Drake shut the door of his bedchamber, stripped off his shirt and removed his leather boots. A maid had straightened the room. The four-poster bed was neatly made and a vase of purple wildflowers graced the nightstand.
Reclining atop the covers, he crossed his arms behind his head and allowed his mind to wander. The thought of Elise made him smile. Was it possible God hadn’t forgotten him after all? For the first time in years he offered up a prayer of gratitude.
“There you are.” A feminine voice carried through the closed door from the hallway. “I was worried sick on account of the storm. I went huntin’ for you, but Zechariah chased me back up here.”
“I’m fine.” He recognized Elise’s voice. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
“You don’t look fine. You look like you took a tumble in a mud puddle.”
“Why thank you, Prin.”
Drake chuckled as the ladies moved out of earshot. When he’d left Elise in the garden, her hair in disarray, her cheeks flushed, he’d thought her the loveliest woman he’d ever seen.
Thinking about a lifetime with Elise, he realized he was happy about the institution of marriage for the first time in his life. Nay, he was ecstatic. Her shock when he’d proposed had matched his own, but once the words were out he had no wish to take them back. His first marriage had been by the king’s command. Diana had never forgiven him for not being the man she loved, a French marquess she’d met at court.
At nineteen, he’d hoped for more than a lonely arranged marriage. He’d tried to warm to her, but Diana had wanted no part of him. Their union had been one of cool politeness underscored by her disdain for the whole affair. She’d insisted on living in London while he chose to remain at Hawk Haven. When she’d died of a fever in the fifth year of their marriage, he’d barely noticed her absence.
Older, wiser and far more jaded than any twenty-four-year-old ought to be, he’d refused additional attempts by the crown to shackle him a second time. He’d ceased tormenting himself with the hope of learning why God had taken most of his family and forgotten him, and his prayer life had dwindled to nil.
Only the need for an heir had spurred him to consider matrimony a second time. The fact that Penelope’s dowry included a strip of borderland he’d long been interested in acquiring for his estate had added to her appeal. When he’d first met her, his former fiancée had seemed to have all the qualities a perfect duchess would need in abundance: impeccable breeding, outward beauty and a fine social standing. It wasn’t until a month before their wedding that he’d begun to hear the rumors. Finding her in the arms of another man and discovering she’d only agreed to his proposal due to pressure from her family to wed a duke had been a blessing in the end. With his anger and embarrassment now cooled, he was grateful he’d learned the truth before the marriage. Had he wed Penelope as he’d planned, he never would have known love with Elise.
Thank You, Lord, for bringing Elise into my life.
Years had passed since he’d last spoken to God, but those few words acted as a ray of warm sunlight on his frostbitten soul. He realized just how much he’d missed the peace that came with daily prayer and a grateful heart. Forgive me, Lord, for shutting You out of my life all these years.
The clock on the mantel signaled he should dress for dinner. He leapt up, eager to return to Elise. For the first time in his life, he was certain he’d met a woman who was interested in him as a man and not a duke. She may have turned down his proposal, but he’d seen her regret in doing so.
Drake grinned. He wasn’t a man who took no for answer once he’d made up his mind. He crossed to the wardrobe and removed the best set of clothes he’d brought with him. Tonight, he’d begin his campaign to win her in earnest.
He whistled a jaunty tune as he poured water in a basin and began to shave.
Once dressed, he left his chamber and headed for the dining room. Darkness had fallen. Crystal sconces along the hall and down the stairwell glowed with candlelight. The closer he came to the first floor, the stronger the aroma of fresh baked bread, spices and roasted meats became. His stomach growled with hunger.
When he entered the dining room, he found servants lighting the candles in the chandelier above a table set with fine bone china. A maid put the finishing touches on the flower centerpieces, bobbed a curtsy and scurried from the room.
Drake turned to go, deciding to wait for his dining companions on the veranda farther down the hall. Outside, the night was balmy, the stars and moon bright in the satiny black sky. Crickets chirped and an occasional lightning bug sparked in the distance.
He pressed his palms against the rail and enjoyed the tranquil quality of the place. It had been months since he’d felt relief from his grief. That he possessed any at present was due to Elise’s influence. Simply looking at her made him jubilant, but the driving need to find Anthony’s killer tempered his happiness. He couldn’t come to terms with his brother’s death until he found the Fox.
“Good evening, sir.”
Drake whipped around to face his cousin, Captain Beaufort. “Charles, what do you mean by sneaking up on me?”
“I called to you, but you were lost in your thoughts, Your Grace.”
“Quiet, man!” Drake lowered his voice to an annoyed whisper. “How many times must I remind you not to call me that. Do you want me to end up the bait for some colonial ransom-seeker?”
“My sincerest apologies, Your...er, sir. It’s such a departure from propriety, so unnatural, I find it taxes my memory to call you aught but your title.”
Drake ground his teeth in frustration. “I shan’t remind you again, Charles. Another slip and I’ll see you swabbing decks for the next twenty years.”
Beaufort’s eyes grew round as an owl’s. “But, sir, I’m in His Majesty’s army, not the navy.”
“True, Captain, but I own a fleet of ships that I insist be kept spotless.”
The captain gulped. “I understand, sir. I won’t blunder again.”
“See that you don’t. Now, tell me why you’re here. I thought you’d been delayed until tomorrow.”
“I’ve sent Lieutenant Kirby to search for a man I’ve lost.”
“Who?”
“The carriage driver who drove you yesterday. His name is—”
“Robin Goss.”
“One and the same,” Beaufort confirmed. “He disappeared after I spotted him outside The Rolling Tide yesterday afternoon. He didn’t meet with me last evening as planned. I’ve ordered inquiries, but nothing’s turned up. I’m hoping Kirby will have more success than I and learn something of his location.”
Drake considered Beaufort’s revelation. “I wondered what happened to the man when he didn’t return to us. Elise chided me. She suggested I’d overpaid him and he’d run off with my coin to retire in Jamaica.”
Beaufort gasped. “Miss Cooper dared to chide you, sir?”
Drake leaned against the rail and a fond smile quirked his lips. “Indeed, she did. Truth to tell, I find I enjoy being teased by her.”
“I understand,” the captain said with a sly grin and a wiggle of his bushy blond eyebrows. “Miss Cooper is a beauty even if she is a dunce. She’d make a fine mistress and provide you with a merry time while you’re here in South Carolina.”
“Actually, Captain, she’s a stunning woman with a quick wit and sharp intelligence. I’ve no intention of making her a mere mistress. I hope to make her my wife.”
Beaufort’s eyes bugged. “Forgive me, sir, I mean no disrespect, but your wife? Isn’t that a bit...sudden?”
“Perhaps, but I’ll be leaving Charles Towne as soon as my business is concluded. I refuse to take a chance of losing her.”
“But she’s a colonial miss, sir. It’s not right for someone of your...er...for someone like you to marry someone so common.”
“On the contrary, Captain. There’s nothing common about her.” His gaze turned frigid. “She’s perfect for me and I shall wed whomever I wish. I dare anyone to suggest otherwise.”
Christian Sayer hastened into his father’s study. He shut the door with a firm shove that set the candle flames to flickering. “I have news you’re not going to care for.”
Zechariah scrambled to his feet. “What is it, boy? Spit it out.”
“I overheard Beaufort and Amberly just now. I thought to make introductions and engage them in conversation before dinner, but it seems they know each other well. The door leading to the veranda was ajar and I arrived just as the captain referred to Amberly as ‘Your Grace’.”
“I can’t believe it!” Zechariah plopped back in his chair, a look of stunned disbelief straining his round features. “Elise guessed rightly. He is an aristocrat.”
“He’s a duke,” griped Christian. “We might as well have the Prince of Wales under our roof!”
Deep in thought, Zechariah rubbed his chins. “I’m sure we can produce results from this.”
Christian held up a staying hand. “Wait, you haven’t heard the rest.”
“There’s more?” Zechariah gasped.
“Aye, he has designs on our Elise as well.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. “How so?”
“I heard him tell Beaufort he wants to wed her.”
“You’re jesting! If he’s a high and mighty duke, you’ve got to be.”
“No.” Christian sat heavily in a leather chair near the fireplace. “I heard Amberly clear as a fire bell. He said he hoped to make Elise his wife.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Zechariah said in amazement. “If she could be persuaded... Just think of the possibilities! Amberly may be privy to the most sensitive information. As his wife, Elise would be in an superb position to supply us with it.”
Christian shook his head. “You’ve recovered fast enough. I thought you’d be reeling from shock.”
“Nonsense, my boy.” Zechariah tapped his temple with his index finger. “Shock forces the mind into action. Complacency makes it slow as molasses.”
“She won’t do it, you know. She’s far too principled.”
Zechariah’s eyes burned with a crafty light. “I think she will. She’s smitten with Amberly. You only have to see them together to know it.”
“That may be,” Christian conceded irritably, “but then you have the problem of persuading her to spy on her husband. If she cares for him enough to chance marriage, she’ll be loyal to him. You’ll lose her for us altogether.”
“Elise is a girl of good sense. Her main goal is to see Prin free. If this business with Amberly comes to fruition, I’ll simply concoct a new bargain with her. If she marries Amberly and agrees to give us information, I’ll release Prin into her care.”
Christian stood to leave. “You have it all worked out. I hope your plan doesn’t ruin you or bring harm to Elise.”
“How could it?” the spymaster said smugly. “Elise is too adept a spy to be caught. Besides, she’ll be a duchess. Amberly will have the means to protect her if she’s discovered.”
“And when will you inform her of your plans?”
Zechariah blew out a candle and stood to leave with Christian. “I believe I’ll have a word with Amberly after we sup. I need to see where he stands on the matter first. It would be foolish to put ideas in the girl’s head before we know His Grace’s true intentions.”