Captive Pride (2 page)

“You'll be there, should I need you?”

“Yes. We'll remain in our rented quarters there until you dock to load, then we'll come aboard.” Absorbed in his thoughts, Noah forgot his bandaged hand and reached out for the doorknob. He grimaced at the painful contact.

“Your hand…Are you all right?” Lyle asked with quick concern.

Noah glanced up to meet his captain's worried regard and he slanted him a cunning smile. “I think, for the first time in quite a while, Lyle, that I'm going to be just fine.” And for the first time since he had learned the complete, devastating truth, he believed it.

 

It was growing late and the taproom in the inn was becoming increasingly crowded and noisy. Noah took little notice, though, as he sat at a secluded table in a back corner of the room, his expression pensive as he drank deeply from his tankard of ale. Matthew had retired to their rooms earlier and Noah was taking advantage of the time alone to sort out his thoughts about their upcoming voyage to the Americas.

Though he'd heard much about the colonies, Noah had never had any desire to visit them. Now, fate had intervened. Within six weeks he would find himself aboard the
Lorelei
docking in Boston City of the Massachusetts Colony. The thought did not lighten his spirits. The trip was a necessary evil, and he would tolerate the inconvenience only because of the money to be made. His goal was to return to England in the spring with his pockets well lined. He knew that one successful trip would not restore all his lost inheritance, but once he made the necessary business contacts in Boston, he was confident that their future would be bright.

Noah was so deeply lost in thought that he did not notice the stranger approach his table. It was only when the man spoke that he glanced up.

“Lord Noah Kincade?” the man asked.

“Yes. I'm Lord Kincade,” Noah responded, wondering at the interruption and frowning a bit as he cautiously assessed his visitor. The stranger was tall, but not overly so. His coloring was swarthy, and the clothes he wore were clean and well cared for, yet essentially nondescript. He was the type of man who could blend in with a crowd and never really be noticed. The man appeared slightly nervous, as if he was constantly on guard, and his dark eyes shifted uneasily about the room.

“May I join you, my lord? It's important.” The stranger leaned slightly forward as he added the last in an undertone.

“Oh? I don't know you, sir, and I fail to see how we could have any important business to conduct.”

“The fact that you don't know me is irrelevant,” he said cryptically. “The business we have to conduct concerns your ship the
Sea Pride,
my lord.”

“The
Pride
? What have you to do with the
Pride
?” Noah demanded, his eyes narrowing in anticipation of new trouble. What did this man want? Was there to be another claim laid against the already ravaged remains of the estate?

“Nothing, my lord. At least not yet, and that's what I need to talk with you about.” There seemed an underlying urgency to his words.

Noah was relieved that his first suspicion had proved wrong, and since the man's manner was nonthreatening, he waved him into the opposite chair.

“What is it? What do you want?”

“I don't want anything. I'm here to make you an offer.” At the sound of the taproom's door opening, the stranger glanced sharply in that direction, relaxing again only when he'd noted who'd entered the establishment.

“The
Sea Pride
is not for sale,” Noah said firmly.

“It's not the ship we're interested in.” He met Noah's gaze across the table. “I've heard through certain reliable sources that you'll be shipping arms to the colonies aboard the
Sea Pride
. If that is true, then I'm prepared to make you an offer for that shipment.”

Noah stiffened, irritated that his private business should be so widely known, and he asked imperiously, “Who are you, sir?”

“I'm an Englishman who's angered with the unfair treatment the colonies are receiving from the Crown,” the stranger answered.

“You're approaching me with an offer to purchase my shipment of war materials for possible use against England? Are you mad? Do you think I'm a traitor to my country?”

“I think you're a smart businessman, or at least I had hoped you were,” the other shrugged. “It's not a matter of loyalties. It's a matter of money. Our offer would be considerably higher than any others you're likely to receive.” The man gazed levelly across the table at Noah, trying to read his response, but Noah was careful to disguise his true feelings as he wrestled with the unexpected proposal. “There's no need for you to decide now. Think about it.” Reaching into the pocket of his coat, he withdrew a folded piece of paper. “You'll be docking in Boston. This note contains the name of the person to contact if you decide to take up my offer.”

He shoved the paper slowly across the surface of the table and then stood up. “Good night, Lord Kincade.”

Noah sat immobile, staring at the note. That single folded piece of paper represented to him the final proof of the magnitude of his losses, yet he could not stop himself from reaching out for it. The memory of his friends' rejection and the forfeiture of Kincade Hall was too real…too consuming. He would do whatever he had to do to survive. As his hand closed around the note, he looked up, but to his surprise, the stranger had gone.

 

Cecelia Demorest sat sedately with the group of women, listening idly to their chatter about the upcoming ball at the Spencer household on Saturday night.

“Spencer's party Saturday night should be marvelous,” Marianna Lord twittered as she sipped delicately from her cup of tea. A plump, happily married lady in her early thirties, Marianna always enjoyed these afternoons when the ladies of her social set met for tea and gossip. “I understand that several of the local dignitaries will be there,
and
Lord Radcliffe and Lord Townley.”

It was all CC, as Cecelia's friends called her, could do to contain her feelings and not grimace at Marianna's breathless mention of the aristocrats. Though CC's father was an important agent for the British government in Boston and dealt with these men on occasion, she personally found them hard to tolerate. Those she'd had the misfortune to meet had been very puffed-up with their own consequence, and most high-handed. Her father, an Englishman through and through, thought nothing of their pompous, demanding ways, but CC, born and raised in the Americas, thought the noblemen not an endearing bunch. As far as she was concerned, everyone in the colonies would be better off if the aristocrats stayed in England, where they belonged.

“I know I'm looking forward to it,” Margaret Kingsley agreed, and then added slyly, “And who knows? Perhaps by Saturday Eve Woodham will be ready to announce her engagement to Lord Radcliffe.”

“Really?” Marianna immediately perked up. “I knew that they were seeing each other, but I had no idea…”

“Well, they've been quite close, you know, and there's no denying Eve is looking for another husband. She couldn't do much better than an English lord, now could she?”

“That's a matter of opinion,” CC stated derisively, unable to resist the temptation to add her own thoughts on the matter.

“Really, CC…” Marianna was surprised by her statement. Wasn't it every girl's dream to marry a rich, handsome titled gentleman? “Can it be jealousy we're hearing?”

“Hardly, Marianna,” CC replied, not in the least stung by her friend's assumption of envy. “You forget that my father deals with these noblemen all the time. I've been singularly unimpressed with them.”

“CC!” The other women were stunned. “Surely you're jesting!”

CC laughed in delight at their shock. “Really, ladies, think about it. Most of the noblemen we've met have been fat and ugly or very effeminate, haven't they?” She watched in satisfaction as the ladies exchanged looks, unable to argue. “I have to admit that Lord Radcliffe is relatively attractive, but looks don't make the man. We all know he's an arrogant ass.”

“He's certainly the perfect partner for Eve, then,” Caroline Chadwick put in cattily, and the others laughed at her frankness.

Eve Woodham was a classically beautiful blonde who had been widowed several years before. Well aware of her attractiveness, Eve used her position in society to her best advantage. The other women knew that no man, not even their own husbands and boyfriends, would be safe from her charms, should she decide to make one of them her quarry.

“Indeed he is,” CC agreed, her emerald eyes alight with mischief.

“Well, if you aren't out to catch a nobleman, then what do you want in your perfect partner?” Marianna teased.

A longtime friend, Marianna had known her for over ten years. She had watched in delight as CC, a rather gangly, awkward child, had blossomed into a lovely young woman. With her auburn hair and green eyes set off by the perfection of her peaches-and-cream complexion and softly curved figure, CC was strikingly attractive. It was a mystery to Marianna why she had never picked one of her ardent suitors and settled down. Lord knows, at twenty-two, she'd been courted by many, but she'd never seriously encouraged any of them.

“Oh, I don't know, Marianna.” CC frowned slightly. “I really haven't thought about it much.”

And that, in fact, was the truth, for, unknown to her friends, CC was not even the least bit interested in marriage and babies. There was something far more important in her life that drew all her interest, but it was something she could not reveal to anyone.

“You must have some idea, CC,” Margaret chided. “Come on, tell us. What's your dream man like?”

With a light laugh, CC allowed herself to fantasize for a moment; her expression grew slightly distant and rapturous as she tried to envision her perfect mate. “All right, I'll tell you. He'd have to be tall, dark, handsome, and as fair and honest as my father.”

“You're certainly not asking for much!” Caroline teased

“But what about riches? You didn't mention that. Doesn't your future husband have to be wealthy?”

CC actually considered that for a long moment before answering, and then, when she finally did respond, she surprised her friends again. “I would never judge a man by how well his pockets were lined. It's his personal integrity that counts.”

“You mean you'd be willing to marry a poor man?” Marianna was curious.

“If he was the man I loved, then yes. It wouldn't matter,” she replied with conviction. “A lack of money will never be a deciding factor in my falling in love with a man.”

“How noble of you. Shall I send word to all the tall, dark, handsome men of Boston to come courting no matter what their finances?” Marianna bantered.

“Don't you dare, Marianna!” CC laughed, her eyes twinkling merrily.

“What about John?” Margaret asked, knowing that CC had been seeing John Robinson steadily for some time.

“I like John, but I'm not in love with him.” She said it almost regretfully. John was a good man and they got on well together, but CC could never even consider a lifelong commitment to someone she didn't love. Besides, the secret that she and John shared was far more important than love. “I'm more than happy to continue as I am until the right man does come along,” she added, giving her friends hope that she did indeed want to marry.

“And he will,” Marianna said sagely. “Mark my words. When you least expect him, you're going to look up and there he'll be.”

“How heavenly!” Caroline sighed.

“It happens that way often,” Margaret agreed.

CC smiled noncommittally at their musings, silently thinking that they were all hopeless romantics. She'd been courted by far too many attractive men to think that some handsome stranger was going to sweep her off her feet, but she decided to humor her friends.

“Well, when it finally does happen and I do fall in love,” CC promised, “you'll be among the first to know.”

Boston, Six Weeks Later

The taproom at the Red Lion Inn was crowded as Noah and Matthew made their way to the only vacant table in the establishment. Noah, deep in his own thoughts, paid little real attention to their surroundings, but Matt was alert, trying to absorb every facet of life in the colonies.

Since they'd arrived in port that morning, the younger man had become intrigued with Boston. Noah had left him to his own devices while he and Captain Russell had dealt with the port authorities, and Matt had taken the opportunity to tour the city on foot. He'd left the crowded wharf behind with its clog of merchandise and, steering clear of the tenement section of town as Russell had advised, had followed the narrow, winding streets through the multitude of small shops and businesses to the elegant area overlooking the Boston Common. Stately mansions stood in regal testimony to the type of life that could be had in the colonies, and Matt found himself becoming more and more impressed with America. There was a vitality in the air, a freshness of spirit that he'd never seen in London, and he marveled at it.

“You know, Noah, I could come to like this town,” Matt remarked as he slipped into the chair opposite his brother's.

“It's certainly different,” Noah answered unenthusiastically. He'd had little time to see the sights and, in fact, was unexcited about doing so. His business interests were foremost in his mind right now; that and returning to England.

Polly, the comely, well-endowed barmaid, sidled up to the table to take their order. “Good evening, gents. What can I get for you tonight?” She eyed both men with interest, for they were not only gentlemen of the highest caliber, but they were good-looking, too. Noah ordered succinctly, requesting that their ale be brought right away, and Polly hurried off to do his bidding, returning quickly with two brimming mugs of brew.

“Your meal will be ready soon,” she related as she placed their tankards on the table before them. They were handsome, these two, and she thought the resemblance between them startling. Though both men were tall and their dark coloring similar, she thought the older man more attractive. He seemed to have an innate animal magnetism in the firm slant of his lips and the steely depths of his gray eyes, and she found him irresistible.

“Thank you,” Noah replied as he tossed her a coin for her efforts, and she rewarded him with a wide smile that held more than a hint of an invitation.

“If you need anything else, just say the word. My name's Polly.” She let her gaze meet Noah's knowingly before hurrying away to her other duties, her heart beating wildly at the thought of what it would be like to share his bed and passion.

Had Noah been of a mind, he might have taken her up on her obvious offer, for she was a pretty enough girl, and clean-looking, too, but at the moment he was not so inclined. Instead he was thinking about his appointment the following afternoon with Edward Demorest, the British agent he was to deal with, and on the mission he'd assigned to Russell. He was growing concerned over the length of time the captain was taking and he wondered why he had heard nothing from him.

It was then, as he attempted to sit back and relax, that a man's sharply worded protest rang out clearly above the din of conversation. The man's tone was so outraged that both Noah and Matthew glanced concernedly in his direction.

“Damn it, Arthur! The world's gone mad!” the man, fat and red-faced in his upset, bellowed at his companion, thumping the table in front of him as he spoke for even further emphasis. “What can they be thinking of?”

“I don't know, Leland,” the man named Arthur commiserated. “It's a bad situation.”

“The mobs seem to be controlling the town!” Leland complained worriedly. “Ever since word came about Parliament passing the Tea Act, things seem to have gone from bad to worse!” He paused and took a deep drink from his mug of rum before continuing. “The protesters are threatening me and all the other merchants who agreed to sell the tea! It doesn't make sense! Our price here is lower than what Englishmen are paying at home! Drink the tea and enjoy it! Who cares if there's a tax on it as long as the asking price is still cheap?”

“It's this damned newspaper.” In disgust, Arthur tapped the copy of the
Boston Gazette
that lay on the table in front of him. “Agitators! The whole god-awful bunch!”

The shopkeeper nodded in agreement. “Everyone I talk to says they're loyal to the king, but you can't help but wonder when you hear of all the trouble. If everybody is loyal, then who are the rioters in the streets?” He shook his head in profound distress.

“Well, the men who write these articles in the
Gazette
certainly aren't trying to help matters any.”

“That's true,” Leland agreed solemnly. “There may be only a few of those hotheads, but they seem to know their business. They're always trying to stir something up.”

“Their latest rallying cry is completely foolhardy. Have you heard? Independence for the colonies…” Arthur snorted in derision. “Independence, indeed.”

“It's ridiculous. Why would they want independence? We're a part of the mightiest empire in the world,” Leland bragged to no one in particular.

“His Majesty's troops are the most efficient fighting corps in the world. We just defeated the French, for God's sake! If we turned our troops loose on the idiots who are stirring up all the trouble, they'd rid Boston of them in no time.” Arthur drained his mug with gusto. “It'd be quiet again then, the way it should be.”

“It'll never happen, but I wish it would. Business would be normal again….” Leland partook of his own rum and suddenly became rather philosophical. “I'm just hoping that it'll all blow over, like it did all those years ago when everybody was in an uproar over the damned stamp tax.”

“Me, too,” Arthur remarked, having no taste for confrontation or violence.

Noah and Matthew had been listening with interest to the colonists' conversation, and Noah shot Matt a smug look. It looked like the risk he'd taken with the war materials shipment was about to pay off, and pay off big. He lifted his tankard in a silent salute.

“It seems, dear brother, that our shipment may be quite timely in its arrival.” Noah smiled in satisfaction. The news that there was trouble brewing pleased him tremendously, and if Russell could just manage to make the necessary contacts…

“All too,” Matthew agreed. “It looks like contracting the arms shipment for the
Pride
was a wise move. From the sound of their conversation, it seems our troops may be needing them soon.”

“It certainly does, doesn't it?” Noah felt his old confidence return now that he knew his instincts had been proven correct, and mentally he rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the profit. He had not revealed to Matt his mysterious conversation with the stranger, and he had no intention to do so. This was business, and he was in charge.

“Still…” Matt began, a slight frown marring his handsome features, “it seems a shame that this trouble between the colonies and the Crown can't be worked out in some other way.”

Noah shrugged his disinterest. “Pray that it doesn't, my boy.”

Matt stiffened at Noah's attitude. He had kept relatively quiet until now, trusting his brother to take charge of their lives without question, but he was finding that the changes in Noah's personality were more far-reaching than he'd originally suspected after the duel and the loss of Kincade Hall. Noah seemed terribly patronizing, causing Matt to wonder if he had really become so obsessed with money that all else paled in importance. As his brother continued speaking, Matt was shocked to discover this was true.

“There's a fortune to be made by being at the right place at the right time with the right product,” Noah continued, his thoughts on the money to be made, not the lives that would be lost.

“You seem almost eager for a war….” Matt frowned, verbalizing his thoughts.

With a slight lift of his shoulders, he answered, “I'm a businessman, Matthew, not a bleeding heart. It doesn't matter to me who fights whom, or where. What matters is that I can provide the materials they need, when they need them. It's a simple matter of profit and loss. Nothing more.”

Before Matt could reply, Polly returned with plates of steaming, appetizing food, and the moment to debate the issue with him was lost.

Polly was quite conspicuous in her desire to attract Noah's attention and she flashed him her most charming smile as she bent over to place his platter before him, her action giving him an unrestricted view of her ample cleavage.

Noah's smoky gaze darkened with sensual promise as he saw the tempting flesh. Though he was still concerned about Russell's progress, his spirits had lifted considerably since hearing the rumbles of discontent from the two colonists, and the thought of bedding the winsome wench after his long weeks of celibacy was now most appealing. She read the invitation in his heated regard and was thrilled to know that he wanted her. Polly could hardly wait for the evening to pass so she could go to him.

“If you will be needing anything else, just let me know,” she told him flirtatiously as the barkeep's impatient call drew her away.

Matthew couldn't prevent a wry smile as she moved off to do her job. “You do have a way with women.”

“It's a burden I've tried my best to live with,” Noah quipped dryly as he began to eat.

“I should be so burdened,” Matt grumbled good-humoredly, and Noah chuckled.

“Your day will come,” he assured him.

There was a moment of warmth between them then that had been rare during the past weeks, and Matt completely relaxed. “I've been quite impressed with what I've seen here.”

“Really,” Noah replied without enthusiasm.

“You don't like Boston?” Matt asked, hoping that, after all the bitterness they'd suffered in leaving England, his brother might be open to an opportunity to change their lives.

“I don't intend to be here long enough to find out whether I like it or not, Matthew,” Noah answered. There was only one thing he wanted to do, and that was to make as much as he could on this arms shipment and then return to England to reclaim what was rightfully theirs.

“But, Noah…think about it…. This would be the perfect place to make a fresh start….”

Noah's eyes narrowed as he turned a cold, silver regard upon his younger brother. “I had one reason and one reason only for coming here, and that is to make the most money possible in the least amount of time. You've heard the talk. There's going to be trouble soon, and though I have every intention of making a profit off that trouble, I have no desire to get caught up in it. As soon as I've concluded our business dealings here, little brother, we're going to be on our way back to England with our pockets well lined.”

Matthew's usually mellow temper flared at his dictatorial manner. Noah had their entire future all planned out and yet had never bothered to discuss it with him. “I resent your making decisions that will affect both of us without consulting me. I will, after all, be eighteen before the month is out.”

Noah was surprised by his sudden show of defiance.

“I do believe I'm aware of your age, Matthew. I was, after all, a full eight years old when you were born,” Noah drawled derisively. “As for my decision making, I have done, and will continue to do, those things that I feel will be of benefit to the both of us. Right now our primary concern—as you well know—is money and, to be more specific, a lack of it.”

“I realize that but—”

Noah cut him off. “There are no ‘buts' about our situation. We have lost nearly everything. Don't you remember the humiliation we suffered when we departed Kincade Hall for the last time?”

“I haven't forgotten,” he answered defensively, flushing at the painful memory.

“Then where is your pride? I intend to reclaim the heritage that was stripped from us, Matthew. That is my only purpose right now, and it should be yours, too….”

The sense of camaraderie that had existed between them ruined, Matt fell silent before Noah's determined onslaught, for he could voice no convincing argument against his plans. Obviously, to Noah, his suggestion to start anew here in Boston had seemed cowardly, as if he were cutting and running, but Matt knew that wasn't true. Feeling slightly bereft and not understanding why, Matt directed his attention to the meal before him, his appetite suddenly diminished.

 

The plaintive call of the night watch announcing the midnight hour echoed through the deserted streets of Boston as Noah stood, glass of wine in hand, at the window of his room. Though rum was the primary drink of the area, he had disdained the recommendation of the house and ordered a bottle of their best wine sent up to his room when he and Matthew had retired. He'd found the wine drinkable and had proceeded to imbibe most of the bottle to ease the tension that gripped him.

Matthew's rare display of contentiousness had troubled Noah, and he wondered how his brother could dismiss their life in England so easily. Hadn't Matt attended the best schools? And hadn't every door opened for him at the mention of the Kincade name? Didn't he miss their old lifestyle, and didn't he long to return to Kincade Hall? With an imperceptible shake of his head, Noah drained his glass and then refilled it.

Matt's attitude made no sense to him. The idea of them taking up permanent residency in the colonies was ludicrous. He counted on his brother coming to his senses and putting the ridiculous thought from him. Certainly it must have been just the throes of early manhood encouraging him to test his own independence against the powers that be.

A soft knock at the door disturbed his thoughts and he moved quickly to answer it, hoping that it was Russell finally returning with important news about the contacts he'd made. Noah was only mildly surprised to find Polly waiting outside in the semidarkness of the hall.