The Pirate Lord (34 page)

March 1819

T
he ballroom at the Dryden estate in Derbyshire was crammed with people curious to glimpse the marquess’s long-lost heir. His lordship had thrown a lavish costume ball to welcome his son, and now Sara and Gideon strolled about the room, having already been introduced to what seemed like every inhabitant of the county.

Thank heavens they were in costume, for it gave them something to talk about with people whom Gideon barely knew. Thinking it would be a grand jest, Sara and Lady Dryden had coaxed Gideon into dressing as Sir Walter Raleigh to match Sara’s Queen Elizabeth costume. They’d even let him wear his earring. As Lady Dryden had said, “He looks like a pirate even in civilized clothing, so he might as well dress the part.” With his black mask, tanned skin, and newly cropped dark hair, Sara thought he was by far the handsomest man at the ball, and she’d noticed more than one woman eyeing him with interest.

He was completely unaware of it, however. Never had she seen him look so uneasy, not even when he’d first set foot in England two weeks ago. Then he’d merely been curious and somewhat amused to find himself now a respected member of the very nobility he’d plagued for so many years.

Tonight, however, he seemed very conscious of what was expected of him as heir to the Marquess of Dryden. “Must the women keep curtsying to me as if I were some deity?” he grumbled.

“Yes. It’s due you because of your rank.” An impish smile crossed her face. “You didn’t even have to brandish your saber in front of them to get it. Fancy that. It must be a new experience for you.”

He cast her a sidelong glance. “If you don’t show me some respect, my dear wife, I’ll have to brandish my…er…saber in front of you later when we’re alone.”

“Oh, you will, will you? And you think that’ll gain you some respect?”

He grinned. “It’s been effective in the past.”

She struck him playfully with her fan. “You are entirely too naughty for polite society, my lord.”

“Stop calling me that,” he said with a scowl. “The words still leave a bad taste in my mouth.”

“Well, you’d better get used to them if you’re planning to spend any time in England.”

“We wouldn’t even be here if you weren’t expecting our child.” He glanced down at her rounded belly, only barely hidden by the fullness of her costume, and his expression softened. “After watching Molly give birth, I refuse to take any chances with our firstborn.”

“That’s not the only reason we came for a visit, and you know it,” she said quietly. “You also wished to see what your life might have been like if not for Elias Horn, didn’t you?”

He shrugged, gazing out over the crowd. “Perhaps.”

She opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could speak, her stepbrother came to her side. He’d also been invited to the house party at the Derbyshire estate by the marquess and his wife, much to Gideon’s chagrin.

As was typical of Jordan, he hadn’t taken the time to find a costume, but like many of the men, merely wore a mask with his usual evening attire. “And how is the expectant mother? You mustn’t tax yourself, you know. I don’t want my nephew born early enough to raise eyebrows.”

Gideon laid his hand in the small of her back in a
protective gesture she knew all too well. “Are you implying that I’m the kind of man who’d allow his wife to tax herself?”

“If the shoe fits—”

“Behave, both of you,” she admonished as Gideon bristled and Jordan glared. “I swear, when you two get near each other, you act like school boys fighting over a half-pence.”

“Oh, you’re much more valuable than a half-pence,” Jordan retorted. Before Gideon could say anything to that, he added, “And in any case, I didn’t come over here to anger you, moppet. I merely wanted to let you know I’m leaving.”

“Good,” Gideon mumbled under his breath.

She swatted him with her fan before turning back to her brother. “What do you mean, leaving? I thought you came up for the entire week!”

“I don’t mean I’m returning to London. I’m merely leaving the ball for a while. I’ve found someone who wants me to take her home.”

“Her?” Sara said, curiosity getting the better of her. “I thought you didn’t know a soul in Derbyshire except Lord and Lady Dryden.”

He grinned. “I don’t. But when an intriguing widow asks me to take her home, I always agree.”

“Now, Jordan—” she warned.

“Can I help it if women find me devastating?” He nodded toward Gideon. “At least I’m not of your husband’s ilk, snatching her away against her will.”

Gideon glowered at him. “Look here, Blackmore, I’ve had just about enough of—”

“Hush, Gideon. Can’t you see he’s
trying
to irritate you?” Sara scowled at her brother. “As for you, if you don’t behave yourself, I’ll return to Atlantis
before
the baby is born, and you won’t get to see it for a year.”

Jordan eyed her suspiciously. “Lady Dryden wants to see the birth of her grandchild too badly to let you do that.”

“I’ll take her and his lordship with us. They’ve been longing to go back for a visit every since that first two weeks they spent on the island, after Gideon and I were married.” No need to tell him that Gideon would never allow her to travel by ship so close to the baby’s birth.

Jordan glared at her. “All right, I’ll attempt to be civil.” Then he glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the door, where a young woman stood, dressed in black bombazine. Jordan’s expression altered subtly. “I can be civil to anyone tonight, as long as I’m allowed to go home with that beauty.” Leaning closer to Sara, he whispered, “Good night, moppet, don’t wait up.” Then he turned and walked briskly back to the young woman.

He was scarcely out of earshot before Gideon exploded into laughter.

“What in heaven’s name is so funny?” Sara asked.

“Your brother, sweetheart, has vastly misconstrued that
beauty
’s intentions, unless I miss my guess. He’s about to receive a much deserved comeuppance.”

Sara stared at him quizzically.

His eyes shone with amusement through the slits in his mask. “I met that young lady earlier. Do you know who she is? The rector’s daughter, and no merry widow. She’s mourning her mother, not a husband. She came here with her cousin, who was dressed in a similar manner to your brother, and I’ll wager that when she asked him to take her home, she thought she was speaking to her cousin.”

“Bother it all!” Sara exclaimed and started to rush after Jordan.

But Gideon caught her arm. “Don’t you dare. He deserves a little humiliation after what he’s put us through, don’t you think?”

She hesitated, watching as her brother took the pretty young woman’s arm and led her out. She dragged Gideon onto the balcony to see what would happen. Her eyes narrowed as Jordan handed the woman up into the
Blackmore carriage. A rector’s daughter? A sweet, dependable rector’s daughter?

She began to smile. “Perhaps a rector’s daughter is just the sort of woman my brother needs.”

“Are we speaking of the same man? The Earl of Blackmore, whom you’ve said yourself is a rakehell? I can’t even
begin
to imagine your brother married to a rector’s daughter.”

“Yes, but you have poor powers of imagination.” She turned away from the balcony to gaze fondly at him. “A year ago you wouldn’t have dreamed Barnaby would be happily married to a prostitute like Queenie and eagerly anticipating his first child. Or that grouchy old Silas would be capable of fathering twins
and
presiding over Atlantis in your absence. Or even that you yourself would be married to the stepsister of an earl. You wouldn’t have imagined any of that, would you?”

“No.” A smile touched his lips. “All right, you win. I suppose if a bloodthirsty pirate could find a decent woman, your brother could.” Without warning, he dragged her into his arms for a stunning kiss that left her swooning. When he drew back, his eyes were twinkling. “But if my few moments’ conversation with that rector’s daughter is any indication, your brother will have a fight on his hands.”

As a slow smile edged over her lips, she lifted her arms to pull him back into her embrace. “All the better. It’s like I’ve always said: the best women—and men—are the ones worth fighting for.”