2

“Well, she is my sister, and lives with us when she’s off-island. You go on back home now, Miss Miranda. Eli here will get in touch with the ship we got in mind, and her captain’ll come to see you.”

“I don’t have much time, Rachel. I’d as soon be gone a good week by the time my husband returns.”

“He’ll come after you. Never saw a man so plum crazy ’bout a woman as he is ’bout you.”

“Jared?” Miranda looked genuinely surprised.

“Lord, girl, ain’t he never told you he loves you?”

“No.”

“You ever tell him you love him?”

“I don’t.”

Rachel Latham laughed heartily. “It’s as plain as the nose on yer face that ye’re in love with the man, and he with you, and both of you prob’ly too stubborn to admit it to the other. Didn’t that featherhead mama of yers ever tell you that honesty is the firmest cornerstone on which to build a good marriage? When he catches up with you, girl, tell him you love him, and I guarantee you’ll escape the thrashing he’ll have been planning to give you.” The older woman gave Miranda a hug. “Run along home now, girl. Eli will help make everything right.”

Miranda sailed her little boat back to Wyndsong, and moored it at its dock in Pineneck Cove. She found her horse browsing by Long Pond where she’d left him. Mounting, she rode slowly home musing on what Rachel Latham had said. Jared in love with her? How could that possibly be? He never said so, and he was always teasing or criticizing her. She hardly considered that love, and as for Rachel’s silly accusation that she, Miranda, loved Jared, it was poppycock! He was an arrogant, stubborn man, and while she didn’t hate him, she she Miranda stopped her horse, confused. If she didn’t hate him, what did she feel? She guessed she didn’t know any longer. Annoyed with herself, she kicked Sea Breeze into a canter, and hurried home to tell Amanda the news.

“Who is this captain?” was her twin’s first question.

“The Lathams wouldn’t tell me, but they feel he’s reliable.”

“What if he isn’t? We could be ravished, and sold into slavery. I hear there are plantations in the West Indies that breed white slaves, and they’re always looking for beautiful women to … to use.”

“Good Lord, Amanda! Whoever told you a thing like that?”

“Suzanne, of course. A young girl in the village where their country house is located was accused of stealing a squire’s horse. She hadn’t really, she’d only borrowed it on a dare, but the squire pressed charges and she was sentenced to be sold as a bondslave in the West Indies. When she finally was able to smuggle a letter to her family two years later, she told of being forced to mate with certain white slaves in order to produce other slaves for their master. She already had one child, and was expecting another.”

Miranda shuddered. “That is disgusting,” she said. “I am appalled at Suzanne’s repeating such a tale. I am sure it is not true at all. And besides the captain Eli has in mind is an English nobleman. Perhaps he even knows Adrian.”

“Have you told Mama yet?”

“No, and I shall not until it is all settled.”

They were at dinner that night when Jemima appeared, pursing her lips with disapproval, and announced in a tart voice, “There’s a man here to see you. I put him in the front parlor.”

“Do not disturb us,” said Miranda, rising from the table and hurrying out of the room. She smoothed her fair hair as she went, and brushed crumbs from her sapphire gown. Placing her hand firmly on the parlor doorknob, she turned the handle and walked confidently into the room.

A man of medium height with wavy ash-brown hair styled, amazingly, in the London fashion stood by the fireplace. He turned and came toward her smiling a sweet smile, and she noticed how perfect and white his teeth were. He appeared to be a little under thirty years old, and his dark blue eyes sparkled with good humor.

“Mistress Dunham, I am Captain Christopher Edmund of the Seahorse , out of London. I’ve been given to understand that I may be of aid to you.” His dark eyes quickly took in her youth, her unusual beauty, the expensive gown with exquisite hand-made cream-colored lace at its high neck and at the ends of the long, tight sleeves. The cameo brooch at her throat was magnificent, of the best workmanship.

“Captain Edmund, how do you do.” She offered her hand, he kissed it politely, and then she waved him to a chair. “Pray be seated, sir. May I offer you a brandy?”

“Thank you, yes, madam.”

She walked slowly to the table that held the decanters and glasses, poured the amber liquid into a Waterford snifter, and served him. He sniffed and his eyes widened in appreciation. She smiled. Putting the liquid to his lips, he sipped, and then said, “Now, ma’am, how can I be of service to you?” He had the speech of a highborn English gentleman. Relaxing a little, Miranda sat down across from him in a matching cream brocade chair.

“I need immediate passage to England, sir, for myself, my sister, and my mother.”

“I am not a passenger vessel, ma’am.”

“We must get to England!”

“Why?”

“I am not in the habit of discussing personal business with a stranger, Captain. Suffice it to say that I will pay you double the usual passage, and supply our own provisions and water.”

“And I am not in the habit of taking a beautiful woman aboard my ship without knowing a bit more than ‘I must get to England.’ I repeat, ma’am, why?”

She threw him a furious look, and he almost laughed, for he could see she was trying very hard not to lose her temper. He liked her spirit. Sighing, she said, “My sister is scheduled to be married the twenty-eighth of June to Adrian, Lord Swynford. Because of this stupid blockade we cannot get to England, and if we don’t ”

“The dowager dragon will use it as an excuse to marry young Adrian to another heiress.”

“How do you know that?!” Slowly, comprehension dawned. “Christopher Edmund! Pray, sir, are you by chance related to Darius Edmund, the Duke of Whitley?”

“I am his brother, ma’am. The second brother. There are two after me. Surely you know the silly rhyme they have about us. ‘One for the title, one for the sea, one for the army, the last’s the clergy.’ ”

She laughed. “I have heard it, but I have met your eldest brother, sir. He was one of Amanda’s suitors last season. But, of course, there was no one but Adrian from the moment they met.”

“My brother was quite disappointed, I know, but your sister is better off with young Swynford.”

“How disloyal of you, sir!” she teased.

“Not at all, ma’am. Darius is ten years my senior, a widower of rather eccentric habits. Were he of a more winning nature I’m sure your sister would have chosen to be a duchess rather than a simple lady.”

“My sister is marrying for love, sir.”

“How refreshingly novel, ma’am. And did you also marry for love?”

“Is that information necessary to obtain our passage, Captain?”

He laughed. “ Touché , ma’am! Well, despite your sister’s cruel treatment of my older brother, I shall be happy to give your family passage. But I sail on tomorrow night’s tide. It’s becoming far too risky hanging about your coast.” He grinned mischievously. “Besides, I’ve traded off all my goods, and my hold is just about chock full of American merchandise. I am now ready to sail home, make a fat profit, and spend the next few months enjoying the gaming halls, and the charming Cyprians of London. On my way home, I shall more than enjoy the company of three elegant ladies of the bon ton.”

Miranda was elated. It had been so simple, and she was sure now that Jared was merely being difficult in refusing to take them to London. Captain Edmund was obviously not concerned about danger. “If you think it safe, Captain,” she said, “you may anchor your ship in Little North Bay below the house. It’s a deep but well-sheltered harbor, and you can fill your water casks here on Wyndsong. I regret it is too early in the year for me to offer you any fresh produce, but only daffodils grow here in early April.”

“Most kind of you, ma’am. I shall certainly take the opportunity to bring Seahorse into the safety of your bay tonight under cover of darkness.”

Miranda rose. “I should like to introduce you to Mama and Amanda now. Will you take coffee with us?”

He stood. “Yes, ma’am. Most kind.”

She jerked at the bellpull, and Jemima nearly fell through the door. Miranda took a quick breath so she wouldn’t laugh, and said in a cool, level voice, “Please tell my mother and sister that I would like them to join us here for coffee.”

Taken aback by Miranda’s tone, Jemima bobbed a curtsey and answered in a subdued voice, “Yes, ma’am.” She backed out and closed the door.

Miranda wished to know more about her rescuer.

“So you are one of four brothers, sir?”

“Four brothers and three sisters. Darius, of course, is the eldest, and then came the three girls, Claudia, Octavia, and Augusta. Mama finished her classical period with the girls, and the three boys that followed have reasonably English names Christopher, George, and John. John, by the way, was at Cambridge with Adrian. He’s to be the clergyman, and George is the soldier. Prinny’s regiment.”

“You seem to be well taken care of. I was not aware that Whitley was such a wealthy dukedom.” Miranda stammered, realizing too late that she was being rude.

“It isn’t really. Darius is just your usual well-to-do peer, and much of that is due to his first wife. Our mother, however, had three brothers, all titled, and all bachelors. Each uncle was given a younger Edmund as a godson, and we were each named heir to our godfathers. I’m the Marquis of Wye, George is Lord Studley, and young John will one day be a baron, though I imagine he’d prefer a bishopric,” laughed Christopher Edmund. He liked this friendly young woman, and hadn’t at all minded her remark about his family’s wealth.

The parlor door opened and the captain rose to his feet as Dorothea and Amanda entered.

“Miranda, who is this gentleman?” demanded Dorothea, attempting, as she sometimes did, to regain her old authority.

Miranda ignored her mother’s tone, saying smoothly, “Mama, may I present Captain Christopher Edmund, the Marquis of Wye. Captain Edmund has agreed to give us passage to London aboard his ship, the Seahorse . We sail tomorrow evening and, with good winds and no storms, I imagine we should make England by the middle or the end of May in plenty of time for Mandy’s wedding. Captain Edmund, my mother, also Mistress Dunham. I think that to avoid confusion it would be permissible for you to address me by my given name in private.”

“Only if you will return the compliment and call me Kit, as all my friends do.” He turned to Dorothea and, bowing elegantly, took her hand and kissed it. “Mistress Dunham, I am delighted, ma’am. I believe my mama had the pleasure of taking tea with you last season when my brother Darius was so smitten with Miss Amanda.”

Totally taken aback, Dorothea gasped. “Indeed, sir. Very cordial, your mama.”

“And Captain, my twin sister, Amanda, who is soon to be Lady Swynford.”

Again Kit Edmund bowed. “Miss Amanda, having met you at last, I must pity my poor brother Darius his great loss. But I congratulate you on your good sense in turning him down.”

Amanda’s two dimples appeared as she smiled. “La, sir, how naughty you are.” Then she became serious. “Are you really going to take us to England?”

“Yes, I am. How could I refuse your sister’s plea, and how could I ever face Adrian Swynford again if I didn’t take you?”

“Thank you, sir! I know it’s dangerous for you, but ”

“Dangerous? Nonsense! Nothing to it. Britannia rules the waves, y’know.”

“We are most grateful, sir.”

Jemima flounced in bearing the coffee tray. “Where do you want it?” she demanded.

“Captain … Kit, would you set up the tea table by the fire? Thank you so much. Put it there, Mima, then you may go. Mama, will you pour? Oh, dear, no, you can’t, can you? I can see you’re much too overcome by our good fortune.” Miranda seated herself calmly at the tea table and, lifting the silver coffeepot, poured some of the velvety dark liquid into a dainty porcelain cup. “Give this to Mama, please, Amanda,” said Miranda sweetly, gazing innocently over at Dorothea, who had collapsed in a sidechair.

“Will your father and husband be accompanying you, Miranda?” asked Kit Edmund conversationally as she handed him his coffee.

“Papa passed on some months now, Kit. And unfortunately, my husband cannot come due to the press of business.”

“Miranda!”

“Mama?”

Dorothea was rapidly recovering. “Jared has forbidden this trip!”

“No, Mama, he has not. He has said only that there are no ships because of the blockade, and that he does not choose to risk one of his own vessels. At no time did he say that we could not go.”

“Then why this unseemly haste? Wait until Jared returns.”

“Captain Edmund cannot wait a week or more, Mama. We are fortunate to have found a ship at all, and I am extremely grateful that Kit is willing to take us.”

“I shall not accompany you! I will not be party to your unseemly behavior,” snapped Dorothea.

“Very well, Mama, we are then faced with a choice. Amanda and I can cross the ocean unchaperoned , which will, of course, seem very strange to our family and friends in England. Or,” here she paused for effect, “or Amanda can go to live with you and your new husband at Highlands. I doubt, however, that either Mynheer Van Notelman or his ugly daughters will be overly thrilled to have such a beauty in their midst, stealing all the beaux. The choice, Mama, is yours.”

Dorothea narrowed her gaze, looking from Miranda to Amanda. Both wore angelic expressions. She turned to Captain Edmund, who quickly lowered his blue eyes, but not before she’d caught the gleam of amusement dancing in them. There was really no choice, and both she and her daughters knew it. “You really are a bitch, Miranda,” she said levelly. Then, “What sort of accommodations can you offer us, Captain Edmund?”

“Two connecting cabins, ma’am, one relatively large, the other small. I can’t allow you much space, for I’m not really set up to carry passengers.”

“Do not worry, Mama. And we shall all have brand-new wardrobes in London.”

“You seem to have an answer for everything, Miranda,” said Dorothea tartly, standing up. “I will bid you good evening, Captain, as I find suddenly that I have a great deal to do in a short time.”

Christopher Edmund rose to his feet and bowed. “Mistress Dunham, I shall look forward to having you aboard the Seahorse. ”

“Thank you, sir,” said Dorothea. Without so much as a glance at her daughters, she left the room.

“You are a hard opponent, Miranda,” remarked the Englishman.

“I want my sister happy, Kit.”

“ Has your husband forbidden you this trip?”

“No. It is as I said.”

He laughed softly. “I somehow think that what your husband forgot to say is, nevertheless, what he intended.”

“Oh, please, Captain!” begged Amanda. “You must take us!” Her blue eyes glittered with crystalline tears.

“I have given my word, Miss Amanda,” he replied, envying young Adrian Swynford more as each minute passed. Perhaps he’d do well to stay in London next season and find a sweet young thing. Perhaps he needed a wife.

“Amanda, please don’t cry. You have quite stricken poor Kit helpless already. He could not possibly refuse you now.” Miranda laughed. “Run along, and see to your packing while I complete the financial arrangements.”

“Oh, thank you, sir,” replied Amanda, a small smile beginning to turn up the corners of her rosebud mouth. She curtseyed prettily, and flew from the room.

“What a perfect nobleman’s wife she’ll make,” sighed the young captain.

“Indeed,” murmured Miranda, her sea-green eyes dancing with amusement. It was happening all over again. Strangely, the hurt she might have felt a year ago at being so blatantly overlooked was gone. Jared had been right. Jared! She felt a twinge of guilt, which she pushed quickly away. She was going to London! Moving to the desk, she opened the secret drawer at the center and took out a small pouch. “This should more than cover our passage, I believe,” she said, handing it to him.

He accepted the little velvet bag and knew from its weight that she was being quite generous. “We’ll be anchored in your bay by dawn, Miranda. You may begin bringing your supplies aboard then.

“Miranda, I must ask one thing of you. My crew are not gentlemen. In fact, they are quite rough. You will have to confine yourselves pretty much to your cabins during the crossing, and when you do walk out for exercise I ask that your dress be quite modest and that your hair be covered as well. A woman’s long hair blowing carelessly in the sea breeze can be quite tantalizing.”

Miranda felt a chill of fear. “Are you saying, Kit, that your crew are dangerous?”

“My dear, I thought you understood that. His Majesty’s Navy has taken every decent sailor available. What’s left for the privately owned ships, the blockade runners like myself, are the dregs of the waterfront. I have a first and second officer, and a bosun I rely on, and Charlie, my cabin boy. We keep the rest of the crew in check by fear, by intimidation, and the promise of riches at the end of the voyage. Even so, we officers are outnumbered. The least incident could set off a mutiny. That is why I must ask that you be discreet at all times.”

Suddenly Miranda realized the possible consequences of her reckless actions. Jared had not been unreasonable. It was dangerous. Yet, if they did not go with Kit, Amanda could lose Adrian. I want her to be happy, as I am, thought Miranda, and then she realized what she’d said. I am happy! Yes, I am! Perhaps Mistress Latham is right. Perhaps I do love Jared. It was the first time she’d ever considered such a thing, but she did not shy away from the idea.

Still, she must do this for Mandy. Amanda must have her chance at happiness, too.

“We will be most discreet, Kit, but because of what you’ve told me I want you to anchor in Big North Bay instead of the little bay below the manor house. My people will guide you to Hidden Pond and Hill Brook to fill your water casks. Bring your ship around Tom’s Point at sunset, and our luggage and supplies will be loaded just before we come aboard, under cover of darkness. We will not be visible to your crew if we do it that way.”

“Excellent! You’ve a good head on your shoulders for a woman. Wouldn’t have expected it!” He rose. “My thanks for your hospitality, Miranda. I’ll look forward to seeing you aboard Seahorse. ”

As Kit Edmund returned to his ship he mused over the last hour. Miss Amanda Dunham was an adorable young woman without a doubt, but a man would be foolish to overlook Mistress Miranda. There was a young woman with beauty and character, and he promised himself that he would get to know her better during their voyage. He suspected that she could talk to a man about things that would interest him, and that she did not engage in the silly prattle that, with most females, passed for conversation.

Miranda had seen Kit to the door, and then returned to the parlor to snuff the candles. Seating herself in a wing chair before the crackling fire, she listened to the rising wind in the bare oak trees outside. They were always late to leaf, and always late to lose their leaves. The willows and the maples were already greening. She would miss spring on Wyndsong, but as soon as Amanda was safely wed she’d be on the first ship back she could get. By late summer she’d be safely home on Wyndsong, safe with Jared. Never again would she leave him or Wyndsong.

She wished she had realized sooner that all those strange and conflicting feelings she had felt were the beginnings of her love for him. Did he really love her, as Rachel Latham believed. She closed her sea-green eyes, and pictured him, remembering his green eyes growing dark with lust, his tanned, hawklike visage, the thin, sensuous lips bending over her. Her face grew warm; and she could almost hear his deep voice saying, “ You will love me, Miranda, because I will it, and I am not a man to be denied. ” She shivered. Why had he said that? Was it because he loved her? Or was it only his pride demanding she love him? Could it have been only that?

“Damn!” she swore softly. She wished she knew the answer. Standing up, she paced back and forth in the dark for a few minutes before lighting a chimney lamp, setting it on the desk, and sitting down to write to him. Drawing a sheet of cream-colored vellum from a drawer, she picked up the quill.

The wind howled mournfully in the tall oaks, and long dark clouds skipped across the sky playing hide and seek with the quarter moon. A log snapped loudly, and crashed into the grate in a shower of sparks. She jumped, the pen slipping from her hand. Then as the tension began to drain from her, she laughed. Picking up the quill again, she began writing swiftly with sure, clear strokes.