Chapter Ten

 

As the shadow came more into view, a familiar face with wide, frightened eyes searched the room. Relief flooded through Isabelle, and she sobbed with joy, finally finding the energy to rush into the hallway with opened arms. “Mrs. Winters, it’s you.”

Color bloomed in the older woman’s cheeks as tears spiked her eyes. “Oh, my dear child. You’re alive.” She threw out her arms just as Isabelle rushed into them.

Being with her companion now, Isabelle’s future didn’t look so dismal. There was a ray of hope in her cloudy existence.

She pulled away and wiped her wet eyes. “Oh, Mrs. Winters. I didn’t know what had become of you and the others.”

The older woman pulled a lace handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. “That wretched highwayman had his men bring us to the border of town and made us walk the rest of the way. That man is a despicable scoundrel, I tell you.” She pushed the lace handkerchief back into her sleeve. “But my dear, tell me what happened to you. We heard rumors you tried to kill him. Is this true?”

Isabelle nodded and sniffed. “When they started shooting at our stagecoach, I took the jeweled dagger from somebody’s satchel and hid it in the folds of my skirt.”

Mrs. Winter’s eyes widened. “You did? I wondered what had happened to that.”

“It was yours then?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that very weapon saved me. When the captain took me to his room that evening for dinner and made improper advances...” She shrugged. “I had to protect myself, and stabbing him was the only way.”

“Did—did he die?”

Isabelle frowned, wishing now she had succeeded in killing the rat. “No, he lived, and punished me severely after that.”

The older woman gasped, her fist flying to her mouth. “Oh, dear. What did he do?”

“Made me his servant and nursemaid.”

Color drained from the woman’s face as her eyes widened more. “Why, the devil himself would not have been so cruel. Did he—did he—force you in any way?”

Isabelle didn’t want to lie to her companion, but she couldn’t have Mrs. Winters knowing what really happened. The older woman wouldn’t understand that Isabelle had somehow fallen in love with the scoundrel. “Not to worry, Captain Hawk didn’t force me at all. In fact, there for a few days, he acted like a gentleman.”

A deep sigh released from Mrs. Winter’s mouth as she relaxed her shoulders. “Oh, thank the good Lord.” She touched Isabelle’s hand. “So, did he give you back the dagger?”

Isabelle frowned. “No. Apparently, he couldn’t trust me with it after that.”

“Oh, how terrible.” A smile crept back to the older woman’s face. “I’m surprised he released you instead of taking advantage of having a lovely woman in his presence.”

Isabelle shrugged. “Let’s be grateful he doesn’t think the way we do, but I’m relieved he let me go before something dreadful happened.”

Mrs. Winters took hold of Isabelle’s elbow as they finished descending the stairs. She shook her head. “Well, I hate to believe you were better off with that scallywag than you are here, but there’s nothing in this house of value. It has been stripped bare. What will you use for inheritance?”

Groaning, Isabelle rubbed her forehead. “I cannot think yet. There has to be some way.” She stopped in the middle of the hallway and looked around. “Perhaps we can travel to the bank today and inquire about the title to the house. If we could sell it that would certainly help with my lack of funds, don’t you agree?”

“Excellent idea, Miss Stanhope. I’m quite certain we shall find a buyer soon and be headed back to France within a fortnight.”

“I pray you’re correct. My journey here wasn’t worth remembering, and I’d love nothing more than to put this bad experience behind me and get on with my life.”

Mrs. Winters patted Isabelle’s arm. “And that we shall. Before you know it, all of this will be but a horrid nightmare.”

Isabelle strolled to the window and gazed outside. Finally, the rain had stopped and the street had come alive with pedestrians, rushing around to do their shopping. “I pray I can get rid of this nightmare once and for all. I’d like to leave here without having to call upon my betrothed and beg for money.” Sighing, she folded her arms. “I haven’t heard good things about Viscount Lockwood.”

The older woman scrunched her forehead. “Viscount Lockwood? I thought you were betrothed to Mr. Matthew Winston?”

Isabelle nodded. “I was. While with Captain Hawk, he gave me some letters my father had written to me but never sent. One of the letters referred to Matthew as Viscount Lockwood. Father must have not thought to mention that the first time he told me of the betrothal. Either that or the man somehow came into a title.”

“Indeed. But I have not heard good things about the viscount, either way you look at it.”

“I fear he may not want to marry me now that my father has passed.” Suddenly an idea struck her, and she spun around to face her friend. “You don’t suppose—” Terror caused her heartbeat to quicken. “Do you think the viscount took all of Father’s possessions? After all, if this was my inheritance and I’m supposed to marry him. Wouldn’t he feel cheated because we never married?”

“Oh, my.” Mrs. Winters placed her hand on her throat. “I cannot say if you are right or wrong, but it is a good theory.”

Isabelle groaned. “Oh, I sincerely hope I’m wrong. I don’t want to be tied to that man. My life would certainly be over if that were to happen.”

Panic crawled through her body and tightened her chest. If the viscount thought this was all his, and hearing about his greedy nature, she had no doubt he would keep it. Could she talk him into giving it back? Probably not. More than likely, he would push the betrothal and force her to marry him.

But if the viscount had her inheritance, what funds would she use to return home? She wasn’t about to lower herself into begging for his help, either. Yet, who else did she know that could help her?

Captain Hawk’s masked face came to mind, his warm, hooded eyes smiling at her, melting her heart the way they had always done. That man obviously didn’t want her as his wife but would he be willing to help her home? Could she hide her pride enough to ask him? Especially since he’d broken her heart so drastically.

 

* * * *

 

Marcus Thorne took his first steps on Plymouth soil, not as a highwayman, but a civilian. He was himself again after six months of playing Captain Hawk. Well, he wasn’t quite himself because he’d never told anyone who his real father was, instead taking on his maternal grandmother’s last name. It was soul-wrenching enough that Lord Blackstone wanted his sickly son dead, anyway.

Before leaving his hideout, Marcus shaved his facial hair, not wanting to look that way again. Too many memories were connected with his beard and mustache and how Isabelle loved to stroke it. He couldn’t think of her again. He also tied his long hair back with a leather band. Leaving it hang would only draw attention, and he wasn’t the wild, fearsome highwayman when he reached town. He definitely needed a haircut. Even his personality had to change when he played himself. He couldn’t have people figuring out his disguise.

As he continued into town, he realized most everything remained the same in the six months he’d been gone. The river area still reeked of dead fish and salt from the sea, and as he walked farther away, the stench lessened as the scent of flowers tried to drown it out. More cottages lined along the road, but the same market street vendors were selling their wares. People he’d recalled doing business with gave him a pleasant nod of greetings.

He shaded his eyes from the sun as he rounded the corner of a building. A gust of wind knocked against him and threatened to push off his hat. He grasped the brim and hurried toward his shipping company. Thorne Shipping had been his pride and joy for several years. Of course, his pirating days helped fund the company, too, which he kept a secret from his employees.

He pushed the door to his office open and walked inside. The strong scent of tobacco and roasted seasoned chicken hung thick in the room, so he propped open a side window to help circulate the air. From one of the corner rooms, his employee, Mr. Harvey, scampered out, a roasted chicken leg in one hand as his other grabbed at the linen napkin still hooked in the collar of his shirt. A bulging middle section held a few ink stains, and his breeches appeared ready to snap open due to his rotund figure.

Mr. Harvey’s eyes widened, his mouth—still full of food—dropped open. Marcus nearly laughed from the spectacle the man made.

“Mr. Thorne. You’re back.”

Marcus nodded and stepped closer. “Indeed, I am, Mr. Harvey. How have you fared in my absence?”

“Splendidly, Sir.”

“You have my deepest gratitude, Mr. Harvey.” Marcus patted his friend’s shoulder. “This is why I keep you employed, you know.”

Redness covered Mr. Harvey’s face from ear to ear; from forehead to chin. The man’s mouth worked quickly as he chewed what was in there before swallowing.

“What a fine compliment, Sir. I’ll always strive to serve you well.”

“I’m certain you have.” Marcus walked to his desk and shuffled through the many missives littering his desk. “What’s new in the world, Mr. Harvey?”

His friend chuckled and shook his head. “Nothing of consequence, unfortunately. Although I must say, while you were traveling abroad, two more ships were brought in. The owners nearly gave them to me. The ships were severely damaged, but I knew the men employed by you would be able to fix them without much cost.”

Marcus grinned, remembering the two ships Captain Hawk had taken earlier in the year. “It’s a good thing the previous owners of the crippled ships were willing to take such a pittance for them. I’m certain if they knew how little it costs to repair, they would have asked for more.”

“Most certainly, Mr. Thorne.” His thin hair flapped on his nearly baldhead when he nodded vigorously.

“Mr. Harvey, please return to your meal. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I’m eager to get back to my company, so I shall be at my desk for the remainder of the day going through my missives.”

“Of course, Sir. Welcome home and I’m pleased to see you were brought back safe.”

Mr. Harvey turned to walk back to his room but when he reached the door, he stopped and spun around. “Oh, Mr. Thorne, forgive me but I forgot to tell you something. Viscount Lockwood was here just the other day inquiring about your homecoming.”

Marcus frowned. Why does that name sound familiar? “Viscount Lockwood? I don’t believe I’ve had the chance to be introduced to him yet.”

“The viscount mentioned he’d not met you. He’s interested in purchasing one of your vessels, but not just any one. It seemed he was looking for one in particular; a certain body and shape. He was very strange, I must admit.”

Marcus scrunched his forehead. Where had he heard that name before? But what bothered him more was that this viscount wanted a particular vessel, like he knew what Marcus had available. That couldn’t be right. “Indeed, that’s very strange. I shall definitely meet with him soon to discover what he really wants. Did he leave his card?”

“Indeed, Sir.” Mr. Harvey hurried to Marcus’ desk and rummaged through the clutter with one hand since the other was still occupied with the half-eaten chicken leg.

“Ah-ha. Here it is.” Mr. Harvey handed over the card.

“I’ll have to call upon him soon. Thank you, for informing me about the viscount’s interest.”

“My pleasure, Sir.”

Marcus slumped in his chair and stared at the card. Nothing looked familiar, but he knew he’d heard that name before. Or had he read it somewhere? Suddenly, Isabelle’s voice echoed through his memory when she mentioned her betrothed. Marcus hitched a breath and bolted to his feet again. Marcus now remembered reading the man’s name in one of the letters her father had written. She was betrothed to the viscount.

So why would the man want to speak with Marcus Thorne about purchasing a ship? Coincidence or not?

Marcus shouldn’t care, but he really wanted to meet the man. What was he like? Would he make Isabelle a good husband?

Shaking his head, Marcus leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. Certainly, he wasn’t thinking straight. He didn’t want to know that much information about the man. It didn’t matter if the viscount made her a good husband or not. Isabelle wasn’t part of his life anymore, and God willing, she would never be again. Before meeting her, he’d been able to spot spies a mile away. She had been the only spy to catch him off guard. He vowed that wouldn’t happen again.

He must have been so busy in his own revenge to think her a spy. Then again, her passion had surprised him, so why hadn’t he suspected her true intent at that time?

Marcus pushed the disturbing thoughts about Isabelle out of his mind and concentrated on going through his correspondences. After ten minutes had passed, and he still hadn’t gotten Isabelle out of his head, he growled, shoved away from his desk and stood. Apparently, he would have to take care of her first before he could get control over his own life.

“Mr. Harvey, I have errands to run. I shall be back later.” Marcus grabbed his hat and hurried out of the office, barely hearing his employee’s mumbled response.

Taking large steps, he strode toward the small village not far from the edge of town. Most of the people who dwelled in this area were his men and their families. Because only a few select knew his identity as Captain Hawk, he chose not to live here and make people wonder.

His friend, Gabriel Lawrence, was in his yard digging in the garden when Marcus approached. His friend looked up from his kneeling position and shielded his eyes from the sun as he squinted Marcus’ way.

“Good day, Mr. Lawrence.” Marcus pulled off his hat, stopping right in front of him.

Gabe grinned and jumped to his feet, wiping his palms on his breeches. “What a pleasant surprise, Mr. Thorne. What has you gracing my doorstep this fine day?”

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” Marcus swept his hand toward the garden. “I could return at a later time if you wish.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I desperately need a break since I’ve been laboring in the yard all morning long.” Gabe motioned toward the small cottage. “Would you like some tea? I think I still remember how to make it.”

Marcus threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, no tea for me. Rum would be better, but I need a clear head for what I have planned to do today.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out Viscount Lockwood’s card. “Does this name look familiar to you? Have you met him before?”

Gabe took the card and peered down at the writing. Slowly, he shook his head. “I don’t believe I have. Why do you wish to know?” He handed back the card.

“Two reasons, really. One, because he came to the office the other day, inquiring about purchasing one of our ships. Not just any ship, but one in particular; giving the exact shape and style.”

Gabe’s forehead wrinkled.

“Since I’ve never met the man, it makes me wonder why he wants one particular vessel, as if he knows what I have.”

“Aye, I see your reluctance to believe he is trustworthy.”

“The second reason I want to know about him is because—” He stopped, hoping this wasn’t the real reason he was so interested in the man. “Viscount Lockwood just happens to be Miss Stanhope’s betrothed. The situation is a little too coincidental, I believe.”

His friend’s eyes widened. “You don’t say. A coincidence, indeed.”

“If I didn’t know Miss Stanhope was such a fine spy, I’d not question Viscount Lockwood’s credibility, but since I know he’s connected to the lady, I have reason to doubt.”

“Would you like me to check out his credentials for you? I have connections, you know.”

Marcus nodded. “Indeed, you do, which is why I came to see you first. Yes, Mr. Lawrence, I’d greatly appreciate any information you can get for me. I’ll send this man a note stating I wish to schedule a meeting with him, but I’d like to know more about him before the actual day and time.”

“I agree. I’ll get right to it.”

Taking a deep breath, Marcus smiled, knowing he could relax a little now. The stress of the situation was under control. Now he knew he’d be able to handle any surprise that was thrown his way. After meeting Isabelle, he didn’t need any more shocking disclosures.

 

* * * *

 

One o’clock tomorrow.

The appointment with Viscount Lockwood would be at the man’s home. Marcus didn’t like it one bit. For someone interested in buying a ship, why wouldn’t they want to meet at the shipping yard? Gabe hadn’t found any information yet, but Marcus couldn’t help but to be wary.

Another thing he wasn’t too thrilled about was knowing that this man was Isabelle’s betrothed. If she married him, Marcus would certainly see her around town. No, that just would not do. Perhaps he could convince the lord to move. Either that or Marcus would have to.

So until tomorrow at one, he would have to keep himself busy. He should try to occupy his mind with things so it wouldn’t remember those images of Isabelle. He could still see the passion in her eyes when he kissed her, and the memory of her hands sliding over his chest and in his hair were still imprinted on him. He especially couldn’t forget the saddened rejection on her face and the tears in her eyes on that last night.

He hailed a hackney and paid the driver to take him across town to his friend’s office, Benjamin Ludlow. Of all the father-like figures in Marcus’ life—which weren’t many—Ludlow had been one Marcus looked up to. If not for Ludlow’s love of the sea and pirating, Marcus may have never turned his life in that direction. Benjamin Ludlow has since retired and taken up his own profession as a solicitor.

During the drive, Marcus kept alert eyes turned out the window, watching for the familiar lovely face of the woman he couldn’t get to leave his thoughts. By the time they arrived at Ludlow’s office, disappointment washed over Marcus when he hadn’t seen even a glimpse of Isabelle. Of course, she was probably still in Plymouth. That should be a good thing, but for some odd reason, he wanted to make certain she was taken care of and all right. He may never trust her again, however, he couldn’t help but care at least a little after what they’d shared.

Marcus opened the solicitor’s door and walked in. The years had been kind to his old friend. Silver hair framed his head, and wrinkles creased his face. Thick spectacles perched on Ludlow’s nose and he peered through them toward Marcus.

He smiled and nodded a greeting. “Good day, Mr. Ludlow. How is my old friend this fine afternoon?”

Benjamin Ludlow let out a bellow, slapped his hands on his desk and stood. “Well, I cannot believe my eyes. How are you, my boy?”

Marcus gave his friend a hug then stepped around the desk to sit in one of the empty chairs. “I cannot complain. Just returned after being away for six months which gained me many valuable items.”

“Good to hear.” Benjamin’s withered, frail body took its time settling back in the chair. He linked his fingers together on top of the desk and stared at Marcus with an exhausted expression. “You’re definitely a sight for these old eyes. Did you come to gloat and rub your glory in my face, lad? Because if you did, I’ll not have it. I’ll not allow you to talk me into returning to my pirating days.”

Marcus chuckled and shook his head. Benjamin had certainly been a legend, which was why Captain Hawk’s name was well-known. “Oh, no. I promise not to twist your arm this time, my good friend. In fact, I’ve given up pirating and I’m a fearsome highwayman now.”

Ludlow laughed heartily.

Marcus continued, “But today’s visit is about something else entirely.”

“Ah,” Benjamin said, adjusting his glasses, “then what is it I can help you with? Are you in some kind of legal trouble?”

“Nothing of the sort. Today’s visit is to see what you know about Commodore Stanhope. He’d been living in Plymouth for several years, and then was preparing to sail home to be with his family when the dreaded Captain Hawk captured his ship and killed him.”

Benjamin grinned. “You don’t say.”

“Recently, I met his daughter who came to settle her father’s affairs. Knowing the Commodore like I do, I fear his daughter will find nothing when she looks into her father’s business adventures. Do you think I’m correct?”

“You are a very good judge of character, Marcus. Commodore Stanhope was a greedy bugger, to be sure, but unfortunately his solicitor was even greedier. Word on the street is that when the Commodore prepared to sail back to France, he only took a few things of value. I suppose he was prepared to tell his daughter he’d been robbed or some ungodly story to make him look like the victim. Stanhope’s solicitor was put in charge of Stanhope’s estates, which the Commodore didn’t want his daughter to know about, but when report came of his death, the solicitor took everything and skipped town.” Benjamin shrugged. “That man has disappeared off the face of the earth, I tell you. I fear not even Miss Stanhope will be able to locate him.”

Marcus relaxed back in his chair, rubbing his forehead. “I suspected as much.”

“So tell me, is Stanhope’s daughter anything like her father?”

Chuckling, Marcus shook his head. “When I first met her, I didn’t believe she was anything like her old man. She had a kind heart. A passionate soul. I wanted to help her, in fact, so I gave her your name.”

Benjamin’s eyes widened. “My name, you say?”

“Yes, so you may help her with her father’s estates.” Marcus tilted his head. “Has she not been in to see you?”

“No, she hasn’t, but I’ll certainly watch for her. I doubt I can help her at all, though, but I shall try.”

“Thank you, my good friend.” He stood and placed his hat on his head. “Will you inform me if she does drop by? I’ll be curious to know.”

“Of course.” Benjamin stood and moved around his desk, walking Marcus to the door. “It has made my heart glad to see you again.”

“As mine.” Marcus opened the door and stepped out, only to nearly run into someone marching up the walkway, all fluffed lace skirts and petticoats and acting like she owned the place. He jumped back and politely removed his hat. “Pardon me—” His breath caught in his throat as recognition hit.