“Captain!” Holly bounced to her feet like a puppet on a string, looking as if she’d been caught filching the crown jewels.
Everard, after seeming to be frozen to his chair, slowly pushed himself upright. “Kincade,” he mouthed so stiffly Royce could swear he heard the man’s jaws crack.
Holly sucked in a harsh breath before managing, “He wished to see the children.”
Royce raised a blond brow. “You wished to see my children, Everard? How curious.”
Surprisingly, Charles Everard stood his ground. “Damn you, Kincade, they weren’t your children when you were extorting money for their keep!”
“A bit of cash was the least you could do. But I gave them my name, and now they’re mine. I’ll thank you to keep your distance.”
“They’re Charles’s blood!” Holly’s determined voice penetrated the hostility thickening the air between the two men.
“They were his blood while still in the womb, and he walked away.”
“And I’m sorry for that,” Everard burbled. “I had no idea how it would feel to be a father.”
“He’s to be married soon,” Holly interjected. “He only wants to see them occasionally.”
Arms crossed, Royce looked the much slimmer Charles Everard up, down, and back again. “Is that so?”
“Yes, dash it all. I mean no harm.”
Royce gave him the look that had made many a man far stronger than Everard quail. “You don’t think you’ve already done enough harm?” Wisely, Everard remained silent. The captain scowled as he took a few moments to study the problem. “Very well,” he said at last, “you may see the twins, but not more than once a month, and not when I am in residence. To make sure of it, I’ll post a guard.”
“A guard!” Holly gasped.
Royce favored Everard with a disdainful curl of his lips. “One of Nick Black’s men. That should do the job.”
“You’re trying to scare him off!” Holly protested.
“And that would make you sad?” Royce challenged, his blue eyes so stormy they were close to gray.
“No, of course not,” Holly countered hastily, “but if he merely wishes to see them, surely that’s not a problem.”
“Who knows what he wishes to do with them? I’ll post a guard.”
Do with them? Did the captain actually share her former fear that Charles might steal the twins? Or—could it be?—he was more worried about Charles coaxing her back to his bed? Merciful heavens, was it possible . . .?
A glance at her husband’s stern face, his posture adamant, his arms crossed over his chest, and she realized argument was useless. Holly allowed her shoulders to slump, giving up the fight. At least for the moment. After a curt nod, Royce turned to Everard. “You’ve seen them. Time to go.” The banker’s son departed almost as swiftly as a cuckoo popping out of a clock, grabbing his hat from a grinning Tildy on his flight to the front door.
“How could you?” Holly wailed as the door shut behind the father of her children. “Rag-mannered nonsense, that’s what it is. Throwing him out, posting a guard . . . are you mad?”
“My house, my rules.”
Arms akimbo, Holly huffed a great breath before spitting out, “It’s my house. I’m the one who lives here month after month while you sail the seven seas.”
“I sail the Atlantic and the Caribbean,” Captain Kincade responded, his jaw set so hard he could barely get the words out. “And—”
“Charles’ money paid for this house!”
“And if I see him again, I’ll likely choke the life out of him!”
“Oh.” Holly’s hands unclenched. She studied his grim scowl. Could it be her earlier suspicions were true? “Good God, Captain, are you . . . jealous?”
Royce slumped into the chair Charles Everard had vacated, head down, staring at the floor. Except what met his gaze wasn’t the carpet but a fast-crawling baby aimed straight for his boots. Tiny fingers cast smudges on the polished surface, pulling, climbing . . . and then Andrew was up, tiny hands braced on Royce’s knees, blue eyes shining with triumph. “Da? Da?” The baby smiled, and if Royce had been guilty of male posturing before, now he was well and truly caught. Father for life.
Across the room, Holly bit back a sob. Relief? Gratitude? A cessation of fear? Likely all three. The captain had returned home to find her entertaining her former lover. Marriage or no marriage, he could have thrown her out in Charles’s wake, leaving her penniless on the streets of London with no choice but to return to her old profession. Or slink back to the shelter of the Academy, a total failure. The best Lady R could do for her would be the life of a farmer’s wife, gathering eggs, slopping pigs . . .
And, oh dear God, the captain would have every right to keep the children, who were legally his since they’d been born after their marriage. He’d even told her he wanted a family . . .No. Captain Royce Kincade was a shrewd, calculating man who accepted his courtesan wife and her children in return for his precious Venturer. An honorable man, he would stick to his bargain, no matter what. At least until that blasted ship was his. So . . .she had at least another year of respite.
Unless he decided to beat her. Visions of Cecilia’s tale of being beaten by her lover whirled through her head. The captain wouldn’t . . . would he? Cecy hadn’t thought the marquess capable of such a thing either. Holly’s stomach roiled. Truly, she barely knew the man. A sailor hardened by world travel might be capable of anything.
“Missus? Missus?” Dragged out of her uncomfortable reverie, Holly looked up to find Tildy gazing at her with considerable anxiety. “It’s that Fetch, Missus. He’s here and he ain’t a bit happy cuz Mrs. Balfour said as how Jesse had to stay in the room with him and our Cathy.”
Dear Lord, not now!
She should make the captain do this. But no. Fetch might be a young rooster, but he was no more likely to back down than the captain was. Particularly when his temper had yet to cool after his confrontation with Charles Everard. Another acrimonious exchange they did not need. Holly heaved a sigh and headed toward a modest-sized room that served as study, library, and sewing room, and now as a place where Fetch and Cathy could meet, as long as Jesse stayed with them.
Holly paused in the doorway, struck by the sight of an unusually strong spring sun haloing Fetch’s blond hair. He was standing, head thrown back, hands fisted at his sides, like some young Viking raider gathering his inner forces before storming an unsuspecting village. If that village hadn’t been named Holly Kincade, she would have been all admiration. Nick Black had certainly known what he was doing when he snatched this one off the streets.
“I’ve got no quarrel with you, missus,” Fetch ground out, his sky blue eyes gone stone cold. “It’s the captain I want to see.”
“Best you talk to me,” Holly said, pleased that her voice didn’t waver. She peered around Fetch to find Cathy hovering behind him, as if using her long-time protector as a shield. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, sit down, the pair of you. No one’s going to eat you. I even have more than a little sympathy. So sit. Now! You too, Jesse,” she added, nodding toward a straight chair in the corner.
With only a slight lessening of the stiffness in his shoulders, Fetch seated Cathy in the chair behind the desk, which effectively created a barricade between Holly and his dollymop. Again, she had to give him credit for thinking on his feet. He settled himself on a corner of the desk, crossed his arms, and challenged, “So let’s hear it then.” Insolent eyes swept her from head to toe. “Got the captain wrapped round your little finger, have you?”
Calling on every lesson in deportment she had been forced to endure while at the Academy, Holly walked across the room like a lady of the manor and sat down in her favorite sewing chair.
Fetch’s eyes narrowed as he realized she had deliberately given him pride of place, allowing his head to tower considerably higher than hers. “What’cha up to, missus?” he demanded, his hard-earned accent slipping more than a little.
Up to? If she only knew. It would be fatal to start this conversation with “When I was your age,” but what else could she say? She’d been just as young, just as sure she knew exactly what she was doing. Just as confident nothing could ever go wrong.
“A year and a half ago,” she said at last, “I had everything I had ever dreamed of. A fine gentleman to love me, clothing, jewels, servants. I was at the pinnacle of my profession, indulged, pampered, sparkling with life. Admired by men, envied by other women. After years of struggle, I’d made it to the top. Nothing could go wrong.”
Good. She had their attention, even Jesse’s.
“But we are all human, after all. Emotions—passion, arrogance, selfishness—are powerful things. They seize us tight, cloud our minds. It’s so easy to be careless. And then, poof, it’s all gone, and we discover we have feet of clay, just like everyone else.” Holly studied the three young people, one at a time. Fetch’s defiant features had eased into a thoughtful frown. Cathy, eyes wide, appeared stricken, Holly’s message resonating loud and clear. Jesse seemed to be examining the carpet, but his head was nodding, as if to say he, too, understood.
“But, missus, a soft voice whispered, “we ain’t never . . .”
“I ain’t stupid,” Fetch declared when Cathy’s words trailed into silence. Defiance radiated from every pore.
“Nonetheless,” Holly shot back, “you’re reaching the age when it will become more and more of a problem, and I doubt you want to see your Cathy with a full-blown belly for many a year yet.”
Fetch slid off the table, standing tall and proud. “I kin take care of me own.”
“You’ll bloody well take care of your own by keeping your prick in your pants.” They all gaped as the captain strode into the room, dwarfing the rest of them with his presence.
“Go away!” Holly cried. “You’re the bull in the china shop. You’ll spoil it all.”
To everyone’s astonishment, Cathy suddenly threw herself forward, dropping on her knees at the captain’s feet. “Don’t send me back, Cap’n. I swear we won’t do it ’til I’m growed. I seen too much grief to do that to m’self. Much worse than whut happened to the missus. Please, Cap’n. Let me stay.” She raised a tear-stained face to the captain, revealing lovely but stricken features that Holly suspected the Devil himself could not have resisted.
In one sweeping motion the captain picked the child up and deposited her in Fetch’s arms. “Bloody hell, I never said you couldn’t touch the girl! All I’m asking is that you have someone with you to keep in check what we all know is bound to happen when lust takes over. Well, boy, do you want her belly full sail before she’s fourteen? Do you?”
Fetch wrapped his arms around Cathy, eyeing the captain over her shoulder. “You know I don’t. And I’m not some weak-kneed gentleman who has no control or don’t give a shite about nobody but himself.”
“No, you’re not,” Royce agreed. “But you’re still not seeing her alone. If you care for her, you’ll give her the respect the nobs give their women. She’ll be chaperoned at all times or you don’t set foot over this threshold.”
Holly winced. When her da had said something similar, she’d run off to London. Would these children be wiser?
“Do you want Cathy to go back to the orphanage?” the captain inquired in a soft tone that nonetheless sent shivers up Holly’s spine. “For that’s the third choice.”
Fetch tightened his grip on Cathy as a sob punctuated her silent tears. Slowly, he shook his head. “No wonder you and Nick get on so well, Cap’n. You drive a hard bargain.”
Royce nodded. “A ship’s captain must have a talent for it.” And then, blast them, they exchanged the look that excluded females of every age, size, and description merely because they were the wrong gender. Sorry, my dear, ours is a world you’ll never understand.
Well, by God, two could play that game! With a huff of disgust, Holly strode out of the room, leaving the men to sort out the details of poor Cathy’s life. Which led to guilt gnawing at her for the remainder of the day. She was responsible for Cathy. The captain would soon be leaving, with nary a backward glance for the motley family in Marigold Cottage. For all his moralizing, what use would he be a thousand miles out to sea?
By nightfall, Holly had worked herself into a seething bundle of righteous indignation. One look at Charles and the captain had assumed the worst. How could he possibly think her so weak-minded she would tumble back into Charles’s arms at first sight? Miserable mawworm that he was. And how dare the great Captain Kincade interfere in her conversation with Fetch and Cathy? She’d had the situation well in hand, and he’d barged in, all flags flying, cannons roaring, blustering over them like . . . like a ship’s captain accustomed to being obeyed.
Holly heaved a heartfelt sigh and eyed her bed with unease. The captain would come, of course he would. The moment he did not find her in his bed, he would come looking for her. The man wanted a family of his own, he was home for three weeks. What else could she expect?
Sitting at her dressing table, Holly shut her eyes tight and struggled to recall her vow of gratitude, her determination to be a good wife. But her temper kept trumping her common sense. This was her house. Charles’s money had paid for it, and God knew she’d earned it! Not just with lust and the sexual flexibility taught at the Academy but with the mental anguish, physical suffering, and sheer courage that came after Charles Everard abandoned her.
The captain gave you his name, allowed you to hold your head up in a world quick to censure.
He didn’t buy my soul!
Legally, you’re his, stock, lock, and barrel. To do with as he pleases.
Never!
’Ware, hot-head. Good men can be as stubborn as the worst of villains.
Be quiet!
Fool! You’ve made your bed, now lie in it. And don’t expect to be alone.
Holly, who could match anyone, including the captain, for stubbornness, ignored her inner voice, jumped up, pacing her bedchamber, fury building with each step. At the click of the door opening, she swung round and demanded, “How dare you interfere in a situation I had well in hand?”