The Infamous Rogue Part 28

"From the d.u.c.h.ess of Wembury, requesting your presence at the castle. Why didn't you tell me you were friends with Her Grace?" Lady Lucas bustled across the room and foraged through the papers neatly stacked on the writing desk. "Here." She handed the missive to Sophia. "A footman arrived in person to deliver the invitation."

Sophia moved closer to the fire and perused the swirling penmanship: My dear Miss Dawson, The Duke and I would like to invite you and your chaperone to Castle Wembury. I long to see you, Miss Dawson. Please accept our hospitality.

Yours sincerely ,.

Bel e Sophia stared at the note, confounded. What did the d.u.c.h.ess want from her? Was it a trick? Was the woman acting under her devious brother's instruction?

Lady Lucas was on her toes, peeking over Sophia's shoulder. "Look at how she signed her name: Belle. How informal. Oh, my dear! You must be such good friends. Why didn't you tel me you were acquainted with Her Grace? And when did you befriend her?"

Sophia's thoughts swirled liked the penmanship. Friends with the d.u.c.h.ess? Hardly. And yet the woman had saved her reputation. And that meant James had been right, Sophia could have saved Imogen's, too...if she had tried.

Sophia gasped for breath. Ghostly fingers circled her throat-and squeezed. She had forsaken Imogen. She had forsaken herself, for she was like Imogen. She, too, concealed dark secrets. She deserved to share in her comrade's fate. And yet she had been spared the misfortune. Bitter tears welled in her eyes.

"I, um..."

"Never mind," said the old woman. "I informed Her Grace you had gone off to mourn the loss of your friend in seclusion. I didn't know how long I could maintain your 'il ness.' And the d.u.c.h.ess was your intimate, so I a.s.sumed I could trust her..."

The matron faltered. Sophia sensed her misgiving, her dread that she had erred in some way and aggrieved her charge.

"You did the right thing, Lady Lucas."

But Sophia sounded much more a.s.sured than she really was. She only wanted to put the matron's fear to rest, to disabuse her of the thought that she would abandon her, disgusted with her incompetence, and leave her penniless-again. Sophia respected the woman far too much to ever abandon her.

Lady Lucas gathered her features and bounded for the door. "Hurry! We have to pack."

Sophia pinched her brows. "Where are we going?"

"To the castle, of course." She paused beside the door. "The d.u.c.h.ess let word slip that you are both friends. The ton thinks you are staying with Her Grace, so you must be there."

Sophia was in a precarious position. If she wanted to protect her character, she had to accept the d.u.c.h.ess's invitation...But what awaited her at Castle Wembury?

It was that enigmatic question that chil ed her, set her heart pounding.

Sophia stared at the imposing wood doors with polished bra.s.s knockers. She peered into the reflective metal and watched her face metamorphose in the twisted alloy. The distortion made her shudder. She looked away. Slowly she lifted her eyes heavenward, but the castle's looming towers disappeared in the dazzling sunlight. She lowered her gaze.

Bright spots bounced before her eyes, making her dizzy.

"Achoo!"

Sophia glanced at Lady Lucas. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She dabbed a frilly kerchief under her nose and sniffed. "It's the dust off the road."

The sound of grinding iron soon filled Sophia's ears. One thick and heavy door rolled on its hinges. The ancient wood released a spurt of cool air from inside the castle that swirled around her in greeting. A stoic gentleman also appeared. The butler, Sophia a.s.sumed.

The matron tucked the kerchief into her sleeve before she handed the butler a calling card. "Lady Lucas and Miss Dawson to see the d.u.c.h.ess of Wembury."

The old man bowed. "Welcome, ladies."

Sophia entered the castle's dark belly; it swallowed her whole. She suspected the ancient blocks of stone might crumble and crush her, and she took an inadvertent step back. But she had to be there or she risked her reputation being sullied. There was stil the chance she might secure the earl's favor and become the next Countess Baine...unless James had employed his sister in some wily scheme to thwart her plans?

"Please follow me, ladies."

Sophia treaded after Lady Lucas and the butler as two liveried footmen attended to the luggage, while another scuttled off to fetch the d.u.c.h.ess.

Sophia lifted her eyes to better examine the tall corridor. The stones gave way to wood panels that covered the walls and the ceiling in a grid pattern. She pa.s.sed through three sets of ornate doorframes designed to keep in the cool air in the summer and let the warm air circulate in the winter.

At the fourth and last set of doors, she was greeted by a lavish lintel with gold filigree.

She dropped her gaze and skimmed her fingers along the carved wood. It reminded her of home on the island...of James.

Sophia dismissed the black devil from her mind. He might stil be the reason she'd been summoned to the castle. But if he was the nefarious culprit behind the invitation, if he intended to out her publicly with his sister's support as an act of revenge for rejecting him aboard the Bonny Meg, he would suffer for the betrayal. She would crush him, too, expose him as Black Hawk.

The butler opened the door. Sophia gathered her composure. But as soon as she entered the warm parlor, her heart fluttered. There was a row of tal windows along the west wal , the gla.s.s arced at the tips. The archaic style suited the ancient fortress. Each pane was flanked by white and translucent drapes, allowing the brilliant, late-afternoon sunshine to fill the room. Shades of blue, green, and yellow colored gla.s.s trimmed the windows, the floral patterns splayed across the floor and furnishings in a vibrant array.

It was unearthly, soothing. The walls were papered in the softest blue. The elegant furniture curved at each corner, giving the s.p.a.ce the illusion of waves...the sea.

There was a large portrait above the whitewashed fireplace. A lovely young woman of about five-and-twenty. Eyes a deep amber, locks a tawny gold. She had a warm smile. She looked mischievous, too, almost seductive. She slanted her lashes and shifted her gaze to one side, as if flirting with someone just beyond the canvas's frame.

"Please have a seat," said the butler. "The d.u.c.h.ess will be with you shortly."

Sophia followed Lady Lucas to the divan upholstered in eggsh.e.l.l white linen. A parlor maid soon bustled inside the room with a silver tray.

"Tea?" offered the butler.

"Thank you," returned Lady Lucas. She settled in the seat and murmured, "Very respectable." As the staff prepared the refreshments, the matron whispered in Sophia's ear, "I'm surprised the d.u.c.h.ess is feeling wel enough to greet us."

Sophia was stil bewitched by the comforting surroundings. She looked away from the curious portrait and returned quietly, "Why wouldn't she be well?"

"I understand there was a complication with the birth of her last child, a son. That was two months ago. She very nearly died."

Sophia frowned. James had mentioned his sister was nursing a new babe, but he hadn't expounded on the traumatic birth. He had suffered sorely if he had refrained from talking about the matter, for he wasn't the sort to confess to weakness, to feelings like pain...or love.

Sophia mulled over the pirate lord's dogged claim that he had to protect his sister's reputation from his sinful past. He adored his sister, Mirabelle. All four of her brothers had spoken warmly of her on the island. If James had conspired with the d.u.c.h.ess to lure Sophia to the castle, it wasn't to betray her. The man would never risk his sister's good name or threaten her happiness. And both would be dashed to bits if Sophia outed him as Black Hawk in retribution. So why had she been invited to the castle?

The door opened.

Lady Lucas quickly lifted to her feet. Sophia mimicked. She folded her hands together and twisted her fingers to quell the slight vibration skirting along her spine. She peered over the matron's shoulder and looked at...the woman from the portrait.

Mirabelle stepped inside the room. She was handsome in a brown linen day dress with ruffled sleeves and full skirt. A matching shawl trimmed with lace was loosely draped over her wrists and sagging below her waistline. The castle air was cool, but Sophia suspected another reason for the woman's warm attire. The d.u.c.h.ess was ashen. It was the fashion to maintain a sallow complexion; however, the woman lacked a certain bright glow in her cheeks that the artist had captured in her portrait. Her faint skin was no vogue: the d.u.c.h.ess was recovering from near death.

Mirabelle crossed the wool rug striped with a blue and white harlequin pattern. She was almost as tall as Sophia at about five feet, seven inches. She paused-and smiled. "Miss Dawson, I'm so delighted to see you."

Sophia prepared to curtsy...but she was swallowed by a lace-trimmed mantle as the d.u.c.h.ess hugged her.

Sophia glanced at Lady Lucas, unprepared for the informal greeting. She had been trained to respond to the peerage with strict decorum. What was she supposed to do now? But Lady Lucas looked pleased at the casual salutation. She believed her charge and the d.u.c.h.ess friends, after al .

The d.u.c.h.ess stepped away, simpering. She looked at Sophia, glanced over her with her golden eyes. The examination wasn't judgmental, though. Sophia had endured a lot of scrutiny since her arrival in England. She knew when she was being critiqued. The woman was...admiring her?

The d.u.c.h.ess glanced at the matron next. "You must be Lady Lucas?"

The old woman bobbed. "Your Grace."

"Please have a seat, ladies."

Sophia and Lady Lucas returned to the divan as the d.u.c.h.ess filled an opposite seat. She looked over her shoulder. "I will serve our guests, Jenkins."

"Yes, Your Grace."

The butler and maid quietly quit the room.

Sophia stared at her counterpart. She was everything Sophia was not: a respectable wife without a sordid past. Oh, she was a pirate's daughter, too. But her kin protected her from the scandalous secret. Sophia had no one to guard her from her own past transgressions.

She had to protect herself. And that meant she had to resolve the mystery of her invitation. Why was the d.u.c.h.ess so pleased to meet her brother's former mistress?

"Thank you for inviting us to the castle," said Lady Lucas. "We are honored."

"It's my pleasure."

The d.u.c.h.ess looked at Sophia again, giddy.

Sophia shifted.

"How was your journey?" said Mirabelle. "Are you tired? I've prepared two of our best rooms. Would you like to rest? Refresh?"

Lady Lucas smiled. "You are too kind, Your Grace."

The door burst opened.

A four-year-old child with twirling gold locks bounced inside the room, waving a bonnet with green ribbon. "Look what I found, Mama!" She placed the fril y cap on her head, but it was too large for her. The headpiece slumped over her brow, covering her big blue eyes.

Lady Lucas frowned. "That's my bonnet."

"Oh no," Mirabelle groaned. "Alice!"

The sprite peeked at her mother from under the cap before she kicked up her feet and dashed from the parlor. Both the d.u.c.h.ess and Lady Lucas chased after the girl, leaving Sophia alone in the room, staring blankly and listening to the ruckus as it unfolded in the pa.s.sageway.

A few minutes later, the d.u.c.h.ess returned-alone. She closed the door and shut her eyes. "That child will be the end of me."

Sophia pinched her lips. She would never know the headache of a household of noisy brats. She was glad about that.

The d.u.c.h.ess sighed and moved away from the door. She headed for the serving dishes and poured two cups of steaming tea. "I'm afraid Lady Lucas is indisposed." She circled the furniture, petticoats swishing, and offered Sophia the light refreshment. "Alice got her fingers into the luggage. Lady Lucas is with the maids, tending to the mess."

Poor Lady Lucas.

But Sophia was in a similar bind. She now had to confront the d.u.c.h.ess alone. The woman was soft-spoken and courteous when Lady Lucas was in the room, but now...

Sophia set the tea aside, feeling insecure about holding the dainty set of dishes.

"Congratulations on the birth of your son."

"Thank you. Henry's a joy. He sleeps most of the time." A clatter resounded from the pa.s.sageway. "He's quiet as a mouse."

Sophia looked at her hands. After a few silent moments, she wondered, "About the invitation..."

"Yes, I'm glad I have you alone, Sophia. May I call you Sophia?"

She nodded.

"You and I have always lived an ocean apart." Mirabelle smiled. "I'm glad we meet at last."

Why was she smiling?

"Are you well, Sophia? Oh, listen to me...I'm sorry about the loss of your friend. Lady Lucas informed me about the tragedy. How did the girl die?"

"She, um..."

"Forgive me. You don't want to talk about the ordeal, I understand. You're stil feeling ill." She set her teacup aside and lifted to her feet before she took Sophia by the hand.

"Come. I'll escort you to your room."

Sophia s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand away.

Mirabelle frowned. "Is something the matter?"

"Forgive me, Your Grace."

She smiled and settled beside her on the divan. "Bel e, please."

The sweet scent of citrus soap filled Sophia's nose. She took in a deep breath, for the tangy fragrance reminded her of the tasty fruits on the tropical island, and the thought of home always put her uneasy mind to rest.

"Why did you invite me to the castle, Belle?"

"You are Dawson's daughter."

Sophia looked at her, confounded. "What?"

"I love your father." She slipped her hand through Sophia's arm. "And so I love you, too. You are a part of him."

Her father was so fearsome. Mad. It was the first time someone had ever treated her wel for being the man's offspring...That wasn't true. James had treated her well for being Dawson's daughter, too.

Sophia's thoughts swirled. "My father is dead."

"I know," said the d.u.c.h.ess, her voice a soft inflec tion. "Word reached me through my brothers. I regret I never had the opportunity to tell him thank you in person. He saved my father from slavery. He allowed my father to return home. I can't express my grat.i.tude to him anymore, but I can express it to you."

Sophia sighed. For a decade, Drake Hawkins had remained captive aboard a naval vessel, pressed into service. It was her father who had attacked the ship and offered the weary sailors an opportunity to join his pirate crew. Drake Hawkins had turned traitor. He had lived a brutal existence under a s.a.d.i.s.tic naval captain for far too long. He had no feeling of loyalty left for the crown, which had s.n.a.t.c.hed him away from his home and kin. And so he had joined Dawson's crew, touring the Caribbean for another two years in servitude to her father.

It was the way of the sea: allegiance and duty. But soon Drake had befriended her father-she suspected it was Drake who'd befriended him, for her father wasn't the affable sort-and he was eventually set free with his fair share of the booty. Drake had returned home to his family after a twelve-year hiatus. And he'd captained his own pirate vessel then, the Bonny Meg. The Hawkins family had flourished. Mirabelle and her two younger brothers had come along. And it was all "thanks" to Sophia's father.