Virginia Henley (24 page)

She ran outside and the sound of men’s voices drew her across the lawns in the direction of the sea. A small group of men had gathered on the causeway that led to the harbor below. She stopped, hesitating to go farther, until suddenly she recognized the figure of her brother, Johnny. Fear gripped her throat as the men helped him to his feet and the realization dawned that Johnny was the one who had been shot at.

E
merald picked up the hem of her wet skirt and her bare feet fairly flew across the distance that separated her from her brother. “Johnny, Johnny, are you all right?”

Though he was white and looked shaken, his voice was calm enough. “Emerald, I’m fine.”

She threw her arms about him, almost sobbing with relief.

The English crew who had accompanied John on the
Swallow
stood glaring at the Irish crewmen commanded by the FitzGeralds. Tempers were so explosive, a brawl threatened.

Sean gave terse orders. “There will be no trouble; get back to your vessels.” The men cast wary glances in the direction of the gatehouse tower, but obeyed the voice of command.

“Someone tried to kill you!” Emerald shook her brother to make him understand.

“Em, if Shamus O’Toole had aimed to kill, I’d be a dead man now.”

Sean grinned at John and thumped him on the back. “You have the right of it. Let’s go and get a drink into you.”

They walked off like the best of friends, leaving her with her mouth open. She had disappeared from home over a week before, yet John wasn’t surprised to find her at Greystones. Sean and her brother seemed thick as thieves. Did he come here often? If so, why the hell had someone been
shooting at him?
Bloody men! If they think they are going to keep me barefoot and ignorant, they can think again!

Emerald’s Irish was up. She was never going to suppress her anger again. She intended to vent it on someone. She headed for the gatehouse in search of a victim. She gave a perfunctory knock and walked straight in. She was met by Paddy Burke, who was on his way out.

“Who’s doing all the shooting?” she demanded.

“One shot,” he corrected.

Her eyes blazed her anger. “Who?” she demanded, hands on hips.

Paddy Burke jerked his thumb toward the tower. “Himself.”

She watched him make a hasty departure before she headed up the stone stairs.

Shamus O’Toole sat by a tower window, gripping a spyglass. Beside him, four guns stood against the stone wall.

“You almost killed my brother!” She flung the accusation with angry passion, not caring about the consequences.

Shamus chuckled with glee. “I wasn’t trying to kill him or he’d be dead. I only wanted to scare the shit out of him.”

“Well, you didn’t! You scared it out of me! Why did you shoot at him?”

“He’s a Montague,” Shamus explained.

“So am I.”

“Never boast about that, lass.” His bright blue eyes examined her from head to foot. “Yer a FitzGerald by the looks of ye; now,
there’s
something to brag about. Come over here to the window and let me have a gander at ye.”

She moved forward, not because she wanted to, but because she didn’t want him to think she feared him.

“Ye have a definite look of my Kathleen; no wonder Sean is enamored of ye. Have ye been walking in the rain, lass? She loved to do that too.” His eyes took on a faraway look and Emerald had the uncanny feeling he had gone back to
the past. She decided Shamus O’Toole was a bit unstable. He probably wasn’t responsible for his actions. Whyever would he live up here like a recluse when the magnificent Greystones was so spacious? Someone must lock up the firearms. She would speak to Sean about it tonight.

“Go an’ get those wet clothes off, Beauty; ye’ll be late fer dinner.”

Emerald had the distinct impression that Shamus thought he was speaking to his wife. “I—I will…. I’ll go and do it right away.”

    
B
ack in her chamber the mirrors showed her she looked like a ragtag Gypsy girl. She chose a lavender-blue silk to boost her confidence and her courage. She had a lot of questions she intended to pose. She whirled about as the connecting door opened.

“My love, I’m sorry we were so rudely interrupted before, but I had no idea your brother would drop in on us today.”

She refused to blush. “Where is he?” she demanded.

“Why, in a guest bedchamber, of course, two doors from your own. Shall we collect him for dinner?”

Emerald bit her lip; she wanted to talk to Johnny alone. Sean held out a gallant arm and it would have seemed childish to rebuff him. When they stepped into the hall, John was there before them and they went down to the dining room together.

Sean pulled out her chair. “Will you sit between us, my love?”

Johnny smiled at her. “I’ve never seen you look so radiant, Em.”

Then the two men engaged in conversation, totally excluding her. They spoke of merchant vessels, cargoes, and shipping routes. They spoke of the Admiralty, politics, the House of Commons, the House of Lords. They spoke of
Prime Minister Pitt, of Newcastle, Bedford, and King George. They spoke a sort of code, which they understood perfectly, but she did not. John said things like:
that information you asked me to get
and
that private matter
, while Sean referred to
that confidential bit of business
and I
have another agenda for you.

After the main course they made small talk, they joked, they laughed. The subject changed to horses. Sean promised to take him riding on the Curragh, and John asked about visiting Maynooth and someone called Nan FitzGerald.

Emerald listened to them in amazement. How dare they act as if she weren’t present? She had expected John to explain why he was here and Sean to explain about his father and the shot. It was clearly a conspiracy!

She threw down her napkin, then banged her fist on the table, making the silverware dance a jig. She jumped to her feet. “Stop it!”

Both men gave her their polite attention.

She tossed her curls and gave Sean the back of her head. Then she spoke to John. “I’ve been missing for a week. How did you find me?”

“Father told me you were at Greystones.”

“Ohmigod! How did he find out?”

“I informed him, of course,” Sean said smoothly. “Where’s the pleasure in wounding your enemy if you don’t twist the knife, then rub salt in the wound?”

“Did they send you to fetch me back?”

Johnny turned to Sean. “Actually, they sent me to see how much money you’d accept for her return.”

Sean laughed. “Tell them possession is nine-tenths of the law. That goes for the ship as well as your sister. I’m keeping them both.”

“You don’t mind making it difficult for me, do you?” John asked wryly.

“Not in the least. Adversity is a good character builder.”

“Well, I suppose the Montague Line will have to manage with one less ship.” John shrugged philosophically.

“Well, actually, it will be three ships less, this week. The slavers have vanished into thin air.”

“Thank God for that,” John said fervently.

“God had nothing to do with it, I assure you,” Sean said pleasantly.

“Damn you both, you are doing it again!” Emerald cried.

Emerald’s behavior shocked her brother. “Wherever did you learn such bad manners?”

“It’s all right, I taught them to her. I like my women wild and willful so I can tame them.”

She picked up her water glass and flung the contents in Sean O’Toole’s mocking face. “I believe insanity runs in your family!” After pronouncing her judgment she regally swept from the dining room.

Emerald paced about her chamber, she flung the curtains across the dark window, she thumped the bed pillows in an effort to vent her frustration. She knew Sean had a domineering personality and though she hadn’t understood all of their conversation, she gathered he had some sort of hold over Johnny and was using him like a pawn in a chess game.

Emerald knew she would get little out of Sean, so she had no intention of wasting her time in that direction. If she was to learn what was going on, she would have to pry it out of Johnny. When she heard a low knock on the door, she hoped it was her brother, but instead it was Mrs. McBride.

“I’ve brought the night rails and bed robe the earl ordered, ma’am.”

“Why, thank you, Mrs. McBride.” Emerald was startled. She hadn’t known a thing about the intimate items he’d had specially made for her.

“Actually, the bed robe was my own idea. You’d freeze to death in the things he asked me to make.” She explained in
a low voice, “Men like silky things. Practical considerations fly out the window when it comes bedtime.”

A blush dusted Emerald’s cheekbones. “That was most thoughtful.”

“Molly and I will be returning to Dublin tomorrow, now that most of your wardrobe is finished. When the other items the earl ordered are ready, we’ll send them on to Greystones immediately.”

Emerald had no idea what other garments had been ordered. Sean had a secretive side and took pleasure in surprising her. “I want to thank you, Mrs. McBride. You do such lovely work. I never had clothes that suited me before.”

“Sure an’ it’s a rare pleasure to make garments for a lady as beautiful as you. I hope you’ll use my services again. Good-bye.”

Kate Kennedy came in and made herself busy, lighting the lamps and pulling down the bedclothes. Every now and then she sneaked a glance at a visibly furious Emerald.

“Are they still at table, Kate?”

“Faith, no, they’ve gone over to the gatehouse to hatch their plots. Likely be up half the night.”

Emerald could not understand why her brother would spend the evening with a man who had shot at him. “Kate, is Shamus O’Toole … unstable?”

“Aye, his legs are almost useless.”

“No, I mean up here.” Emerald tapped her temple.

“Ye mean doolally? Faith, no. Mr. Burke is his legs, but his brain still thinks around corners.” Kate thought she had her answer. No wonder the fur had been flying in the dining room, if Emerald had criticized Sean’s father. “By the by, don’t go wanderin’ about outside tonight. There’s three shipload of sailors anchored at the jetty, and ye know what crews are like after a keg or two.”

“Thanks, Kate. I’m going to have a bath and go to bed.”
When she was alone, Emerald examined the pile of nightgowns. They were exquisite. She selected a white silk, embroidered with French knots, picked up the soft lamb’s-wool robe, and took them with her to the bathing room.

When she returned an hour later, the mirrors in her chamber showed her how pretty she was tonight. She looked like a bride in the delicate white night rail. “
Get hold of yourself and stop dreaming,”
she bade her reflection. She wrapped herself in the lamb’s-wool robe and slipped down the hall. She would await Johnny in his chamber. Emerald curled up in a big wing chair, prepared to wait all night if necessary. She was determined to learn everything her brother knew.

    
“E
m, what in the world are you doing here in the dark?” Johnny Montague set the candelabra on the mantel and lit the lamps.

Emerald had dozed fitfully while awaiting him, but she came wide awake immediately. “I’m in the dark because that is exactly where men like to keep their women! You
must
tell me what’s going on.”

“How much do you know?” John asked tentatively.

“I
know
nothing. I
suspect
Sean is using you as a pawn, forcing you to work against Father.”

Johnny took hold of his sister’s hands. “Oh, Em, he thinks he is forcing me, but never was there a more willing pawn since the dawn of time. Sean thinks this is his revenge, but it is mine!”

“What are you going to do?”

“We are going to ruin them. Don’t press me for details, you are better off not knowing.”

“I know why you and I hate Father, but I don’t know what happened to make the O’Tooles hate the Montagues.”

“Hasn’t Sean told you anything?” Johnny asked incredulously.

“Sean keeps his mouth shut. The only time he opens it is to say something amusing or to woo me.”

Johnny let go of her hands and took a turn about the richly appointed bedchamber. Then he took a deep breath and sank into a chair facing hers. “When Father learned Joseph O’Toole was heir to the Earldom of Kildare, he made plans to betroth you to him. Then he informed the authorities that Edward FitzGerald was committing treason by arming the rebels. Father knew all the details because he was the one who supplied the guns. He decided to get rid of the earl so you would become a countess the moment you wed.

“When the English arrested their grandfather, Joseph and Sean were sent out of Ireland to London. But by the time they arrived, Father had learned that our mother and Joseph O’Toole were lovers. He went mad. All his murderous scheming had gone for naught, and he plotted his revenge.

“The very night the brothers arrived in London, Father took us all on a debauch to the Divan Club. The minute we got back to the ship a brawl broke out. It was all a plan for my father to rid himself of Joseph O’Toole. Jack Raymond helped him. Either one or both stabbed Joseph, and Father ordered the brothers be strung up by the thumbs. By dawn Joseph was dead and Sean delirious with fever. His thumbs turned black. I was there when they had to chop one off.”