The Unofficial Suitor (2 page)

And the fates in return had decreed that only the two of them should survive the pirates’ attack on their ship. As a result, and more to the point, only Tuke shared the memory of what it felt like to be sold into slavery.

For a moment Richard could smell again the stench of sweaty, unwashed bodies in the stuffy slave quarters, hear the rattle of chains as someone shifted in a futile effort to find a comfortable position on the hard-packed dirt floor that served as a communal bed.

As if it were yesterday, Richard could feel the utter exhaustion of his body, driven beyond the limits of endurance. He could feel the never-ending hunger twist his belly unmercifully, hear the crack of the overseer’s whip, feel its sting across his shoulders...

From a great distance he heard Tuke conversing with Perry, and in his rational mind Richard knew he was safe in England and half a world away from the Caribbean island where they had been forced into slavery. But it was hard to shake off the memories.

He thanked God once again for John Tuke. If their mutual experience was not enough to bind them together, there was also the knowledge that neither of them alone could have found the means of escaping from slavery and then from the island that was actually a more effective prison than the plantation had been.

He had been the one to formulate their plan of escape, but it had been Tuke’s strong right arm that had enabled them to carry it off.

“How utterly boring such a life sounds. Every bit as tedious as what my family plans for me.” Perry’s mouth curled in an impish grin. “It’s too bad I can’t give you my title, Richard. You would undoubtedly make a superb lord. Far better than I would, I’m afraid. You have the natural arrogance for it.”

“As to that, I would not accept the title if you could give it to me instead of to your cousin. I have about as much use for the English aristocracy as I have for unnecessary risks—both are utterly pointless. I suppose in that respect, some of my experiences in America have changed me. I can no longer judge a man according to his rank, as opposed to his achievements.”

“I would have thought that would be the logical next step in your dream—first buy a nice manor house, then marry a lord’s daughter.”

“Me? Marry into the aristocracy? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Of course you. Any woman, no matter how high her degree, would be lucky to have you for a husband, Richard.”

“Ah, but you miss the point Perry. I, on the contrary, do not feel your titled ladies are good enough for me. I admit, I have decided it is time I married and started acquiring heirs, but I have no need of a frivolous wife—a spoiled, feather-headed society miss who would do her best to squander my hard-earned riches and would expect me to be grateful for the privilege of providing her with the blunt to buy herself enough bonnets and dresses and shoes for any ten women.”

“So? What more can you expect from a woman than that she be pleasing to the eye? They are, after all, the weaker sex.”

“That is where you are out, my boy. I think, if the truth were known, many of them are far stronger than us mere males. I knew an incredible woman once. Her name was Molly—” He caught Tuke’s look of surprise that he should mention her name for the first time in years.

“Sounds like a comely Irish maid my uncle used to have. She was well worth remembering, too—biggest, softest blue eyes—”

“She was not Irish.” Richard did not explain that she had been a mulatto and a slave and far from beautiful. There was no way that Perry’s understanding would stretch that far. “But she was the bravest person I have ever met—and the strongest, and the most practical.” And the most loving, he added to himself. She had become like a mother to him and had stolen extra food for him from the kitchens where she worked, thereby saving him from the gradual starvation that was the fate of most of the slaves. It was due to her efforts that he had not ended up weak and stunted, but had grown to a man’s full size and strength. “And I am afraid she spoiled me for lesser women.”

“So why didn’t you marry this paragon, then? Or wouldn’t she have you?”

Richard answered simply, “She died,” and Perry’s light-hearted smile was wiped from his face.

Richard did not go on to explain how she had died, sacrificing her life for him when the escape attempt had almost failed. He had thought he could get all three of them safely away, and when it had become obvious that all three would be caught, she had turned back and sent him on with Tuke. By deliberately creating an easy trail to follow, she had led their pursuers astray, giving him and Tuke their chance to escape.

Richard had never failed at anything since then, but his successes had come too late to help her. Even though he now owned the plantation where he had once been a slave and had freed his fellow slaves as soon as he became their owner, their number did not include Molly.

But he had adjusted years ago to the loss of the only woman who had ever really loved him, and it was pointless to turn this reunion with Perry into a wake. “So what about you? Have you actually come back to England to see your grandmother, or are you secretly hoping to find yourself a suitable wife—perhaps one of those lords’ daughters you were trying to foist off onto me?” He had genuine affection for the younger man, and he let it show in his smile, which very few people had ever seen.

Perry laughed. “Now that I think of it, I see your point about frivolous society beauties. I misdoubt any of them are ready to appreciate what Kentucky has to offer, nor do I think I would want to waste my energy dragging along any such useless baggage as a wife, no matter how beautiful and enticing she might be.”

“You are sure then that you mean to give up the title?”

“I’m sure. I’m an American now. There’s no way I could go back to being an Englishman. I’m here for a few months to pay my respects to my grandmother, and then I am set on returning to Kentucky—taking with me as many good Irish horses as I can afford, of course,” he added with a grin.

“They will try to talk you out of it, you know.”

“I know. But in the end, they’ll give in. If worse comes to worst, I shall merely confess—,” he hesitated, then continued, “—that I was on the winning side at the battle of New Orleans.”

No one spoke for a moment, and Perry looked as if he were already regretting his confession. Finally Richard said mildly, “It might be best for your family if you used some other argument to convince them you are serious.”

“I fully intend to. But I am also determined on my course. I ... uh ... would be more than pleased if you had the time to accompany me to London—for old time’s sake.”

“Ah, Tuke, now the truth comes out as to why he has wasted three days trying to find me.”

Perry leaped to his feet. “Blast it, Hawke, you’re being insulting. I had no ulterior motives for coming here. I just wanted to see an old friend again.”

“And having seen me again...?” Richard tried to keep his countenance stern, but he had the feeling he was failing. Tuke, on the other hand, was making no effort to hide his amusement.

“Ah, well...” Perry sat back down again with a sigh. “Having seen you again, I am reminded of how adept you are at getting your friends out of tight spots.”

“And?”

“And I think I would sooner face a bear in Kentucky with nothing but a pen knife than sit in a drawing room with my grandmother and tell her I do not intend to stay in England.”

“I doubt I would be of much use to you in a social setting, thwarted grandmothers not being in quite the same category as drunken backwoodsmen or riled-up gamblers.”

“In the case of this particular grandmother, I must agree—she’s much more terrifying. But don’t tell me you cannot cope with the social niceties. Remember, I have seen you wooing the mam’selles in New Orleans. You’re as dangerous in the drawing rooms as you are in the dueling field, so say you’ll come with me—for old time’s sake,” he pleaded.

“For old time’s sake? Or to protect your back when you are routed by superior fire power?”

Perry grinned sheepishly. “You sound as if you’ve already met Lady Letitia.”

“Not I, but I am beginning to believe it might be an interesting experience to meet someone who can cause you to think twice before throwing yourself into a new situation.”

“Then you’ll come? I’ll make it worth your while. I promise to do my best to show you a good time in London.”

“Ah, so ‘tis a good time you are after. I am sorry to disappoint you, but for that you have come to the wrong place. Our Mr. Carneby would never dream of being involved in anything the least bit amusing. He is much too dour and staid, and thinks of nothing but his ships and counting houses. On the other hand, there is a certain Jasper Trelawney in Penzance, thought by some narrow-minded souls to be a smuggler but actually not a bad sort if his reputation is to be believed, and he definitely knows how to show his friends a good time.”

“Jasper Trelawney, do you say? He does sound like someone I would enjoy meeting, especially if he has gained your approval.”

There was a muffled sound from Tuke, and Perry looked up at him sharply. After a pause he turned to Richard and said wryly, “So that’s the way it is. Would this Trelawney perchance be a very near and dear relation to Mr. Carneby of Falmouth?”

There was a chuckle from Tuke, and Hawke smiled, inviting Perry to share the joke. “Some people, if they were to see the two of them together, a most unlikely occurrence, to be sure, might remark a certain family resemblance, although the similarity is superficial, Jasper being a wild Cornishman of uncertain background and moderate means.”

There was another pause, and Perry studied him with a considering look upon his face. Finally he spoke. “You know, Richard, if Napoleon were not safely tucked away on St. Helena, I would be suspecting you were a French spy. Surely your business dealings do not demand that you use so many aliases?”

“Have you been gone so long from English society that you have forgotten the very cornerstone upon which it rests? What do you think would be my chances for social acceptance in any proper English village, were it to become widely known that I am merely an adventurer with a murky background?”

“Blast it all, Hawke, you’re not simply an adventurer.” Perry again leaped to his feet and stood glaring down at Richard. “You’ve a dozen ships, and more than one plantation, and who knows what else. And you’ve earned it all honestly, whatever crazy risks you may have taken to achieve your success.”

“Ah, Tuke, with that resounding oratory the lad has truly convinced me he is an American, heart and soul.”

Turning away, Perry stalked over to the window and stood staring out.

“Come, come, my dear Lord Westhrop, admit the truth. In England a man is admired only for the wealth he inherits, no matter how he squanders it; it is therefore better for all concerned if society thinks I am a lazy, good-for-nothing scion of a wealthy family than that I have earned my brass by honest toil.”

Perry turned back to them, a scowl on his face. “Then I think you had better come back to America with me and let all these hypocrites have the joy of each other’s company.”

“But I prefer to live here,” Richard replied mildly, “so stop scowling and tell me if you have a few days at your disposal to sample the delights of Penzance before you must be off to face the rigors of London.”

Perry could not hold back a smile. “I can spare a few days for merry-making with your Jasper Trelawney. Perhaps he would be interested in meeting my grandmother since I cannot persuade you.”

“Ah, but Trelawney, I regret, is more at home rubbing shoulders with smugglers in disreputable dives than he is sipping cups of tea with dowagers in elegant drawing rooms.”

“Then I shall use the few days I have here in Cornwall to best advantage, to entice you to London.”

* * * *

The unseasonable warmth of the February day had fled with the setting of the sun, and Cassie hunched her back against the wind, which was now reaching its fingers under her cloak to steal the last warmth from her body. She tried to pull the threadbare fabric more tightly around her, but it was a difficult job to do with only one hand. Yet if she let go of Dobbin’s mane, she would be in danger of sliding off his broad back.

It was really too bad that the only saddle they still had was her mother’s sidesaddle, while the only horse left in the stables was an ancient plow horse, too old to work in the fields and too broad in the beam for any saddle. He was kept on only because his four legs could still give her a degree of freedom and mobility she would not otherwise have had. Whether from age or inborn good nature, he went willingly wherever she directed him, although his pace could not be speeded up, no matter what stratagems she tried.

It would have been easier to endure her present discomfort if her errand of mercy had been more of a success, but she had been able to offer nothing —not food nor money, as she had none herself, nor relief from the pain of the bruises that covered the woman’s arms and face and undoubtedly her body as well, and that Cassie was positive were the result of a beating at the hands of the woman’s own husband, an out-of-work miner who wasted what little the family had on hard drink for himself.

Lost in her thoughts as she was, she made no effort to guide the ancient horse, but relied on him to get her safely home as he had so many times before, and was only alerted to the fact that they had reached the stables when he stopped his plodding steps and stood waiting patiently for her to dismount.

But where was Digory? He usually heard them approaching and was standing ready to help her down. “Digory? I’m home!” Her voice shattered the stillness, but there was no answering greeting.

Well, she did not want to wait in the cold any longer, not when she knew Seffie would have some water heated against her return. Grasping Dobbin’s mane with both hands, she rolled to her stomach and started sliding toward the ground. She was about to let go and drop the last little bit, when hands caught her roughly around the waist.

“Here we go, my pretty. I ain’t Digory, but whatever you wants from him, I can give you.”

She was jerked back and held against a hard body that gave off a rank aroma of stale sweat, beer, and horses. Her struggles to free herself from the arm that was locked around her waist were in vain, and in the space of seconds she acquired a full understanding of what it truly meant to be a woman at the mercy of a man stronger than she was.