The Infamous Rogue Part 38

"And would our parents want us to hang at the end of a noose?"

William sounded so b.l.o.o.d.y calm, like it was a trifle that he and the other two mutinous cutthroats had shredded the captain to pieces.

James had always admired the lieutenant's unflappable, even dispa.s.sionate nature, for it had proved invaluable in the heat of battle. But now James wanted to p.i.s.s on his brother's cool composure, his cold heart. He would rather William strike him, stab him. Anything!

He wanted his brother to show some feeling for the brutal usurpation.

"Some things are worth dying for," James said through gnashed teeth.

"This isn't one of them," returned Wil iam. "The navy took away a part of Father's life, but they won't take anything away from us."

"No, we're going to give it to them," he sneered.

James trembled with repressed rage. He had thought it incomprehensible that his trusted brethren should betray him and dishonor their parents' memories. But he had been wrong. He had been wrong about a great many things. He had once believed Sophia incapable of the same treachery, the same deceit. But he had been wrong about her, too.

The flames from the fire singed his soul. James struggled for breath. He had suffered after his father had been pressed into service, too. He had endured the hardship and the hopelessness, the nights of endless toil alongside his mother. The Royal Navy had ruined his life. But it had not scarred his brothers as he had believed. William had not languished in dread with an older brother to look after him. And Edmund and Quincy had come along after their father had returned home, never having carried the crushing weight of responsibility-or the shame that had accompanied it when James had failed to save their mother from despair.

William grumbled, "I knew you'd hate the idea."

Blood pounded in James's skull. The darkness inside him threatened to shake him apart. How long had his brothers plotted the betrayal? Weeks? Months?

James should have suspected mutiny was afoot. A week ago, William had issued the order to set sail soon after the captain had boarded the Bonny Meg. He had usurped control even then, preparing for the day when he would head the Bonny Meg himself. But James had been too distracted by the island witch to detect the dangerous, telling signs.

"Get out," said James darkly.

Quincy had enough modesty to scratch his head in chagrin. "James-"

"Get the f.u.c.k out! All of you!"

The brothers remained firm, exchanging glances. But soon William nodded and the three quietly filed out the door.

Chapter 22.

D ear Imogen...

Sophia stared at the two words and wondered what she would write next as she tapped the feather quil against her temple.

Her thoughts in a tizzy, she struggled with the letter's content. She wasn't skittish about penning the note. She had considered Imogen's fate for some time now. But Sophia had shied away from making the inquiries sooner, fearing her own precarious reputation would be tainted in some irreparable way if she contacted the "fallen woman."

Don't you see how they crush you, sweetheart? Take away your breath? Let me give you breath.

And so he had.

She closed her eyes and sighed at the warm memory of the man's stirring, provoking, spirit-freeing touch.

We belong together, Sophia.

Her heart throbbed with vim at the hot, firm words. Had he changed his mind about marriage the other night? Had he, too, realized it was kismet, that they were meant to be together?

There was an ache deep inside her to trust the brigand again, to be with him again. She dreaded going back inside her cage. She dreaded conforming, cramming, twisting her soul to fit into a thin and uncomfortable social mold.

She relished the freedom from timidity. She wanted to learn her comrade's lot in life.

Sophia wasn't sure if the letter would ever reach the girl, but she was determined to compose it. She had to try to make amends. She had not treated Imogen like a true friend.

But now she had the fort.i.tude to break the rules, as the d.u.c.h.ess had expressed. Now Sophia had the desire to do what was right...and not necessarily what was proper.

"What are you doing?"

Sophia looked at Lady Lucas, startled. The old woman had recovered from her illness.

Sophia was feeling much better, too. She suspected her own swift recovery had stemmed from the uplifting truth that she belonged with James...allowing her to breathe.

The matron's glare was disquieting. Sophia's fingers trembled a tad. However, she maintained a firm grip on the quil -in her left hand.

"I'm writing a letter," she returned firmly.

Lady Lucas either ignored the faux pas or failed to see it, for she said nothing about the quil pen in her charge's left hand. Instead: "I see that. It's well after breakfast. Why are you still in your night rail? To whom are you writing?" She s.n.a.t.c.hed the sheet and examined it. "What are you doing corresponding with Miss Rayne?"

Ghostly fingers circled Sophia's throat. She sensed the breathlessness. The feeling overwhelmed her whenever she heard a reprimand or antic.i.p.ated censure. She struggled against the crushing sentiment. It was such a contrast to the healing, liberating intimacy she had shared with James the other night. A part of her bristled in defiance of the matron's reproach...while another part of her submitted to the older woman's authority and wisdom.

Lady Lucas ripped the paper apart and tossed the pieces into the low-burning fire. "I might admire your loyalty if the situation was different, Miss Dawson. But as it stands, you are still unwed and vulnerable. You mustn't do anything even remotely scandalous- especially now."

Sophia sighed and dropped the quill. "Why now?"

"Because the earl and his sister are here!"

The fingers at Sophia's throat tightened even more and her heart pounded in her breast.

"What?"

"The siblings are below stairs with the d.u.c.h.ess." The matron skirted across the room and opened the wardrobe. She fished through the heaps of fabric. "We must get you dressed."

Sophia gripped her temples, her mind a maelstrom of unsteady thoughts. "What is the earl doing here?"

"He's come to propose, of course."

"Here?"

"Lord Baine suspects he's about to lose you to Captain Hawkins." The older woman removed a simple white day dress from the wardrobe and eyed the flattering material.

"Make haste, my dear!"

A few minutes later, Sophia and Lady Lucas were seated in the formal parlor with Maximilian Rex, the Earl of Baine; and his sister, Lady Rosamond.

The d.u.c.h.ess engaged the earl's company as Sophia quietly sipped her tea and tamped the roiling movements in her weak belly. She had not visited with the earl and his kin for more than a sennight. It seemed to her a year had pa.s.sed, the siblings more like strangers than acquaintances.

"So you are friends with the d.u.c.h.ess?" whispered Rosamond in a peevish manner.

Sophia suspected the girl disliked socializing with a woman of such high rank. It placed her own position of lady in a dimmer, and thus less attractive, light. "She is very civilized...unlike her brother."

Sophia cringed. "You dislike Captain Hawkins, don't you, Lady Rosamond?"

"I should think that was obvious, Miss Dawson."

It was, wretchedly so. Sophia glanced at the earl. He smiled. She returned the polite gesture, her lips trembling.

"Why do you dislike him?" Sophia asked in a hushed voice.

The girl pinched her brows together. "He treated me in a wicked manner at Max's ball."

Sophia remembered the night of the ball. She remembered meeting the dashing pirate lord after so many years apart. He had shattered her composure in an instant that night.

He had beckoned every wild desire and dangerous pa.s.sion to light once more. He had disturbed her in a wicked manner, not Rosamond.

"I don't understand, Lady Rosamond."

"Really, Miss Dawson." She huffed. "Don't you remember? He asked you to dance."

Sophia frowned. She remembered being put out by the brigand's request, nay, demand.

But why would it have upset Rosamond?

"So?" said Sophia.

"He asked you to dance while I was standing beside you." Venom pa.s.sed between the girl's lips. The poison was palpable. "I was the ranking eligible female. And I was the host's sister. He should have asked me to dance before you."

"And you wanted to dance with him?"

"Goodness, no! I intended to refuse him, of course. But he breached protocol."

"And protocol is everything?"

The chit sniffed. "That's right."

Sophia pondered that evening's circ.u.mstances. Was the girl really miffed because the captain had breached protocol? Or was she feeling slighted because James had not demonstrated an interest in her, the ranking-and supposedly more desirable-female?

"And you cannot forgive him his transgression?" Sophia sipped her tea, blanketing the distaste in her mouth. "Even after he saved you from falling?"

"Saved me?" She snorted softly. "I think not, Miss Dawson."

"You mean you fainted on purpose?"

"Yes."

Sophia glowered. Lady Lucas noted the scowl and quickly rubbed her own forehead, instructing her charge to smooth her wrinkled features. It was unladylike to frown.

Sophia glowered even more. "But why did you fake the vertigo?"

"To teach the captain a lesson, of course."

It struck Sophia soundly, the devious girl's true intentions. After she had feigned faintness, she had issued an invitation to the captain in "grat.i.tude." She had wanted James to come to the country house party so she could humiliate him publicly-as he had "humiliated" her.

Sophia breathed through her nose in a steady manner, her heart thudding, her skull throbbing.

"The grounds here are so lovely, Your Grace," the earl blandished. "Might I have the pleasure of taking a turn through the garden?"

"Yes, Lord Baine," returned the d.u.c.h.ess. "I'll summon the head gardener to give you a tour."

"That isn't necessary, Your Grace...Perhaps Miss Dawson would be so kind as to accompany me? We are both avid horticulturists."

The earl simpered.

Sophia frowned.

The d.u.c.h.ess offered Sophia an uneasy look. "Miss Dawson is recovering from a chill, my lord."

"But you look so well, Miss Dawson." Rosamond chirped, "And the air will do you good."

Lady Lucas nodded brusquely in encouragement.

"Besides," the chit whispered, "my brother is far better company than the barbarian."

Sophia gripped the porcelain cup and murmured, "He's not a barbarian."

James parted the white curtains. He glared at the two distant figures, festooned in lavish attire. The couple entered the grand barouche before the vehicle set off across the pebbled path.

The earl had come to propose.

James observed the cloud of dust as the peer and his wretched sister departed the castle grounds.

And James knew Sophia's answer.

He turned away from the window. He took the empty bottle beside the bed and caressed the spout with his thumb, moving his finger over the slick surface, circling the gla.s.s until his own head was spinning.

He pitched the bottle across the room.

The gla.s.s shattered.

"I see you're stil in a foul mood."