Pirate of My Heart: A Novel (24 page)

Kendra looked out the window at the passing countryside. They had just crested Bury Hill and could see Arun Valley with its rolling farmland and dotted with cottages and sheep. It was cultivated, Kendra thought, pressing her chin into her hand. It seemed so civilized even though they were in the middle of the countryside. Why, you couldn’t have gotten a carriage through the American countryside, it was so wild and untamed and beautiful—like its people—like Dorian.

It was night when they reached the outer gardens of Arundel Castle. She sat up straighter as they clattered over the cobblestones through the huge stone gate and then over the bridge where decades ago there used to be a moat. Her heart began hammering as the hired carriage swung around the drive and stopped at the entrance to the castle. What would Uncle Andrew do? Would he let her stay? She brushed the questions aside with determination. She’d come this far, she would just have to find out. Kendra took a deep breath and she stepped out onto the drive. She looked at the castle, up and up the massive walls to the coat of arms carved into the stone above the door. Their lion and unicorn stood ready to guard the castle from harm. The impact of the scale of the place hit her like never before. It couldn’t be more different than Aunt Amelia’s simple log home.

And everything appeared so fine and well cared for, much better than when she left. She had expected to see more disrepair, but the windows sparkled in the evening twilight, every one of them glowing with warm light. The ivy covering some of the stone was well manicured. Perfect. That’s how it looked. Like a painting.

Waving the driver on to the stables, she gathered up her skirts and lifted her chin. She grasped hold of a new, highly polished door knocker and banged. How surprised Hobbs, their dear old butler, would be when he saw her. She had an eerie feeling that this wasn’t her home any longer, but she pushed it aside and smiled as broadly as her nervous stomach would allow.

Instead of Hobbs a reed-thin man with a long nose answered the door. He appeared affronted by the task. “Yes?” he drawled while looking down his nose.

“Is Hobbs dead?” Kendra blurted out in her shock.

“Hobbs?” The man blinked but remained so stoic he could have been a statue.

“Forgive me. I’m Kendra Col, uh, Townsend, the earl’s niece, and I expected Hobbs, the butler who has been employed here for years, to answer the door. Has he passed on?” While she spoke she moved toward the dome-like foyer with the distinct impression that she would have to force her way in.

“I was recently employed. I don’t know anything about Hobbs.”

Drawing herself up and taking on her most intimidating posture, she stared daggers at the man and frowned. “You may call me Lady Townsend. Is my uncle at home? I would like to see him immediately.”

“I suppose I can see if he will see you.”

Kendra clamped her mouth down before she said something she regretted. “Thank you.” She forced out.

After he left, Kendra was struck by her surroundings. New, thick rugs warmed the floors. Large, dark lacquered urns that looked to be from Japan held tall, potted plants overflowing the corners with leaves. She walked through the door to her right, into the front salon, and gasped in disbelief. The room was more beautiful than it had ever been. New drapes in a honey and cream-colored velvet hung over the windows, complementing upholstered chairs and sofas in a deep orange and gold. A purple chaise sat in one grouping with dark satinwood tables loaded down with painted porcelain statuettes and pretty vases and gilt-covered boxes. Across from those pieces against a wall was the loveliest desk she’d ever seen with delicate carved legs, and a gleaming turquoise inlaid top. Kendra turned round and round in a slow circle, taking it all in. New lamps and branches of candelabra lit the room, a rich painting graced one wall that must have been six feet tall. A glittering chandelier hung above her head. She felt numb. Unable to think why . . . how. The last time she’d seen this room there had been only a few worn pieces of furniture left from the sale of all their belongings. How could this be? Where had Uncle Andrew gotten the money for all of this? It was impossible that he could have earned it in the short time she had been away.

“You’ll find the rest of the rooms refurbished as well,” the soft voice spoke from the doorway. Whirling, she turned to see her uncle.

“It was about time, too. The place was looking shabby under your father’s care, I must say.”

There was a sneer in his voice that made the hair rise on the back of her neck.

“Please, my dear, come into my library. We have much to discuss.”

Motioning for Kendra to precede him, she started to speak and then acquiesced, walking down the long hall, the back of her neck crawling with fear.

She walked into the dim library and sat in the chair Andrew motioned toward. He came around the desk that used to be her father’s and sat across from her.

“When my butler told me you were here, I must say I was very, very angry. You have always done your best to make my well-laid plans go awry. But after considering it, I’m glad you’re here. I should have done the job myself in the first place and saved myself the hassles of those bumbling colonial relatives of yours.” He shrugged, his lips curving into a ghastly smile. “You know what they say, if you want a job done right . . . do it yourself,” his arm waved in the air as his voice trailed off into a chuckle.

Kendra pressed her back into the chair shaking her head back and forth. Panic rose to her throat making her want to gag.

“I can see understanding is slow to dawn so I will have to explain. Such the pity.” But he looked delighted to explain.
Dear God, help. He looks stark-raving mad!

“You see, I’ve been a cheated man. I was the firstborn twin, not your father. But that unfortunate midwife tied a ribbon to his foot and they all insisted he was first.” His eyes took on a glazed appearance and he looked to be in a trance as he continued, “She was my first kill. Strangulation. Fought rather hard but I was strong for my age.”

“Age?” The question slipped out.

“Ah. Fourteen. Mother knew I deserved the title, but father loved Edward, so I became the second son.” Andrew walked over and grasped Kendra around the neck. Standing over her he looked down into her wild eyes. “I couldn’t just let him have it, you know. I vowed long ago that it would all be mine, including that paltry dowry your grandmother set up for you.”

Kendra gasped for air. He let go and shoved her against the back of the chair. His movements were slow, casual, as he walked to the liquor decanter, pouring a long draught. After swallowing the contents, he smacked his lips together and continued. Kendra tried not to moan aloud with fear. “They all thought me such a spoiled dandy. No head for business. Couldn’t handle my money.” He laughed, a low and menacing sound that sent prickles of panic over Kendra’s skin. “Fools—the lot of them. Especially Edward. All along I was making my fortune, more money than your father had ever dreamed of having.”

Kendra shook her head and gasped out, ”But you lost everything to that company . . .”

“The Brougham Company?” Andrew threw back his head and laughed again, this time loud and boisterous. Then he abruptly stopped and stared at Kendra—waiting, waiting, like a snake about to strike, he waited for her to see it.

“The Brougham Company. It wasn’t bankrupt like you told my father. The ships that failed . . . they didn’t fail, did they? It was all lies. Is that how you gained all this wealth?”

“I see that full understanding is beyond your reach, my dear. And it is such a brilliant plan. I wouldn’t want you to miss a single nuance of it.” His eyes lit up with glee. “Come now, you must see the irony soon. It’s so delightful. The ships in my company are divided into two fleets. Half are legitimate merchant ships and the other half”—he grinned, his eyes feverish—“are pirate ships. You have even met with one of them! I hire my men from Newgate to work for me. Ex-prisoners, they’re cheap labor and have the black hearts that I need. It’s brilliant, really.” His chest filled out with pride. “I send out two ships on each excursion. The pirate ship steals the cargo from other vessels then meets up with the merchant ship, where the stolen goods are then transported to the legitimate ship. My merchant ship forges papers documenting the sales history of the cargo and then sails to ports to carry out honest trade. You see, pirates have long had the problem of being able to sell what they steal. To appear more legitimate and sell my merchandise, I use the appearance of the Brougham Company as a front and the legal merchants don’t know they’re buying stolen goods. Genius, isn’t it?”

Kendra was too stunned to answer. After a moment she spoke out in horror, “So you tricked my father into giving you everything he owned and left us practically penniless. But why?”

“But that’s not all! I tricked him into giving me his wealth, but I still needed the title, and as you know, there was only one way to get that.” Andrew raised his brows in expectation.

“You killed my father,” Kendra whispered in horror. “You murdered your own brother for the title.”

“Kill number two, I’m afraid. It
was
rightfully mine.” Andrew’s face reddened. “It was
mine
!”

“But if you were going to kill him, why bother stripping us of everything? It would all be yours after . . . after he died.”

Andrew stepped closer, got in her face. “I wanted him to suffer as I had suffered. I wanted him to feel what it was like to lose everything.”

“But he still had me, didn’t he? We weren’t as miserable as you had planned because all that really mattered was that we had each other.”

Andrew turned his head away, white lines of anger on either side of his clenched mouth. “Yes, well, we can’t have everything we want, can we? Looking back, I should have had you in the carriage accident. That would have destroyed him.” He swung away from her, agitated.

Kendra could barely manage to get the words past the terror in her constricted throat. “No, it wouldn’t have. My father looked to God for his strength. You couldn’t take that away from him.”

Andrew shot her a dark look. “Perhaps. And what shall I do with you now?” He tapped his bottom lip with one finger. “Since those bumbling colonials couldn’t finish you off, I will have to do it myself. It’s too bad though, no one would have missed you in America. You’ve no doubt made your presence known across the countryside. I’ll have to think of some accident for you. A fire, perhaps?” He mused with brows raised and a cruel twist to his lips. “Burning flesh, melting off your bones.” He shuddered as if appalled by the thought.

Kendra could barely hear him above the roar of her heartbeat as he came nearer. The room grew dark around her. She fought for consciousness. She lost.

Kendra woke to utter darkness and a damp, musty smell. Struggling to rise off the dirt floor, she stood up, one arm curled protectively around her stomach.
Andrew killed my father.
The memory of what she had discovered hammered against her mind and caused her stomach to twist with nausea. She had known Andrew to be selfish and lazy, but never in her wildest dreams had she thought him capable of something so horrid. The man had murdered her father, his own brother, and was planning to kill her if she didn’t find a way out of here. Panic rose in a bubble in her throat. She had to escape!

“Hello! Anybody here?”

Thrusting out her hands, she edged forward, afraid of what she might step on, until she felt a wall. Where had he put her? She turned in one direction and felt along the wall, easing herself around the room. A piece of furniture banged onto her thigh, making her cry out. It was a table. Feeling along the top, she found a lantern and a tinderbox. Thank God, Andrew hadn’t left her without light. With trembling fingers she struck the tinder to the flint several times until she had a wavering flame. Careful not to extinguish it, she lifted the glass globe on the lantern and lit the wick. Turning around with the lantern held high, she studied her surroundings. The old abandoned cellar. There were sagging, half-rotted wooden shelves against one wall which held some dust-coated jars. The rest of the room was bare except for the crude table she was standing beside. Terror rose back up inside her throat. Would Andrew bring her food? Water? Or did he plan to leave her down here to die? She took a breath of the damp, cool air and walked to the shelves. If she got desperate enough she would open a jar and see if there was anything edible inside. She swallowed a wave of nausea.
Please God, don’t let it come to that. Help me find a way out.