Taste of the Devil (21 page)

Ginny had always noticed that Tyler withheld certain parts of himself from others, yet, he had been so raw with her last night... so...

The door burst open.

“Eeek,” Ginny dived under the covers to hide her nakedness.

Mabel barreled into the room, bearing a breakfast tray. “Ye can come up outta there, it’s not as if I haven’t taken care of ye, y’ whole life.”

Charles pranced in beside her, looking very smug for such an early hour.

Ginny peeped out from behind the sheet. “Are you alone?”

“Aye, I’m alone.” She plopped the tray down on Ginny’s lap, sloshing the pot of chocolate. “And so are ye, from the looks of it.”

Ginny flushed. “What does that mean?”

Mabel tossed a sealed letter at her. “That prissy fellow Pratt asked me to give this to ye when I brought up yer breakfast. And in case ye feel special, I got one as well– although I’m sure they read different.” Mabel glowered at her.

Ginny returned an innocent look. “What did I do?”

“Hmpf!”

Her shoulders sagged. “It was all Lord Devon’s doing; he just, sort of, came at me, and then...” She picked at the blanket.

Mabel, realizing Ginny was talking about an entirely different subject, was immediately contrite.

She sat down on the bed. “He didn’t hurt you, did he, love?” She patted the girl’s hand.

“Hmm? Oh, no, not at all. Actually he was quite, ah–” She bit the inside of her cheek.

Mabel snorted knowingly. “One can imagine. Did I not tell ye he’d be a fine lad that one? And ta think, he’s put out with me after we got on so well.” She sighed dramatically.

“What are you talking about?” Mabel handed her a dressing gown, which she put on under the covers.

Charles jumped onto the bed and flopped across Tyler’s pillows. The portly cat rolled onto his back and scooted about, making sure to scratch his back all over the fresh linens. Objective accomplished, the rascal then made a beeline for Ginny’s custard.

Mabel swatted his nose. “Ach, get away from that, yer bugger! Didn’t ye already have two in the kitchen?

Yer getting a bit pudgy.”

Charles lowered his head onto his front paws with a disgruntled “Mrowr.”

“Getting pudgy?” Ginny rolled her eyes and glanced over at the envelope. She recognized Tyler’s seal at once. A small lump formed in the pit of her stomach. A mix of trepidation and some other emotion she’d rather not name.

Angry with herself, she snatched the letter and quickly ripped it open. She read the contents:

Madam, A certain matter has demanded my attention, and so I am forced to be removed from your obeying, dutiful, and submissive side. I anticipate that I shall be gone for the better part of a fortnight.

During my absence, I expect, nay, demand that Reggie emigrate to another place, far, far away from England, from whence he will never be sighted again. I have given Mabel instructions to this end, and I expect my orders to be carried out to the letter. Be warned. I intend to hold her accountable should I learn otherwise upon my return. And just to be clear, my dear lady, you will continue your duties as my wife when I return. That is to say you will be a proper lord's wife to this very improper lord. For now, I am forbidding you to see Lord Henry– at least until I have ascertained his part in your charade.

I cannot abide treachery in my own home, Ginny.

Your attentive husband, Tyler Ginny crumbled the letter up in her hand. “How dare he?!”

“He’ll dare a mite more than that if you go against his wishes,” Mabel remarked wisely.

“Pfft! I have no intention of doing anything he says. He has violated our bargain! All wagers are off. If he demands such things now– who knows what he will demand next?”

An image of his arresting features flashed into her mind; those opaline eyes dilated with blazing passion as he stroked powerfully inside her. She shivered and felt the juncture between her legs dampen.

“Mabel, send a message asking Lord Henry to come to me at once!”

Mabel shook her head. “I can’t do that, missy. Hisself gave me strict instructions.” She waved her own letter under Ginny’s nose.

“He did, did he? Good lord,” she fumed. “You’re not actually thinking of following that dribble?”

“He’s the lord of the manor.” Mabel crossed her arms over her ample belly. “Wot would you suggest I do? Flaunt his orders and find meself out in the streets?”

“Oh, hush, Mabel, you can always go to Lord Henry; but it won’t come to that, you see I have a cunning plan...”

Mabel slapped her forehead. “Where have I heard that one before? Ah, I remember. ‘Twas when ye came up wit the plan ta marry the bloke in the first place.”

She gave Ginny a searing look.

“Hush.” Ginny waved her concerns away. “It will all be right as rain; you’ll see. Lord Henry will aid us, of course. He has an aunt in the Carolinas, if I recall.

He will give us a letter of introduction. All we have to do is simply set sail for the colonies and visit with her until I reach my majority.”

“The Carolinas? Are ye daft? Even if that harebrained idea worked, wot will ye do when ye reach your majority?”

“I shall annul the marriage.”

Mabel arched her brow. “A bit late for that, hmm?” She nodded toward the rumpled bed.

Ginny flushed. “Well, I shall work something out with the bounder later. We can always live separately; I can see no reason why he would object to that.”

“Ye can’t?” Mabel gestured pointedly at the bed again.

Ginny shrugged. “Why would he? So we spent the night together. He spends his nights with many women.” A strange tightening formed in her throat at those words. “It won’t make a difference to him, once he gets past any pride involved.”

Mabel tsk-tsked. “Are ye blind? Do ye not see how he looks at ye? He wants ye, Ginny. Like a man wants a woman. Like a husband wants a wife.”

Was that true?

No, Mabel did not know Tyler as she did. He was a libertine through and through. He did only what was expedient for him.

“Never mind that; do as I say. Tell Lord Henry I will meet with him tonight at the prearranged place in the alley.”

“I don’t know how I let ye talk me around to these things,” Mabel groaned.

* * *

Later that night when Ginny explained the situation to Henley he surprised her by insisting he accompany them to the colonies for protection.

What protection a fop would give was anyone’s guess; she knew for a fact that Henley could not even shoot a pistol straight. But, she loved him for caring enough about them to insist in the first place.

Ginny rather suspected that Henley did not want to be apart from them for so long, as they were all each of them really had.

A few days later, Ginny informed Henley that she had already found a ship for their journey. She had discovered it quite by chance when she had gone to the docks looking for the next ship bound for the Carolinas.

A seaman she happened upon in the street had overheard her inquiries and graciously told her of his own ship that was leaving for the colonies the very next morning. He said he would speak with his captain for her, as they occasionally took on passengers.

If the man looked a bit scruffy and appeared rather crude, well, it was the docks. She followed him to the ship, which was moored in a rather dank area of town.

The captain came out to meet her and although he seemed a bit sharp at first, he became very cordial once he discovered her business.

“So ya wants ta come aboard me ship, does ya?”

“If you are planning on sailing to the colonies soon, then yes, my good man.”

“Ooh, the colonies, is it?” He gave the seaman who brought her to him a wink. “Aye, we’re headed there straightaway. Ya got a husband going wit ya?”

“No, just my maid and my fellow cousin. We can pay you handsomely, I assure you.”

The man rubbed his scraggily jaw. “Got no doubts ‘bout that. It’s just that we don’t take on many passengers– although ya can always have me cabin, if need be. There’s a smaller one wot connects to it for me cabin boy. If agreeable, y’ can give yer maid that.

Yer cousin will have ta sleep standing up on deck.”

“What? Oh dear that won’t do.”

He gave a raspy snicker. “I’m jesting ya. There’s a small storage room for him. But I warn ya, the accommodations ain’t fancy.”

She didn’t care about fancy; she just wanted to get as far and fast away from that cur of a husband as she could.

“We will be fine.”

“Good enough then.” He bowed rather smarmily to her. “Be ready to board by dawn. We sail on the tide.”

They would have to pack in a hurry, but the next passenger ship wouldn’t leave for almost a month and that was too late. Tyler would be home by then. “We will do so,” she smiled brightly at the captain. “And what was your name, good sir?”

“Captain Creaze, at your service.” He looked her up and down. “Willy Creaze. And this be the good ship Abernathy.”

The good ship Abernathy had been named for her prior captain; a poor bloke what found his neck sliced one fine afternoon not too long after becoming Creaze’s partner.

The late Mr. Abernathy now took his tea with Davy Jones.

One imagines the cucumber sandwiches were rather soggy.

Creaze watched the lovely young woman leave, then slapped his crewman heartily on the back.

Luck this good didn’t happen often.

He had already picked up the prize he was after, circumventing the Panther into the bargain. He would turn it over to the Lion but only for a pretty pence.

And this fine young bit o’ muslin would be a perfect bed warmer once they got aways out to sea.

Sweeter still, she’d be paying him for the privilege before he robbed her of everything. He would toss the cousin overboard and give the maid to his men for sport.

And once he was done with the girl, he’d toss her as well.

Dead pups didn’t yap.

There was also a shipload of cargo from New Guinea that he intended to pick up and sell for a goodly sum– if enough of the wretches survived the hold of his ship for the journey. Creaze sighed, content.

Some days it was a real pleasure to be rotten.

He held his belly as he shook with mirth.

And a black-toothed laugh it was.

* * *

Everything had gone exactly as Ginny planned.

They had boarded the ship– a converted galley by the look of it– without incident. Despite his uncouth, greasy appearance, Captain Creaze had been surprisingly cordial, ushering her to her cabin himself, making sure they were all comfortably settled before they set sail.

Only Henley had seemed uncomfortable, whispering to her that the crew seemed of a somewhat hostile nature. Ginny reassured him. “They are sailors; they are supposed to be a bit crude from what I’ve heard.”

“Perhaps... But Ginny-love, do you think we should rethink this? For all his swaggering over the matter of Reggie, Lord Devon has been quite decent with us, considering. I think we should–”

“Do not lose courage now, dear Henley. We are embarking on a new adventure.”

“Hmm.” He was not totally convinced.

Worse than that, Henley immediately caught a wretched case of mal-de-mer as soon as they set sail.

The poor thing rushed off to his tiny cabin and hadn’t been seen since.

Ginny said her goodnights to Mabel and turned down the lantern in her cabin. Standing by the small portal, she gazed out at the churning waters of the channel and swallowed. Had she done the right thing?

She would never knowingly put Mabel and Henley in danger, no matter what dire straights she found herself in. She exhaled heavily. There did seem to be something odd about this crew and that slimy Captain made her uneasy.

Perhaps she was imagining it?

They had a later start than planned, and the ship hadn’t left the harbor until late in the afternoon. Soon, they would be in open waters.

Perhaps she would feel better about this then.

It had been a long, tiring day; she donned her white cotton nightrail and climbed into the bed. Mabel had changed the sheets for her– they did not dare use any of the ship’s linens. After the older woman had tidied up some, the bed was reasonably clean, though the rest of the cabin was unbearably grimy.

No doubt Mabel would tackle that during the voyage.

Ginny yawned. It would be bearable for the time they were on board. She only hoped the passage was a smooth one. Storms at sea were always a danger, and then they were the tales of those bloodthirsty pirates...!

She shivered in the damp air, pulling the sheets up to her chin.

Best not think of that. The chances of getting attacked were slim.

She lowered the flame, but decided to leave the lamp burning low. Just the thought of pirates had unnerved her. To think not too long ago they were discussing this topic over dinner at Lord Gingridge’s...

She never would have imagined that she would soon be traveling herself. She had never even sailed before!

Ginny slowly drifted off to sleep with the rocking of the boat.

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“Methinks I am Coshed By Mme. Passion’s Sweet Bludgeon (or a bit of bad syllabub)”

Where am I? As I mentioned in my last posting to you, dear readers, there has recently been a successful assault on my stalwart sensibilities involving a knowledgeable member of the set. My better judgment against this baser deed is worse implied. I am afraid I rather enjoyed it. What has become of your faithful servant, you ask? Sink me, I am lured...

–Sir R. Moore In my defense, let me first say that Tyler Devon is a very beautiful man. What we shared that night was quite extraordinary. But, you see, once I had tasted the sweet elixir of independence, of charting the course of my own destiny, there was no going back for me. Of course, my "husband" did not quite see it that way...

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Chapter Nineteen

Off the coast of Cornwall, England “Wot will ye do, Capt’n?”

Cappy stared anxiously at the Panther, his hands squeezing the moldy cap he had just whipped off his head. A few wisps of straggly hair fluttered in the sea breeze, giving him a harried expression. The small rowboat he had sent to shore had just returned, and the news was not good.