His Wicked Kiss (40 page)

Soon, they came across the water, the kingly, uniformed fellow standing in the lifeboat in a stately pose while a half dozen of his trusty sailors rowed.

Jack couldn’t stop smiling. First Eden, and now the old fellow he simply adored. He hadn’t seen Uncle Arthur in nearly seven months.

As the distinguished nabob clambered aboard
The Winds of Fortune
, at once, across the decks, everyone cheered at his arrival, for he was loved by all who made his acquaintance.

Tall and hale, gray-haired with sky-blue eyes and patrician features, Lord Arthur Knight was still handsome in his sixties, nearly as tanned as Jack after thirty years’ service in
India
.

Arthur was the younger brother of the duke whom Jack had just finished telling
Eden
about; indeed, Arthur had incurred his elder brother’s wrath when he had reproached Hawkscliffe for the way he treated Jack as a child. Uncle Arthur was the only person whom Jack could ever recall standing up for him.

He shook his uncle’s hand warmly, received a clap on the back in return, and with a brief exchange of pleasantries, escorted Lord Arthur toward the quarterdeck.

Along the way, their distinguished guest greeted familiar faces among his crew never failing, of course, to remember Rudy. Lord Arthur reached into his pocket and tossed out a biscuit for the dog, who was leaping gleefully on him, then he rumpled the Nipper’s hair.

“Ah! There you are, my brave young lad! Great Zeus, you’ve grown a foot since last we met!” He bent down low to the lad’s eye level, bracing his hands on his thighs. “Now, boy, have you been working on your punches?”

“Yes, sir!” little Phineas cried enthusiastically.

“Show me.” Lord Arthur held up his left palm. “Ow!” he exclaimed as the Nipper socked Lord Arthur’s open hand as hard as he could. “Excellent, Mr. Moynahan! Well done. By Jove, you hit quite as hard as Gabriel and Derek did at your age.”

“Do I really, sir?” The boy sprouted another four or five inches before their eyes at the compliment.

“Indeed so! But—not yet as hard as Jack did when he was just as big as you. Keep practicing.”

“Aye-aye, sir!”

Moving on, Lord Arthur saluted Trahern with affection and bowed to old Brody, spared a nod for Martin and Peter Stockwell, and exchanged a few pleasantries with Mr. Palliser, the surgeon. Everyone beamed to see him.

Only Trahern sighed to find Lord Arthur had not brought Georgie with him, but it was just as well, Jack thought, for it would have taken ten Traherns to tame that vixen.

“And who have we here?” Lord Arthur exclaimed with a look of astonishment, as he beheld the red-headed beauty.

Eden
was blushing scarlet, no doubt with the knowledge of their secret liaison belowdecks, though her gown and her hair all looked perfectly demure.

The contrast between her very proper appearance and her lusty performance of a short while ago fired Jack’s interest anew. Even he was a little shocked by his appetite for her.

When Lord Arthur glanced at him expectantly, Jack lifted his bride’s dainty hand to his lips and drew her nearer with gentle chivalry, presenting her to him. “This, my good uncle, is Miss Eden Farraday, and would you by chance have a chaplain on board?”

There
was
a chaplain on board the
Valiant
, and he married them in a simple ceremony on the quarterdeck at sunset. Afterward, a volley of celebratory cannonfire was let loose, along with cheers from the men for Cap’n Jack and Lady Jay, as the Nipper had dubbed her, now that her legal name was changed to Lady
John
Knight. A feast was then served in honor of their nuptials, with as fine a meal as could be made down in the galley, and plenty of grog for the men.

Now lanterns blazed and rustic tunes filled the night. Men sang ballads and played airs on a bouncy fiddle, a high-piping piccolo, and a hurdy-gurdy. Merriment filled the air, but Jack knew the occasion was tinged with sadness for his bride because of her beloved papa’s absence.

It had fallen to Lord Arthur to bring her before the chaplain and to give her away in her father’s stead. After the ceremony, the nabob had entertained her with amusing stories about his adventures in
India
, along with a few accounts of his sons’ latest deeds of derring-do with the cavalry there.

She had listened, smiling, but Jack knew her heart was aching a little. When the meal was over, she let Trahern escort her up to listen to the music, leaving Jack some time to visit privately with his uncle.

They rose as she left, but sitting down at the table again, Lord Arthur beamed warmly at him. “Well done, my boy. She is a charming creature.”

Jack smiled faintly in the direction she had gone. “Just being with her feeds my soul,” he declared.

Lord Arthur arched an eyebrow. “Who are you and what have you done with my ill-tempered nephew?”

“Oh, leave me alone. A man’s got to get heirs, don’t he?” he drawled as he poured them both another drink.

“Right. That’s all this is about between the two of you.”

“Of course.” Jack’s eyes twinkled as he fought to look stern. “She was a stowaway. What else was I to do with her?”

“Ah, you may try to throw me overboard for saying it, but I know when I see a man in love.”

Jack shrugged but did not protest it.

“She’ll be a fine ambassador for you when you go back and face the family, I daresay. Ah—that reminds me!—speaking of ambassadors. Your brother Robert’s friend, Ian, the Marquess of Griffith—”

“Yes?” he asked. He had just been telling
Eden
about Maura’s elder brother, Ian.

“He’s been sent to
India
to try to negotiate a treaty between our side and the rajas of the Maratha Confederation.”

“Really?” Jack murmured. He knew that Ian had developed a certain expertise in diplomacy, but most of his work had taken place in
Europe
, according to Jacinda’s letters. He had been instrumental behind the scenes at the Vienna Congress.

“He was in the region anyway, apparently purchasing tea plantations. Investment, I suppose. He remembered me from years ago and said he’d be honored to call on me in
Bombay
when he arrived, but of course, I haven’t been home in months. Georgie wrote, telling me all of this,” he added. “Her letter made its way to me being passed along by your various ships.”

Jack nodded. His vessels crisscrossing the seas routinely passed along mail for him and his closest contacts, allowing urgent messages to travel from one end of the globe to the other much more quickly than they did for people who weren’t lucky enough to own a shipping company. It was a service that his pretty cousin Georgie did not hesitate to use.

“Last I heard,” Arthur continued, “things were coming to quite a boil between the army and the Maratha princes. Trust was so eroded on both sides that an outside negotiator was being sought—someone with whom both sides would feel comfortable—and of course Lord
Griffith
has developed such a sterling reputation.”

“Indeed.”

“It was sheer luck that a negotiator of his expertise was so near to hand. I shall be sorry to miss his visit, but Derek and Gabriel will at least get to meet him up at the frontier.”

Jack arched an eyebrow. “Won’t Georgie get to meet him, as well? If he’s planning on calling on you at your palace in
Bombay
—?”

“I’m trying not to think about that,” Lord Arthur said drily, “considering I’m not there to make sure my daughter behaves herself.”

Jack snorted. “Even if she doesn’t, Ian will. He was always so upright and serious, Arthur. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“But you don’t understand. To Georgie, a standoffish fellow will seem like a jolly challenge for her seductive skills. With most men, she only has to smile to make them fall in love.”

“You shouldn’t have named her after my mother,” Jack taunted with a smile.

“I
liked
your mother,” he retorted. “And admired her. After the heroic way she died, I was happy to name my daughter after her in tribute.”

Jack grumbled a wordless answer and tossed back a swallow of liquor.

“In any case, the letter from Georgie wasn’t the only communiqué I received on my way here to meet you. I hate to put a blot on the festivities, but—” Arthur hesitated. “Hard news from Venezuela Jack.”

He sat forward. “What news?”

“The war began in earnest shortly after you set sail, and I am sorry to say it is off to a very poor start.”

“What happened?”

“A brutal defeat at La Puerta,” he murmured. “General Morillo managed to ambush Bolivar’s little fledgling infantry in a ravine. Chaos.” Lord Arthur shook his head. “Bolivar himself was nearly killed in the retreat. The Spanish captured fifteen hundred muskets, munitions, all the baggage and supplies, even the flags.”

Jack whispered an expletive.

“Paez with his cavalry of
llaneros
managed to protect the infantry from complete destruction, but in the confusion, the Spanish got hold of Bolivar’s personal effects—including all of his correspondence. The mail bag apparently contained a letter from Don Eduardo Montoya confirming for Bolivar that their ‘agent’ had been dispatched to
London
to procure reinforcements as agreed.”

“I see,” Jack murmured. “So, now they know I’m coming.”

“Well, no, they know
someone’s
coming. The letter did not mention your name, of course, but the Spanish no doubt will have warned
Whitehall
that an agent has been sent to
London
for recruitment purposes. The Crown as well as the Spanish embassy in
London
will be on the hunt to find out who this ‘agent’ is.”

Jack fell silent. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back slowly in his chair, brooding on this new intelligence. The Spanish already hated him for protecting Bolivar a few years ago on
Jamaica
, but he did not need his uncle to explain what could happen if he failed in his quest. What was left of Bolivar’s army was doomed if they did not soon get reinforcements; Angostura would be burned to the ground, and the leaders of the revolution put before the firing squad.