Captive Embraces (49 page)

Caleb looked up at Blackheart. “You know this ship hasn't seen open water since before opening the folly. Her caulking is dry and the equipment is too heavy for her top decks—”

“Shut up and write! Do you think me a fool? It's a small matter to take her down the river to Portsmouth where she'll be careened. We've plenty of time, young Caleb. All is ready and awaiting our arrival.”

 

Regan was just closing the door of his office when Camilla disembarked from the carriage parked on the corner of Thames Street and Saint Dunstan's Hill. When she saw him, she lifted her tiny gloved hand in signal for him to wait for her. Regan sighed; he had hoped to avoid a long, tearful scene with his bride caused by his leaving the house on Drury Lane.

Resigning himself to the fact that this moment was inevitable, Regan took several steps toward her. She seemed extremely overwrought, and Regan's thoughts flew to Stephan. He himself had seen to it that everyone thought Langdon escaped London to avoid the duel with the gambler.

“Regan, Regan,” Camilla called. “I'm so grateful I found you here. Please, I must talk to you! Please,” she implored, her pansy-colored eyes searching his.

Resolutely, Regan fished for his keys in his pocket and turned back to the office door. In a moment he had the lamps lit and he placed himself at the desk opposite his wife.

“I think I should warn you, Camilla. I'm not in the mood for a long-drawn-out scene. Can you get to the point? If it's about me returning to the house on Drury Lane, forget it. It's over, Camilla. It was a nice try, but it's over.”

Camilla shook her head, her yellow curls bobbing on her head. “No, no, that's not why I'm here. Actually, if you hadn't left, I would have had to. Regan, I came here for your help.”

“How much do you want,” Regan said crassly, reaching for his pocket.

“No, I don't need money. You were very generous, thank you. First of all, I came to tell you something and then I want you to help me. Only, I don't know where to begin,” she faltered. “It's such a long, involved story.”

Regan had never seen Camilla like this. And she wasn't crying in an hysterical tantrum; she seemed truly in distress. “Start at the beginning, Camilla, I've all night. I was on my way to see Caleb to tell him I could give him a hand after all. Originally, I had a business appointment, but that was canceled. Just take a deep breath and start from the beginning.”

Camilla stared at Regan wide-eyed. She had never known him to be so patient with her. Perhaps telling him would be easier than she had thought. “Regan, a long time ago I met Tyler Sinclair...”

Regan listened incredulously to Camilla's sordid tale. She spared no detail, telling him how she and Stephan had contrived to lure him into marriage for the sake of his money. She told him how Stephan had worked on Sirena to the same end. But, most of all, she told him how she had never stopped loving Tyler and that she would love him if he were a penniless pauper living at the Haymarket.

The further she progressed with her story, the wider the grin on Regan's face got. At the end they found themselves laughing together over the way each had expected the other to bring a fortune to the marriage.

Regan supposed he should be incensed at how he was duped, but he was so relieved to know their marriage had never been legal and binding, he graciously assured her he would never press charges. Then Camilla's eyes filled with tears again. “And that's why I've come to you, Regan, to explain everything and to beseech your help. Tyler is missing! He's not anywhere in the city. I've even checked with the Baroness' staff and they all assured me that Tyler did not sail to the Netherlands with his parents. Why, the housekeeper saw them off herself!”

“Where do you think he could be?” Regan asked. He was willing to bet Tyler had somehow implicated himself in Stephan's killing and had fled London with Sirena.

“I have no idea! And that's why I'm beginning to panic. Regan, Tyler would never just leave the city this way, without a good-bye or anything. No, he's in trouble, I know it, I just know it!”

Regan was moved by Camilla's tears. Reaching over his desk, he patted her hand comfortingly. “There, there, don't cry. It won't help us find Tyler.”

“Us?” Camilla asked querulously. “Does that mean you'll help me?”

“It does. Now, can you tell me where his office clerk lives? Perhaps I'll pay the young man a visit.” Regan lifted his timepiece from his waistcoat pocket and studied it. Caleb would just have to do without him tonight.

 

Sirena combed her hair idly, watching Theo out of the corner of her eye. It had been two days since they had come and dragged poor Nell's body out of their cell. Theo was already showing the effects of Nell's death. She hadn't combed her hair or washed her face. Her hands were gray and grimy and there was a thin line of black forming beneath her nails. The healthy pallor of her skin now looked sickly and green and there were hollows in her cheeks because she had refused all food.

Sirena understood Theo's depression. Nell's death had proven her own mortality to her. “Theo, please have a sip of mead, and there's still a bit of meat left from this afternoon's meal. Take it before you waste away.”

Theo looked at Sirena vacantly, shaking her head in refusal. “I don't think I could get it down, Sirena. Thank you.” Even her voice lacked its usual vibrance.

“Are you going to sit there and waste away till they come to drag you out by your heels?” Sirena had lost all patience. Her tone was harder than she intended.

Theo looked up at her, a sneer turning down the corners of her wide, full mouth. “What do you know?”

“I know enough to survive! Do you think Nell is the first woman to die in this stinking place? Now shape up, Theo, before they bring out the death cart for you!”

“What if they do? It will happen sooner or later. None of us has a chance here, including you, Sirena.”

“No. I won't believe to that. Listen to me, Theo, I've gone through hell many times. There were moments I thought it was the end for me. But it wasn't, because I wouldn't allow it!” There was a spark in Theo's black eyes and Sirena knew she had captured her curiosity. Theo looked at her the same way Nell had looked at Theo when she waited to hear some bawdy fantastic tale of life in an exclusive bordello. Or for Theo to regale them with tales of the theater, which was prohibited to women at that time in London. Theo's stories had kept them alive, including Sirena. Now it was Sirena's turn to repay the favor.

“What kind of hell could you know about? It's clear from your manner of speaking and everything else about you that you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth!”

“Perhaps I was. And I'm wealthy to this day. But I'm not talking about money, I'm talking about living! I fought for my life. I know how easy it is to have that feeble flame flicked out, Theo, and I'm not about to help it extinguish itself. I wanted to live; I want to live now and always will. When my time comes, I won't give up easily, I can promise you that.”

Theo brushed the hair out of her eyes and Sirena tossed her the comb. “Now, if you fix yourself up a bit, I might be induced to tell you a story.” Theo ran the comb through her hair, pulling at the snarls and tangles which matted near the ends. Her eyes never left Sirena's face, waiting for her next words. Sirena had always been very closemouthed about herself, answering even the most basic questions with a yes or no.

“Tell me, Theo,” Sirena began, “have you ever heard the tale of the Sea Siren?”

The jailor's wife was announced by the jingling of her keys and the sound of her voice. Sirena and Theo looked at each other in puzzlement. Instead of the harsh cursing which usually preceded the woman's arrival, her tone was soft and womanly, almost coy as she giggled over something someone had said.

“What has gotten into that hag?” Theo questioned.

“It almost sounds as though she's flirting, doesn't it?” Sirena smiled. Suddenly, she jumped from the bed and straightened her skirts and rubbed her face to bring color into her cheeks. Regan. It had to be him. She had seen him have that effect on hundreds of women. Then she heard a deep, booming voice and knew she had been right.

A moment more and he stood outside her cell looking well and fit. She stepped sideways, sliding into a shadow to hide her appearance. “Sirena? Where are you?” he asked.

“She's in there all right, sir,” the wardeness said coyly, looking at his fine, strong build and sheaf of near-white hair with interest. “Mayhap she doesn't want ye ta see what's become o' 'er 'ere in Newgate.”

Sirena stepped forward. “Regan. I'm glad you've come.”

“Can you open the door for me?” he asked the wardeness, his clear, blue eyes smiling down at her. The jailor's wife pushed her greasy hanks of hair from her face and preened, took the keys from about her waist and opened the cell door.

“If'n ye be needin' anythin', just call. Me name is Myrtle.”

“I'll do that, Myrtle,” Regan said softly, flattering her with his notice.

Theo scrutinized this tall, blond man who had captured the heart of the infamous Sea Siren. Seeing him, she could understand why Sirena had sailed the seas from Batavia in search of him; why she had been willing to move heaven and earth to make him love her again. As the snap-eyed redhead saw the way Regan was looking at Sirena, she knew that whatever lengths Sirena had gone to to make Regan love her again it had all been in vain. To Theo's wise and knowing eyes, it was apparent Regan had never stopped loving Sirena.

Regan stepped close to Sirena, and his hands wanted to reach out to brush away the pain he saw in her eyes. “I've come to take you home, Sirena.”

“Would you like me to step out?” Theo asked, not wanting to intrude on this reunion.

“No, Theo, that won't be necessary. There's nothing Regan can say to me you can't hear. Is there, Regan?” Sirena said, her eyes flashing.

Regan turned and looked at Theo for the first time. “I suppose not. I've come to take Sirena home.”

“Home?” Sirena asked querulously. “Where's home? I have no home, Regan.”

“Look, I haven't come to argue. I'm taking you out of this place. Now, if there's anything you have to bring with you, get it and come along.”

“Not until I explain a few things,” Sirena protested. “I didn't send you the letter you obviously received, Tyler did.”

“I know that. The signature was obviously not by your hand and who else, aside from Tyler, would realize I could be contacted through his clerk? Now, don't carry on, Sirena.” Regan bristled. “Let it be enough that matters have been resolved and the King and captain of the galleon accept your apologies and restitution. The thieves, they squeezed out ten times the amount over what the actual damages were.”

“And my crew? Tyler?”

“All has been taken care of, they were released several hours ago. I sent all of them, except Tyler, to your ship to make ready to sail. Tyler has sworn never to set foot on another ship.”

“Are you telling me I've been banished from England? Little I care, Regan, this country has nothing to offer me.”

“You haven't been banished, not at all. But I need the
Sea Spirit,
Sirena, mine are all at sea, and I need your crew, but most of all I need you. Caleb needs you.” Regan's expression was grave and somber and there was a deep hurt in his eyes, turning them cloudy. “I received a message, and when I went by your house on King Street, you'd also received one. Your past has come back to haunt you, Sirena, only this time it affects the innocent. I'll read it to you,” Regan said, reaching in his coat and withdrawing the letter in Caleb's handwriting.

When she heard what it said, Sirena remained passive, her eyes downcast. “Did you hear what this letter said?” Regan demanded.

“I heard and I'm thinking what I should do. Caleb is
your
son, Regan, not mine. You do recall the day you pointed that out to me, don't you?”

Regan cringed as though he had been struck by a blow. “Yes, I remember, but I also remember the circumstances. I was angry then and I didn't mean what I said!”

Regan looked into her eyes and wanted to gather her close, to ease away her anguish for those long ago memories. He wanted to make right the wrongs he had done her. The misunderstandings between them. “You forget, Sirena, Mikel was also my son.” His voice, while quiet, resounded throughout the cell and sounded hollow to his own ears.

“Yes, he was your son, Regan, and contrary to what you think, Caleb is more than a son to me. Between Caleb and myself there is a bond stronger than a woman giving birth to a child. When I call Caleb 'little brother,' it means more than that, much more. I'll find Caleb and I'll help free him from the monster who holds him captive. But I do it for Caleb, not for you, Regan.”

“Then let it be for Caleb. That is more than I have a right to ask. Hurry, have you everything?”

Theo rushed to Sirena and threw her arms around her neck. “Good-bye, Sirena, good luck. Think of me sometimes.”

Sirena held Theo close and looked into Regan's eyes. “Isn't there some way . . . could you ... ?”

Regan stepped over to the cell door. “Myrtle! Myrtle! Where are you, sweetheart. Come here, I've got something for you!”

The wardeness pranced down the corridor and opened the door to the cell. Her face was flushed and she seemed flustered. How long had it been since a handsome gentleman like Regan called her sweetheart? “What can I be doin' fer ye, sir?”

“Myrtle, darling, I seem to have run into a problem and I know you can help me out of it. This stubborn woman here,” he said, pointing to Sirena, “has vowed to spend her last days here in Newgate rather than leave her friend behind. You don't suppose we can come up with something between the two of us, do you?”

“D' ye want me ta use me bull's pizzle on her?” she asked, delighted with the notion.

“Only if it must come to that,” Regan hastened to say. “Look here, darling, surely you can find some use for this,” he said, pulling forth a purse heavy with coins. “Last time I looked there was two hundred pounds in there. Now, if by some chance you could say that Theo had ... er ... passed on during the night, that money could be yours and none the wiser.”

Myrtle's fascination with the purse almost made her slaver. Looking up at Regan, she smiled her black-toothed smile. “Well, as it happens, sir, there was a poor lass from the Debtor's side who met 'er maker durin' the night. It would seem the poor little thin' had no family ta claim 'er. Who's ta say it weren't Theo 'ere?”

“No one. I'm certain,” Regan assured, pressing the purse into her hand. “Of course, we will be wanting to leave at once. Can it be arranged?”

“If'n she was to wear that one's cloak and pull the hood over her 'ead ta 'ide that fiery 'air o' 'ers. I'll walk ye out to the gates myself, sir. It's time I 'ad me a breath o' fresh air!”

Theo seemed dazed by her good fortune. She was constantly thanking Regan and Sirena for getting her out of Newgate. There was a new life in her black eyes and her cheeks were tinged with pink. In the carriage Sirena wrote a note to Tyler and handed it to Theo. “Now, promise me you'll take this to the address on the back. His name is Sir Tyler Payne Sinclair, Esquire. He's my business manager. I've told him to give you a thousand pounds, Theo. All I want in return is your promise never to put yourself in such straits as to land in Newgate again.”

“A thousand pounds! Lor' wha' a lass couldn't do wi' a thousand pounds!” Suddenly, she clapped her hand over her mouth and looked at Sirena, who began laughing till tears formed in her eyes. In her excitement, Theo had slipped back into her native cockney and had given herself away.

“When you said what a marvelous actress you were, Theo, I didn't half realize how truthful you were being. Oh, if those slobs in Newgate could only know the refined and articulate girl they called the ‘Duchess' was really a cockney.”

“And if they had known,” Theo said, slipping back into her Duchess role, “do you think they would have respected me? Oh, no, they would have torn my hair out!”

After the final kisses good-bye and good wishes and promises to stay in touch with Tyler, who could keep them in contact with one another, Theo climbed from the coach. “You've given me a new start on life, Regan, and I won't forget it. If there's ever anything I can do for you, let me know.”

When they were alone, Sirena looked at Regan. “That was a wonderful thing you did for Theo, Regan. I know how careful you've had to be with your money and realize how generous you were.”

“It was only money, Sirena. You can't put a price on life.” His voice was somber and serious as though he were remembering something painful. Then he brightened. “The two hundred pounds was a lot easier to give than that kiss to Myrtle whan we reached the gate. God! What a hag!”

Regan and Sirena laughed. The first laugh they'd shared together since before Mikel had died. It felt good and natural, as though all the awful events since that time had never happened. When Regan reached out and touched Sirena's hand, she clasped it as they thought again of the smitten, black-toothed Myrtle.

 

Tyler Payne Sinclair stepped lightly out of the carriage that brought him to Camilla's house on Drury Lane. He smoothed the hair at his temples and frowned when he saw how pale his hand was in the bright sunlight. Prison pallor. Even with paying easement for better food and larger portions, Tyler's clothes were too large by several sizes. He was self-conscious of the way his frock coat sagged over his chest.

Earlier that day, Regan had come to Newgate to see him. He had explained in detail the restitution necessary to resolve the upset with the King and captain of the galleon the
Sea Spirit
had damaged. He had also told him of Camilla's confession to him and that he held no malice toward either of them. Regan was greatly relieved to be free of a loveless marriage and wished them both well. Tyler expected to hear him say that Camilla and Tyler deserved each other, but he hadn't. Before leaving, Regan explained that he hadn't told Camilla of Stephan's death, he was leaving that chore to Tyler. Wordlessly, there was a communication between the two men that Sirena would not be implicated in Stephan's death.

Tyler stepped up the wide tiled stairs to the front door and lifted the brass knocker. He was prepared to announce himself to the servant answering the door when the solid mahogany panel flew open and there stood Camilla. For what seemed an eternity they stared at each other, each drinking in the sight of the other. Tyler could see faint purple smudges beneath her blue eyes and her long dark lashes were moist and spiked as though she had been crying.

Camilla noticed immediately the weight Tyler had lost and his pallor, and her heart went out to him “Tyler!” she breathed, hardly more than a whisper. Her knees felt shaky and she nearly tumbled into his waiting arms.

He was overcome with the sight of her, the feel of her in his arms, the sweet clean fragrance emanating from her silky yellow curls. And when his mouth touched hers he savored the taste of her, reveling in the fact that her mouth sought his just as eagerly.

Camilla pulled Tyler into the house, closing the door behind her and leaning against it for support. “I thought you were dead,” she whispered tonelessly, her distress showing in her eyes. “I thought I would never have the chance to tell you how much you meant to me; how much I love you.”

Suddenly she was in his arms again and he soothed her tears and quieted her, holding her fast, swearing he would never leave her again, never let her go.

When at last their torrent of emotions was under control, Tyler led Camilla into the drawing room, seating her gently on the settee and sitting down beside her. “Camilla, sweetheart, there's something I must tell you.”

She looked at him, her huge eyes holding puzzlement and fear. “You've come to tell me about father, haven't you?” she said softly. “Then tell me, Tyler, quickly, before I lose my courage.”

“Stephan is dead, sweetheart. I . . . I saw him go over the side during a storm.” His voice was gentle, consoling.

“You saw him go over the side? Side of what?” Camilla persisted.

“Your father was running away from a duel, Camilla. Frightened, he learned of a ship in the harbor which was sailing to Ireland. I had gone to the house on King Street just as he was preparing to leave. He begged me, pleaded with me, to accompany him so I could introduce him to family friends in Waterford. I did. That first day out a storm came up quite unexpectedly. Stephan . . . went over the rail. He's dead, Camilla.” Tyler scrutinized her face for sign of emotion.

“I'm glad he's dead, Tyler,” Camilla said in a barely audible voice. “He can't hurt anyone again. He was my father but I'd always suspected what connection he had in my mother's death. When I learned the truth, I wanted nothing more to do with him. I suppose what I'm feeling right now is regret for the man I thought he was; not for the man he truly was. Camilla's eyes cleared and the corners of her mouth lifted hesitantly in a smile. “All that matters to me, Tyler, is that we can be together.”