Pirate's Golden Promise (4 page)

Before she was aware of it, he was gone. She sat on the sofa and heard the harp music drifting from the drawing room, the clink of fine crystal, the merry voices lifted in conversation. But it was as if none of them existed. All she recalled was the feel of the hateful man's lips on hers, the way his hand had teased her breast … and the way she had wished him to never stop.

Remembering his parting words to her, she stood up, straightened her skirt, and smoothed down her hair. Then she parted the alcove curtain. When she was halfway down the corridor, Adam approached with two punch glasses in hand. He grinned sheepishly at her.

“I'm sorry about everything. Forgive me.”

Not bothering to assuage his feelings, she said with finality, “We announce our engagement tonight.”

“Yes, of course,” he said, much pleased that Wynter must have forgiven his crude behavior and that the sooner she married him, the richer he'd be.

When Wynter stood beside her father and her betrothed as Walter made the announcement not five minutes later, she was determined to show the arrogant Dutch sea captain that she was indeed a woman, a woman who'd sooner be married to the man she loved.

Her bravado, however, was for nothing. The captain was gone and Estelle with him.

“Mother, what am I to do?” Lucy wailed and buried her tear-streaked face on Debra's breast. “I love Adam so!”

Why Lucy, or anyone, should love Adam Somerset puzzled Debra. She found him to be a vain, self-centered peacock, cavorting around the countryside in his fine clothes and the dark carriage with the Somerset coat of arms on the side. She didn't have much use for a man she considered a wastrel, who lived in high style at the court of Charles II and entertained lavishly when in residence at Somerset House. However, Adam had inherited her father's title and property, and though Debra had heard rumors of financial troubles brought on by Adam's penchant for the gaming tables, she determined that Lucy would marry the new Earl of Somerset, not Wynter. Besides, once Lucy was Adam's wife, Debra could connive a way to take over the running of the estate which wouldn't have been difficult if only Wynter hadn't botched things so!

“The announcement of Wynter's and Somerset's betrothal did come as a shock to me,” Debra admitted and stroked her daughter's thin red hair. “I had thought his attentions were directed toward you. However, this situation can be remedied. You shall become his bride yet.”

Lucy gulped back her tears and drew away from her mother. She stood up, disbelief in her eyes, and clenched her fists. “Look at me, Mother! No wonder the man fancies himself in love with Wynter. She's beautiful and Papa's pet. I'm plain and skinny with freckles on my face. No amount of pretty gowns will change that. I'm the proverbial sow's ear.”

“I do admit you're no great beauty, daughter, but then neither was I, and I married your father. The same shall happen for you.”

Lucy marveled at Debra's calmness. “Mother, I'm not a child to be petted and cajoled like Wynter. Nothing I've ever yearned for has come to pass. Wynter is forever favored over me and always will be.” How true this was. Lucy remembered the night in the nursery and her resolve that the child's prettiness would come to naught if she, herself, wanted something badly enough. But no matter how Lucy connived to have her own way, her father forever intervened and chastised her for her poor behavior towards her younger sister. “Wynter's a baby,” she heard his words in her mind still. “You must be kind to her.” The image of his finger shaking in her face, the displeasure in his eyes, only reinforced her hatred of Wynter.

Wynter always triumphed. It seemed to Lucy that a guardian angel watched over her. She remembered the night she had sneaked into Wynter's room and silently made her way to the wardrobe where a new party gown hung which Lucy had coveted but which Wynter had received because the color suited her better. Lucy had taken a small knife and cut away the bottom of the gown until it hung in ragged edges, as if a rat had gnawed at it. Oh, she'd been most pleased with herself! But then that meddlesome Maddie had come into the room and dragged Lucy by the ear to Walter. Upon hearing of her transgression, he promptly marched his daughter back to her own room and forced her to use the little knife on her own best party dress. Needless to say, Lucy never destroyed another of Wynter's possessions.

“Trust me, Lucy. Before long, you shall wear the Somerset jewels about your neck, and Somerset will be your husband.”

“What are you up to?” Lucy eyed her mother in suspicion. “Father won't allow you to interfere in Wynter's marriage.”

“Yes, he will … if he knows that I plan to tell the whole world that she isn't my child, but the child of your father's mistress, my dead sister, Sara.”

Lucy's pale complexion grew whiter. “Aunt Sara and father … Wynter was their…”

“Love child,” Debra finished in disgust.

“Oh my! Father will be angry with you if you threaten blackmail.” Lucy didn't think her mother could manage to change her father's mind, but a sly smile hovered around her lips. “Somerset may call off the marriage if he learns the truth. Perhaps you won't have to tell Father of your plans.”

“I will!” Debra replied. “It's about time his brat was put in her place.”

Debra left Lucy and headed down the hall to Walter's room and did the unpardonable by not knocking first. When she entered, she found him sitting in bed and sipping a glass of brandy. His mauve dressing gown was pulled around his massive shoulders, barely concealing his chest. Though she hadn't slept with Walter since Lucy's conception, he still had the power to disturb her. But Debra willed herself to forget that she had loved him once. She waited at the bottom of his bed, hands on hips.

“Really, you should have knocked,” he said, quite perturbed. “What if I had been busy?”

“Busy with a little kitchen maid? Well, you aren't. I'm here because of Lucy.”

“What about her?” He sipped his brandy.

“You agreed to Wynter's marriage without consulting me.”

“So?”

“Lucy is in love with Somerset, and you've handed him to Wynter as if he were a trinket. You don't care that Lucy is hurt.”

“I care very much about Lucy, and if she hadn't been filled with your hatred of me, she would realize it. But Somerset and Wynter are in love. There's no need to make all three of them miserable. We both know how unhappy life can be with the wrong person.”

Debra winced. If Walter had only allowed himself to love her, to overlook her shrewish tongue and hard ways, perhaps they could have been happy in their marriage. But he hadn't. He'd been too bewitched by her sister. She said quite haughtily, “Lucy is your daughter, too. She should marry first, and marry Lord Somerset. I'm quite certain we can make a suitable match for your precious Wynter.”

Walter sighed, knowing that Debra was not to be easily deterred from her goal. He dreaded the argument he felt sure would follow, but he wouldn't allow her to have her way in this instance. For years he'd tried to ignore her tirades, her hateful words to him and Wynter. But sometimes he wished to strangle the woman. And Lucy, his elder daughter, would grow to become just like Debra if he didn't take a hand now and put an end to this talk of a marriage to Somerset. He wished Lucy's mind hadn't been poisoned against him by Debra. For in his way, he loved the girl.

But the woman who stood before him in her black garb, resembling a crow, he did not love. Too much unpleasantness had transpired between them for him to care anything about Debra. If only Debra had been kind, gentle …

He wouldn't think about what might have been.

“You shall support the match of Lucy and Somerset or suffer the consequences.” He heard Debra's voice, bringing him back to the moment.

“Don't coerce me, lady-wife. I can make you wish you'd never been born if you carry out your threat.”

“Really? Well, I wonder how Wynter will regard her loving father if she learns the truth.”

With that parting remark for him to mull over, Debra left the room.

Walter finished his brandy and wondered if Debra would confess the truth to Wynter. He knew she'd make it sound as sordid as possible and would show him in a very unfavorable light. He couldn't risk losing his daughter, the only thing he held dear in life—the living reminder of his Sara.

He wondered if the time had come to tell Wynter the truth, to let her know that her own mother had loved her before her birth and would have cherished her had she lived. He refused to allow Debra to dictate to him, to cause him to feel guilty. He'd appease her by finding Lucy another suitor. In this he anticipated no difficulty. The smell of wealth could be a great inducement. This he knew from personal experience.

With the plan formed to tell Wynter the truth, he waited for Jennie. He hoped he wouldn't tire out on the lusty wench tonight. He'd been feeling poorly lately and blamed his lack of performance on the girl, and told her she didn't know how to please a man. But that wasn't true, and they both knew it. Though Jennie never said anything to him in her own defense, she was the type of woman who could rouse a dead man from eternal slumber. He knew he wasn't the man he had been years ago. Years ago when he loved Sara.

When the flaxen-haired creature did crawl beneath the sheets later, all thoughts of Debra and his children fled. Jennie had a way with her hands, and that night he felt young again.

The guest list had already been drawn up by the beginning of February. Though Debra helped Wynter make up the list, Wynter sensed that something lay behind Debra's sly-cat grin, that in some way she was helping herself as well. Little else spoiled Wynter's happy mood, except for Lucy, who refused to be fitted for her gown.

“Madame Richard must take your measurements,” Wynter insisted one damp, cold afternoon. “How else will the gown be ready in time for the ceremony next month? You're my only attendant. I do wish you wouldn't act so petulant.”

Lucy sniffed the air in disdain, reminding Wynter of Debra, her hand resting on a page in the Bible. Lucy's eyes lifted to Wynter's worried face. “You want me in the wedding party because I'm your sister. Not because you're fond of me.”

Wynter suppressed a sigh. She and Lucy had never been close and she knew they never would be. As far back as Wynter could remember, they had been at odds. Sometimes she envied Lucy, because nothing ever seemed to ruffle her composure. Wynter recalled the horrible pranks Lucy had played on her and the way she constantly treated her with disdain. In fact, during the past month Lucy had treated her worse than usual, almost as if Wynter were no better than a common servant. Wynter did care for her sister, and just once would have cherished a genuine smile of affection from her. She thought Lucy would be much more attractive if she didn't scowl so much of the time.

“I do want you in my wedding party, Lucy. I do wish we could be friends.” Wynter touched her sister's arm, but Lucy pulled away and stood up.

“Friends, is it? Either you're a blind fool or you wish only to upset me. Any idiot with two eyes would realize that I don't want to be in your wedding because I love Adam.”

“I had no idea,” Wynter said and sank on the rose-and-green brocaded sofa. The fire flickered in the huge stone hearth and filled the drawing room with warmth, but Wynter felt cold. She buried her hands in the folds of her blue calico gown and stared at Lucy, clearly reading the pain on her sister's face. Her heart went out to her. “I should have realized you loved him, but it never dawned on me that—”

“That your plain sister could hope to win his affections,” Lucy finished. “Perhaps it isn't all your fault. Father has forever called you his pet and made certain you were never harmed, always felt loved, while I—” Lucy's voice drifted off.

Wynter felt ashamed. “I wish we could have been closer. Maybe it isn't too late.”

Lucy closed the Bible with finality. “We can never be friends now, Wynter, not when you intend to marry the man I love, not when you're no better than a servant's bastard.”

“Lucy!”

“It's true, but I think I shall allow mother the privilege of informing you about things.”

“Things? What are you jabbering about?”

“You'll find out soon enough.” Lucy sauntered from the room, leaving Wynter perplexed and shaken.

Had Lucy gone mad, she wondered? What did she mean by calling her such an ugly name? Wynter ran upstairs to her room to fetch her cloak for an afternoon ride. She found Maddie picking up her discarded bedclothes from that morning.

“You look right strange,” Maddie commented when Wynter went to the wardrobe and took out her cloak.

She faced Maddie. Anger sparkled in her gray eyes. “Lucy said I was no better than a servant's bastard. Why would she say such a hateful thing to me?”

Maddie held Wynter's nightrail in midair. “Lady Lucy has a nasty mouth sometimes. You know you can't take her seriously. I suspect she's just jealous that Lord Somerset is your betrothed.”

“Yes, of course that must be it,” Wynter said, feeling foolish that even Maddie knew Lucy was in love with Adam. She threw on her fur-lined blue cape. “I think I shall ride a bit.”

“Good, for the fresh air will perk up your spirits.”

The gusty afternoon held a hint of rain above the Cotswold Hills, but Fletcher wasn't in the stables when she arrived. Upon learning from another groom that he was out riding Ignatius, her father's champion stallion, for his daily exercise since Walter had pleaded tiredness that day, she mounted Misty Blue, the red mare Walter had given her on her fifteenth birthday.

It wasn't hard to find Fletcher. In the open fields below the mountain line, the horse and rider stood out clearly. Wynter galloped towards them. The wind whipped around her face and chased thoughts of Lucy from her mind. By the time she reached Fletcher, she was laughing.