemnly, as if taking a vow.
“Aye,” MacLeish agreed.
“Guid!” Conner gestured for his men to move closer. “As you know, I had planned on asking Miss Cumberbatch-Snowe to wife yesterday, but when I arrived at her home, she’d mistakenly eloped with Squire Fox.”
“Hold there, Cap’n!” Ferguson scratched his chin. “Mistakenly eloped? How does that happen?”
“It dinnae matter. What matters is that I’ve now met the mon and he is nae her equal. ’Tis to her benefit, and mine as weel, that she wed me instead of this squire.”
“Och, a squire.” Ferguson spat the word as if it tasted of rotted wood and vinegar. “Who’d wed a lowly squire when she could have a cap’n?”
“Did you explain that to her, sir?” Spencer scrunched his nose. “Mayhap she dinnae understand that you outrank this mon.”
“I’d mention the fortune you stand to inherit, too,” MacLeish added. “You know how women are when it comes to gold.”
“She has her own funds and is nae impressed with mine. Nor does she care if I’m captain or cabin boy.”
“Pardon me.” MacLeish flushed when Conner looked his way, and then said hesitantly, “Forgive me, Cap’n, and I may be oot here, but since the miss is on her way to wed another mon, perhaps ’twould be best to find another woman to wife?”
Spencer gaped. “MacLeish, do you wish the cap’n to give oop withoot a fight?”
“The cap’n’s honor is at stake!” Ferguson added in a fierce tone.
Spencer added, “They’ve been friends for years. ’Tis a prodigious match for them both.”
“She’s fortunate the cap’n has picked her, she is,” Ferguson agreed.
MacLeish had been looking from one of his shipmates to the other as if he were watching them play a vigorous game of tennis, but now he eyed Conner with a confused look. “But . . . she’s eloping with another mon.”
“Aye,” Conner said shortly.
“Would nae that remove her from the ‘Available to Wed’ column, and instead place her in the ‘If Only I Had Asked Sooner’ column?”
“If I dinnae care aboot her future, it would,” Conner said curtly. “What I’ve seen of this squire tells me they will nae last a month.”
Ferguson leaned forward, the breeze lifting his hair. “Is this squire an upstart, then?”
“I would nae say that,” Conner admitted.
“He must be a rummy fool,” Spencer offered.
“Nae exactly.”
“A curmudgeon given to yelling and such?” MacLeish offered.
“Or an auld mon, aged and decrepit?” Ferguson threw in for good measure.
“Nae, nae, and nae. He’s pleasant-spoken and young.”
MacLeish’s thick brows lowered. “He has some bad habits, then? He gambles, or womanizes?”
“Nae. He’s thoroughly decent. All taken, he’s a guid enough mon.”
Everyone stared at him.
Conner said sternly, “But he’s the wrong mon for Miss Cumberbatch-Snowe.”
Everyone but MacLeish looked convinced. He asked in a cautious voice, “Did you mention this to the lass?”
“Aye,” Conner said grimly. “I asked her to wed me, instead, which was an error, for the timing was ill and she was nae in the mood to hear me oot.”
“I can see that,” Ferguson agreed. “What with her being on an elopement with another mon and all.”
“I will nae let that deter me,” Conner said firmly. “I’m nae courting her. I’m saving her.”
Spencer’s eyes widened. After a stunned moment, he said in a fervent tone, “Why, that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Aye,” Ferguson agreed. “ ’Tis like one of them famous poems where the hero rides into the wedding, yanks the heroine o’er his saddle, and they gallop off, happy ever after.”
It was exactly like that, Conner decided. “I’ve a plan to fix this and win the lady. But first, we must slow things doon a bit. So, heave to, lubbers, and put the coach and horses away. We will delay our trip until tomorrow.”
“And after that?” Spencer asked.
“After that, we will see. MacLeish, how long would it take to drive to Gretna Green from here?”
“If we drive at a goodly but comfortable pace, stopping at night, and changing the horses at least once—” MacLeish squinted into the distance. “Two days, mayhap three.”
“I want a week. You must drive slowly. We’ll say the coach is heavy and the horses must rest often.”
Ferguson rubbed his hands together. “We’re flying under a false flag, are we?”
“Aye. The more time Miss Cumberbatch-Snowe spends in the company of her squire, the more she’ll come to realize he’s nae the paragon she thinks. So while you’re putting the horses away, be sure to tell everyone who will listen that you’ve come a long way already this morning and the horses need rest. Just to be certain our story holds water.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” Spencer said. “Anything else?”
“For you, aye. Once you’re done in the stables, come find me in the inn. I’ve one more task just for you.”
Spencer looked intrigued, and agreed quickly. Soon the men disappeared with the coach into the stables.
Smilwing to himself and satisfied he was well on his way to repairing his situation, Conner returned to the inn.