“Amberly, I’d like a word with you,” Zechariah said as he snuffed his cheroot in a small pewter tray. A plume of smoke rose from the smoldering remains of rolled tobacco, adding to the haze and pungent odor that lingered in the parlor.
Drake stood as Zechariah heaved himself to his feet. Beaufort smoked a clay pipe near the open window. Curiously, Christian Sayer displayed none of his usual acerbic wit. He sat near the unlit fireplace, his feet on a stool, his eyes hooded as though he contemplated a matter of dire consequence.
“Not here.” Zechariah waved Drake toward the open French doors. “In my study across the hall.”
Drake followed the older man into the opposite room and waited for Sayer to light a candle before he took a seat in a padded wingback chair. “How may I be of service, sir?”
Zechariah sat behind his desk and lit an additional trio of candles. His chin dipped to his chest. Rolls of fat ringed his neck, giving him the look of a turtle peering from his shell. He studied his clasped hands for several ticks of the mantel clock, then eyed Drake with a shrewd gaze. “I trust you won’t think me forward for saying so, Amberly, but I believe there’s an attachment forming between you and my ward, Miss Cooper. I wish to know your intentions toward her.”
Drake’s brow arched in surprise. Had his admiration for Elise been so obvious? “I have the best intentions. I wish to marry her, in fact.”
“You’ve asked her then?”
“I’ve broached the subject.”
“What was her response?” Zechariah queried. “Yea or nay?”
Drake stomped down his irritation. He wasn’t used to being questioned like a schoolboy, but Sayer was Elise’s guardian. If—no—when she agreed to marry him, it would make life easier if he had the older man’s consent. “As yet, nay. However, I plan to erode her defenses until she has no will but to answer in the affirmative.”
“I see.” Zechariah chuckled as he shifted a stack of papers. “You’re a bold one, Amberly. I can’t say you’re the first suitor intent on wooing our fair Elise, but I believe you’ll succeed where all the others have failed.”
“Your words are encouraging, sir. May I ask why you believe so?”
Zechariah leaned back in his chair, his amusement apparent. “Because, my dear boy, you’re the first man she’s fancied in return.”
Drake kept his face straight, but his pulse leapt within him. “I’m pleased to hear it.”
“Yet, as her guardian,” Zechariah inspected his fingertips, “I have to see to her well-being.”
“Most certainly. Let me assure you I have her best interests at heart.”
“Perhaps, but what of your circumstances, Amberly? Are you in a suitable situation to provide for Elise’s needs, to ensure her happiness? Or do you plan to stow her away in one of your ships and subject her to the rigors of sea travel?”
“No, she’ll not be floating about the high seas,” Drake replied, a touch wary of his host’s probing questions. “I’m quite capable of caring for my own. I guarantee that as my wife Miss Cooper will want for nothing.”
“And what is your living situation in England?” Zechariah asked nonchalantly.
Drake lowered his eyes and brushed a wrinkle from his linen sleeve. His interest turned toward the window, where a breeze brought in the faint beat of drums. He hadn’t noticed the pagan rhythm until now. He regarded Zechariah, who waited patiently for an answer. Why did he have the feeling there was an ulterior motive lurking beneath the old man’s questions? “I am as well off as anyone, I suppose. Wealthier than some, less so than others.”
“An ambiguous reply, Amberly. I’d wager you’re better off than most.”
Drake studied the man with a carefully blank expression. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not privy to other people’s financial affairs, sir.”
Zechariah picked up a pipe and lit the tobacco. After several deep drags, he eyed Drake through the smoke. “And if this marriage were to take place, how quickly would you like to see it happen?”
“Once she agrees, I wish to marry as soon as it can be arranged. My business here is almost complete, I believe, and I would like to return to England the moment it’s concluded.”
Fleeting surprise rippled over Zechariah’s plump face. “Your business is almost finished? Have you signed your shipping contracts then?”
“Not as yet, but I have leads and prospects.” Drake stood and strolled to the window. He smelled a fire, but couldn’t see one. Leaning against the frame, his eyes searched the darkness for the origin of the drums, but he saw nothing except a sky full of stars and the shadows of swaying trees.
“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been giving your terms some thought.” Zechariah set down the pipe and scratched his shiny pate. “I’d like to hire your fleet if we can come to a more reasonable price.”
Drake’s business instincts rushed to the fore. “And what is reasonable?” he queried suspiciously. “Half my original offer?”
Zechariah hooded his sharp gaze. “Would you take it?”
“Do you suppose me a fool, sir?” One of the candle flames flickered and died. “That’s what I’d be if I let my services go for so paltry a sum.”
“Paltry? You must be joking. Half your price is more than full for most other shipping ventures.”
Drake shrugged as though it mattered not to him. In truth, it didn’t. He had little use for the money. He’d lifted the price to discourage anyone from serious consideration of his offer. If his terms were accepted, he’d have no subterfuge in his hunt for the Fox.
“I couldn’t possibly convince my captains to risk their lives for less than ninety-five percent. As you must know, English ships are the favorite prey for privateers and Frenchies.”
“I know the risks, but you drive a hard bargain, Amberly. Suppose I used my influence to garner Elise’s consent to wed you? Would you offer me a discount then?”
“You can’t be serious,” Drake said, his ire pricked. How dare the old man treat Elise as though she were nothing more than a head of cattle to barter? “I’ll only accept Elise if she comes of her own accord. I was married before, you see, to a woman who wed me for numerous reasons other than myself. It was an unhappy union, not one I care to repeat.”
“I see.” Zechariah steepled his thick fingers and rested his chin on them. “What happened to your wife?”
“She died of a fever several years ago.”
“And there’s been no one since?”
Drake bristled at his host’s audacity, but capped his annoyance. He usually asked the questions. It was a novel experience to be on the receiving end of someone else’s interrogation. “No one serious. I told myself I’d never remarry. As the years passed, the sentiment faded. I engaged myself to another woman, a neighbor’s daughter. I found her morals clashed with my own and broke off with her shortly before I left England.”
“Seems right fickle of you, boy. What could she have done to deserve such coldness on your part? Am I to understand you’d discard Elise if you found she disagreed with you?”
Drake refused to explain the circumstances of his severed engagement. It was none of the old man’s affair. “On the contrary. I don’t believe Elise could do anything I wouldn’t forgive and forget.”
Sayer smiled coolly. “Hmm... I wonder.”
At the slave cabins, a bonfire raged. Flames roared high into the night sky, filling the air with the smoky aroma of burning pine and dry leaves. Laughter flowed freely and the tempting scent of roasting boar made Elise’s mouth water. Drums beat a frenzied pace, enticing a good number of Brixton’s African population to dance with wild abandon.
Elise sat on a stump in the shadows, a child on each knee. An older girl, Mary, stood behind her, braiding her hair. Elise had volunteered to sit with the children while their parents enjoyed a rare hour of merriment.
Prin and Kane had walked into the woods to talk about the baby and share some privacy. Elise expected them back at any time. She’d have to return to the house soon. Zechariah wanted to speak with her at midnight.
She pushed the thought to the back of her mind. Her meetings with her spymaster had grown tense of late and she wanted to enjoy a few stolen moments before returning to face him.
Looking down at the little ones in her arms, she smiled at their sweetness. The youngest child, a baby girl of six months, gnawed on her little fist, while eighteen-month-old Jed clapped disjointedly to the pounding drumbeat. Elise bent her head and nibbled playfully on his neck, laughing when he squealed and giggled.
“Miss Lisie, I can’t braid your hair if you bend your head like dat,” Mary complained.
“I’m sorry, precious.” She sat up straight. Mary was a solemn child and Elise knew the girl performed even the simplest tasks with the seriousness of a grave tender. “I won’t move again until you’re finished.”
She closed her eyes and allowed the drumbeat to pulse through her. Little Jed smoothed his finger over her cheek, drawing her attention to his impish grin. She smiled back. She loved children, but somewhere along the way had given up hope of having her own. For one fanciful moment, she allowed herself to imagine being the mother of Drake’s child. Would a child of theirs have his silky black hair and deep, golden eyes? She wished it could be so.
Elise blinked and kissed the top of the baby’s head. She had no reason for this emptiness in her heart. She’d been content with her lot and clear in her purpose until Amberly had insinuated himself into her life. Soon, she would have a niece or nephew to spoil. She assured herself that when the time came any misplaced longing for a child of her own would disappear.
Mary dropped the completed braid against Elise’s back and the tip brushed her tailbone. The little girl leaned forward and rested her chin on Elise’s shoulder. “I’m all done, Miss Lisie. Who’s dat man starin’ at you over there?”
“What man?” Elise twisted in the direction Mary pointed. Drake stepped from the shadows a few feet away. The fire’s orange glow shimmered on his skin. Her chest tightened, and it was all she could do not to smile like a simpleton.
His straight white teeth flashed in a charming grin as he strode toward her. “I’m surprised to find you here, my love.”
Tenderness washed through her. “What are you doing here, Drake?”
“I heard the drums and came to investigate. I’ve been enjoying the view.”
“Yes, the dancers are quite something, certainly different from what one usually sees in the sedate drawing room of Brixton Hall.”
He crouched before her. His gaze slipped to where Mary peeked over her shoulder. The child ducked behind Elise and whispered a hurried goodbye before she ran toward the row of cabins.
“I wasn’t talking about the dancers,” he said. “You with babes in arms is one of the most delightful views I’ve ever encountered.”
A blush rose to her cheeks and she was grateful for the dark. “You have a knack for flattery, sir. Did you learn the art in school?”
He chuckled. “Of course. I made the highest marks of anyone.”
Jed jumped off her lap before she could reply. She tightened her arm around the baby, who had fallen asleep, and watched as the little boy thrust himself at Drake. Drake accepted the child with ease and settled him on his hip. He found a nearby stump to sit on, and seemed not to notice when the child’s busy fingers demolished his neatly tied cravat.
“Jed likes you,” Elise said, pleasantly surprised he hadn’t pushed the boy away.
Drake’s long dark lashes lifted, exposing his magnetic gaze. “If only you liked me half as well.”
She could drown in those eyes of his and be content. She sought a witty reply, but none came to her. Instead, she chose the truth. “I fancy you a great deal more than I should.”
He grinned as if he’d guessed as much. “Then marry me. We’re drawn to one another. There’s nothing that stands between us to keep us apart. I can provide for you—you’ve nothing to fear.”
His intensity sent a shiver down her back. His words threatened the future she’d planned for herself and Prin. How would he react if she told him of her sister? Would he be horrified like her neighbors would be if they knew she claimed a slave as kin?
She swallowed tightly, teetering on the brink of following her traitorous heart. She wanted to trust him, but didn’t know how. “You don’t miss a single opportunity to press your case, do you, Mr. Amberly? What is your rush?”
“I shall be leaving for England as soon as my business is complete. I refuse to consider returning without you.”
The prospect of never seeing him again made her chest tighten with dread. “Would you leave without me?”
“Will you force me to?” In a driven tone he added, “How can I be more clear in my intentions, Elise? I want you for my wife, my love, the mother of my children. What say you? Will you have me or reject me?”
At the thought of saying no, a sharp, desperate pain sliced through her heart. Oh, how she wanted to say yes, but how could she? She had to stay out the war or lose the chance of ever freeing Prin.
A loud cheer rose from the dancers near the bonfire. Grateful for the distraction, she pretended great interest in the commotion. The roasted boar had been taken from the spit. She looked back to her would-be husband and noticed Jed chewing on a section of his shirt. “He’s teething. You may want to stop him or you’ll soon have a hole in your fine linen.”
Drake glanced at the boy as though he’d forgotten Jed sat in his lap. Gently, he removed the cloth from the child, who immediately began to cry as if his life were ending. Elise stood, careful not to jostle the baby, and beckoned the little boy as he fled Drake’s lap. She handed the baby to Drake and knelt to console the overly tired Jed.
Picking up the little boy, she cuddled him while he cried into the curve of her neck. “The children really should be abed. They’ve been awake all day,” she whispered. Glancing up, she squelched the need to giggle at the sight before her. Drake, infant dangling from his large hands, reflected an expression of unvarnished panic.
“Do you need assistance?” she asked, holding out her free arm to relieve him of the baby. Drake complied in an instant, obviously eager to be rid of the squirming being. Tenderly, she cuddled the whimpering infant while trying not to laugh. “I take it you have little experience with babies?”
Drake dragged his fingers through his hair. The flames shimmered over his high cheekbones and those dark eyes of his shone with self-mockery. “You’ve found me out, sweet.”
She smiled softly. “Are you averse to them, then?”
“My own or other people’s?”
“Do you have your own?”
“None as yet.” He grinned at her meaningfully. “However, to answer your question, I am fond of children.”
Elise glanced at the baby girl she held and smiled. “Based on your smooth handling of this one, I would never have guessed.”
“Go ahead and mock me, sweet. Once our own children arrive, I’ll become an expert child-handler.”
Surprise widened her eyes. He spoke as though they were already wed. Her lashes dipped to shield her study of his lean, sculpted face. She had no doubt he would be an ideal parent: strong, protective, dependable. The exact opposite of her own sire. “It’s been my experience that men avoid child-rearing as though it were a disease.”
He shrugged. “Some may, but I look forward to spending time with my offspring.”
“Does that sentiment extend to changing their soiled diapers as well?” Elise teased.
“I said I plan to be with them, not change them. There will be plenty of nursemaids for that.”
She chuckled and was about to reply when a rustling in the woods drew her attention behind her. Hand in hand, Prin and Kane picked their way through the brush. Kane, a giant of a man, was unmistakable. Black as pitch, his slick, bald head reflected the firelight that revealed his contemplative expression.
“Prin, I’m over here,” Elise called out, relieved to see her sister in much better sorts than when they’d left the house an hour ago.
Prin waved in acknowledgment and gave Kane a quick kiss goodbye. She wove her way around stumps and fallen limbs to join her. “I didn’t know you was still here, Lisie. I thought ol’ man Sayer was of a mind to give you a talkin’ to.”
“Prin,” Elise said with a slight nod in Drake’s direction. “I told you I’d wait here for you. Did you forget?”
Leaning forward, Prin picked up Jed. The little boy sighed in his sleep, but didn’t wake when she draped him over her shoulder. Her gaze darted toward Drake and her eyes flared when she saw him. Her manner instantly more servile, she tipped her head in greeting and curtsied before taking the baby from Elise’s arms. “I’ll take these little bundles to their kin and be waitin’ for you to leave, Miss Elise. Jus’ let me know when you’re ready.”
Choosing to ignore Prin’s big grin and knowing laughter as she walked away, Elise turned to Drake. He stood and offered his hand to help her up. “Your maid, I presume?”
“Yes, Prin has been with me a long time and she’s very dear to me. If I were to consent to wed you, she’d have to come along. I would never consider leaving her here at Brixton Hall.”
He reached out and stroked her hair. “Whatever you wish, Elise. However, consider she won’t be able to remain a slave if she returns with us to England. She’ll receive a wage for her labors and the freedom to decide if she stays in our household or seeks out other employment.”
“That’s fine by me,” she said, trying to contain her joy. “I have no doubt she’d wish to stay with us.”
“Will Zechariah free her into our employ?”
Elise’s thoughts raced. Would her spymaster allow her to end their agreement? Would he consider releasing Prin? For a moment, she allowed herself to hope and squashed the practical side of her nature that warned she dreamed for too much. “I don’t know.”
“Perhaps he might consider allowing me to purchase her. We can free her once we make for England.”
She regarded him with amazement. His generosity astonished her. No one had ever been so kind to her. To spend the large sum it would take to purchase Prin, only to turn around and relinquish it was... “You would do that for me?”
His thumb caressed the back of her knuckles. He moved closer. His scent of leather mixed with spices filled her senses. She longed to wrap her arms around him and hug him tight.
He must have read her thoughts. With a gentle tug, he pulled her deeper into the shadows, farther away from the fire’s shifting light and the revelry of the merrymakers nearby. He tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and brushed her cheek with his fingers. His gentleness made her heart ache.
“Elise, I would do much more for you if you allow me to know your wishes. That you seem overcome by such a trifling thing makes me wonder ever more heartily of your situation here. What must I do to make you realize that my wishes include making you happy for the rest of your life?”
Without thought, Elise melted into his embrace. His arms banded about her, holding her close. How much time passed she didn’t know and didn’t care. She should return to the house, but even the shortest separation from the man she loved was becoming unbearable. Zechariah could wait a few more minutes. She rested her cheek against his chest. “I want to be your wife, Drake.”
He leaned back, a look of hope etched on his handsome features. “Did I hear you correctly, sweet? Are you consenting to my proposal, or just toying with me?”
She laughed and nodded, suddenly alive with so much happiness, she thought she might take flight. “You heard me, sir. But there is a difficulty I must see to before we can announce our intentions.”
His brow furrowed. “A difficulty? How so?”
“Trust me,” she said. “Please, trust me.”
He nodded. “I do, but—”
“Good.” She pulled away before he could say more. The separation wrenched like a physical pain. “Now I must go.”
“Wait.” He pulled her back for a soft kiss that left her grinning all the way back to the Hall.
Elise rapped on Zechariah’s study door and waited for his command to enter. Once inside, she glanced at the French mantel clock. The tapered candles flanking the porcelain piece illuminated her tardy arrival.
“Where have you been?” Zechariah looked up from his work, his cheerfulness enough to rouse her suspicion.
“With Prin.” She refused to elaborate and came to stand before his desk. “Why did you wish to see me?”
The spymaster waved her into a seat. “Tonight has been most fortuitous, m’dear.”
“Truly, how so?” she asked, a bit wary. To her recollection, she’d never seen Zechariah so light of heart.
“Christian has uncovered some magnificent news on Amberly.”
“Wonderful,” Elise adopted a conspiratorial tone. She hoped her acting ability would stand her in good stead, though the protective instincts usually reserved for Prin rushed to the fore. “I’m very impressed. For my part, I find Amberly to be the most hard-shelled individual I’ve ever met.”
Zechariah leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his wide girth. “You were right, Elise.”
“I was? How so?”
“He is an aristocrat.” Zechariah beamed like a beacon. “In fact, he’s even more. He’s a high and mighty duke. Christian heard Beaufort refer to him as ‘Your Grace.’ Amberly rebuked the man and reminded him not to use his title. It all makes perfect sense, you know. The man’s arrogance is a palpable thing. His wealth, his disinterest in negotiating for better shipping terms all point it out as truth. No real man of trade would be so unwilling to compromise his price.”
“A duke? Why...he’s practically royalty.” Stunned, Elise thanked God she was sitting down. Otherwise, the sting of shock would have laid her low. As it was, she grew weak with dismay. Her stomach swirled in sickening waves of disappointment and heartbreak.
She couldn’t possibly wed Drake now. Not when she’d spent years committing treason against the very crown he counted as family.
Humiliated, she bit her lip and pretended to swat a fly from her lap while she blinked back hot tears.
The old man startled her back to attention when he slapped his knee and chortled, “Imagine the funds we could winkle from the British if we offer a duke up for ransom.”
She forced a smile. “Just think of it.”
His mirth faded. “You don’t seem as impressed as I thought you’d be, Elise. Perhaps my other plan will be more to your liking?”
“What other plan?”
He studied her until she squirmed. “My plan involves you more than anyone.”
“Me?” She sat forward in her chair. “What am I to do now?”
Zechariah hauled himself from his chair and lumbered to the open window. One of his silk stockings sagged around his ankle, but he seemed not to notice. Easing himself onto the window seat, he sighed and leveled her with a thorough glance.
“You know, my dear, I love this land and hope with all my heart it will be a fine nation one day. ’Tis why I’m often so narrow of purpose and act in ways that may seem cruel when I force you to my will. In truth this war is only a game. As in chess, the craftiest player will rule. One move may make all the difference to which side wins or loses.”
Elise nodded and worried at her lower lip. What he said was true. She knew he wasn’t an evil man, just determined to aid the cause and see the Colonies set free of England’s tyranny. She didn’t begrudge him his sentiments because she shared them. It was his constant manipulation she detested, and the unnecessary way he used Prin as a weapon against her that she abhorred.
“To that end, I’m going to ask you to do something you may find objectionable in the extreme,” the spymaster continued.
Fear crawled up her spine. “What is it?”
“I wish for you to wed Amberly.”
She sucked in air and almost choked. “You what?”
“Let me finish.” He held up his hand as if he expected a verbal comeuppance. “He’s smitten with you. I confirmed it earlier when I spoke with him after we dined.”
“You didn’t!” She felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“I know you’re taken with him, so don’t act affronted. Hear me out.”
Elise couldn’t deny his statement, yet seethed in silence. The high-handedness of her spymaster appalled her. So what if she wished to marry Drake? After years of his manipulation, Zechariah’s plan rankled her to the marrow. He couldn’t know for sure that she loved Amberly, yet Sayer had the nerve to ask her to sacrifice the rest of her life for his purposes.
“I ask that you espouse the man and convince him to remain in Charles Towne. The war situation is critical. The British have been routed from the Carolina interior, but their grip on Charles Towne grows ever tighter. Who can guess their next move? As Amberly’s wife, you would be in the center of Charles Towne’s British society. Think what beneficial information will be discussed in such close and exalted company.”
“How can you imagine so? Have you forgotten that Amberly has gone to great pains to deceive us all, to make certain none of us learned his true station?”
Zechariah rested a hand on each of his knees and leaned forward. “Captain Beaufort knows his true identity. I must assume other important Brits do as well.”
“And if I agree, you seriously expect me to spy on my husband? Surely, you know me better than that, Zechariah. My sense of loyalty would never allow it.”
The spymaster rubbed his jaw in the palm of one beefy paw. “I feared you might say as much.”
“Well, at least you give me some credit,” she scoffed.
“Oh, I do, my dear. ’Tis the reason I’m willing to strike a bargain with you.”
The craftiness in the old man’s eyes made her heart twist with dread and fear.