Till Dawn Tames the Night (13 page)

Flossie studied her,
then
heaved a huge sigh. "I suppose you're right. Even with his riches, Vashon is an unlikely sort to hobnob with the peerage. But you will write and let me know how you fare? I'll be worried sick until I hear from you."

"I'll dash off a note the second I arrive." Aurora gave Flossie a hug, and arm in arm they walked to the gangway. The widow took only a moment to scan the empty docks before bursting out with an oath.

"That rascal Robert!
He's not here yet and it's ten to one he's deep in his cups! If he hadn't been with me all these years I'd fire him and procure another driver this instant."

"Is he just coming from the town house?" Aurora asked.

"Yes. He's got to know the
Seabravery's
arrived." Flossie twirled her parasol in agitation,
then
summoned her maid. "Go find him, will you, Jane, and if he's too besotted, acquire me another carriage. I'll be waiting in the private room at the Somers Island Inn."

"Yes, mum." Jane curtsied and promptly descended the gangway.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Aurora asked. "Perhaps Captain Corbeil can assist you with your baggage."

"No, no, I've already refused his escort. What an in-grate I would be to ask for it now." Flossie snapped closed her parasol and Aurora wondered if the widow wasn't going to miss the captain more than she let on.

"Does the
Seabravery
come regularly to St. George's?" Aurora couldn't help but ask.

Flossie looked away and Aurora thought she saw a hint of sadness around her eyes. "Apparently not" was
all the
widow said before she snapped open her parasol once more. "Listen, love, I'm sure I've a wait on my hands at the inn. Why don't you join me and we'll have a cup of tea? You need to get off this ship for a while anyway. They won't be sailing today."

"Wonderful! I should love to get off this ship for a while!" Aurora laughed. Together the women descended the gangplank, but once on the dock, Aurora paused.

"Oh, dear, I've forgotten my reticule," she said. She looked up the steep gangway, then back to Flossie's plump figure. "I can't ask you to
reboard
, and I can't have you waiting for me on these docks. Show me the Somers Island Inn, and I promise I shall meet you there in a minute."

"It's straight ahead, love. You see the painted sign of the ship crashing on the rocks? That's it. You cannot get lost. In the meantime, I shall secure a private room for us."

"I won't be a moment," Aurora assured her before she once more fled up the gangway.

It took her hardly any time at all to be back in her room and to secure her brown silk purse. She was just about to quit her room when out of the corner of her eye she spied a set of keys lying on her newly made bed. She recognized them instantly as Benny's. They were the keys he used to get into the storerooms to supply the passengers' cabins with fresh linens. Thinking surely he was missing them, she dropped them into her reticule and quickly went to search him out.

Most of the men slept in the
fo'c'sle
, except the captain and Benny. They had cabins in the deckhouse right in the middle of the ship. Aurora meant to see if Benny was about and if not, to slip the keys beneath his cabin door. But she didn't quite get that far. The captain's door was open a crack, and inside she could hear Vashon and the captain having a lively conversation. She certainly was not the type to eavesdrop, but when her name was mentioned, she couldn't help stepping nearer the door, curious about their discussion.

"There's no chance Aurora will still take the widow's offer?" she heard Vashon say.

"She hasn't requested her trunks be moved. I think we're in good stead," she heard the captain answer. "But, of course," he added wryly, "we've you to thank for that whole folly. You take such perverse pleasure in scaring the girl,
Vashon,
you almost scared her right out of our hands."

"Being browbeaten by a bitter old woman is no life for a girl like her. I just want her to eventually "see that she's better off sailing with us—and hopefully working with us —than wandering where the path of her life was sure to lead her. If not Lady Perkins, then some other hag would have employed her.
And made her miserable little life even more miserable."

"But Lady Perkins doesn't even exist, man! She's a figment of our imagination. Why torture the girl?"

Aurora's knuckles whitened as she clutched her reticule. What in God's name were they saying? That Lady Perkins didn't exist?
Her
Lady Perkins?
She couldn't believe it. Horrified, she looked about to see if anyone else had heard this news. But the narrow passage was still empty. Turning back to the door, her heart thumping like tympani in her chest, she moved forward to listen.

Vashon mused, "I suppose I do enjoy tormenting her a bit—I've never encountered such a stiff vestal prig— where did they grow her? But nonetheless, when we leave tonight, that brittle facade of hers should crack like a mirror. I almost can't wait to see it . . . and find out what's behind it."

Captain Corbeil sighed. "I must tell you I dread the next few days. Aurora's a quiet little thing, all right, but something tells me she isn't going to go along without a fight."

"I'm up to the fight." She heard Vashon laugh sarcastically. "My only fear is that she'll disappoint me." He suddenly changed tack. "How are the supplies coming? I don't want to wait a second longer than necessary to get this ship out to sea again."

"The water's all we're waiting for now, and the men tell me the barrels are already on the docks. They should be loaded within the hour."

"Good. We set sail at eventide then.
With our most precious passenger, Miss Dayne."
Suddenly Vashon laughed again, and the sound sent a chill down Aurora's spine. She couldn't believe what he was saying, but when the captain spoke, it seemed all too true.

"Yes, finally we're to get this damnable plan under way. I must admit, it's about time."

In shock, she stood in the passage and took in the captain's words. Unable now to deny what she'd heard, she felt the horror of her situation hit her like a brick wall. It was all a trick. The voyage was a sham set up for her benefit. Lady Perkins didn't exist. She was being kidnapped. And even the captain was in on this horrible deed. Vashon, she could believe would do such a dastardly thing as kidnap her—but for what reason she still didn't know—yet the captain, the good, kindly, chivalrous Captain Corbeil? It just couldn't be. He seemed like such a fine man . . . how could he truly be a party to this?

As she tried desperately to comprehend the situation, she failed to hear the scrape of chairs against the planking. By the time she heard footsteps, she'd already lost precious moments. The captain's door flew open, and she found herself looking up into Vashon's assessing emerald gaze.

Without wasting another second, she picked up her skirts and ran. She wasn't sure what the reasons were behind this man's plan, but after hearing what she had heard, she did know one thing: They meant to kidnap her. And she was not about to let that happen. But he cornered her as easily as if she were a wounded doe. He pressed her back against Benny's door, and though she still meant to escape, for the moment she was trapped.

She looked up at him. Their gazes locked.

"What have we here?" Vashon uttered before he slowly moved toward her. He searched her frightened face and she could see he knew she'd heard everything. Pensively, he watched her, as if calculating the next move.

"What reason—?" she rasped at him, fear making her mouth go dry. "What reason could you have for doing this? I have no money. You know that. No one will pay ransom."

"We want no ransom.
Just some information.
In the meantime, let me take you to your cabin. After we sail, we'll talk." He spoke calmly, forcefully, as if he expected her total obedience, as if she were no more than one of the
Seabravery's
boys before the mast.

"We won't!" she suddenly cried out and snatched her arm from his outstretched hand. Behind him, she could see the captain come up, a troubled expression on his face. She wanted to plead with him to help her, but in his deep brown eyes she saw no mercy for her situation.

"Aurora, I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but there's no escaping now," Vashon said harshly, obviously trying to head off any rebellion. "We've got you. You're ours. Until we're satisfied we have the information we desire, any attempts to flee will not be tolerated."

She clutched her little silk reticule and tried to think, to grasp exactly what was happening. Lady Perkins was no elderly woman in Jamaica in need of a companion. And Lady Perkins's letter and the trip on the
Seabravery
had been a grand attempt to take her captive. Now that she had fallen into their clutches, they were planning to set sail.
For Jamaica still?
She doubted it. They would take her elsewhere, someplace she didn't know, where she couldn't go for help, or escape. It was all too horrible to believe, let alone fight against. And all she could think of was that somehow, some way, it was all a mistake.

"You must have the wrong girl," she said vehemently in a last attempt to reason with him. "There is nothing you can get from me that could be worth all this effort. I have no information on anything but the orphanage in which I was raised. You cannot do this. It's a terrible error. You'll surely come to regret it."

"No, we have the right girl." Unexpectedly Vashon touched the jewel-studded locket at her throat. He picked it up and held it to her gaze. "There's only one of these, Aurora. Michael Dayne, your father, gave this to you before he fled England, taking the Star of
Aran
with him. That's what we need to talk about—the Star. That's why we had to take you."

Her last hope that this was all a tragic mistake died with his words. She didn't know much about this Star of
Aran
he spoke of, but they did have the right girl. They even knew her father's name. Panicking, she licked her lips and searched the passage again for someone who might help.

"Let's go to your cabin, Aurora. If you cooperate, we'll see to it that you come out of this for the better."

She looked up when Vashon took her arm in a steely grip. He had just begun to lead her away like the prisoner she was when she dug her
slippered
heels into the floor boards and confessed, "But I don't remember my father. I can't help you. I won't cooperate."

"We'll see about that" was his ominous statement before he pushed her toward the companionway.

Suddenly her composure snapped. All her life she'd been reared to appreciate and emulate gentle, civilized behavior. Mrs. Bluefield had taught her well, for not only had she been educated in art and literature, but her manners had been carefully molded until they were impeccable enough for the unlikely prospect of calling upon the Regent.

Yet now she realized with brutal clarity that if she didn't fight right at this moment, if she succumbed to her instinct for equanimity, they would kidnap her and she would be in their hands until they saw fit to release her . . . or worse.

Her gaze flew up to her escort and she studied every hard line of his face. Vashon was not to be underestimated. They had labeled him an eccentric only because they were too uncomfortable to see him for what he really was—a man unbounded by society's rules—quite possibly a pirate. All too clearly she remembered the painting of the dragon on his back. They'd been fooled by his veneer of self-restraint and manners, but beneath it all lay that .dragon, that symbol of power and violence. If she didn't take on that dragon now, she would have no chance when the
Seabravery
left'port
.

Viciously she twisted her arm and tried to release herself from his grasp. Her reticule fell to the floor and the articles within it scattered across the passage. Her bonnet slipped to her back and several curls slid from their pins. He seemed taken aback by her sudden
obstinance
and that gave her a moment of advantage. She wrenched her arm free and lifted her skirts. She was at the entrance to the deckhouse before he could grab her by the waist and drag her back to the companionway.

"This is futile, Aurora—can you really think to fight me?" Vashon tightened his grasp at her waist and laughed. Suddenly her fury exploded.

"What kind of man are you?" she shrieked.
' All
at once instinct mingled with memory, and she lashed out, trying desperately to free herself from his hold. She'd seen enough little boys fighting in the Home to easily recall how to mimic them. Her thinly
slippered
feet began kicking at his shins, and her arms flailed wildly against his chest. He only laughed harder at her impotent vengeance until one artless kick landed her knee right in his groin. The shock on his face almost mirrored hers when she felt him drop his hold. He bent over and his eyes took on a glazed appearance. Temporarily stunned, all he seemed capable of doing was staring viciously at her and doubling over in his pain. Though she wasn't exactly sure what she had done to him, she'd seen enough quarreling boys bent over with just such an injury to know he'd recover all too quickly. Her priority now was to flee, and she once more gathered her skirts and ran for the weather deck.