Hart's Desire (Pirates & Petticoats Book 1) (25 page)

Her aunt kissed her cheeks. “Isn’t it simply perfect? We are so fortunate to have this refreshing breeze.” Aunt Sarah’s gaze twitched from the captain to her husband and back.
 

Was even more banal conversation needed to prevent Uncle Jared from causing a scene?

Uncle Jared’s gaze traveled approvingly up and down her gown. “Might I say you look stunning, my dear? A shame your father is not well enough to attend tonight. I am sure he would have been proud to be the one to announce your engagement.” Uncle Jared glared hard at Hart before turning to her slightly and continuing, “I wish you both a happy union.”
 

She sensed, rather than saw, Hart stiffen at her uncle's words. She smiled woodenly at her uncle. If she met his gaze, he’d see the truth in her eyes.
 

A lie. It is all a lie.

Landon turned, pulled her hand toward him, and pressed his lips to her fingertips. “I wish you a happy and fruitful marriage, Miss Grey. Although I am sure several young men will go home this evening much saddened by such news.”

She focused her attention on the vase of flowers on the foyer table. Don't look at him. Don’t look.

“Why are you here, Hart?” Uncle Jared said bluntly.

“If you’ll recall, one of our galley boys went missing when our cargo was stolen. When you and I talked at the mill, you gave me several names of a few who might know about the local men I hired. So far, none have provided the information I need. It’s my hope you can introduce me to others here tonight who might help. I am most concerned for the galley boy’s welfare.”

Uncle Jared clasped his hands behind his back and pursed his lips. “Ah yes. The storm hindered those efforts more than a little, I’m sure. As soon as all our guests have arrived and the ball is underway, we shall meet in my study.”

“Thank you, sir.” Landon inclined his head.

Simon stepped forward and bid her a good evening. He held a tray of unfilled wine glasses. Young Joseph stood at his father’s side carefully holding a half-filled carafe.

“Would you care for a glass of wine, Miss Grey?” Simon asked, courteously.

She smiled. “Thank you Simon, I would. Captain Hart?”

“No, thank you,” he responded curtly.

She flinched at the coolness coating his demeanor.
 

Guilt enveloped her. She didn’t think she could ever hurt his feelings in any way. He’d played his game with her. And now it was over. Although she hadn’t planned on using Landon to ignite her scheme to avoid marriage to Pratt, everything had fallen perfectly into place.
 

Everything but the truth.

A feminine cough broke the temporary silence. Everyone’s attention turned to the top of the staircase.
 

Doreen posed on the upper landing, smiling sweetly at Landon.
 

Keelan raised her glass and took a sip. Doreen’s hair had been repaired, her face no longer reddened by tears and anger. She tried to act nonchalant, but the flirtatious gaze Doreen had fixed on Landon Hart made her irate.

She was annoyed even more by the fact that it bothered her.
 

Immensely.

Then she heard her aunt’s small gasp behind her. Apparently, Aunt Sarah hasn’t seen the dress either.
 

Aunt Sarah cast a horrified glance over the rim of her wine glass at her husband. A wide-eyed look of panic seemed to have paralyzed Uncle Jared’s normally stoic face. His jaw clenched and began a convulsive quivering. When he found his voice, the words fell out like a cup of nails on a tin plate.
 

“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME?”

Aunt Sarah’s elbow shot out from her side and she gave her husband a merciless poke, which sent him into a fit of coughing.
 

“Captain Hart, you remember my daughter, Doreen,” Aunt Sarah said thinly.

Uncle Jared stood like a wooden pillar; his stare was barely visible under his thick, lowered eyebrows.
 

Since no other gentleman was nearby, and Uncle Jared seemed barely able to breathe, Hart once again ascended the staircase and graciously offered his arm. He’d better love the fragrance of rose water, otherwise a pungent trip up and down the staircase awaited the handsome Captain Hart.

As he neared Doreen, he stifled a low cough. Keelan grinned into her wine glass. Rose water wasn’t a favorite, then.

 
“It is a joy to see you again, Miss Grey.” Hart said cordially. “You look…lovely…this evening.”
 

Doreen gazed dreamily at Hart. “Thank you, Captain,” she drawled, as she batted her lashes demurely and squeezed his arm. “It’s refreshing to converse with a man with such an astute sense of style.” She slipped her arm through Landon’s and pulled it tightly against her ribs. “My! Such strong arms. I truly thank you for your kind escort.”
 

A larger gulp of wine was needed to keep from snorting in disgust at her cousin’s shameless and downright blatant attempt at flirtation. The pair descended the staircase, and this time Landon accepted some wine from Simon and Joseph. Doreen continued to cling to his arm while she tried to steer him in the direction of the ballroom.

“Captain Hart, you must come and listen to the musicians my father brought in from Charleston. They play a divine waltz.”
 

Landon smiled politely. “My apologies, Miss Grey, but I have urgent business with your father. I will happily escort you to the ballroom, however. I’m sure your dance card must already be quite full.”

Aunt Sarah hopped forward and draped her shawl around Doreen’s shoulders. “Here, dear,” she whispered, “it’s a bit drafty this evening.” She swiftly tied the shawl.

“Mother, I do not need…”

Uncle Jared’s voice growled from behind Aunt Sarah’s shoulder, “Daughter, you’ll do well to listen to your mother!”

“But Papa…” Doreen whined.
 

At her sire’s warning scowl, Doreen gave a soft exasperated sigh, and grasped Landon’s arm tighter. “Come, Captain Hart, allow me to show you the way to the ballroom, where the draft is not so cool.” She stared pointedly at her parents, and gave them a triumphant smile.

“Keelan! My darling, you are a vision from heaven!”

Dr. Garrison. Dear Lord help her. She tipped her glass and finished her wine in a solid gulp, ignoring the curious glance from Landon. At the moment, she didn't care what the captain thought of her. Her most immediate mission was to avoid dancing with the doctor.

 
She forced a cheerful tone into her voice, “Good evening, Dr. Garrison.”

Keeping his gaze fastened upon her face, the doctor plucked her empty glass from her fingers and held it out in Simon’s direction. The servant accepted it without a word.
 

Dr. Garrison leaned in and whispered, “Please call me Everett, my dear.” Then louder, “Come, sweet Keelan, grant me the pleasure of dancing with you in my arms.”

She did her best to keep a bright smile frozen on her face, but her toes cowered in her slippers.
 

He clutched her elbow and led her to the dance floor. She endured the first two dances as best she could. After he tread on her foot a fourth time, she begged leave to get some air. “Really, Dr. Garrison…Everett… I guess I’m not used to this heat. Allow me to sit a moment and catch my breath.”

“Of course, my darling. Rest a bit while I get you a glass of punch.”

“Thank you. You’re very kind.”

“Not at all, my dear. I shall return shortly. Perhaps we could take a stroll in the garden. It is most beautiful on a night like this, with the full moon.”

Again, guilt pressed heavy against her heart as Dr. Garrison made his way toward a buffet laid out with food. Halfway there, a short, stout woman, who was fanning herself madly, heralded him and pointed to a place on her arm.

If only the doctor wasn’t so kind and charming, it would be easier for her to act out this deceit. She didn’t deserve it, but perhaps one day he would forgive her and maybe even understand her motives. Having her hand in marriage would never be same as having her heart.

As she had hoped, after she accepted Dr. Garrison’s proposal, her father consented to give up Twin Pines. She was relieved both Jared and Papa understood it would benefit the family better, and even enable her to have a livelihood that could provide for her and Papa to a greater degree than plantation life ever could.
 

In spite of that, her recent actions still left a bitter ironic taste on her tongue. For all her efforts to avoid walking the same path as her mother, she still managed to fall into the quicksand mire of a marriage to a man she didn’t love.
 

She would end up exactly like her mother; she would put all her time and focus into the shop, to distract her broken heart from the loneliness of a loveless marriage. She had been foolish to think she could control her life completely.
 

She was her mother’s daughter, after all.

A young serving girl holding a tray of wine-filled stemware stepped close, and she removed a glass from the tray. It was going to be a long evening of hideous torture. Perhaps the wine would dull the torment—as well as the pain of her bruised toes.

“Miss Keelan! You look beautiful!”

She turned. A small, stout young woman waved and wove her way toward her.
 

“Margaret! It’s nice to see you again.” She forced a smile. Margaret Hampton lived nearby. She loved conversation, and apparently if one wanted to know all the happenings in the Low Country, one needed only a short conversation with Margaret Hampton.

Margaret opened her fan and spoke behind it. “What’s this I have heard about your engagement to the handsome Dr. Garrison? Is it true?”

She swallowed and nodded slightly, not trusting her voice to answer.
 

“Wonderful! I can only—”
 

Margaret froze, and she turned to see what had attracted the young woman’s attention so completely, she stopped in mid-sentence.
 

“That must be the wealthy merchant captain I have heard so much about,” Margaret breathed.
 

Captain Hart was chatting with a stunning woman near the dance floor. Tall and lithe, her hair gleamed like blue coal. The sapphire gown sharply contrasted with her pale skin. Together, she and the captain made quite a handsome couple.

Her voice caught in her throat, and she took a quick sip of wine to clear it. “Yes, it is. Captain Hart’s here at my aunt’s invitation,” she said.
 

 
Margaret spread her fan and whispered behind it, “I’ve heard some very interesting things about him. When he was a boy, he emigrated with his family from Ireland, but his parents died on the way over. The ship’s captain took him in and raised him as an apprentice of sorts.” She paused. “I’ve also heard the old captain once was a pirate, who fell in love with a woman he took captive. He eventually gave up the pirate’s life but even now his old ship mates continue to engage him on the open sea, in retaliation for his poorly timed departure.”

“Goodness, Margaret, you do tell the most entertaining stories.” She laughed.

“These are no stories.” Margaret’s voice climbed to an excited hiss. “The old captain’s nephew and Captain Hart now own an entire fleet of merchant ships. Captain Hart may not have come from old money, Keelan, but I’d wager he’s just as wealthy as any titled lord.”

“And pirates continue to seek him out,” she murmured, recalling Landon’s partial telling of the tale during the storm. And the warm comfort of his arms. And the heat of his kisses. An odd flutter skittered across her stomach.

“I wonder if he remarried.”

She choked on a sip of wine. Margaret really
was
privy to all kinds of information. What else did she know about Landon Hart?

“I was told that while he was at sea.” Margaret lowered her voice again, and Keelan had to lean closer to hear. “His wife became pregnant with another man’s child, but the pregnancy went bad. Both she and the babe died during the birth.”

“How terrible,” Keelan replied in a hushed tone. She recalled what he had said when they were trapped in the cellar:
 

“Marriage does not suit me.”
 

Margaret fluttered her fan. “Well, he’s done quite well, with the exception of his current choice for a dance partner.”

The woman dancing with Hart was beautiful. Her movements were as fluid as water.
 

“Who is she? We haven’t yet been introduced,” Keelan asked.

The woman laughed and pressed her hand to her heart before reaching over to stroke the captain’s arm.

“She’s Annette Camsby. She tried to sink her claws into the captain a couple of years ago, but he wouldn’t let her. She wanted him to sell his shipping company and invest in land, specifically her daddy’s failing plantation. He refused and left Charleston. This is the first time he has returned since then, or so I’ve been told.”

If she needed a confirmation she had made the right choice by picking Everett, then Margaret just gave her one. She would be a simpleton if she believed Landon Hart would bind himself to her if he would rather sail the seas than marry a woman as stunningly beautiful as Annette Camsby.
 

And why would she want to be with a man who regularly engaged in hostilities with pirates?
 

“Mrs. Camsby seems quite comfortable with him.” The two conversed as if they were old friends, or lovers.
 

“She’s a widow now. Her late husband left her a very wealthy woman. Maybe she will try to get Captain Hart to reconsider.”
 

A lover, then. Keelan began to feel slightly queasy. Still, she couldn’t drag her gaze away as they walked off the dance floor, the Widow Camsby’s hand resting familiarly on the captain’s arm. He leaned his ear down to her lips as she spoke then nodded. Her gaze fell on her cousin, who stood near one of the food-laden sideboards. Aunt Sarah’s shawl had apparently slipped down, unnoticed, to her elbows. Doreen’s arms were crossed as she glared at Annette.