The Ransom (44 page)

Juliana yanked her hand away and retreated. Her Christian name on his lips only added to the nausea brewing in her belly. His insinuation that a woman was incapable of handling men’s affairs pricked her ire. “You should know by now, Captain, that I’m not the sort of woman to fritter away my time on idle pursuits.” She’d love to tell him that she’d been running her father’s merchant business for the past three months, if only for the satisfaction of seeing his face crinkle in shock. But of course she couldn’t. So she blurted out the only other thing she had to her credit. “In fact, I am most anxious to visit the Buchan orphanage upon my return where, as my mother did before me, I volunteer my time and energy to those in need.”

His thick brows rose. “The Buchan orphanage, you say?”

“Do you know of it?” Though how this priggish man would be aware of such a place, she couldn’t say.

“I do. In fact, I heard of it only recently.” His expression lifted in utter glee as if he was about to disclose some divine secret. “A place your Pirate Earl is quite familiar with as well.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “What does a pirate have to do with an orphanage?”

“So, you don’t know?” He shook his head and gave her a look of reproof. “I had thought you more wise, Juliana. How disappointing.”

Juliana grew tired of this man’s slanderous tactics to win her. “Say your piece, Captain, or I shall go.”

“The Pirate Earl, also known as Alexander Edward Hyde, Lord Munthrope—”

“Of course I know who he is!” she snapped.

He grinned. “But did you know that he came to Port Royal five years past as a preacher? His father sent him to run Buchan orphanage and pastor the church by its side.”

A preacher?
Now, Juliana knew he was mad. She let out an unavoidable chuckle.

“I assure you, ’tis true, Miss Dutton. The selfish clod only lasted a year. He abandoned the church and all the children.” He waved a hand through the air. “Just walked out on them one day and turned to piracy instead.”

Juliana searched her mind for all the things Alex had told her about himself. “Nay, ’twas a Mr. Edward who ran the orphanage.” Or so Eunice had told her.

Nichols snorted. “I suppose the pirate’s son wished to keep his identity a secret. Quite a tale, wouldn’t you say? What a—”

But she wasn’t listening anymore. A memory pushed through the fog spinning in her head. Something her mother had told her. Something about the famous Captain Edmund Merrick and Reverend Buchan being good friends, closer than brothers. Horror ripped through her gut as she realized Nichols spoke the truth. Of course Merrick would send his son to take over the orphanage upon Reverend Buchan’s death.

Alex was the man who’d abandoned the orphans.

Alex was the man who’d left them to starve. Alex was the man she’d hated from afar for longer than she could say. The man whose actions had caused her mother to sacrifice so many hours to the orphanage. Where she had caught the ague.

And died.

Her knees buckled, and she finally lowered herself to the chair.

How could she ever trust—how could she ever
love—a
man who would sacrifice children to starve on the streets while he turned to a life of debauchery?

Chapter 34

Thanking the young midshipman for his escort, Juliana closed the door to her home and leaned her head back against the hard wood. She’d never been so tired in all her life. Her mind was numb. Her body ached from tip to toe from lack of sleep and trying to balance on a heaving ship for two days. And her soul was flooded with emotions in such a whirl, she couldn’t settle them enough to make sense: confusion, fear, anger, frustration, sorrow. Yet one overwhelming feeling rose above the others. Abandoned.

Once again, she felt so desperately and utterly alone.

She hadn’t realized until now how much she’d come to depend on Lord Munthrope. His influence, his power, his very presence—even dandified as it was—had brought her a measure of comfort, a feeling of having someone to call upon should disaster strike. Even as the Pirate Earl, he’d made her feel safe and protected. Deep down, she’d known that she had but to call on either man for help and they’d willingly and happily grant her whatever she needed. But now, in one fell swoop, they were both gone. Not only gone, but they—or rather he—had betrayed Juliana in the worst possible way.

Then, why did agony strike her heart at the thought of him hanging?

“Miss, miss, you are home!” Ellie, skirts in one hand and a bucket in the other, came rushing down the stairs, nearly tripping on the final tread. “We was so worried!” Setting down the pail, she swallowed Juliana in a comforting embrace that smelled of lye and papaya. “Where ’ave you been?” She nudged her back and examined her. “Your gown, ’tis ruined. Has some mischief befallen you? Oh my, your hair”—she fingered a strand—“crusty with salt. Poor, poor dear. The sun ’as burned your face an’ you look ’ungry and tired.”

“I’m quite all right, Ellie.” Juliana sighed, then—against propriety—fell once again into the maid’s embrace, this dear woman who’d been more like a mother to her since her own had died. It felt good to be held by someone she could trust.

“But where ’ave you been, miss? Mr. Pell’s bin out searchin’ for you since evening before last.” She pushed back, her eyes brimming with tears.

“I’m so sorry to have worried you, Ellie.” Juliana wouldn’t dare tell the woman she’d been kidnapped by pirates. That would no doubt send her nerves into a spin. “’Twas unavoidable, but I’m home now.”

“Unavoidable, eh?” She eyed her with suspicion and a bit of reprimand before she blew out a sigh. “Well, thank goodness, miss, because things ’aven’t been so good around ’ere.”

“What things?” Juliana rubbed her forehead. What could have possibly gone wrong in just two days?

“Miss Juliana.” Abbot emerged from her father’s study, his normally-pressed coat a wrinkled mass and his chin a field of stubble.

Releasing Ellie, Juliana approached him, noting the shadows hugging his eyes. “Abbott, whatever is wrong? Did the
Ransom
make port as expected? Did you handle the unloading and writs of sale?”

“I did, miss.”

“Thank you for remembering, Abbot.” Tension fled her shoulders as she attempted a smile. “We’ll make a merchant out of you yet.”

But he did not return her smile.

Neither did Miss Ellie, who had moved beside her, wringing her hands.

Juliana could take no more bad news. “Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it today. I simply wish to bathe and go to bed. Ellie, have Cook heat water for my bath.” She started for the stairs.

Abbot cleared his throat. “Apologies, miss, but there’s a post you must read.”

“A post? From whom?”

“Ellie, would you bring us some tea?” Abbot directed the maid as he gestured toward the sitting room, where he quickly sped to light wall sconces and lamps, sending a flood of golden light spilling over the sofa and floor. Barely able to breathe, Juliana lowered herself onto the floral couch. A cloud of impending doom settled over her—a sort of numbness, a defensive stupor that deep down, she knew she was going to need.

Abbot withdrew a parchment from inside his coat and handed it to her. She opened the crinkled note and immediately recognized Rowan’s flourished handwriting.

Dearest Sister,

’Tis with a very heavy heart and many tears that I write you this missive. I know I have been naught but a burden to you these past few years. Though I have tried to help in my own way, I have failed you more times than we both can count. I have no excuse for the last miscarriage of losing the Midnight Fortune. Forsooth, I was so overcome with shame and grief, that I spent the next week so inebriated I have no recollection of my doings. I’m sure this does not surprise you. What may surprise you, however, and what shocked and horrified me, is that during that time I must have disclosed to someone the facts of our father’s death and your exemplary management of a shipping business on your own for several months.

Juliana’s heart became a stone. Surely this was one of her brother’s jokes.
Oh, God, let it merely be a prank
. Against her will, she continued to read.

To whom I disclosed such confidences, I have no idea, but soon the news spread like a cancer through town. And like a cancer, it deadened everything in its path.

Juliana’s hands began to tremble. Miss Ellie entered, set the tray down on the table, and sat beside her, laying a gentle hand on her arm.

“So our ruse is up, Abbot?” Juliana gazed up at the stalwart man, a butler who had become a business manager; a business manager who had become her friend.

He gave a curt nod, his face engraved in misery. “Every merchant in town has sent posts expressing condolences over your father’s death and regrets that they must take their business elsewhere.”

“Every one?”

“I’m afraid so, miss.”

Juliana sank back onto the seat and stared at the steam rising from the teapot, spiraling into the air and disappearing. Just like her future. “How much did we make on the
Ransom
’s cargo?” she said numbly.

“Thirty-seven pounds.”

Barely enough to pay her business expenses, the staff, rent and food for another few months. But at least she still had two ships. If she couldn’t use them as merchantmen, she could sell them and use the money to delay their poverty until she could come up with a plan. Though she hated to forfeit the
Ransom
, her mother’s ship.

“There’s more to the letter.” Abbot sank into the chair across from her.

Yes, she’d seen that, but assumed it to be the usual nonsensical apologies and self-degradation that always accompanied her brother’s indiscretions. She dropped her head in her hands as her throat went dry with rage. “Where is Rowan now?”

“Read,” Abbot said.

Lifting her head, Juliana proceeded.

I cannot express to you the depth of my sorrow and shame. You may not believe it, but I truly wished to help you. Instead I have ruined you. And myself in the process. If Father were alive, he’d have much fodder for his ridicule of me. Mayhap, he was right along. I am nothing but a disappointment.

Tears spilled down Juliana’s face, blurring the rest of the letter, and dousing the heat of her fury. Wiping her eyes, she finished the letter, telling herself there could be no further bad news.

She was wrong.

I intend to make amends, dear Juliana, or die trying. I have gathered a crew from among the most skilled seaman in town and taken the Esther’s Dowry. Piracy is my new game, and a far more lucrative game than Faro it will be! I will be successful at the trade, you have my word. And when I make my fortune, I shall return and make all things right once again.

Forgive me,

Your adoring twin,

Rowan

Putting on a stiff expression, Juliana rose, handed the letter back to Abbot, thanked Ellie for the tea, and excused herself. No sense in alarming her staff any further with an emotional outburst. They’d been through so much with this family, and by all accounts should have abandoned Juliana for more stable positions long ago. The least she could do was maintain an attitude of confidence in front of them. Yet no sooner had she closed her chamber door, than she fell to the floor in a puff of skirts and agony. Leaning her forehead against the rug, she sobbed uncontrollably.

“Oh Rowan, Rowan, you foolish, foolish boy! Piracy! Fie! How could you?” Anger battled with fear and sorrow until Juliana couldn’t form a single coherent thought. How could this be happening? She was ruined. In a month’s time she’d be on the street. Just like Abilene. And there was naught to be done about it. Her worst fears had come true, after all.

Pressing her hands against her tear-soaked rug, she pushed herself up and gazed out the window, where moonlight sent spears of silver into the room. They might as well be piercing her heart for all the pain she felt.

“Why, God, why? Why are you allowing tragedy after tragedy to strike me? Have I not given to the poor? Helped the orphans? Taken care of Abilene? Have I not done my best to be kind, charitable, to honor my father, to not covet what others have?” She searched her mind for anything she might have done to deserve such a punishment, but could find no deed so vile. Save her love for Alex. More tears streamed down her cheeks and dropped onto her bedraggled gown. “Are you not to be trusted as well? Have you abandoned me like everyone else?”

No answer came, save the call of a mockingbird and the distant clang of a bell. Struggling to rise, she made her way to the window and glanced at the street below, remembering Alex’s story of how he’d spent many a night listening to her play the violin. She half-expected to see his shadow beneath the trees. But of course he wasn’t there. He was locked up in Marshallsea Prison.

Where all pirates should be.