The Ransom (13 page)

“I wasn’t hiding anything. It came upon us rather suddenly.” Juliana extricated herself from their frenzied clutches and stepped back.

“Came upon you? You make it sound like a disease.” Lady Anne laughed. “You are a treat, Juliana.”

A disease, indeed. And one that was making her feel rather ill at the moment. “If you’ll excuse me, I fear all the excitement has taxed me greatly.”

“Where is your father? Why is he not here to share the joyful news?”

“He is not feeling well. Good eve, ladies.” She hurried through the crush of people.

“You will attend the tea at Lady Hanes’s house this week?” Margaret called after her, but Juliana merely waved over her shoulder. She felt a headache coming on and wanted nothing more than to go home to her soft bed and her violin.

Not run into Captain Nichols.

He pulled her to the side, his eyes stormy. “I cannot express my disappointment in your choice of suitor, Juliana.”

“My choice of suitor is none of your affair, sir.” She attempted to leave, but he held her back, pulling her closer and nearly suffocating her with his alcohol-laden breath.

“I thought we had an understanding.” He narrowed his eyes.

“My apologies if you misled yourself in that regard, Captain. Now, if you please.” She tugged from his grip.

“I paid your brother’s gambling debts.” The sharp words stopped her cold.

“What did you say?”

“Rowan’s recent debts.” Victory beamed from his brown eyes. “Twenty pounds, if you must know, lost in a game of Faro to the basest of fellows. A man who gladly tosses his debtors into the bay rather than see them live and not pay him.”

Alarm buzzed across her skin.

“But he is satisfied now, Juliana.” He looked at her expectantly.

“
Miss Dutton
to you, sir,” she snapped, “and I have no idea if what you say is true. Even if it is, why would you do such a thing?”

“It
is
true, I assure you.” Releasing her arm, he took her hand in his and placed a kiss upon her glove. Cunning eyes tainted with desire met hers. “And surely, you know why.”

She yanked her hand away. Anger at the man’s manipulation inflamed her. “It is most inappropriate, Captain. Twenty pounds you say? I will pay you back. Every shilling.” Though at the moment, she had no idea how.

“Faith now, why must you be so stubborn?!” He exploded, his shout drawing a few curious glances. “I do not lack for money, nor do I want yours, Juliana. Please know, I
will
and can take care of you far better than anyone, especially that pompous jackanapes, Lord Munthrope.”

She stood her ground and glared his way. “I have no need of your care nor anyone else’s.” She was just about to demand that he never pay off any of her family’s debts again, when one of Lord Munthrope’s servants appeared before her.

“A man is at the door to see you, Miss Dutton.”

A man? Without saying goodbye to Nichols, she followed the servant through the foyer to the massive mahogany doors. Just outside, Mr. Pell stood, fumbling with his hat in his hands.

“I came for you right away, miss.”

Regardless of the sting of alcohol lingering about him, her heart seized. “My brother?”

“Nay, miss.” He glanced at the servant still standing behind her.

“Then what? Mr. Pell?”

He led her to the side. “You said you wanted to know if ever Miss Abilene came callin’, miss.” He swayed and grabbed onto the porch post to steady himself.

Fear surged. “Miss Abilene? Is she there now?” Juliana started down the stairs to the street.

“Nay. Another woman came. Said Miss Abilene is hurt bad. She was upset when you weren’t home. She said something about The Black Dogg, miss. It’s a bawdy hou—”

“I know what it is, Mr. Pell. Take me there immediately.”

“It’s dangerous this time o’ night, miss.” Stumbling after her, Mr. Pell quickly assisted her into the carriage.

“I care not! My friend is in danger, Mr. Pell. We must make all haste.”

Chapter 11

“She went where?” Alex stormed into his bedchamber, yanked off his wig and tossed it to his bed.

Whipple followed him in and shut the door. “To The Black Dogg, I believe was the name, milord.” The butler’s calm demeanor grated Alex.

“By herself?!”

“Her footman, a Mr. Pell, was with her.”

Lud
! “Pell? He’s nothing but a besotted dolt.”

“Indeed, he did appear to be deep in his cups, milord.”

“Bird-witted woman, she’ll get herself killed!” Alex began tearing through the buttons of his doublet as he kicked off his buckled red shoes. “Earn your salary, man! Assist me. I must be after her.” He held up his arms to allow the butler to unlace and untie the incessant ribbons and silk-netting that decorated his ridiculous attire. But the man was not working fast enough. Jerking back his hands, Alex tore through the fripperies and ripped off his doublet, then tossed his billowy shirt over his head.

“If the lady causes you so much angst, milord, mayhap ’twould be better to end this spurious troth.”

Alex growled as he removed his sash and untied mounds of his cravat, then stepped out of his pantaloons. Dashing to the bowl of water on his dresser, he pried the patches off his face, popped off the mole, then scrubbed the paint from his skin and lips, and ran a hand through his black hair. When he turned, Whipple had a towel in one hand and Alex’s buccaneer clothing in the other.

“She may cause me angst, Whipple, but she also causes me to feel many other things.” Things he hadn’t felt in years. He donned his breeches, shirt, and leather jerkin.

“Mayhap ’twould be best to restrain those
other
longings, milord, as is befitting civilized men.” His butler’s nose pinched.

Alex chuckled at the wave of maroon flooding Whipple’s face. “Not
those
kind of longings, dear man. Curse me for a rogue if that’s all I’m about.” Though he’d not deny they were present—very present. He donned his boots, belts, and baldric, then grabbed his weapons and stepped out on the ledge. “I’m off.”

“You have my full agreement on that point. What should I tell your guests, milord?” The butler’s tone sounded as though he announced dinner.

“Tell them I succumbed to too much drink and retired early.” Alex winked, dropped to the ground and darted into the bushes before anyone saw him.

It didn’t take him long to find Juliana’s carriage parked along the side of the road, Mr. Pell snoring on the driver’s box and the lady absent. And with another four blocks to go before she reached The Black Dogg! If the vermin on the streets didn’t get her, the vermin within the notorious bawdy house would.

Grabbing the hilt of his cutlass, he cursed under his breath and stormed down the street, keeping a weather eye out for a flash of lavender skirts. Already he could hear the shrill of debauchery emanating from the taverns and bawdy houses inhabiting the wharves: a discordant fiddle, maritime ballads butchered by drunken sailors, evil laughter, the eerie chime of a sword, curses followed by pistol shots. Mad infuriating woman! She might as well deck herself in gold doubloons and stroll down the streets shouting,
Free for the taking
!

He turned the corner. Another pistol shot cracked the muggy air. This one closer. A tiny shriek drew his gaze to the right where a wave of blond hair drifted in and out of the shadows. Darting ahead, he kept his approach as silent as possible and slowed when the lady came in sight. Relief melted the tension from his body. She appeared as yet unscathed.

In her right hand, she carried a satchel—which no doubt Mr. Pell had brought her—with her left hand, she clutched her throat as if trying to steady her racing heart. At least the lady was not completely ignorant of the danger surrounding her.

Danger as in the two men across the street. They honed in on her like wolves on an innocent rabbit and started in her direction. Juliana took no note of them as she hurried along beside dark warehouses and shops. Drawing his cutlass, Alex closed the distance between them. They were nearly upon her, slithering behind her like the snakes they were.

Juliana stepped off the wooden walkway between two warehouses. One of the men raised his hands to grab her. Alex clutched both men by their collars and dragged them into the alleyway. Before the drunken wretches could react, he slammed the hilt-end of his sword onto one of their heads then leveled his blade at the other’s chest. The one man fell to the dirt in a heap, the other began to blubber like a baby before he turned and darted away.

Alex peered around the side of the building. Juliana had stopped and was staring behind her, intently searching the shadows. A nearby street lantern flooded her in a cone of light, and she stepped backward into the dark as if she could hide such beauty from peering eyes. Finally, she spun on her heels and proceeded, the clip-clop of her shoes echoing a heightened pace.

A blast of salty wind cooled the sweat from Alex’s brow as he slipped onto the street after her. He supposed he should reveal his presence, but he preferred she remain frightened and mayhap learn her lesson not to wander the dark streets of a town that had been deemed “the wickedest city in the Caribbean”.

When she turned down Thames Street by the wharves, Alex braced himself for the onslaught that was to come. Thus far, only a few people had been wandering about, but nighttime belonged to Thames Street—the haunt of every vile and perverse soul who loved the darkness more than the light. This was
his
street,
his
territory. Most of the ruffians who dwelt here knew and feared him, respected his wit, his success at piracy, but most of all his skill with pistol and cutlass. But that all may fall to the wind when they got a glimpse of the angel drifting in their midst.

Ahead, a band of such degenerates spilled out of a tavern onto the street, shoving each other and hurling insults at the sky. Alex recognized the leader, Drake, a bull of a man with the body of a mastiff and the brain of a mite. With his arm around a scantily clad trollop, he led his minions into the darkness, bellowing a sailor’s ditty. The song halted on his lips when he spotted Miss Juliana, the resulting evil smirk cracking his bearded face.

“What ’ave we here?” He stumbled toward the lady.

She froze and glanced about for somewhere to hide. Naught but a brick warehouse was behind her, so she merely raised her chin and stood to meet her fate.

She was brave, Alex would give her that. Yet fear ignited his heart. At least he thought it was fear. It had been so long since he’d been afraid of anything, so long since he cared about anything—or anyone. But there were eight well-armed pirates and only one of him. He’d defeated such numbers single-handedly before, but had paid for the encounter with a sword wound to his gut. He would gladly suffer that again—for her—but didn’t relish the idea. Instead, he hoped his presence alone would dissuade the men from their vile intentions. Hence, he took a stance behind the lady, arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes aflame with warning.

The men approached Juliana, leering like a pack of dogs. A breeze tossed the strands of hair dangling about her neck and brought the stench of unwashed men to Alex’s nose.

“Greetings, young miss.” Drake released the trollop and swept his plumed tricorne before him. “Are ye seekin’ a bit o’ pleasure this fine evenin’?” His men chuckled as he began fingering the lace on her sleeve. The bald one on the left with two gold rings in his ear took a swig from a jug.

Alex shifted his stance, hoping the men would see him through the shadows.

Batting the foul man away, Juliana took a step back. “I am not, sir. I am on a mission of mercy.”

“Mercy you say?” Drake snorted. “I see eight fine gentlemen o’ fortune in need o’ some mercy t’night. What say you gentlemen?” He glanced over the band, his tone dripping with lust.

“Aye, Aye!” shouts rang in the air as one of the men grabbed the trollop and began kissing her neck. She pushed him off and sidled beside Drake. “Leave ’er be, Drake. A proper lady like ’er ’as no clue ’ow to treat a man like you.”

Drake shoved the woman aside and approached Juliana, shifting sultry eyes to the crest of her bosom. He leaned toward her and inhaled. “Mayhap not, but she smells better than you!”

Laughter filled the air. Alex stepped forward, clenching and unclenching his fists, restraining himself from charging the band and putting an end to their crude insolence. If they did not see him soon, he’d do just that.

One of the pirates, a rawboned fellow with hair to his waist, reached for Juliana. She retreated, hugging the satchel to her chest. “I insist you give way, sir. I am on my way to help a woman in need. Without me she may die.” Her voice quavered, but she kept her shoulders high.

“But without ye, we all may suffer a broken heart,” one of the pirates plucked the bag from Juliana’s grasp and held it out of her reach. While she attempted to regain it amidst the pirates’ laughter, Alex drew his sword. Drake must have caught the glimmer of street light on steel for he glanced over Juliana’s shoulder.