A Gentleman By Any Other Name (16 page)

“Shut up, Court,” Chance said, walking over to lean his forearms on the stone balustrade and look out to sea. “I'm already painfully aware I've bollixed things. Curse the woman. I don't know if I should send her packing or take her back to bed. Someday perhaps someone will be able to explain women to us clumsy males.”

Courtland joined his brother, also leaning his forearms on the balustrade, the tension between them for the first time in a long time not in evidence. “If someone does, they can begin those explanations with Morgan, then go on to Fanny and Cassandra.”

“Not Eleanor?”

“Elly is a lady, thank God. She sings, she paints, she plays both the harp and the piano Ainsley provided for her. She doesn't sneak out to ride with the Ghost, like Morgan—you were right about that, by the way. And damn me if she isn't proud of the fact.”

“Did you lock her in her rooms and threaten to limit her diet to stale bread and ditch water?”

“You don't threaten Morgan, Chance. She's too headstrong for that and would only do the opposite of what I've told her, even if she didn't want to, just to prove she is in charge of herself. Odette's asked for an increase of her budget for candles, she lights so many candles to chase Morgan's mischievous
loas
away.”

Chance grinned. “You have your hands full here, don't you? So that's Morgan. What about Fanny and Cassandra?”

Courtland shook his head. “Must we? Oh, very well. Fanny insists she can do anything Rian can do, better, and sometimes she's right. She's nearly as bad as Morgan, as a matter of fact, and Rian encourages her. And Cassandra? That child can plague a man straight out of his head, dancing around after him like some curious, adoring puppy. Thank GodAlice is here now to occupy her.”

Chance smiled at his brother. “Maybe you should think about escaping to London. But you enjoy it, don't you? Riding herd on everyone else, that is, playing at mother hen. Yet perhaps not enough to keep you completely happy or else you wouldn't be gallivanting about the country in that ridiculous cape long after you'd avenged Pike's murder.”

Courtland chuckled ruefully and then both men were silent, watching the French ship finally pass out of sight, heading toward Dover Castle but still safely out of the range of English guns.

“Now that we're talking without shouting at each other, I hesitate to say this. But Ainsley's definitely coming awake,” Courtland said at last. “I was in Spence's bedchamber a little while ago, when Ainsley came bursting in to ring a peal over the boy's head. A beautiful thing to hear. No one could ever chew up one side of you and down the other like Ainsley, all without raising his voice. And for once Spence was smart enough to keep his own mouth shut.”

Chance felt his spine stiffen. “Thirteen years, Court. It's been thirteen years. About damn time he woke up.”

“True. You, too.”

Chance pushed back from the railing. “And what does that mean, brother mine?”

Courtland remained where he was, still looking out to sea. “So much for the flag of truce between us. You know damn well what that means. How can he ever forgive himself when his oldest son won't forgive him? You were closer to him than anyone, Chance, and the first to abandon him.”

The words hurt, cut deep, and Chance was stung into defending himself. “Do you know how many bodies we slipped into the sea when we reached deep water? Picking up those bodies, laying them in tarps, sometimes a piece at a time? He sent you on board with the younger ones. You didn't have to be there with the men when they found their women raped and—”

“I was there when it happened, Chance. I saw more than enough before escaping to the interior and saw what was left when we came back,” Courtland said flatly, at last pushing himself away from the balustrade to face his brother. “You seem to forget that. You seem to forget everything except your own anger and pain.”

“You're right, Court, and I apologize. That was stupid of me. But Ainsley never shed a tear for Isabella,” Chance said, a tic beginning to work in his cheek as, at last, he'd said what he thought, what had haunted him for so long. “Yes, he was the captain, and yes, he had to take control, which wasn't easy. But not one tear, Court. Not one. No revenge, either. Just his mighty plan to have us all disappear, start over, hide himself here like a coward. Turn us all into cowards along with him.”

“Ainsley had no choice but to bring us here, Chance, and everyone agreed to the plan except you. As for Isabella? Oh, hell, do us all a favor, Chance. Go talk to Jacko.”

“Why would I do that?” Chance's heart was pounding now, and he didn't know why.

Courtland sighed. “Because he and I are the only ones that know—and no one is aware that I know—that I followed them that first night. Ainsley and Jacko.”

“Followed them? Followed them where?”

Courtland put up his hands as if to say
no more.
“Go on. Talk to Jacko. It's not my story to tell.”

“Where is he?”

“I would imagine he's where he is every day. Over in the village, drinking his way through the
Last Voyage.
”

“I've never cared for that name,” Chance said, looking toward the stables and the village beyond. The village, the encampment, the refuge…the hidey-hole. “Better to call it
The Retreat.
”

“I know. We all know what your feelings are. But we were decimated, Chance, and we had to think of the women, the girls. Do you think he's dead?”

Chance didn't bother pretending he didn't understand his brother's question. “Edmund? If we believe the rumors, yes. Murdered by his own drunken men not a week later. I don't know if I want him dead or alive so I can kill him.”

“I've always wondered, Chance—why didn't you listen to the men who wanted to take the Gray Ghost that same day, hunt him down? You, Billy and the rest. I know you were only seventeen, but they would have followed you. Christ, man. You'd been all but raised on the Black Ghost, Ainsley teaching you everything he knew, every trick, every ploy. He even stepped back and let you take down the
Marguerite
on your own. Jacko brought you one of the town whores to celebrate, remember? Isabella was furious with him.”

“I'd rather forget all of that, especially the woman. But you already said it, Court. We had to protect the women. And half the men had lost their hearts and wanted nothing more than to die themselves. That's no way to go into battle with an enemy that outnumbers you in both ships and men. I knew we had to wait at least a few days until the ships were repaired and we could take after Edmund, but by then we were on our way to England. No, when I left the sea, I left that life behind me.”

“And set out to educate yourself, make yourself a gentleman, a loyal subject of the Crown,” Court said, nodding. “You know what, Chance? I don't think it worked. Not even after Billy took those so very damning letters from your luggage and brought them to Ainsley. The papers are tucked back into your luggage, safe and sound, and so very official-looking.”

“Christ,” Chance said, slamming his fist into the palm of his hand. “I should have known. Billy's first loyalty will always be to Ainsley.” He looked at Court. “So? Is everyone now questioning
my
loyalty?”

“Jacko took some convincing, but no, we're none of us too concerned. Not now that you know you'd be turning in your own family. That must have been a shock to you.”

Chance smiled ruefully at this obvious understatement. “I think you can safely say that. But you do know I'll have to make an appearance at every Revenue Office and such from here to Dover Castle, at the very least. I don't know how the boys are going to like that.”

“Taken care of,” Courtland told him. “By Ainsley, through Jacko. I'll have you know that you're using your position in the War Office to make discreet inquiries into any information the Preventative Waterguard might have about the Red Men Gang.”

“So that the Black Ghost can find and destroy them.” Chance smiled, shook his head. “You're right. Ainsley is waking up. Since nobody but those here at Becket Hall even know me, I should be safe enough. And I'll take Billy along, as well. While I act in my official capacity, he can visit the pubs with both ears open. Nobody ever notices Billy. Which also means we'll travel by boat, since Billy doesn't ride and he's never really mastered the coach.”

“That sounds reasonable. Tell me something, Chance. If we hadn't been involved or if you hadn't found out—would you have complied with your orders?”

“I'm only to put the fear of God and king into the local officers, Court, not become a part of the troops, either on land or in one of the Revenue cutters. And believe me, none of it was my idea. I'd asked for leave only to bring Alice to Becket Hall.”

“That must have been a difficult decision. Coming back, I mean.”

“Not once I got here,” Chance said, turning to look out over the Channel, then slowly turn back toward the mansion. “It's time I put my demons to rest, Court. Tell me about Ainsley, about what you saw. Jacko might feel honor-bound to tell Ainsley I asked. I don't want to be the cause of opening wounds that have finally begun to heal.”

Court also looked up at Becket Hall. “Let's walk,” he said, and the two men headed down the stone staircase, taking a path that would lead them around to the front of the building, then said abruptly, “Isabella wasn't buried with the rest.”

Chance stopped on the bottom step, looked at his brother. “But…but I saw the tarp go into the water. Ainsley said a prayer over it. I don't understand.”

“I know. Let's keep walking. I was in the house late that first night, gathering up what I could find of Cassandra's clothing, when I heard Ainsley and Jacko climbing the stairs. I don't know why I did it, but I hid from them and only could see Ainsley carry Isabella's body into their bedchamber, then Jacko standing in front of the closed door and looking about as fierce as I've ever seen him. I knew that it was too late to show myself. I honestly thought Jacko could have wrung my neck if he'd seen me.”

“What was Ainsley doing behind that door?”

Court bent down and picked up a stone, then threw it into the distance. “Preparing her for burial. Dressing her in that gown she's wearing in the portrait in the main salon. When he carried her out, I could have sworn she was alive again. He'd washed her, dressed her hair. She was even wearing her dancing shoes. I had to clap my hands over my mouth to keep from calling out to her. If it hadn't been for the way her head was so…so loose on her neck…”

Chance put a hand to his own mouth, mumbled, “My God. Where did he take her?”

“I watched from the veranda as he and Jacko disappeared into the trees, then followed them. I had to, because now Jacko was carrying a shovel and a bundle of sailcloth.”

“He buried her on the island,” Chance said, “then pretended to bury her at sea with the others. Why?”

Courtland shrugged. “He needed to mourn her, I think now. Back then all I knew was that I was eavesdropping on something very private, something I shouldn't have witnessed. He sat beside her after he laid her in the middle of the sail, stroking her hair, laying his head on her chest, holding her hand. I've never heard such weeping as that, before or since. He kept saying that he was sorry, so sorry. He begged God to give her back to him. He cursed God. He howled, Chance, until I thought he'd never stop.”

He took a breath, let it out slowly. “And then they buried her, and he went back to take charge again. Pull us all together, oversee repairs to the ships, get us out of there because we were all too vulnerable to another attack.”

Chance bent his head, rubbed at the back of his neck, willed the tears not to fall. “I…I thought he'd turned coward. Worried only about getting away, hiding. First listening to Edmund and then leaving the sea, bottling himself up here. And I judged him, deserted him. What a miserable piece of work I am.”

Court clapped him on the shoulder. “You're a proud man, Chance. If you went running, it wasn't just from Ainsley and our lives on the island. I don't want to get all maudlin on you, but I think you were running from
you,
as well. Running from the wharf rat. You wanted to be more than you believed you were. We all want more than we are. Can't fault a man for that.”

“Why did I always think you were such a nuisance?” Chance asked, finally smiling at his brother. “You may be the bravest and smartest of us all. Although I'm not quite sure I like that beard.”

“Cassandra hates it,” Courtland said, rubbing at his chin. “I may keep it forever.”

The terrible tension broken, the brothers laughed as they stood on the drive in front of Becket Hall, very much in charity with each other, which was a novelty in itself, and turned as one when they heard riders approaching.

“My, we are having a busy morning, aren't we?” Courtland said, crossing his arms in front of him. “That would be Lieutenant Diamond and a half dozen of his dragoons coming to visit. We think he's sweet on Morgan, God help him.”