Pirate of My Heart: A Novel (3 page)

Edward looked up as his solicitor, Parker Walcott, entered the earl’s library a fortnight after Andrew’s visit. His gray hair poked out in all directions, accenting the deep crevices upon his face and making him appear more and more a loony old man than a respected barrister. He’d never seen Parker look so pale. “Parker, is something wrong? You look as if your daughter just ran off with a servant.”

“I only wish it was something akin to that, my lord.” Parker’s hand shook as he reached out to steady himself into the chair facing the desk. “You may wish you hadn’t rejected all of Lady Kendra’s suitors after I tell you this. I’m afraid no one will have her now, after what I’m about to show you.”

Edward felt the man’s panic come over him in an alarming wave. “Well, what is it, Parker? Stop rambling riddles and tell me.”

“I just received the contracts from your brother’s creditors. My lord . . . did your brother give you any indication of the amount of the notes?” His voice shook.

“Well, no, but it doesn’t matter, I can’t have my brother sent to Newgate. Are they much more than we expected?” Edward raised his brows in consternation. Of course Andrew didn’t tell him the amount. Why had he not thought to ask before blithely agreeing to cover them?

“Here, take a look, my lord.” Parker thrust a stack of dog-eared papers across his desk.

Edward thumbed through the papers, the numbers jumping out at him as if alive. His stomach quivered as he made the calculations. Outrageous. Preposterous. How could Andrew have rang up such a mountain of debt? And how could he have been so dishonest when he’d hinted at the amount? Andrew had not even come close to being honest with him. Besides the enormous sums due from the creditors of the Brougham Company, there were several thousand pounds worth of bills from various gambling debts.

“You’ll be ruined, my lord.” Parker’s eyes pulsated with the bleak truth. “These men played your brother for a fool. If you pay them off, there will be nothing left, not even a decent dowry for Lady Kendra.”

A strange deadness had come over him but at the reminder of Kendra’s dowry he perked up. “Eileen left a small estate for Kendra to receive on her betrothal as a dowry. It’s from her side of the family and is untouchable.” Edward’s voice lowered. “At least she’ll always have that to fall back on.”

Parker nodded. “Ah, yes, the lack of entailments stating that only the male heir can inherit. Lady Eileen, God rest her soul, was wise to insist on the matter. I had forgotten about that.”

Edward dropped his head in his hands. “But how are we going to pay all of these debts, Parker?”

“You could always change your mind about paying them and let Andrew take his own chances.” From the tone in his voice it sounded like the course Parker recommended. Maybe he should. Andrew would never learn his lessons if he was always bailed out of his scrapes. But the thought of his golden-haired brother being tossed in the horror of Newgate made his stomach turn.

“No.” Edward shook his head in his hands. He would rather become a pauper than let his twin brother suffer such an end.

“Well, in that case, you can pay a large portion of the debt with your available funds and the sales from this year’s harvest. After that I’m afraid you will have to sell your partnership in the shipping business. And then you may have to sell some land, the more valuable paintings and furnishings,” Parker paused with a look of despair, “possibly everything of value that you own. You should be able to retain the castle and some Arundel land to make a small living, but that is all.”

Anger expanded from the pit of Edward’s stomach, spreading to his throbbing temples. How could his brother have been so ignorant as to gamble such a large fortune when he was already in debt from past gambling failures? “I want a summons sent to Andrew immediately. I vow, he will sell his worldly possessions down to the clothes on his back and be here to witness his family’s ruin.” He wanted to add “may the devil take him” or “may he rot” but stopped the thought.
God help us,
he cried out in silent helplessness instead.

It took Andrew two days to arrive in his fancy black carriage. Edward watched it swing into the Townsend drive from an upstairs window and ground his teeth. That carriage would be the first thing to go. His gaze roved over the matched team of grays and his brother’s fashionable clothes, calculating their cost in his head. Fury hummed through his veins as he realized his brother didn’t seem to care that he flaunted the picture of a wealthy gentleman while his family became paupers. This had gone too far, beyond sin to some sort of evil. Never in his wildest dreams had Edward imagined his brother could get himself into so much trouble. Didn’t he have any sense?

A scratching at the door announced his butler.

“Come in.”

“Sir, Lord Andrew has arrived.” The butler’s cheek gave a nervous twitch as he looked across the expanse of the sparse room toward Edward. And well he should be nervous. After serving the Townsend family for over three decades the man wouldn’t have a job for much longer!

“Bring him in.” Edward walked forward and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

A few moments later, Andrew slunk into the room, his head down, shaking his head at the carpet like a sorry little boy.

A tirade of insults sprang to Edward’s mind like he had never imagined, but he pushed them aside. “Do you realize what you’ve done?” His voice held the despairing rage that he felt.

No answer.

“You’ve ruined your family! Ruined us all, you fool.”

Andrew remained looking shamefaced at the carpet.

Edward walked up to his brother, standing only inches away. “Look at me, Andrew. Look into my eyes and see the devastation.”

Andrew looked up, those pale blue eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Ed, I—”

“Everything I’ve worked for is gone. Not just for Kendra and myself but for you too, the future Townsends.” Pointing back toward the window, he whispered in a hiss, “Then you pull up in that fancy carriage with horses that must have cost a small fortune.” He poked Andrew in the chest. “While I’ve been paying off your debts, you’ve been living life on the scale of the haute ton.” He reached out and gripped one of Andrew’s shoulders. “That’s going to end, Andrew. You are going to sell everything you own down to your extra pair of stockings and live here while we,
together
, work like beasts to keep what little we have left. Do you understand me, Andrew?”

Andrew nodded his head. “Ed, does this mean I actually have to move home? You’re not going to work me like an animal around this old pile of stone, are you? Won’t I even get a small allowance?”

The whining tone put Edward in a new state of anger he had never experienced before. “Allowance!” he thundered. “Even if there was money to give you one, I would not! It’s time you took responsibility for your actions and became a man. Your carousing days are over. Your gambling days are over. You are going to stay right here and pick up your responsibilities.” Edward backed away, afraid he would strike him. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice to that of a stern father. “You’ve been coddled and spoiled far too long and it shows. It’s partly Mother’s and my fault, you’ve been left to yourself all your life and had too much time and income to get into this mess. You need discipline, not an allowance. I see our mistake now, but it’s too late. The damage is done.”

Andrew waited, standing silent and still, head hanging, face in shock, like the golden boy who had just been sentenced to prison.

“I don’t want to see any more of you now, leave me.” Edward pointed toward the door. “And don’t bother my daughter!”

Chapter Three

A
n ominous thunderstorm slashed the night sky as Dr. Radley hunched deeper into his cloak, rain pouring in a steady stream off his hat and down his back. He tried to hurry through the shards of sleet but his horse trembled beneath him and started with every flash of lightning, making progress difficult. His gaze rose to the swirling dark clouds as his face contorted in agony, wishing to be well away from this night, this news he must impart. It was eerie—the similarity between this night and the other, over nineteen years ago, when he had been to the Arundel castle and helped deliver the lovely woman he raced to see.

Minutes later he rode through the gate, yelling to the guard to fetch a stable hand for his horse. He rushed through the castle, the cold clinging to him like his news. There she was, in the main salon, looking out a window toward the direction her father would arrive home, even though it was too dark to see. Doctor Radley stood there, dripping all over the floor, his sodden hat limp in his hand. She turned as he walked further into the room. “Lady Kendra.” He held out an arm toward her. “I have terrible news. I’m sorry, my lady. There’s been a terrible accident. I’m so sorry.”

Kendra shook her head slowly back and forth, a sensation of falling making her sick and dizzy. “What?” But he didn’t have to say it. She saw it on his ravished face. She turned away from the doctor, the news, and buried her head into her hands. “No, no. It cannot be.” She shook her head, a small move of disbelief, the anguish pulling her under. He was dead? Her father? The only person in her life who had always loved her? Her knees gave way and she collapsed to the threadbare settee, numb, dazed with the shock. Her fingernails dug into the ragged cloth of the arm.

“It was a terrible accident.” Doctor Radley’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “The only carriage that remained in the earl’s possession this past year wasn’t in good shape. Lord Edward shouldn’t have taken it out.”

“How? How did it happen?” Kendra managed to make herself look up into his pain-racked eyes.

“My dear, mayhap we should discuss the details after you’ve had a chance to, ah, calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down,” she repeated, her hands reaching up to either side of her head. She rocked back and forth, pressing on her head. “My father is dead and I’m to calm down.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as if all the strength had pooled out of her. “I have nothing now. Nothing. Tell me what happened.”

“The horses must have been frightened, the lightning you know. It’s a devil of a storm out there.” He rushed on, “The carriage plunged over a cliff, there was nothing but scraps of wood left of it.”

Her father had driven out to an old family friend to ask for a loan. It had taken the last of his pride, Kendra knew, but they needed the money if they were to even consider spring planting. He had been gone two days and had likely wanted to return home to Kendra despite the storm. She had watched from the window all evening.

“Where is he?” Kendra whispered, her hands pressed to her heart as if to keep it from breaking in two. “I have to see him.”

“I don’t think that would be wise, my dear. It was such a great fall. You would not recognize him—” He took a step toward her but she jerked away.

The doctor stopped and then turned toward his black bag. Reaching inside, he pulled out a bottle and poured some of the liquid into a cup of tea that was sitting on a small, round table and had grown cold. “Come, Lady Kendra, drink this. It will help calm you.” He coaxed her into a sitting position and pressed the cup into her hands. She lifted it to her lips, not caring what it was. After a few moments a lethargic weakness came over her. Her arms grew tired and leaden, her legs too shaky to stand upon. Doctor Radley took her arm and helped her up to her bedchamber. He tucked the blanket under her chin and promised, “I will come back and check on you soon. Try and get some rest.”

Kendra closed her eyes as silent tears rushed, one after the other, down her temples and into her hair. After a while, the numbness settled over her entire body and she was left with a barren emptiness that reached to her soul. The grief pitted in her stomach like iron to a lodestone but a languid tiredness overcame her body as the doctor’s sleeping draught took full effect. She allowed her heavy, swollen eyelids to drop and she slept.

The days following the funeral blurred together in a numb stupor. The whole village had turned out at St. Nicholas Parish Church to say farewell to their kind master. Kendra wandered about the estate in a lost way, with the vacant hole in her heart deadening the blue of her eyes. Her uncle Andrew took up his place as the new Earl of Arundel, but she rarely saw him, even at dinner time. He was locked away in her father’s library. Doing what, she did not know.

Months after that horrible day, Andrew called Kendra into the library and bade her to sit down. Her uncle took the seat behind her father’s massive desk. She could hardly look at him there, where her father should be. When she did look up, Andrew’s gaze was impassive while her father’s had been kind and so full of love for her.

“You must have something terrible to tell me since I’ve barely had the comfort of your presence,” she said in a dead voice. She was so tired, nothing seemed to matter anymore.

“Not terrible, my dear, and I’m sorry I’ve been so absent. I miss him too, you know.”

“You do?” It didn’t seem so.

“Of course I do. Now, I have had to decide upon your future and we need to discuss a few things.” Andrew cleared his throat and took on a lecturing mien. “After giving the matter a great deal of thought, I’ve concluded that it is time you marry. This has been too hard on you, hard on us all as you know, and I believe the best way to put your father’s death behind you and move forward with your life would be to have a family of your own.” He stared down at her. “No, don’t give me that look. A husband with some little ones along the way is the obvious answer.” He paused here and looked down at the papers on his desk, shuffling them around a bit. “As you know we cannot afford a London season and all the fripperies that it would entail, so we must proceed in a quieter manner. I assure you, my dear, I will do my best to find someone suitable to your station.”

“And what does ‘proceeding in a quieter manner’ consist of?” Kendra asked. She could hardly endure the thought of men calling on her.

“I have put forth word, in an offhanded way of course, that I am seeking a suitor for my niece. I’m rather hoping that some of your past suitors come up to scratch.”

“My past suitors?” Kendra exclaimed. “What suitors?”

“Your father must have failed to tell you of the offers he had for your hand. In his foolish attempt to keep you with him as long as possible, he turned them all down. Now, considering our present, er, situation, a suitor will be more difficult to find.”

Kendra paled. Her father
had
wanted her to marry. Maybe what Uncle Andrew said made a certain amount of sense. She had little desire to stay in the empty loneliness of the castle with an uncle that didn’t seem to care for her company. Maybe a family of her own was the best solution. “How soon should you know something?”

Andrew smiled brightly, a little too bright for Kendra’s peace of mind. “You should be pleased to know that I have been fortunate enough to already have an interested party.”

Kendra disliked the way he spoke of the whole ordeal like she was something to be rid of rather than considering that this would be the most important decision of her life. “And who would that be?”

“His name is Lord Randall Barrymore. He owns a grand estate in Wilfortshire and a respectable fortune. Furthermore, he is coming to dinner tonight. If all goes as expected, we can sign the betrothal agreement and have you married before the summer is out.”

“Before the summer is out?” Kendra rose to her feet. “How will I decide in such a short space as that? I’ll need time to meet these, these suitors and if, and only if, one of them is acceptable to me, then I will need further time to get to know him. I’ll not marry a total stranger.”

Her uncle’s handsome face turned red as he set his teeth. It was not a pleasant look on him.

“Your father raised you to be entirely too independent, my dear,” he grumbled in a low voice. “At any rate, thus far there hasn’t been a very great response to my hints, actually next to none, so you will have to make the most of the situation and make yourself as pleasing as possible to those who have responded. Lord Barrymore is a fine catch and I assure you that you will have plenty of time to get to know the old man once you’re married.” He must have realized his slip of the tongue as he reddened further.

“Old man!” Kendra cried. “Surely you could find someone closer to my age.”

“As I said before, the pickings have been slim.” Her uncle’s tone rapped sharp and impatient. “Wear a nice gown, not the black mourning frocks you’ve been moping about in and be on your best behavior for dinner.”

Kendra gasped. “But I am in mourning. It would be scandalous to wear anything but black before a year is out.”

Andrew leaned in and impaled her with his flashing blue eyes. “We do not have the time nor the resources to wait until a year is out. You will do as you are told, Kendra!”

Kendra’s eyes widened at the rebuke. She had never been spoken to in such a harsh manner and felt a rush of shame as tears threatened her eyes.

Her uncle gentled his tone. “Kendra, please. I’m only doing what I think best. We do not have the most ideal circumstances and will have to make the most of it.”

Kendra stood and curtsied but her soft answer parried like a sword. “Yes, but don’t
you
ever forget who brought about those circumstances.” The thrust rang true as Andrew’s face blanched white. Kendra turned and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Of all the low down, horrid, mean spirited . . . . ugh!
Kendra muttered to herself the entire way to her room. There weren’t words in her vocabulary to heap onto her uncle’s character. How had he turned out to be such an insensitive clod who hadn’t a care for her feelings? Her father would have never allowed the situation to come to this. The gall, asking total strangers to come and look her over as if she were some prized mare. She had no doubts about what tonight was really about, however her uncle tried to disguise it. Oh! It was intolerable. Unbearable. She had to think of something.

She rushed into her room and rang for Tess, the kitchen maid who was good at arranging hair. Eyes narrowed, she sat down at her dressing table and scowled at her reflection. She had a couple of hours to come up with a plan. She wanted to hide until the old coot gave up and went home, but that wasn’t really an option. Her uncle would only drag him back and she would have to face him sooner or later. She needed something more subtle.

Rummaging through her wardrobe she chose her plainest gown. All of her everyday dresses were getting a well-worn look to them, but she still had some formal gowns remade from her mother’s clothes and she dared not be so blatant as to appear in anything else. She remembered how her father had insisted she keep her mother’s things when over a year ago they sold most of their belongings to pay Uncle Andrew’s debts. A kinder, dearer father never lived. The thought brought a lump of tears to her throat.

Tess arrived and rushed to her side. “Here, now, my lady. Let me help button your gown.” After finishing that task she led Kendra to the seat at her dressing table and started fussing over her hair. As she reached for a pair of pretty combs, Kendra shook her head and handed her plain ones. “Won’t you at least let me run some ribbon in your hair?”

“No, Tess, I want to look my worst.” She sighed as she contemplated her reflection. The gown was a dull gray, but it only seemed to enhance her violet-blue eyes. It had an unfashionably high neckline with small ruffles around the collar edged in lace. The sleeves were long, tight fitting with matching ruffles at the wrists. The cinched waist made her figure curvier than she liked. Her blonde hair was caught up in a severe bun at the nape of her neck, but a tiny wisp had already escaped to frame her face in a softening way. Kendra stuck out her tongue at her reflection and stood. Oh, well, she would just have to be as unpleasant as she could manage.

Tess threw up her hands. “Well, I’ve not seen you look worse.”

“That’s excellent news, Tess. Thank you.”

Tess only shook her head and rushed out of the room to help prepare the meal.

A short time later Kendra was summoned to the green salon, one of the few rooms with furniture left in it. The dread in the pit of her stomach caused a strange churning sound. She hoped she wouldn’t need to carry a chamber pot on her arm throughout the evening. She smiled at the thought, what an entrance that would make! Mayhap she should go back to her room and fetch it. With a shake of her head, she inched down the curving stairway and stopped just inside the door to survey the scene.

Her uncle looked up at her and frowned. Kendra held back the bubble of laughter that threatened to explode from her chest. He probably hadn’t known Kendra owned anything so distasteful. He composed his angry expression, though, and came forward to lend his arm.

He led her over to a man who must be at least seventy if he was a day. His beady eyes surveyed her from the top of her head to the toes of her shoes peeping from beneath her gown. She stared back, chin up, looking down her nose at him in exaggerated distaste. He finally looked away, mopping his forehead with a lacy handkerchief. A cloying smell clung to him and made her want to gag. She didn’t know if she should burst out laughing or crying. Lord Randall Barrymore was a terribly thin, slavering man with beady, darting eyes set in a red, splotchy face.
Dear God, please get me out of this!