Chapter One

S omething was not right.

Unrest flittered in Emiline Langston's stomach, pricking the hairs on the back of her neck as her carriage rocked to a halt outside the family's two-story townhouse. Servants scampered from the house, carrying trunks as they loaded them on a coach.

Curiosity and determination to discover what was going on enveloped her as panic settled in her chest. She gave her hand to the footman as he helped her down from her carriage, and then headed toward the front door. Several soldiers stood guard near the white wraparound porch as if they expected trouble at any moment. They eyed her warily until she walked closer, and then their postures relaxed a bit. She was used to being watched closely, since her uncle was lord chancellor, but today's display of guards greatly unnerved her.

After striding into the house, she tugged on the ties of her bonnet to loosen them. "Can someone explain to me why there are so many soldiers outside?" she asked as two of the servants rushed by.

"My Lady Sarah." The housekeeper scampered toward Emiline from the parlor. "Thank the Lord you are back, but you must make haste. There is no time to lose."

Inwardly, Emiline cringed. Lately, she had been so sick of people using her first name instead of her middle name, Emiline—the very name her mother used to call her. But then again, since dreaming of her mother last night and how Emmie missed her, how could she not become nostalgic?

"I don't understand why—" Her words were interrupted when the housekeeper hooked an arm around her elbow, whisking Emmie up the stairs toward her bedroom. As they passed by the first two guest rooms, the servants rushed around inside, shoving clothes into trunks.

Emmie glanced at Hester, still pulling her along. Lines of worry etched the older woman's round face at the corners of her eyes and mouth. A sheen of moisture touched the servant's forehead.

"Hester, I beg you, please tell me what is amiss." Emmie glanced into another room and saw the same chaos. "Why is everyone so panicked?"

As they reached Emmie's room, Hester stepped inside first, heading directly to the armoire. Already three trunks sat open on the bed. Emmie couldn't understand why they needed to leave. She and her father had only arrived from Paris five days earlier to stay for the summer.

"My lady, your family is in great danger. A threat has been made against your uncle and his family. Your father fears for your life."

Emmie slowly removed her bonnet as she tried to absorb the housekeeper's words. She didn't approve of what her uncle had been doing all of these years. In her opinion, he should stop trying to control people's lives. But would those people really harm his entire family?

Hester fanned her red face. "Mobs are forming as we speak. They want to punish all of the lord chancellor's relatives."

Terror climbed through Emmie's body, clutching her heart. "Are Father and I returning to Paris, then?"

"No, unfortunately. Because your father has duties here in North Devon, he will stay and protect the family's estates, but he is sending you to Greenwich."

" What? " Emmie shrieked. "Why there? That is at least a half-day's journey."

Hester took a gown from the armoire, carefully folded it, and laid it in the trunk with trembling hands. "Some of your father's friends live there—Mr. and Mrs. Crampton."

Recollections of her father telling her about the Cramptons flitted through her mind. Her father probably hadn't seen them since her mother died fifteen years ago. "Do they know I'm coming?"

"Yes, my lady. Just this morning, your father sent a messenger to send them a telegram."

Footsteps pounded on the floor down the hallway. Emmie swung toward the door just as her lady's maid ran into the room. Strands of her dark brown hair had escaped her mop cap and clung to her pale cheeks.

She did a quick curtsy. "Lady Sarah, your father instructed me just now that we are to have you packed and on your way within the hour."

Impossible! There was no way they would have her packed that quickly. "Then there is no time to stand around and converse." Emmie marched to another armoire, swung open the doors, and started yanking out gowns. "I shall help pack." Glancing over her shoulder, she peered at her maid. "Anna, I suggest you start on those drawers in the corner."

"Yes, my lady."

To some servants, seeing Emmie packing her own trunks might seem out of character for the daughter—an only child—of an earl. Still, Lady Sarah Emiline Langston had always been different. As a child, they could only afford a few servants, so she learned to do things herself. Two years after her mother died and her father had been given the title, Emmie had more servants than she needed. Having a father with a new title changed everything, it seemed. She missed doing things with him, just the two of them.

With a wistful sigh, she recalled when they used to go sailing. He had taught her everything about commanding a boat. How she had loved sailing, only because it made her feel so powerful—so in control of her own life. Her father had even taught her how to ride a horse. She had entered many horse races as a child and won ribbons. As she grew to be a young lady, it was unheard of for a mature girl to compete in horse races, which saddened her greatly. At that point in her life, her father had become more political and couldn't find time for his daughter.

Heavier footsteps thudded up the hallway and stopped at the door. She knew who it was before looking his way. Her father's presence commanded attention, no matter where he traveled or whom he encountered.

Emmie glanced over her shoulder and met her father's stare. "I'm almost packed."

He glanced at the housekeeper. "Will you give me a private moment with my daughter?"

"Yes, my lord." Hester curtsied and hurried out.

Anna turned to follow the other servant, but Emmie's father touched her arm. "I would like for you to stay."

"As you wish." Anna curtsied, too.

After he closed the door, he strode closer, his arms folded over his massive chest. He was a large man and not one to be trifled with. Worry lines creased his forehead and around his mouth. It seemed he had aged several years since Emmie had visited with him this morning. Definitely, the strain from the recent upset had taken its toll.

"Father, what is amiss?"

For a few long and awkward moments, he stood in silence. Finally, he cleared his throat. "I have a wild idea, and I need both of you to do something for me."

Emmie exchanged glances with Anna before she returned her focus to her father. "What is it?"

"Where I'm sending you, there are many people who loathe your uncle. They would rather cause mayhem and make others miserable than try to find peace."

Emmie frowned. "Do you blame them, Father? Uncle Edward isn't very wise—"

"Please," he interrupted, holding up a hand. "Let me finish."

Nodding, she kept her mouth closed—and her opinions to herself.

"Because it's hard to decipher who exactly is sending this threat against our family, I cannot trust those I don't know. It is for that reason I'm sending you to my friends, Henry and Martha Crampton. But because I don't trust their neighbors, I cannot have my daughter in danger with me so far away." He took a deep breath. "Because of that, I have formulated a plan that only we three will know about." He looked at Anna. "Before you reach Greenwich, you both will switch roles. Anna, you will become Lady Sarah"—he met Emmie's wide eyes—"and you, my darling daughter, will be Lady Sarah's maid."

Slowly, Emmie shook her head, not quite comprehending the idea. "You want us to switch places?"

"Yes. Just while you are staying with Mr. and Mrs. Crampton."

"But will they not realize we are fooling them?"

"No." He stepped closer and stroked her cheek lovingly. "Mr. and Mrs. Crampton have never met you. If you and Anna play your parts precisely, my friends will never know of the deception." He motioned his head toward Anna. "You and your maid are only a few months apart in age. You both have brown hair and blue eyes. During your carriage ride, you can instruct Anna on how she needs to act."

"Oh, my lord," Anna said quickly, her voice raised in excitement. "Lady Sarah doesn't need to instruct me. I have been her maid for several years. I know how the daughter of an earl is required to act."

He smiled wide. "Splendid. Then I shall need you to instruct my daughter how to act like a servant." He glanced back at Emmie and winked. "I fear my daughter has been pampered these past several years."

Inwardly, Emmie growled. She was quite certain she would not need lessons. "Father, forgive me for voicing my opinions, but I cannot act as a maid. It's just not done. I would be expected to know how to do things. I will certainly mess up and then cause suspicion."

"Hmm…" He nodded and rubbed his chin. "I do see your point. All right, then, instead of Lady Sarah's maid, you shall be her companion. I'm quite certain Mr. and Mrs. Crampton will have a maid to tend to Lady Sarah while you are there."

Without being able to stop herself, Emmie snorted a laugh. "A lady's companion? Truly, Father, I'm not old enough to play that role."

"On the contrary, my dear. Not all lady's companions are old. We will tell Mr. and Mrs. Crampton that you are Lady Sarah's poor relative, and you have been her companion for three years now. You will not be required to do all the duties of a maid, and you shall have more freedom to do other things when you are not with Lady Sarah."

Emmie kept quiet as she considered her father's idea. The more she thought, the more she realized this just might work. "All right. I believe I can handle being a lady's companion."

"Splendid." He kissed his daughter's forehead. "Now that is all settled, I will have only a few soldiers following you during your journey. They will follow until you are close to my friend's estate."

Her heart sank. "But… would the soldiers not draw attention to us if they are following?"

He shook his head. "I shall instruct them not to follow too closely." He took his daughter's hands and squeezed. "I believe your journey will go smoothly. When you reach Greenwich, I want you to enjoy yourself. Think of this as a holiday, if you will. Try not to worry about your papa or your uncle."

Emmie's heart clenched, and she frowned. "That is asking a lot of me. I cannot help but worry about you." Her uncle, however, she would love to forget completely.

Her father pushed his fingers through his graying black hair. "My dear little Emmie, you worry entirely too much about me."

"Father, it's hard not to." Tears pricked her eyes. "I don't want to lose you like we lost Mother."

"Nonsense. Your mother was killed by a pirate ship."

"Exactly. What if they are part of the same group who despise Uncle Edward?"

Chuckling, he patted her cheek. "My dear, you are too intelligent, and you know too much about politics. Rest assured, all will be well."

She released a pent-up breath. "Promise me you will not do anything rash and get involved where you shouldn't."

He offered a sympathetic half-smile. "Not to worry, my dear little Emmie. The Lord will watch over both of us."

Her father turned and opened the bedroom door before leading them down the grand stairs to the front door. Servants loaded trunks onto the coach as Anna climbed into the vehicle. Emmie hugged her father before getting in herself. Once she sat, he reached in and grasped her clutched hands.

"Godspeed, my dear."

"I shall see you soon." She smiled, although she didn't put much effort into the emotion due to her jittery feelings.

As the coach jerked into action, her heartbeat slowed considerably. The next little while was definitely not a holiday, no matter what her father tried to tell her. And she had promised to be a lady's companion the whole time.

Good grief, what had she been thinking to agree to her father's plan?

*

Captain Broderick Worthington gnashed his teeth as he gripped the ship's railing with one hand and balanced the spyglass with the other, watching the enemy ship coming toward them. All the crew on the Avenger scrambled into action as Broderick shouted orders over his shoulder. His ship was fast, so it was perfect for his needs to find disloyal men and bring them to justice.

One of Broderick's great-uncles, Captain Hawk—also known as Marcus Thorne—had once commanded the Avenger. Now the ship was Broderick's, as long as he could get away from the French vessel heading right for them. For a few years, the Avenger had taken command of some of Napoleon's ships. Was it any wonder the emperor's armies wanted revenge?

"Captain, we are picking up speed."

Broderick lowered his spyglass and settled his attention on his first mate, Phillip Daughtery. The wind whipped the man's long auburn hair around his face in disarray. Under the sun, the strawberry tint was more prominent. Needless to say, Phillip always stood out in a crowd.

"That we are, Daughtery." Broderick glanced at his crew. "It appears Lieutenant Mercer doesn't know when to give up."

Phillip took a step closer and squinted in the direction of their attacker. "Is that who is after us?"

"It is." Broderick gritted his teeth.

"If I might say, captain, that man will stop at nothing to get his prize. He has a reputation that precedes him. Good men quake in their boots when he is near."

Broderick looked through his spyglass again. "The man has the most wicked eyes I have ever seen, not to mention his ungodly orange hair."

"I must agree with you. Mercer is the spawn of Satan himself."

Broderick blew out an irritated breath. "I feel the wind is on our side today. Let us pray it continues."

He had to trust all would go well. He turned back to the ocean and lifted his spyglass again. "However, I would truly like to know how Lieutenant Mercer knows we were here in the first place. The Avenger has been out of commission for a few months. How would they know where we were headed this time?"

"Do you think there is a spy among us?" Phillip asked in a lower voice.

Broderick swung around and faced his friend. Phillip's panicked expression mirrored the way Broderick felt. "I pray there isn't, but I know not how to explain today's mishap." Sighing, he raked his fingers through his hair. "Today's near capture was too close. I don't want it happening again." He glanced over his shoulder at the vessel that was slowly getting smaller. "If the wind changes, we may not make our escape after all."

From the other ship, a booming noise shook the air around them. The cannonball landed in the water, splashing water on Broderick and Phillip. Broderick strolled to the railing of the quarterdeck and shouted more commands at his crew to pick up speed.

His friend jumped back, his face hard with anger. "What in the blazes do they think they are doing?" Phillip snapped. "Why did they waste a cannonball when they knew it would not get to us?"

"Lieutenant Mercer is arrogant. I believe he truly thought he could hit our ship. Or frighten us into surrendering."

"They are all bloody imbeciles—every last one."

"Indeed." Broderick scrubbed his hand over his unshaven jaw. "Unfortunately, they did get close enough to see us through their spyglasses just as I watched them." He sighed and frowned. "Once we are able to hide the ship and go on land, I think they will be looking for us." His gaze shifted to Phillip's thick patch of auburn hair. "And unfortunately, we are both easy men to spot because of our hair color."

"What do you suggest we do, captain?"

Another cannon boomed through the air, but the projectile fell short of hitting its mark. Thankfully, it wasn't as close as the first one. The Avenger was definitely gaining speed. Broderick was confident the crew would reach their destination without getting caught, but they would all have to go into hiding for a while.

"Once we reach Brighton's port," Broderick answered his friend, "I will instruct everyone to go into hiding. I think we all need to stay someplace we haven't been. That's the only way. We also may need to alter our appearance."

"How do you suggest we do that?"

Broderick shrugged. "By any means we can obtain. In fact, I know of a woman—"

"Of course you do," Phillip interrupted with a snicker. "And a lot of women know you very well too, captain."

Broderick rolled his eyes and tried not to grin. True, he had become a ladies' man in the past few years, but that was neither here nor there. "As I was saying," he continued, "I know an older woman who can dye hair. Perhaps I shall visit her and see what she can do with mine." He scrubbed his raven hair as he peered at Phillip's head. "And I suggest you follow my example."

"I shall, captain."

With a nod, Broderick ended their conversation and strolled back toward the end of the ship so he could finish watching the French vessel that was almost out of sight now. Over the past ten or so years, there had been many times the enemy had nearly captured him. Thankfully, good fortune was on his side.

Doubt snuck inside his mind. Could there be a spy amongst them, as Phillip had suggested? Most of these men he knew from when he was the first mate to Captain Hawk not more than sixteen months ago. Back then, there were many spies, some they didn't know about until Broderick and Marcus almost lost their lives. So why not now?

Growling, Broderick tightened his fingers around the railing. He needed to weed them out, yet how could he accomplish such a feat while he was in hiding? Regardless, he must find a way. His crew depended upon him. He could not… would not let them down!