To catch a coronet, p.11
To Catch a Coronet, page 11
“Perhaps. Less violence means less damage to the ship and goods and therefore, higher prize money for me and you and subsequently taxes for the Crown,” he retorted, selecting a sandwich from the tray. “A fact of which you are well aware, Captain Warrick. The act of burning a ship for instilling fear alone …” He shook his head. “It seems wasteful.”
“Indeed, it is wasteful.” Sir Alexander leaned forward and swept a few iced cakes onto his plate. “Nonetheless, if the name is to continue to bear the full weight of my legacy, a ship must be sunk on occasion. For posterity of the name of Warrick if nothing else.” At Erik’s stalwart silence, Ingram popped a cake into his mouth, his jowls jiggling with each chew as he smacked his lips over the icing on his fingers. “Now, what can I help you with today, as I am not renewing your contract?”
Erik swallowed back his retorts regarding the cruelty of unnecessarily sacrificing captains’ lives for the sake of a reputation. While he had been captain of the Twilight Treader, no deaths had occurred, and he took great pride in the fact. “I still have almost two months as a privateer before my contract is complete. Since I am without a ship and unable to track smugglers leaving or arriving at port, I will chase the smugglers on land. However, as I am without a crew of men at my call, I need your contacts in London.”
“I refuse your contract, and you still wish to aid the Crown?” Ingram chuckled. “You are an earl, boy. Enjoy it. Do you know how difficult it has been for me to get in with this crowd? People have often wondered how I, a sailor not even from the gentry set, landed in their high-society world. Imagine if they knew how I earned my knighthood? You do not know how fortunate you have it.”
Erik shrugged. “I took the risk of Warrick’s mantle as well. You will recall I did not always know I would be given an earldom.”
“You knew at sixteen—well before I offered you the title of Warrick.”
“I do not regret my choices to fight for king and country. It is because I am a lord that it is my duty to serve the Crown in any way that I can. As Warrick, I can make a much greater difference than as Lord Draycott.”
Ingram chuckled again. “So righteous. Be that as it may, my contacts have all but disappeared as of late.” He frowned as he gazed out to the courtyard, where the gardener was pruning a tree that was draping over the brick wall. “If you keep nosing around, it is only a matter of time until Requin discovers your identity. Best you retire Captain Warrick to Adams and throw Requin off the trail. Become the man you were always meant to be—the Earl of Draycott. Perhaps, even take a wife? My wife and I are attending Vauxhall Gardens on the morrow. You should join our party. Surely, there will be a pretty lady there to catch your eye. Might I suggest our little baker from Chilham? Lady Ingram did not enjoy the idea of you two courting for some reason, and was most intent on inviting Lord Traneford, but Miss Beau’s dowry is too substantial to ignore.”
“There is too much left to accomplish before marrying. And Adams is barely one and twenty! I only appointed him to the position after Mayfield’s retirement to show my deference to your opinion in the first place.” He should have refused. He should have known Ingram was positioning to replace Erik after ignoring Ingram’s first demand he burn a perfectly good prize ship. Such hubris to think Ingram would allow me to appoint the next Warrick.
“And I stand by that decision. The lad showed promise at nineteen, and he has proven himself fearless. I heard how he defended your life after Requin winged you. It was providential that he was there. I was not so fortunate.” Something akin to fear flashed in the man’s eyes.
“I am not afraid of Requin,” Erik scoffed.
“After the gruesome fates he left my friends to endure”—Ingram shook his head—“you should be.”
Chapter Ten
MURIEL DUCKED INTO THE MERRIONS’ conservatory, filling her senses with a deep breath of the rich greenery and aromatic blooms surrounding her. Having Elena Whelan as a friend was exhausting. Muriel’s feet had not departed the dance floor since she arrived. Lord Traneford had claimed more than his fair share of dances, which left her only two choices—hide away for the remainder of the ball or allow society to consider her matched with Lord Traneford. If it hadn’t been for Elena’s timely performance, she might never have escaped the determined lord.
She ran her finger over a delicate blossom and sank down on the marble bench beneath the potted palm’s branches. Lord Traneford was certainly proving himself to be kind and thoughtful. No matter how easy his company became, her mind always drifted to a handsome captain earl.
“Miss Beau?” Erik’s deep voice warmed her, the sight of his broad shoulders bringing a skip to her heart. “What brings you here? I thought you had suitors aplenty and had no need to hide yourself away like a wallflower.”
“Wallflowers are not the only ones who need to catch their breath or find it necessary to hide away.” She peeked around the overly large potted palm, whose fronds reached the glass dome above them that allowed starlight to spill upon Erik’s dark hair.
He chuckled. “So you are hiding. From whom?”
“Well, Elena for one. She has made it her task to see me married not before the season is over, but before the night is over.”
“Was that not your task in coming to London? To find yourself a husband?”
She swiveled away from him, his teasing cutting her. Out of all her new acquaintances in London, he was the only one she thought would understand her heart. As much as Lady Ingram would wish Muriel to redirect the conversation, she could not let this comment rest. “Haven’t you ever had a dream that was so dear it made your heart ache?”
He blinked, clearly taken aback at her reply. “I suppose everyone has.”
“But was it so dear that it hurt at the thought, and people did not understand your pain? Maybe even mocked you for it?”
He slowly nodded and settled on the bench beside her. “Why do you wish for this dream, Muriel? You own a bakery. You have a family and yet, you dream as if you are all alone in the world.”
“For more years than not, I was alone, Erik. My mother worked diligently to see me clothed and fed. She would tell me of times when my father was still alive, and her tone fairly bled with longing. I suppose, over the years, her longing for family became my own. When she married Mr. Fletcher, I thought that ache would disappear, and it did for a time, when my brothers were born. It did not help matters that my stepfather’s mother dislikes me and treats me as an unwanted guest at Fletcher Manor. She tried to see me wed countless times, only to see me fail due to my inferior birth. With each failure, the ache became more pronounced. I know my mother loves me, as well as my stepfather. Despite their best efforts, I still feel like an outsider in my own home. Therefore, I dream. I wish others would not judge me too harshly for it.”
“I do not.”
She swiped away the unbidden tears with her fingertips as Erik’s hand found hers, the pressure assuring her that he understood. “What are your dreams, Erik?”
His gaze swept up to the starlit dome, pausing as if to collect his answer. “My dreams have always been at sea. There is something about the open water that calls to me, the way the waft of the salty air and the constant sun on my face strip away the pomp and circumstance of a title. Aboard, we are simply captain and sailors. There is order. There is a steady cadence that I did not have as a child. When my parents died, I felt uprooted, and I too longed for a place that was truly mine. I did not realize at the time I would inherit Draycott Castle. My aunt, though sickly, was still young at that time. When she died, there was another uprooting in knowing there would be no other heir but me. I was adrift for those two years studying on land, preparing for my new position. I eventually convinced my uncle to allow me to return to sea. Even until I received word of my uncle’s death, I believed I would live most of my life aboard deck.”
“Was that difficult for you? Losing the last father figure you possessed?”
“I loved my uncle, but Sir Alexander was the closest man I had to a father after my own had passed. I was loath to part from the life I had built to embrace a life I had never thought to desire, as Earl of Draycott Castle.” He jerked a leaf free from a rosebush. “And now Sir Alexander is encouraging me to retire my life on the sea, even though he knows how much the sea is part of me. How much I need it.”
“Does he simply wish for you to do your duty by your village in Draybridge?”
“Yes.” He rolled and unrolled the leaf between his fingers. “And no.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that I have not performed as well as he would have liked. When he was captain of my vessel, he managed to secure twice as many enemy ships as myself.”
“But I heard from the ladies in attendance that you manage to capture more enemy ships than most other naval officers without bloodshed, which is a greater triumph, I believe.” She placed her hand on his arm. “With this news, what are you going to do? Are you truly considering resigning your commission and returning to Draycott Castle permanently?”
He flicked the leaf to the ground. “My whole life is the sea. I do not know how to anchor myself to land when my heart longs for the open water.”
A wife would be an excellent start.
“There you are, Miss Beau.” Lady Ingram swept into the conservatory, startling the pair of them to their feet. “Lord Traneford approached me when he was unable to find you after Miss Whelan’s aria.” Lady Ingram frowned upon seeing she was not alone in the darkened conservatory.
“Is that who you were hiding from?” Erik whispered, grimacing at Muriel. “Do you need my protection?”
“Mayhap.”
With a nod to Erik, Lady Ingram drew Muriel away. Muriel cast a glance back to Erik, disliking prematurely ending their quiet conversation.
“Now, what’s this about you not meeting Lord Traneford for the minuet? He was quite surprised by your absence. I assured him that you must have had a good reason for missing the dance.”
“We have already danced a scandalous three times together. I tried to tell him that I cannot afford to be seen dancing with him again.” Especially when I need to find a way to admit to Lord Traneford that I do not wish to be courted by him.
“You have no other serious prospects,” Lady Ingram whispered. “You need to entertain him, or you will be seen as a flirt and a jilt. I suspected you did not wish to dance, so I’ve sent Lord Traneford to join a game of whist in the card room. You will be his partner.”
“But—”
Her lips pinched. “Miss Beau. You are my charge, and as such, I will have no argument from you over what is and isn’t proper.”
“But Miss Beau has already promised to be my partner for the card game, Lady Ingram,” Erik interjected from behind them. “Isn’t that correct, Miss Beau?”
She couldn’t rightly agree without directly lying, so she simply accepted his arm and gave Lady Ingram a remorseful smile. “We shall join Lord Traneford’s table.”
Lady Ingram frowned. “Very well, but, Lord Draycott, do make it clear you have no interest in my charge other than friendship. We both know you have a love only for the sea. I do not wish for Miss Beau’s chances to be ruined if it appears an earl is interested in her when he is merely passing the time until his wrist heals.”
Muriel winced at her bluntness. Heaven forbid anyone think that. She knew she could not afford to create an attachment that was single sided. As of yet, the earl had shown her only kindness. Never anything more … not like Baron Osmund Deverell and his tendency to touch her arm or brush the back of his hand against hers. The memories still brought a twinge in her heart.
Erik guided her to the card room, which was bursting with tables of four players each, seated with cards in hand. The candlelight flickered in the girandole’s convex mirror, magnifying the glow enough for the players to read their cards. Lord Traneford spotted them from across the room and motioned them to the back. Footmen and their trays stood aside as Erik wove through the tables to one where the players were rising, having completed their game.
Erik held the back of her chair as Lord Traneford grinned down at her.
“Lady Ingram informed me that we were to partner for whist. I haven’t played in an age, so I may be a liability as a partner.”
“Actually, she spoke out of turn, as Miss Beau promised the privilege to me,” Lord Draycott replied.
Lord Traneford frowned as Muriel spotted Elena along the perimeter of the room, observing the games. “Never fear, gentlemen, I believe we have found our fourth!” Muriel summoned their footman, and he at once approached Elena on Muriel’s behalf.
Elena bent down beside Muriel as Lord Traneford dealt the cards. She flipped her fan open to hide behind and whispered to Muriel. “I haven’t seen Viscount Sullivan in a quarter of an hour. Have you seen him?”
“Not since the quadrille.”
Elena frowned, the effect making the beauty’s plump lips even fuller. “Perhaps I should check the library. He did mention a great love of books.”
“Allow him to seek you out,” Muriel whispered and patted the back of the vacant chair. “Won’t you join us? We need a fourth to begin.”
Elena looked to Lord Traneford and to the earl and back to Muriel, her eyes sparkling. “Two after your hand? My, my.”
Muriel felt her cheeks heat at Elena’s assumption. Traneford directed a scowl toward Erik.
“Very well. I know Mama would not approve of me chasing any man—title or no. Besides, I did promise to help you, did I not?” Elena whispered and took her seat, which sent the gentlemen scrambling to their feet to bow. She acknowledged them with a brilliant smile and a nod, gathering her cards. “I do enjoy a good game of whist, and I am quite in the mood to take a pound per point when I win.”
Lord Traneford cleared his throat. “I am loath to disclose this, but if we could not play for money, I would be much obliged. After losing a ghastly sum before I left for Egypt, I vowed never to gamble again.”
“How very respectable.” Muriel appreciated his wish to abstain from a practice that was considered customary in his circle.
“What? Not even for a measly pound a point?” Elena complained. “The most you might lose is hardly worth all this fuss.”
“We shall do what we did at the bakery,” Muriel interjected, sending Lord Traneford a smile. “We will play for biscuits! Each player will have a different type to make it a bit more fun in winning. But the trick is not to eat them all while playing. I claim Shrewsbury cake!”
“How perfectly charming.” Lord Traneford signaled the footman. “Bring us four dozen of four different varieties of your finest biscuits, including Shrewsbury cakes and sugar biscuits.”
As Erik dealt thirteen cards to each player for their fifth round of whist, he could not help but admire the noble heart of his partner seated across from him. Even though Traneford had sought to humiliate her in front of all of London society upon their first meeting, when given the opportunity to return the slight, Muriel chose instead to shield him from ridicule. Not only that, but she had shared a piece of herself that might have been jeered as well. As it was, their playing for biscuits took flight, and a half hour into their game, the lady of the house, Lady Merrion, approached their table, eyes sparkling.
“What a novel idea, Miss Beau. The rest of the guests have begun requesting biscuits for play as well. I simply had to thank you for transforming my little card room into the talk of the party! Everyone is attempting to gain a table now to play for cookies.”
“I hope I did not put your cook out by instigating this run on biscuits?”
Lady Merrion laughed, fluttering her egret-feather fan. “She has sent every biscuit in the house upstairs, and I just sent a footman to have Gunter’s open for us to raid their supply for the morrow. We cannot have our guests departing unhappy because we ran out.” She patted Muriel on the shoulder. “It has been a delight to have you, my dear, and I hope you will call upon me this week.”
“It would be my pleasure, my lady.” Muriel smiled up to the hostess before Lady Merrion sauntered off to attend her other guests.
Muriel won trick after trick, finally bringing their score to five points, winning the game at last. She piled her mound of biscuits and slid them over to Erik. “You need these more than I. I heard your London house does not yet employ a cook?”
“Where on earth did you hear that?”
“The maids talk.” She grinned.
“But I only just hired them.” Erik mumbled around a Shrewsbury cake.
“Be careful or all of London will know your secrets before the week is out,” Muriel teased, sending his heart to stammering even as she and their party rose. Lord Traneford claimed her arm once more, leading her away into the crowd.
To his pleasure, she looked over her shoulder and smiled at him.
Chapter Eleven
“WHERE ARE YOU TAKING US?” Charlotte gripped the side of the curricle, bracing herself for Muriel’s wild turn.
“St. James Street!” Muriel called, gritting her teeth and fighting the urge to close her eyes at the terror of driving a pair of horses through London. There were far too many obstacles for comfort, and some of them weren’t even stationary. But after yesterday’s party at the Merrions’ where Lord Traneford played her doting escort, Muriel set aside her fears of driving the curricle and took Charlotte with her to end her suspicions of Lord Traneford once and for all.
She could not trust Lady Ingram’s generous assessment of the man’s intentions, not after his horrendous first introduction to her. She had forgiven him, but she doubted his change of heart, especially after Erik’s declaration that the man had been a trial as a boy and at university. However, working in Egypt did put him in a more favorable light, as surely it took some amount of character to relinquish one’s comfortable lifestyle in pursuit of passion and bugs.
“Pardon me, Miss Muriel. Did you say you were directing us toward the male precinct after the morning hours?” Charlotte’s voice rose as they narrowly avoided a potato vendor and his cart. “You told Lady Ingram we were just going for a leisurely drive, and I daresay, this is neither leisurely nor just a drive. The acceptable hours for shopping in the precinct have already passed and—”
