Chapter Fifteen
“If I may be so bold,” Mrs. Clotworthie said, inclining her head toward Selina. “What truly happened on your wedding day, my dear?”
Selina blinked back a dizzying numbness, her heart slowing to a sluggish beat. She wanted to bow over with embarrassment, but she held her head high, refusing to relive the moment her world had been upended and humility and pain had become daily occurrences. Mrs. Clotworthie could not help asking; it had long been known that her memory didn’t fire the way it used to.
“Dinner is served,” Papa said, nodding to the servants as they entered the room in a single file, effectively ending Mrs. Clotworthie’s questioning. “Enjoy the first course.”
For once, Selina was grateful for Papa’s intervention. His guests would not keep their appetites long if she told them what she and Owen had been forced to survive. They’d suffered days and nights without the privilege to relieve themselves. They’d been poked and prodded, beaten and shamed, and denied proper food. She’d been told they would examine Owen’s teeth, as well as other unmentionable things, while he stood on the auction block. She’d run then, fearful of experiencing the same. And her cowardice grieved her to the core.
One of five servants ladled turtle soup into her bowl, startling her from her reflections.
“What Miss Herding has endured,” Wolf said, increasing her guilt, “was harder than any of you realize.”
But it hadn’t been difficult to escape. That was the final cut of all. She’d left Owen, left him alone to suffer the indignities of the block!
“I’ve been to Cadiz.” Wolf glanced around the table. “A thriving port, that one. Corsairs and greed aplenty, and countless merchants arriving daily to pay for stolen wares. If the men who kidnapped Miss Herding and her brother chose to keep the ransom money without releasing their captives, they had a reason to do so. Most often that reason is the slave trade.”
But had Wolf said that corsairs did not sail this far north. Could it be that someone had wanted them out of the way?
“Slaves!” Mrs. Clotworthie cried as Mrs. Surrage covered her mouth, eyes misting.
“Thankfully, Miss Herding avoided such a fate by managing to escape. A woman isn’t as much of a threat as a man.” Wolf held Selina’s gaze. Pride glinted in his eyes, making her heart swell and her belly tighten. “Being resourceful, as Miss Herding has proven herself to be, has its advantages.”
“Captain, don’t,” she pleaded. She’d left Owen. She didn’t deserve anyone’s admiration.
Wolf ignored her warning. “As a healthy, young, and strong man, your brother would have been watched like a hawk and, therefore, given no opportunity to escape. Healthy men are prized slaves, their potential never wasted.”
Selina couldn’t help but wonder how Wolf knew so much about Cadiz.
“Are you saying Mr. Herding’s son is someone’s slave?” Lady Basset asked, clasping her throat. “Oh, that poor boy.”
“We have no way of knowing that,” Papa replied. “Do we?”
“If what the captain says is true, the possibility will have grave consequences for you, Herding,” Lord Basset said.
“And I am here to offer my support, come what may,” Lord Gariland added, his effeminate voice grating on Selina’s nerves. “As your future husband, I will take on Owen’s duties until he returns.”
Selina was taken aback. Lord Gariland had once told her he wasn’t good with numbers. How did he expect to help Papa with his business affairs when the very idea of performing any sort of labor offended his sensibilities? Questions riddled her mind as conversation broke out among the mineral lords.
“The captain is right,” she said. “I did not see what happened to my brother, but I heard our kidnappers discussing their plans. There is a chance—”
“What did you hear, Miss Herding?” Lord Gariland asked, strangely intrigued.
Wolf jumped in before she was able to answer. “Slight though it might be, there is a chance that your brother has already escaped his tormenters, Miss Herding.”
Their eyes met. Selina bit her lower lip, silently praying that Wolf was right. She appreciated his attempts to ease her worries. She couldn’t bear to think of the alternative, but the lack of Owen’s presence suggested he hadn’t found a way to come home.
“I shall pray for his soul,” Mrs. Wilkyn said before ladling soup into her spoon and sipping the smooth, creamy broth.
Four more courses were brought in, eaten, and cleared away in relative silence.
Papa cleared his throat and began to speak. “The danger to my son is great, I cannot lie. That is why I intend to offer Captain Wolf a substantial amount to sail to Cadiz and broker my son’s release.”
Wolf stretched his neck and played with the edge of his cravat. “There’s the rub, Herding.” Selina almost feared his impersonal tone as it broke the stillness. “I’m employed elsewhere. I am not at liberty to sail to Cadiz.”
Panic filled her, but she fought to keep her composure as nary a sound was made.
“Why not?” Papa waved off a servant. “You have not heard my offer yet.”
“Papa, business should be discussed in the parlor, or perhaps the captain would prefer to hear your offer in private.” Selina’s heart hitched in her chest as she inwardly cursed the blasted rules Society dictated that women follow. She had a good head for business and imagined the other ladies in the room did, too. She feared what would happen if Papa pushed Wolf too far. “The captain is a very busy man. He would not be successful if he wasn’t.”
“Mercenaries understand money,” Lord Gariland said. His jaw set, he leaned in closer to Selina. “I’m sure if a steep price were offered, the captain could be persuaded to change his mind.”
Selina was grateful for Lord Gariland’s support. “Owen is my brother, and I will do whatever is necessary to bring him home.”
She was the one who had left Owen behind; it was no one’s fault but her own. She had to live with that choice, and she wouldn’t settle for living a life of leisure while Owen’s life was in jeopardy. Not as long as there was breath left in her body. Her brother needed her. She’d done what she’d set out to do by returning home to get Papa’s support, and now she intended to fulfill the other part of her vow and sail back to Cadiz.
Wolf stood. His chair screeched against the floor as he pushed it back. “Lord Gariland is right.” His eyes blazed with a strange unruly light. “These are dangerous times, Miss Herding. You must consider moving on with your life. As must I.”
Papa glared across the table at Wolf, his face an emotionless mask. “Sit down. There is no need to scare the ladies.” Muscles worked in her father’s jaw until he produced a beleaguered smile. “Emotions tilt the scales, Captain.”
“Papa!”
He held up his hand to silence her. “It is never a good idea to allow emotion to cloud one’s judgment.” Papa glanced at his business partners. “Isn’t that right, gentlemen?” Heads nodded in agreement. “I can spot a good man when I see one. And you, sir, are the first man I’ve met who I trust will put my investment to good use.”
Lord Gariland frowned. “Now, see here.”
Selina’s mouth went dry. Hadn’t Papa sent Lord Gariland with their ransom? Did this mean he no longer trusted her betrothed? She knew Papa was cruel, but she’d never anticipated just how cruel.
She choked back a sob. Her stomach roiled, and a foul taste filled her mouth. She’d be damned if she embarrassed herself further by being sick before all and sundry.
“I’m not interested in any deal you have to offer,” Wolf said, adding to her dismay. “I’m needed in London.”
“I see,” Papa said. “It appears you are a good businessman, after all.” He sat back in his chair and studied Wolf. “No matter. My heir is worth any price. Let us speak of money now, here, in front of my guests. What would you say if I offered you fifty thousand pounds to forget what awaits you in London?”
“Herding,” several men complained at once.
“I will do whatever it takes to ensure the safe return of my son,” Papa argued, slamming his hand down on the table. Crystal, cutlery, and serviceware clamored together.
“Hear, hear!” Lord Gariland raised a glass of wine, seeming to have recovered from Papa’s direct cut. “The sooner your son is home, the sooner Miss Herding and I can be wed.”
Selina glanced at Wolf. His hands were clenched into fists, and his body was tense. He looked as if he wanted to leap across the table and pummel Lord Gariland. Something had to be done to calm him before she lost him forever.
“Captain Wolf could have left me in Saint-Malo, but he did not.” She felt his eyes on her, his soul tugging at her heart. “He could have lost his ship and his entire crew in dealing with the corsairs, but he did not. He could have sailed to London instead of bringing me home, but he did not.” A thread of understanding breached the distance between them as their gazes locked. What they’d been through was a bond no one, including Lord Gariland, could break. Wolf’s compassion was genuine, his touch sublime, his kisses life-altering. She would do anything for Wolf. Anything. “Captain Wolf deserves our respect and consideration. At the very least, perhaps a little more time to think on Papa’s offer.”
Wolf nodded at Selina, hopefully sensing she needed a few minutes to speak to him privately. She was certain that she could persuade him to accept Papa’s money and take her with him.
Lord Gariland cleared his throat. “I see.”
How could he? Her betrothed had no way of knowing that Wolf had stolen Selina’s heart the moment he’d offered her that salve in his cabin. He couldn’t possibly understand the tendrils of delight that webbed through her whenever Wolf touched her, shutting out her awareness of anything else around her. The passion he ignited, filling her with liquid fire, stoking feelings so intense that Selina felt as if she ceased to exist, wasn’t anything she’d ever experienced with Lord Gariland. The truth of it was, Wolf made her want to live, to be the person she longed to be. Even now, her cheeks heated at the very thought of playing Mozart for him.
“Thank you for sharing all that the captain has done for you . . . and me,” Lord Gariland said. His voice was strained as he glanced back and forth from Selina to Wolf. Perhaps he did know the way she felt about Wolf. Perhaps he . . .
No. It wasn’t possible.
“Papa, I believe it’s time we retreat to the drawing room for port,” she said.
“A kind offer, Miss,” Wolf said, “but I really must return to my ship. Thank you for an enlightening evening.” He turned for the table where his guns had been placed. A servant had already collected them and trustingly held the handles toward him. He took them one by one and shoved the barrels into his trousers before turning back to Selina. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and said, “I’m terribly sorry about Owen. I would have liked to have met your brother. If he’s anything like you, he must be a good man.”
He turned and walked toward the door as if he was going to leave her without a proper goodbye.
Selina shot a frantic glance at Papa, who just stood there and shrugged. “Yes,” she said, leaving her chair to stop Wolf. “He is a very good man. Just like you, Captain.”
Wolf stopped and glanced over his shoulder.
“Before you go, allow me to offer you a gift of appreciation for all that you’ve done.” For all that you’ve done for me.
He regarded her silently as her father, Lord Gariland, and their guests looked on. She felt their stares, knew that what she planned to offer was scandalous on so many levels. A woman wasn’t supposed to give a man gifts unless they were related. But Wolf had given her two things she could never repay: her life and a glimpse at passion. There was only one thing she could give him, other than her love—the gift of music.
Her heart ached dreadfully. There were men in Portreath she could hire to sail her to Cadiz. If not there, she’d approach seamen in St. Ives and so forth and so on until a ship was found and a crew hired. But she could not allow Wolf to leave without hearing “Rondo alla Turca.” If Mozart’s music had anything to do with Wolf’s past, she had to do whatever she could to help him break through the chains binding his memories.
“You owe me nothing, Miss Herding,” he finally said, continuing to the doorway.
“Oh, but I do.” You’ve given my life back. You’ve shown me kindness, mercy, and trust. You’ve accepted me for who I am. “You will not be able to resist this gift.”
He stopped. “What is it?”
“Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.”
Wolf felt everyone’s eyes on him as he glared at Selina, trying to break the spell she’d woven around him. He wasn’t a suitor dependent on a woman’s recognition. He’d been involved with other women, had been married until his wife had died after delivering their stillborn child. Fate, it seemed, continued to conspire against him.
His instincts warned him to put Selina and Trethewey behind him. If the beat of his heart mercilessly pounding in his chest was any indication, she posed a danger to him body and soul.
He was already late to London. There was no harm in listening to Selina play the pianoforte. Walking away, however, wasn’t worth the risk that he’d never remember what had happened to sever him from his parents.
“You’d do that for me?” he asked.
The smile she gave him restored the color in her face. “I owe you that much and more, Captain.”
She was so formal now. He missed the sound of his name on her lips, the brazen woman who’d run into his arms without a stitch of clothing on. He bemoaned never feeling her branding touch or sharing her evocative courage. Her behavior sought to preserve the intimacy of their relationship. It wouldn’t do to allow anyone to think they were closer than they appeared, even if—as Wolf thought—Gariland suspected that very thing. Any man would be a fool to think otherwise.
Betrothals were difficult things to break. Gariland’s title would make Selina a lady in the real sense of the word. Wolf had nothing to offer Selina but shipboard misery and death. Ah, but he secretly wanted to give Selina the world. Therein lay the difference.
She’d grown on him, coiling around his insides like a kraken. “All right. I agree to stay long enough for you to play the pianoforte,” he said.
“I must object,” Herding spat, bolting to his feet. “This isn’t the time for entertainment. There are negotiations to be made.”
The man had no qualms about entertaining his mineral lords while Selina had been fighting for her life. She’d spoken about her father and the fact that she reminded him of his late wife, so perhaps that was the cause of the man’s stringent objections now. Wolf couldn’t allow Selina to jeopardize her position at Trethewey. Not for him.
He watched her expression fall and changed his mind. “You did promise to play it for me once.”
“Yes,” she said. “I did.” Her smile returned, and her breathless voice nearly drove him mad. Why was it so easy to please this particular woman?
“Lord and Lady Basset. Lord Gariland. Ladies and gentlemen. Papa,” she said, motioning with her hands. “Let us end the night on a happier note. We are in accord about bringing my brother home, are we not?” She moved around the table, approaching the Clotworthies. “When your bank was on the verge of closing, who kept it afloat?”
“Owen,” Mr. Clotworthie said. “I nearly lost everything, but the boy is terribly good with money. It’s been nothing but chaos since he’s been gone.”
“And when your mine flooded, Mr. Legge,” she added, “who gathered enough men to work the pump engines day and night?”
“Owen Herding,” Mr. Legge replied. “Nearly drowned inspecting my mine, he did.”
She went on to the Pasmoores, the Surrages, the Wilkyns, and the Bassets, each one repeating the same theme, vouching for Owen’s generosity, constancy, and responsibility.
Lord Gariland’s attention never strayed from Selina, and he paid particular attention when she walked toward Wolf, her hair in tight ringlets about her head and adorned with seed pearls.
“Owen loves music. He claimed it reminded him of our mother and encouraged me to play, even going so far as to sneak into my lessons.” She placed her hand on Wolf’s arm and turned back to the people in the room. “In honor of Owen—” she squeezed his arm “—and the man who saved my life, let us withdraw to the parlor so I can thank the captain formally.”
“Do not go to any trouble on my behalf, Miss. I really do need to be on my way.” As much as it hurt him to be so close to what he wanted—perhaps finding the key to unlocking his past—Selina belonged to someone else, and that someone was beginning to show signs of losing his patience.
Lord Gariland cut in as if on cue. “Miss Herding has been through a great ordeal. I insist she be given time to rest before taking on so strenuous a performance. She’s too weak, Herding.” He strutted forward and removed Selina’s hand from Wolf’s arm. “Look how she leans on the captain for support.”
“I am fine,” she contradicted him. “Quite well enough to play, and I shall do so.”
“I really must insist that your daughter’s health be taken into account, Herding,” Gariland said.
Wolf sucked in a breath to keep from cutting a jab to Gariland’s face, but he was right for once.
She jerked away. “I said I am quite well.”
“Do not play tonight, my darling,” Gariland said, trying to coax her away from Wolf. “You need your rest. We can discuss how to find your brother in the morning.”
“Do play, Miss Herding,” Lady Basset said, her keen eyes focused on Selina. “We seldom get to hear music now that our daughter is grown with a family of her own.”
“It’s settled, then.” Selina took the arm Wolf offered her without hesitation. “Come, Captain. Let us see if we can unlock your secrets.”
“What the devil does that mean?” Gariland asked, looking back and forth between them.
Wolf held back a grin as he escorted Selina to the parlor, her fiancé calmly following close behind. When Wolf left Trethewey, he wouldn’t come back. She was betrothed; he was a spy. No good could come from loving a man like him.
Loving? Who said anything about love?
It was impossible for deep emotions to form in so short a time. Wasn’t it? Though, truth be told, Wolf never did anything halfway.
He and Selina made their way to the pianoforte. Her father, grumbling about all the fuss, and the other guests took their places on the settees and armchairs spread throughout the room. Selina sat on the bench before the instrument, arranged her skirts, and searched for the proper sheet music. Wolf watched her remove her gloves, one finger at a time.
The rings around her wrists were still rosy, but the liniment he’d given her had healed the majority of her wounds. Cuvier’s bite mark had faded until only someone who knew it was there would notice. Bruises marked her forearms, and one of her elbows was rubbed raw. She didn’t seem to be in any pain, thankfully, and he took pleasure in memorizing everything about her: her stormy eyes, her oval face, her porcelain skin, the pulse at the base of her neck, and the sloping divide that dipped between her breasts.
She laid her fingers on the keys and stroked the opening notes, provoking a more intense reaction from him the longer she played. The emotional tug on Wolf’s soul made him blink. There was something familiar about the piece. He’d heard it before. But where?
He closed his eyes, journeying to a home he didn’t recognize as Selina extracted the melody. Bathed in sunlight, a woman sat beside a large window in his mind’s eye. A man stood beside her, his hand possessively on her shoulder, his face alight with wonder. As she played, they both looked toward Wolf. Laughter floated to his ears. Hearing a sound, he turned and watched a brown-haired boy run down the hallway.
Selina continued to play, the composition gaining power, shifting to a sigh, and then rising once more as her fingers magically transported Wolf in time.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
He followed the boy into another room where a different man stood. Voices argued over the music. The keys screeched as the woman’s hands flattened. “Run, Wolf. Run!” she shouted.
Something cold and unyielding filled his palms. He jerked as a gunshot deafened his ears, followed by wailing, a great deal of it. The woman was draped over the man, tears flooding her face, blood staining her gown.
The music crescendoed as Wolf saw a smoking gun in his hands. Screams echoed in his head. He backed away. “No. No.”
“Wolfgang, what have you done? He was your father!”