Mistress Below Deck (3 page)

‘I want answers, not questions, Golding. This is not a social call. I want justice, and by God I will have it. I am here to collect a debt. When I left Antigua I thought you were dead. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you are very much alive. You must have known I would catch up with you sooner or later, that I wouldn't let it pass.'

Matthew's face took on a look of incandescent rage. ‘What the devil are you talking about? How dare you force yourself into my house?'

Rowena was speechless, frozen in shock, unable to assimilate what was happening. She gaped at her father in blank confusion. When she moved towards him, bewilderment was written all over her face. ‘Father, what is this? And why are you not pleased to see Mr Whelan? Did you not tell me you were expecting him?'

Matthew looked at Rowena as if she had taken leave of her senses. ‘You brainless, witless girl,' he snarled. ‘This isn't Phineas Whelan.'

Rowena stared at him through eyes huge with horror and disbelief. ‘He isn't? Oh, God,' she cried. With sudden, heartbreaking clarity all the pieces of this bizarre puzzle began to fall into place. The whole gruesome picture was suddenly presented to her in every horrendous detail. In the space of two seconds, all those images collided head on with the reality of what it all meant, bringing her whirling around on the stranger in a tempestuous fury.

He smiled sympathetically. ‘I apologise.' He cocked a mocking brow. ‘I take it that Mr Whelan is a suitor?'

‘How dare you?' Rowena hissed with poorly suppressed ire, stepping closer to the intruder. ‘How dare you do this? Of all the treacherous, despicable, underhand… How dare you tell me you were Mr Whelan?' Her mind screamed at the injustice of it, and her fury increased a thousandfold when she found his eyes resting on her with something akin to compassion or pity. It was too much to bear.

‘I didn't.' His tone was brusque where before it had been soft. ‘You assumed. I am sorry. I'm not proud of deceiving you. You do right to put me in my place.'

Rowena's eyes narrowed into slanted slits of piercing green. ‘Your place? Just who are you?'

A crooked smile accompanied a slight inclination of his head. ‘Tobias Searle—at your service.'

This pronouncement of the name that had bedevilled them all since her father had been brought home close to death was like acid on a raw wound to Rowena. ‘You fraud. You disgusting fraud. You're no gentleman, that's for sure, and you are not welcome in this house. How dare you come here hoping to be received?'

Tobias stared at her with a look like a man who has just realised that the fragile flower he has casually picked is in actuality a hornet's nest. It came to him that there was a changeling in the room, for this termagant was not the winsome girl who had let him in. The face that had been so open and radiant was now closed and turned against him.

‘I was quite prepared not to be received. I considered it wise not to tell you who I was until I had been admitted to your father.'

‘You told me my father was expecting you.'

His lips curved in a cynical smile. ‘That was true. He has been—for the past four years, in fact—but I confess I wasn't invited.' He fixed his gaze on the man in the chair. ‘Have a care, Golding,' he warned, ‘for I would not hesitate to expose your ugliest secret to the illustrious people of Falmouth and beyond.'

‘What do you want from me?'

‘I would like to say I want recompense for a cargo of rum and sugar you stole from me, but it is as nothing
compared to the compensation you owe to the families of the men who perished on one of my ships—the
Night
Hawk
—when it was fired in Kingston Harbour four years back. The lengths you went to to prevent the ship collecting the cargo you coveted for yourself was nothing short of murder. Men who were asleep on board didn't stand a chance of saving themselves.'

Purple veins stood out on Matthew's forehead, his eyes protruding from their sockets as he glowered up at the other man. ‘That was not my doing,' he said hoarsely. ‘I swear it. Jack—Jack Mason—'

‘I know Jack Mason.
Captain
Jack Mason, the master of the
Dolphin
—your vessel, I believe.'

‘Aye—and Mason, renegade that he is, made off with it and left me to rot on Antigua.'

‘Perhaps like everyone else he thought you were dead—myself included. Had I known you had survived the shooting, I would have been here sooner.'

‘Mason's the one you should be looking for, not me. I had nothing to do with what happened to your ship.'

‘I am looking for him, only I'm having a little difficulty in tracking him down. But I shall—be assured of that. You were there that night. You saw what happened. As owner of the
Dolphin
, who had command of his own crew, I hold you responsible. Believe me, Golding, I am no respecter of your standing in society and I would gladly see you ruined and your house razed to the ground for what you have done, so do not think for one minute that my threat is idly voiced.'

Matthew's usually florid features had become chalk
white and his breathing shallow and rapid, as he felt the ghosts of the past begin to claw at him with savage fingers. ‘What is it you want from me?'

‘I've told you. Compensation for dead men. It's a matter of human decency. Compensation for their families and for those men who were badly burned, some blinded, some with life-limiting injuries, men who will never work again, who are unable to support their wives and children.'

Appalled by what she was hearing, Rowena stared at him. ‘What are you saying?' she cried. ‘That my father killed those men?' The look he gave her said it all. ‘But that's outrageous.' She looked at her father. ‘Tell me it's not true. Tell me he's lying.'

‘Rowena, I did not do what he accuses me of. I may not always have done what I should, but at least I have no man's death on my conscience.'

‘But you were there. You sailed on the
Dolphin
to the West Indies. I would like to know the truth of it.'

‘Damn you, Rowena. You think your father a killer, do you? I was there, I admit that, but I was nowhere near the
Night Hawk
when the fire started.'

Rowena believed him. She knew what Jack Mason was capable of—she hadn't forgotten his attack on her before he had sailed for the West Indies. She directed her hard gaze on Tobias Searle, icy fire smouldering in the green of her eyes. ‘You speak of compensation for the families of those men who died. What of my father? Does he not warrant compensation from you, sir, for shooting him in the back like a coward and leaving him a cripple?'

‘And that's what he told you, is it?' He looked contemptuously at Matthew with a lopsided smile. ‘You have been living under a misconception. I am not a man who would shoot another in the back. God knows I wanted to shoot you; had I done so, I would not have maimed you—I would have killed you. As I recall, you were the worse for drink on the night I ran you to ground on Antigua. I doubt you can remember much of what happened. But that is not what I am here for. The debt, Golding. I do not intend remaining in Falmouth overlong, so it must be paid within the week.'

‘And it is thanks to you making me a cripple—despite what you say to the contrary—and unable to conduct my business as I would like, that I lack the wherewithal to pay,' Matthew said, refusing to believe Searle innocent of shooting him.

Slowly, distinctly, the younger man said, ‘I have heard you soon won't have a pittance to your name. Do you think I don't know you have money lenders and creditors hounding you—and I don't doubt you have even used your daughters' dowries to put towards paying them?' His smile was sarcastic. ‘They are like sacrificial lambs to your ambitions, are they not, Golding? However, after meeting your eldest daughter—' he turned his head, his gaze leisurely sweeping over Rowena appraisingly ‘—I'm somewhat surprised there have been no takers. She would make the most charming companion. Perhaps I should make a bid for her myself.' Tis obvious she doesn't take after you.'

Matthew clenched his hands into tight fists. ‘Keep
yourself away from my house and your filthy hands off my daughter. She'll have nothing to do with the likes of you.'

Undaunted, Tobias smiled blandly into Rowena's rage-filled eyes. ‘I am tempted to try to change her mind—if she would allow it. It would be interesting to see what might come of it.'

Her chilled contempt met him face to face. ‘Why? To try to thwart my father? Do not even think of adding me to your long string of conquests.'

He smiled with wry humour. ‘Conquest? You mistake me, Rowena. Don't be too hasty. I might be prepared to be—generous.'

‘Generous? What are you talking about?'

‘Aye,' Matthew said, clearly bemused, ‘explain yourself.'

‘I am not usually an impulsive man, but in exchange for your daughter's hand in marriage, I would be prepared to reduce your debt to me.'

‘Why, you arrogant, pompous oaf!' Rowena gasped. ‘Your callousness disgusts me. I would marry the ugliest, oldest man on earth rather than have anything to do with you.'

‘Never!' Matthew railed over his daughter's surprised gasp. ‘I won't have a daughter of mine married to the likes of you. If you know what's good for you, you'll keep away from her.'

Tobias considered Matthew with open mockery. ‘Why not ask Rowena what her pleasure might be?'

‘I'd kill you before I'd see her take up with you. So be warned.'

Tobias laughed derisively. ‘I'd be careful with my threats if I were you, Golding. The last time you threatened someone, he put you where you are now. I don't think I have anything to worry about.' He looked at Rowena, who was glaring at him with eyes burning with indignation. ‘Do not concern yourself, Rowena. I mean you no harm.'

‘My name is Miss Golding to you,' she retorted, twin spots of colour growing on her cheeks. ‘Take your offers and endearments and inflict them on some other willing ear.'

‘And this Mr Whelan you mistook me for—is he someone your father hopes to saddle you with? Rich, is he? Rich enough to get him out of his mess?'

‘That is none of your business. One way or another the debt will be paid in full. I promise you that. Now will you please leave. As I said, you are not welcome in this house.'

The muscles flexed in his cheek, giving evidence of his constrained anger. ‘I don't intend staying any longer than necessary. I find merely being in this house with the man who murdered members of my crew extremely distasteful.'

He took a step closer to his adversary, his eyes merciless in their intensity, and his next words were uttered slowly, like uncoiling whips. ‘But heed me and heed me well, Golding. Were it just a matter of the cargo you stole from me by burning my ship, I might have seen fit to cancel your debt in view of your unfortunate disability—and if you had agreed to my offer to marry
your daughter. But since my offer has been rejected, you will pay in full for what you did to those men. I swear, if you try to evade your obligation, I will crush you out of existence. There will be a scandal, but it would be worth the scandal to see you go under. You have a ship for sale—the
Rowena Jane
. I might have a buyer to put your way, which will go some way to settling your debt.'

Rowena stepped forward, her hands clenched in the folds of her dress. She felt sick and more than a little afraid of this new threat to their future security, but her anger and indignation were much stronger. Pride warred with the years of resentment she had harboured against her father's weakness to succumb to his disability, which had seen his once-thriving business slip into a decline, but he was still her father and the ties of blood and duty bound them irrevocably. Loyalty and anger rose like a phoenix out of the ashes of her resentment towards this stranger who had tricked his way into her home.

‘I think you've said quite enough,' she said, seething, incensed that this man wasn't who she thought he was.

What a fool she had been, what an absolute idiot. For one mad, irrational moment, when he had arrived, she had been so relieved and happy to find him young and handsome—her suitor, she had thought—that she could scarcely speak. She had let herself hope. No sunshine had ever felt so warm, been so bright, dancing on her face as she had looked at him. Wrapped in that magic circle of enchantment, she had wondered what it was about him that was so in tune with her, with the flesh,
the bone and muscle of Rowena Golding. Now her eyes took on a steely hardness.

‘I hate you for this. I'll hate you till the day I die.'

‘You do right to hate him,' Matthew seconded. ‘Now get out of my house.'

Tobias looked at Rowena. Her face was as white as a sheet, and the young woman to whom it belonged was trembling like a flower ravaged in the wind. He nodded slowly. ‘I'm sure you do hate me, Miss Golding, and I can't say that I blame you, but when you consider what your father intends for you and your sister, then I would reserve a large measure of what you feel for him.'

After he gave her a curt bow, Rowena watched him stride to the door, where he paused and glanced back over his shoulder. His gaze rested on her, those sharp blue eyes burning with something other than anger, something she could not quite lay a finger to.

T
obias Searle went out and Rowena stood listening to his footsteps cross the hall. A door opened and closed and then there was silence. A stone had settled where her heart had been, and cold fury and an overwhelming disappointment dwelled where just a short time ago there had been hope.

‘What are we to do?' she asked quietly, deeply concerned by Mr Searle's visit, her resentment still running high. Her father rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

‘This is Jack Mason's doing,' he mumbled. ‘The man's a damned menace.'

‘Mr Searle accuses you of setting light to his vessel. What really happened? Where were you?'

‘Ashore—at the offices of a merchant I'd traded with before, negotiating the purchase of a return cargo.'

‘And Jack Mason was on the
Dolphin?'

He nodded. ‘Due to bad weather we were blown off course and failed to pick up our intended cargo in
Kingston. I wasn't unduly concerned about the cargo we would be taking back because there were always plenty to choose from, but when we put in there was an unusually large number of merchantmen. On a suggestion from the merchant and a letter of introduction, I intended going on to Barbados to pick up a cargo of rum and sugar, but Mason was anxious to leave for home.

‘I wasn't on board when the fire on the
Night Hawk
started and it didn't occur to me until we were loaded with the cargo meant for the
Night Hawk
and had left Kingston that he'd been behind it. Under cover of darkness and away from the eyes of the harbour officials, he fired it, knowing there were men on board.'

‘Why did you go to the West Indies on that voyage? You'd only just returned from Gibraltar with the
Rowena Jane
.'

‘A lot of money would be changing hands on the voyage to the Indies. I felt it might be better if I were to carry out the negotiations. I didn't entirely trust Mason and would have got rid of him before sailing, but it was too late to find another captain.'

‘When you found out what he'd done, why didn't you turn back to Jamaica and hand him over to the officials there? Surely that would have been the right thing to do.'

‘Had I done that, I'd have had a mutiny on my hands. The crew weren't for going back to a place where they might have been thrown into gaol. Besides, most of them were behind Mason that night.'

‘And how did you come to be shot?'

‘At a quayside tavern.'

‘Was that where Mr Searle found you?' He nodded. ‘What happened to his crew was a terrible thing and Jack Mason should have been punished. You can hardly blame Mr Searle for seeking justice and compensation for those who were maimed, but I cannot condone his method of exacting revenge—if that's what it was,' she said, feeling a stirring of doubt since his denial.

Rowena knew the rest, of how the
Rowena Jane
had put in at Antigua and found its owner alive but a cripple. Deeply affected by this latest turn of events, she spun on her heel and stalked to the door.

‘Now where are you off to?'

‘To see what has happened to Mr Whelan. You are right, Father. For me to marry well is the only way out of this mess. I'll get Tobias Searle off our backs if it's the last thing I do.'

Unfortunately Mr Whelan didn't arrive. According to Jane, who had watching from the window, he had been waylaid by the detestable Mr Searle as he approached the house; after they had spoken together, Mr Whelan had walked away.

Rowena galloped along Falmouth Haven. As she reached higher ground, her dogs, two faithful companions she had reared from pups, raced ahead. They were young and fresh and relieved to be out of the stables, their sleek black shapes pouring over the ground and slipping in and out of the rocks.

The wind ruffled her hair, tugging it loose from the ribbon. Away from the town she dismounted and left her
horse free to nibble the short grass. Sitting on the grey-veined rocks, she clasped her arms around her drawn-up knees, one of the dogs settling beside her. The air was sweet, smelling of the spiky bushes of gorse and tasting of the sea.

Her gaze did a sweep of Falmouth's deep harbour beyond the quay. Being the most westerly mail-packet station, with ships stopping on their passage to the Mediterranean, the West Indies and North America and requiring provisions, Falmouth, with its flourishing and increasing trade, was a prosperous, bustling harbour town, full of rich merchants.

As a merchant trader, her father's prosperity had always been inextricably linked to the sea, but like every other trader he was always acutely conscious of the dangers that lay just beyond the horizon. Pirate vessels were a constant threat, and because of it he nearly always sailed in convoy with other merchantmen.

Rowena remembered a time when all over the southern coast, a veritable flotilla of traders and merchants had hoisted their sails and pushed their vessels into the troubled waters of the north Atlantic on trading voyages to Spain, Portugal and the colonies of North America. The hazards of such daring oceanic voyages were considerable, and tempests, hidden reefs and Barbary pirates had taken a grim toll over the previous century.

Her gaze travelled to where the
Rowena Jane
was moored. She was saddened by the thought that her father had put it in the hands of a broker. Her eyes moved on to a sloop anchored out in the bay. She
looked sleek and fast with tall, raking masts pointing to the sky and its sails neatly furled. A pennant—a bold, bright gold ‘S' entwined with the letter ‘T' against a background of bright crimson—flew from its masthead. She stood tall and serene, like a proud queen. A figurehead of a woman graced the head of the ship and the name
Cymbeline
was carved into the stern.

She now knew the vessel belonged to Tobias Searle. It was his flagship, just one of many that he owned, and could outgun and outrun most of those who tried to take her.

Looking inland, she let her eyes dwell on the skeletal, blackened ruins of Tregowan Hall rising high above the trees in distance. Fire had gutted part of the hall ten years ago, its owner, Lord Julius Tregowan, and his wife having perished in the blaze. The Tregowan estate was a prosperous one with vast productive acres. The quiet rural communities in this part of Cornwall flourished on rumours about the family that had lived and died in the great house. Lord Tregowan's heir, who employed a bailiff to administer the working of the estate, remained a mystery. Some said he lived in Bristol and had never been to Tregowan Hall to look over his inheritance. Whether he eventually came to Cornwall remained to be seen, and meant nothing to her anyway.

Her thoughts far away, she did not seem to hear his approach until the dogs bristled and growled low in their throats. Turning her head, she looked up, shielding her eyes against the sun's brightness. A man astride a horse
was looking down at her. Her eyes and brain recognised his presence, but her emotions were slow to follow.

‘You!' she said, surprised to see Mr Searle.

Mocking blue eyes gazed back at her. ‘Aye, Rowena,' Tobias said, swinging his powerful frame out of the saddle, his boots sounding sharp against the rocks. ‘My apologies. I didn't mean to startle you.'

Removing his hat, the intruder looked down at her, his face grave, though Rowena noticed one eyebrow was raised in that whimsical way he had and his lips were inclined to curl in a smile. What was he doing up here? she had time to wonder, since he was a long way from his ship.

His gaze swept the landscape, settling for just a moment on the skeletal chimneys of Tregowan Hall, before coming to rest on the young woman who made no attempt to get up. He was surprised to see that she wore a jacket and breeches and black riding boots more suitable to a male than a female. She lounged indolently against the rock at her back, one of her dogs beside her, her long slender legs stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankles. She was as healthy and thoughtless as a young animal, sleek, graceful and high-spirited as a thoroughbred, and dangerous when crossed.

There was also a subdued strength and subtleness that gave her an easy, almost naïve elegance she was totally unaware of. The sun shone directly on the glossy cape of her deep brown hair, which had escaped the restriction of the red ribbon. Few women were fortunate enough to have been blessed with such captivating
looks. Her eyes were as clear and steady and calm as the waters he had seen lapping a stretch of tropical sand and were the same exquisite mixture of turquoise, sapphire and green, their colour depending on the light and her mood. In fact, Rowena Golding was blessed with everything she would need to guarantee her future happiness.

The beauty of her caught his breath, then irritation at her recklessness in being up here alone.

‘Have you no sense?' he chided, sitting with his back to a rock facing her, a knee drawn up and an arm dangling across it. Glancing at one of the dogs reclining some yards away watching him closely, baring its teeth menacingly since it did not know him, he made no move to approach it. ‘Don't you realise the danger of riding alone up here, where vagabonds and gypsies and all kinds of travellers roam the country looking for work? They would do you serious harm for the pennies in your pocket. What is your father thinking of to allow it?'

She gave him a haughty look, as though to ask what that could possibly have to do with him. ‘I don't have any pennies in my pocket, and my father has more important things to worry about than what I get up to. Besides I rarely do what people suggest, as you must have noticed. What did you say to Mr Whelan, by the way? He didn't even wait to see Father. Jane told me you spoke to him and that the two of you left together.'

‘I merely told him you were spoken for.'

Her eyes opened wide and her tone was indignant. ‘You told him that? It was a lie and you had no right.'

‘Surely you would not choose to wed an old man over me.'

‘Oh, I shall marry—if it will get
you
off our backs—but never would I consider you, Mr Searle.'

His eyes narrowed. ‘Worry not. Before you know it, your father will come up with another suitor.'

Rowena glared across at him, holding a tight rein on her temper. ‘It is none of your affair.'

‘On the contrary, my dear Miss Golding. Everything your father does is of primary importance to me. I have an investment in your family. I seek only what is my due, and if marrying you to some tottering ancient is his only means of acquiring the money to settle his debt, then so be it.'

‘Mr Searle, I may be many things, but I am certainly not your dear.'

A soft chuckle and a warm, appreciative light in his eyes conveyed his pleasure. ‘You are by far the loveliest and dearest thing I've seen for many a year, Rowena.'

His gaze swept over her, from her shining head, sliding leisurely over her rounded bosom and down the length of her legs. Her hand went to the ears of the panting dog, which she fondled and smoothed and pulled, to the dog's evident delight, and she was rewarded by the thump of a black tail. It obviously meant a great deal to her the way she was fussing over it. Tobias felt a strange sensation come over him and he could hardly believe it when he realised it was resentment—that he, Tobias Searle, who knew himself to be attractive to women, and not because he was one of the
richest merchants in Bristol, but because—and he would make no bones about it—he was handsome and had a certain way with the ladies, could be jealous of a dog.

Casting a wary eye over both animals, he saw they were big dogs, gentle and affectionate, but let anyone make a move they didn't like against their mistress and he suspected they could become fierce as tigers.

A lazy smile dawned across his tanned face, and Rowena's heart skipped a beat. Tobias Searle had a smile that could melt an iceberg. She immediately wished she'd worn her riding habit, which was less revealing than her breeches, for his careful scrutiny left no curve untouched. When his eyes returned to hers, her cheeks were aflame with indignation. He smiled into her glare.

‘Yes, Rowena. You really are quite lovely, you know.'

‘And you are the most insufferable man I have ever met.'

She fell silent, looking at him openly. His face was virile with a compelling strength, which said that no matter what words she flung at him, he would never yield to them. His dark curling hair was cut short, glossy and thick, dipping across his wide forehead. His eyes were steady and narrowed in a deep brilliant blue when he smiled, and his mobile mouth curved across strong white teeth in his brown face.

‘What are you doing here? Were you spying on me?'

‘I grew bored with Falmouth and came to see if the sights were better up here.' The corners of his lips twitched with amusement, and his eyes gleamed into hers as he added, ‘I am happy to report they are much better.'

‘It's a pity you have nothing better to do than go about ogling women.'