Midnight Mistress (37 page)

A gentle hand stayed his arm. “No, Connor,” Juliana said softly as she came to his side. “To kill him like this, it would be cold-blooded murder. It is what the Admiral wants.”

Connor’s chin shot up. He caught the gleam in McGregor’s eyes, the savoring the pleasure of watching another soul warped by sin. God’s teeth, it
was
what he wanted. Disgusted, Connor threw down the blade. “She’s right. He is not
worth it. Neither are you. You’re not a great man of business at all, McGregor, but a sad, twisted puppeteer. And the saddest thing of all is that you don’t even realize that you are a puppet too, that it is your avarice that pulls your strings—”

“Silence!” McGregor’s calm veneer stripped away. “Nothing controls me. Nothing and no one! You will both be dead in seconds. I’d planned a slow death for you, but having your lady watch you die, and knowing that she will die a moment later, is more exquisite than any torture I could devise.” He cocked the gun, and brought it level with Connor’s chest. “If you have any prayers, Captain, I suggest you say them now—”

Again thunder roared through the air. Connor stopped breathing, waiting for the pain of a bullet tearing his gut. But the pain didn’t come. Instead, he watched the light fade from McGregor’s eyes. The gun slipped from his hand and he crumpled to the ground, revealing the man at the top of the rope ladder.

“My dear boy,” Commodore Jolly said to Connor as he calmly handed his smoking pistol to one of the multitude of lieutenants and constables streaming down into the hold. “This whole business would have been so much simpler if you had shared your little plots with Lord Melville.”

“I still cannot believe it,” Connor said as he sat in the Jollys’ parlor while Juliana gave a final inspection to the bandage the doctor had applied to his shoulder. “You have been watching Raoul and me for months, working under the direct orders of Lord Melville?”

“Just so,” the commodore said as he took a sip of tea. “He suspected that you might need some support, even though you insisted on putting as few people in danger as possible. But I must tell you it is not so very easy for a man of my size to pass unnoticed in these narrow streets. That is why I played the buffoon. It is a ruse I have used quite successfully on many an occasion.”

From the commodore’s side, Hortensia Jolly gave an affronted huff. “Well you could have had the civility to tell your own mother.”

Jolly bowed his head sheepishly. “I was under orders, Mama.”

“Orders be jigged. I was mortally afraid that I’d raised a buffle-head,” she stated, her expression growing glum. “Honestly, to think I was responsible for asking that horrid man to help our dear girl—”

“Madam, it is not your fault,” the dear girl supplied. “We all believed him. In any case, if you had not asked him to assist me, he would have found another way to become indispensable to me. He said as much when Connor and I—”

“Were in that awful ship, facing that
devil
,” Mrs. Jolly finished with a shiver. “You poor lambs. My first instinct was not to trust that man. I should have followed it. On the other hand,” she added as her gaze swung to Connor, “my first instinct was not to trust you either, as far as Juliana’s virtue was concerned. So—how soon is the wedding?”

“Mrs. Jolly,” Juliana cried, blushing crimson. “Give us some time. We have only just escaped from certain death.”

A heavily accented voice from the doorway chimed in. “Then all the more reason to marry at once, my friends, for you are now used to precarious situations. And marriage, I have heard, is precarious indeed.”

“Raoul!” Juliana ran to the door as the Frenchman hobbled in, followed closely by Meg, Rose, and Jamie. “But I thought you were not to leave your bed.”

St. Juste waved his hand. “What is a broken leg? I am fit as—how do you say—a drum.”

“Fiddle,” Meg corrected. “The man terrorized poor Dr. Fairchild. Someone should keep an eye on him.”

St. Juste cast a smile in her direction, indicating that he might not mind at all if that someone were she. Then his smile dimmed. “But it is important that I get well quickly.
The fiend McGregor died without revealing who killed my uncle. As soon as I am able, I intend to hunt down the last of the Admiral’s men to see if they know anything of my uncle’s betrayer.”

Connor nodded. For years, the thought of finding Daniel’s murderer had been the driving force in his life. But now he had a new dream, and new responsibilities. He reached out his hand to Juliana. But she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was fixed on the doorway behind him.

Grenville stood in the door, hat in hand. He fiddled the brim of it as he entered the room. “I have heard from the officers what transpired this night. And I—well, curse it.” He walked over to Connor and stood before him, carefully avoiding Juliana’s glance as he did so. “I have never been a saint, but I have always considered myself to be a fair man. But I have allowed our old—um, situation to cloud my judgment and to convince me that you were the Admiralty traitor. Looking back, I can see that Lord Renquist had access to many of the stolen documents, but I never thought to suspect him because he was a peer. I misjudged you sorely, Captain, and not for the first time. I can do nothing to change our past, but I can offer you my heartfelt apology and appreciation for your willingness to risk your life for our country. You have the bravery and honor of a gentleman, and I would count it an honor to shake your hand.”

For a long while, Connor stared at the offered hand. Once Grenville’s insults had lashed his young ego like a whip, and Connor had hated him for it. Grenville had misjudged him—but Connor had to own that he had done the same. He’d let his old hatred of Juliana’s cousin convince him that Grenville was the person smuggling secrets through the Marquis Line, instead of looking at all the possible suspects. Swallowing, he clasped the hand of his old enemy. “We cannot change our past, but perhaps we can change our future.”

Grenville gave a quick nod. Then, with an equally quick
glance between Connor and Juliana, he muttered something about having to be at the Admiralty at the crack of dawn, and left the room.

Juliana hurried after him. “Grenville,” she said as she caught up with him in the foyer. “Please, I have to speak to you. About the wedding—”

“There is no need,” her cousin replied as he took his coat from the footman. “The commodore explained everything to me. You may break our betrothal without censure, and without any stain on your name. In any event, the War Office has been urging me to return to my former operations on the Peninsula. I believe I shall take them up on their request.”

“There is no need for you to leave. You are still a part of this family. And you shall always have a place in my heart for the kindness you showed to me.”

“
Kindness?
My dear, there was nothing kind about it. I fell in love with you. Even after the commodore told me of Connor’s heroic return, I’d hoped you might still … but the moment I saw you together, I knew. It is as it was between you when you were growing up—as it always will be.”

“I am … so sorry. If Connor had not come back—”

“Then we would have endured a tepid marriage, of not much use to anyone. It is better this way. For both of us.” He settled his hat on his head and turned toward the front door before adding softly, “I wish you well, Juliana.”

For several minutes Juliana stood in the empty hallway, staring at the closed front door. Behind her she could hear the voices of her family through the open door to the parlor—Raoul’s smooth accent as he charmed a laughing Meg, Jolly’s repeated assurances to his mother that he would never, ever deceive her again, and Rose’s soft but insistent attempts to convince Jamie that it was indeed time for him to go to bed. Yet she needed no sound or voice to tell her when he came to stand behind her.

“Are you all right?”

“No,” she admitted honestly. “Connor, I never meant to hurt him.”

He turned her to him. “Not all endings can be happy ones. But who can tell? Perhaps he will be lucky enough to find a—” His mouth pulled up in a grin. He lifted her lips to his as he punctuated every word with a lingering lass. “A bossy … stubborn … pigheaded …”

“You missed ‘improper,’ ” she breathed against his mouth.

“I was getting to that. ’Tis the best part.”

He lowered his mouth for a deeper caress, a lavish, heady embrace that held all the love of their past and all the promise of their future. Sighing with contentment, Juliana wondered at the miracle that this brave, good man had chosen to love her. Not that there had been much choice in the matter. As Grenville had said, the seed of love had begun to grow between them even while they were children. And no amount of pain, despair, separation, or heartache had been able to kill it.

As a girl she had worshiped him as her shining knight. Now she saw him as a man, full of strengths and weaknesses, victories and doubts. The perfect hero of her youth had been replaced by the reality of a flesh-and-blood man, striving to live with courage and honor in a world that valued those commodities too little. Somehow, that only made his armor shine brighter—

A too-loud cough behind them broke the embrace. Commodore Jolly advanced from the shadows, his self-conscious expression reminding Juliana that a part of him was still very much the blundering buffle-head she’d come to love. “Eh, I must be off to the Admiralty. There are papers to file, reports to fill out. ’Tis a bother, but there is nothing for it. Even clandestine operations require exhaustive documentation. Still, I wanted to make certain that I presented you with this,” he said as he handed Connor a scroll of paper. “It contains a good deal of eloquent bluff and bluster, but to get straight to
it—Melville has offered you and your men a place in the fleet. Your commission will be reinstated, awarding you the full rank of captain of the Royal Navy, if you wish it.”

“If I wish—?” Connor turned the scroll over in his hand, staring at it as if it were made of solid gold. “You cannot imagine how much I have wanted …

Abruptly, the hope died in his eyes. Reluctantly, he held the paper back out to Jolly. “I cannot accept this honor. There are events that transpired during my years away … events that make it impossible for me to ever to be worthy of this—”

“Are you referring to the
Absalom
?”

Connor’s jaw dropped. “You know?”

“By jingo, boy, we’re not completely witless. Before he decided to entrust you with the security of our entire country, Melville had you checked out thoroughly. We tracked down several of your shipmates, and every one of them sings the same tune. Those poor beggars in the hold would have died if you hadn’t done what you did. You’re a hero, not a criminal. Now, if you are done with your self-chastisement, I suggest you send a message to whatever smuggler’s harbor you’ve got your ship anchored in and get it here smart quick. In case you hadn’t heard, there’s a war on.”

The commodore delivered a quick bow and a wink to Juliana, then bustled out the door. But even after he left, Connor continued to stare at the scroll, unable to believe it. “I’m an officer again, Princess,” he said in wonder. “A man of position and honor.”

“You always were.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Bilgewater and barnacles, Connor. When are you going to start accepting the fact that you are a good and decent man? Or you will be, as soon as you ask me to marry you.”

His brow arched up. “As I recall, you did all the asking. Quite convincingly, too.”

“Yes, but I do not recall an answer. I should like one soon,
if you do not mind. Otherwise, I shall have to consider the proposal of one of my other suitors. Perhaps Sidney Richmond. Or Fitzwilliam—”

She gasped as he pulled her flush against him. “Connor, your shoulder. You’ll tear the dressing.”

“Hang the dressing. You’re mine, Juliana. We’ll make our vows together all right and proper, but even without them you belong to me. We belong to each other, forever and always. And I—now what is the matter?”

“ ’Tis just—” She swallowed, knowing tears were not appropriate for such a moment. “I am happy—happier than I ever thought possible. But when I pictured our wedding day, I always imagined my father standing with us. I know he is gone, but there is a part of me that still continues to hope—”

A knock sounded on the front door. Frowning, Juliana followed the butler to the door. “Who could be calling before daw—Tommy Blue? Where have you been? You disappeared so suddenly, and we have heard nothing of you for months—”

“Yes, well, it had to be sudden-like. I had a fish on the line, so to speak, and I had to reel it in before I lost the hook. You follow?”

“No,” Connor and Juliana said in unison.

Tommy stroked his scraggly chin. “I don’t want it to be a shock, but I don’t sees how it can’t be. I caught wind of a rumor down Barbados way—a tale of men shipwrecked on an island. Wasn’t sure it would pan out. Didn’t want to get your hopes up. So I took off quick as Jack Sprite. Did the deed and came back near as quick. Beat the packet ships, we did, so’s no sense in sending a letter.”

Connor rubbed his temples. They’d had a night of surprises all ready, and one more was putting him past his limit. “Tommy, what in blazes are you going on about? And who is
we
—?”

A figure stood just outside the doorway. The man was
shrouded in the fog and ghostly light of the sky just before dawn. Yet there was something in his bold stance, something that reminded him of—

Minutes later Jamie snuck out of the parlor, trying to delay the inevitable bedtime as long as possible. He saw his captain standing in the hallway, and went to stand beside him. He rubbed his eyes, sleepy yet curious as he followed his captain’s gaze. “Why’s the lady hugging that man and crying? She shouldn’t be crying, should she?”

Connor reached down and rested his hand on his young lieutenant’s shoulders. “She is crying because she is happy, sir. That man is her father.”