The Beloved Scoundrel Read online

  The captain’s sour gaze raked over her, taking in the ragged garments with disapproval. “I told His Grace I would take none of his harlots on board my ship.”

  Gregor’s smile faded. “It is Jordan’s ship, and I think he would be most upset if he heard you insult his … his …” He hesitated and then finished with a beaming smile. “His ward.”

  “His ward?” Braithwaite echoed suspiciously.

  Gregor nodded. “She is the daughter of Justin Sanders, Jordan’s close friend, who was killed in this terrible land a few weeks ago. Poor child. What trials and tribulations she has endured to escape death and dishonor. When we heard of Justin’s death, we searched ceaselessly until we found her and her small brother.”

  Marianna stared at him in astonishment.

  Gregor’s eyes were misting. “Do you know where we found them? In a church, praying for rescue. I cannot tell you how … touched and full of pain Jordan was when he found this poor girl.”

  Touched. Pain. She remembered Jordan doubled over when she had struck him between the legs with the candelabra. Gregor slanted her a look from beneath his lashes, but his mournful expression didn’t change. “What could he do?” he continued. “The only thing any Christian soul would do. Take her back to England where she can be educated and given the chance to marry a man who will make her forget these tragic woes.”

  “I believe not a tenth of this balderdash,” the captain said bluntly. “I’ve heard your tales before, Gregor.” He turned to Marianna. “What is your name, girl?”

  “Marianna Sanders.” She met his gaze. “And my father is dead, and I am not a harlot.”

  He studied her and then nodded slowly. “I believe you.” He turned and walked toward the gangplank. “In future let the girl tell the tale. She knows the value of brevity.”

  Gregor looked after him, outraged. “It was a very good story. One of my best. Just enough truth to make it sound true.” He took her arm and propelled her along the deck. “And on the spur of the moment too.”

  “Did you have to lie to him?”

  He shrugged. “I couldn’t let him insult you. He has a mind as narrow as his body, but he’s a good seaman. England rules the Mediterranean, but when we reach the Atlantic, we’ll need a good captain to avoid Napoleon’s navy. I thought it was better than crushing his head.”

  She found herself smiling. “Much better.”

  “But I should know more about you the next time. What was your father’s given name?”

  “Certainly not Justin. His name was Lawrence.”

  “We’ll make that his middle name. Justin Lawrence Sanders. It goes well together. What was his occupation?”

  “He was a poet.”

  “Jordan does not run with the literary set.” He frowned. “We will say they knew each other as boys at Oxford.”

  She shook her head in bewilderment. “Why is all this necessary?”

  “Things in England are not as they are here. There are many people who are like the captain. It would not be … pleasant for you.” He smiled. “So we will make sure that there is nothing at which they can raise their brows or sneer.”

  She felt a surge of warmth toward him even as she shook her head. “I’m not concerned with these English or what they think. I intend to work. Nothing else matters to me.”

  “Then we will make sure you work in comfort and not be disturbed when the world brushes by you,” he said soberly. “But it will brush Alex more than you. You would not want him to be distressed by name-calling. It is clear you want only what is best for him.”

  “He’s an innocent child,” she protested. “What names could they possibly call him?”

  “If they cover you with their tar, then he will also be smeared. You do not wish this.”

  “No.” She was beginning to dislike the thought of this England more each passing minute. She made an impatient gesture. “Very well, tell whatever story you wish.”

  He smiled. “I promise you I will make it most interesting. There are many possibilities. Would you like to be the daughter of a princess?”

  “I just want to be left alone.”

  “Unfortunately, Jordan’s position makes that unlikely. There are always people at Cambaron.”

  Jordan’s position. She suddenly remembered how the captain had referred to him. His Grace. She asked warily, “And what is his position?”

  “Did he not tell you?” he asked, surprised. “Jordan is the Duke of Cambaron.”

  “No, he didn’t tell me.”

  Power. Jordan Draken might hold as much power in his country as the Duke of Nebrov did in Montavia. The thought sent fear through her and made this journey to England appear even more threatening. “None of the men addressed him as Your Grace.”

  “That’s because no one in Kazan recognizes any title but the ones granted by our own ravin.”

  “Ravin?”

  “Our leader. Our ravin is like your king Josef.”

  She wasn’t interested in the intricacies of the Kazan monarchy. “What was an English duke doing in Kazan?”

  For the first time he hesitated. “I cannot tell you.”

  “It has something to do with the Window to Heaven.”

  “Not entirely,” he said evasively. “Jordan has visited us many times.”

  “Why does Kazan want—”

  His big paw of a hand gently covered her lips. “Do not ask me. I know you feel uneasy and afraid and think knowledge will help you. I cannot tell you about Kazan. It is not my right.”

  His expression was sympathetic, but she could see he would not be moved. She moved her head to escape his hand. “Then tell me about Cambaron.”

  “Ah, it is a fine place. One of the richest estates in all England.” He again began to stroll down the deck. “You will like it.”

  “Rich?” Bad fortune if Draken was not only titled but wealthy as well. His arsenal of weapons was growing by leaps and bounds.

  “Very rich.” He beamed. “His father died when Jordan was only a lad of twelve, and he inherited vast mining and shipping interests.”

  “How pleasant for him,” she said faintly.

  “Pleasant but not good. Too much money tends to lead to debauchery, and Jordan was ever one to do things with more intensity than others. We became most concerned about him.”

  “You knew him as a child?”

  “Not exactly.” He paused before a polished oak door. “This is your cabin. Alex will be next door. Are you hungry?”

  She was starved, she realized ruefully, just as Jordan had predicted. “Yes.”

  “I will go to the galley and see if I can find something for you and Alex.” His gaze went over her. “You are very thin.…”

  She smiled. “You intend to fatten me up?”

  He chuckled. “No, after I bring you food, I intend to go ashore and purchase you clothing to cover that skinny body. Jordan said you and Alex must have something to wear on the journey besides those rags.”

  “I wouldn’t want to offend His Grace,” she said ironically.

  “You would not.” He opened the door for her. “I’ve seen him more ragged than you on occasion. He only wants your comfort.”

  “That’s not all he wants.”

  His smile faded. “No, that is true. He wants the Window. Can you give it to him?”

  “I will never give it to him,” she said passionately.

  “Can and will are different words. You’re saying it is possible.” He shook his head. “I was hoping you would say no.”

  “I don’t lie.”

  “It would be safer for you if you did. Jordan will not stop until he gets it, you know.” He moved his big shoulders as if shrugging off a burden. “But we need not think about that now. We will enjoy what we have and worry tomorrow.”

  “I do not intend to worry about it at all.” She suddenly smiled and said gently, “But I thank you for your concern, Gregor.”

  “So much for warnings.” He sighed and turned away. “I will have Niko
bring Alex to you.”

  “Are Niko and the other men going with us to England?”

  “No, they return with Janus to Kazan.” He smiled. “So you will have only Jordan and me with whom to contend. Does not that make you happy?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer but sauntered away immediately.

  She lit the candle on the small table by the door and surveyed the tiny cabin. Its furnishings consisted only of a chest, a small bunk, and a washstand, but it was pristine. She was the only dirty object in the room, she thought wearily. She smelled of horse and was so grimy she doubted if she would be able to do more than remove the surface layer at that washstand.

  Well, she would do what she could and ask about the possibility of a tub for a bath later. Cleansing herself would at least give her something else to think about besides the disturbing information Gregor had imparted.

  Jordan watched Gregor as he strode down the dock toward him. The man could barely see over the stack of boxes and cloth wrapped bundles in his arms.

  “Did you buy out all of Domajo?” Jordan asked dryly.

  “How could I? Most of the shops were closed. I even had to persuade a few of the merchants to open their doors for me.”

  Jordan had seen Gregor’s arts of persuasion. He started with a smile, but it usually ended with him knocking the door down. “I told you I wanted only enough for the journey. Domajo is hardly a center of fashion.”

  “Marianna will not know that, and perhaps a pretty gown will raise her spirits. I wish I could have found more for her.” He balanced carefully as he strode up the gangplank. “What did Janus say?”

  “What you would expect him to say. He wasn’t pleased.”

  “The ravin will be even less so.”

  “Unfortunate. I’m doing all that I can.”

  “They know that,” Gregor said quietly. “It will just be a disappointment. They worry about Napoleon. They’re afraid he will make his move too soon.”

  “The whole world worries about Napoleon.”

  “Do not bite at me when you want to bite at him.” He grinned. “Or I will knock you off this gangplank into the water as I would have done when you were a boy.”

  Jordan smiled reluctantly. “No, you won’t. You wouldn’t wish to drop all those gauds you bought for your dove.”

  “True. I would wait.” He shifted the packages. “There is the captain on the bridge. You should know I told him Marianna and Alex are your wards. You went to school with their father, who was killed in the war. His name was Justin Lawrence Sanders, and he was a poet.”

  “Wards?” Jordan said, stunned.

  “I could think of nothing else on the spur of the moment.” He frowned. “Though I admit casting you in the staid role of guardian is not very plausible.”

  “Nor in the least realistic.”

  “It will have to do.” Gregor’s jaw set stubbornly. “You may have to rob them of the Jedalar, but you must cause them no further hurt.”

  Jordan’s lips thinned. “I have no intention of hurting them.”

  “You could hurt them just by being who you are.”

  “The Devil incarnate?” Jordan asked caustically.

  “No, nothing so omnipotent. Merely the Duke of Diamonds.” Gregor grimaced. “But it is still enough to ruin any innocent who is seen with you.”

  The Duke of Diamonds. The ridiculous title left a sour taste in his month. Christ, he could remember when the sobriquet had amused him, when he had even encouraged its use. But that had been at a time when he had embraced every pleasure and sexual excess with a recklessness that had made him a legend even at a court notorious for its debauchery. “I have no intention of being seen in company with this particular innocent.”

  “You intend to shut her in a dungeon and let her out only when she can give you what you want?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he said testily.

  “Or you could leave her here. We could tell Niko to find her a place of safety. You said yourself that it is a gamble. She may never be capable of giving you the Jedalar.”

  “It’s a gamble I intend to take.”

  “Then we must do what is necessary for her well-being.”

  “I’ll have to think about it.”

  “I have already thought about it. She is your ward, and when we arrive at Cambaron, we will get her a maid to accompany her and …” He paused. “What do they call them … an abigail?”

  “Good God, a chaperon?”

  “Of course, and then we can all live in peace and tranquillity.” He shot him a sly look. “And your sudden virtue will redeem you in the eyes of the dowagers at Bath.”

  “I would have to become a monk to accomplish that feat.”

  “It is true they consider you lost to sin, but anything is possible.” The captain was coming down the steps from the bridge, and Gregor said quickly, “It is only a small thing. It will do you no harm to protect the girl.”

  “What if she doesn’t want to be protected?”

  “She will accede to anything for the sake of the boy.”

  That was true enough. The girl had demonstrated she would walk through fire to safeguard Alex. “I still don’t like it.”

  “I know,” Gregor said. “And I think it is not because it will make you a favorite among the dowagers. You do not want her protected. Why?”

  “She’s a hostage of war.” He smiled cynically. “It’s going to be difficult enough winning what I want from her. Why should I let you strengthen her position when I prefer her vulnerable?”

  Gregor’s gaze searched his face, and then he slowly shook his head. “I do not think that is the complete reason. You may want her weak and vulnerable, but—”

  “I didn’t say weak,” Jordan said sharply.

  “No, that would be a blasphemy in one so strong and bold,” Gregor murmured. “Ah, and you admire strength. It attracts you like a glowing fire. Perhaps you want to—”

  “I want you to stop making surmises that have no basis in fact.” Jordan turned and walked toward the captain.

  “I will see you tomorrow morning at breakfast,” Gregor called after him, and then added even more loudly, “I must take these packages to your poor wards.”

  He had made sure the captain heard his words, Jordan thought with annoyance. Whether he liked it or not, Gregor was trying to make sure his dove was settled safely in the niche he had placed her.

  CHAPTER 3

  The sun shone on the water, turning it a silvery blue so brilliant, it hurt Marianna’s eyes to view it.

  “Good morning. I hope you slept well.”

  Marianna turned to see Jordan Draken walking toward her. He was dressed in severe black and white, a stark contrast against the blue of the sea. “Well enough.” She paused before adding deliberately, “Your Grace.”

  He smiled. “There’s little enough grace in the way you say that. I think you must call me Jordan instead.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it, Your Grace.”

  He studied her. “You’re more annoyed with me than usual. I didn’t think it possible.” He leaned one elbow on the rail. “Why?”

  “I have no liking for dukes.”

  “A natural enough reason. In your place I would feel the same. But I assure you I am no Duke of Nebrov.”

  “You are not in my place. You cannot know how I feel.” She added fiercely, “And how do I know you’re not the same? You want what he wants.”

  “What is that?”

  “Power. Do you deny it?”

  “Yes, I already have more than enough power to suit me.” He saw the flicker of expression on her face. “That’s what you fear, isn’t it? You think I’ll use my power to make you give me the Jedalar.”

  “I’m not afraid.” She met his skeptical gaze and said, “And of course you will use any weapon you have. Mama told me there would come a time when everyone would do whatever they had to do to claim it. She said that unless I—”

  “What?” he asked after she broke off.

>   “Never mind. It’s of no consequence.”

  His gaze narrowed on her face. “I believe it may be of the utmost consequence.”

  She tried to distract him from that slip of the tongue. “She was right, wasn’t she? There’s nothing you wouldn’t do to get it.”

  He nodded wearily. “Yes, she was right.” He changed the subject. “Where’s Alex?”

  “Gregor took him to meet the captain.”

  “Have you both had your breakfast?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled mockingly. “You see how concerned I’m being? The perfect guardian of innocent children.”

  “I told Gregor it was a ridiculous idea. You have none of the qualities of a guardian.”

  “I agree, but Gregor is adamant. So it seems we must all comply.”

  “Why?” she asked with sudden curiosity. “What is Gregor to you?”

  “My friend.”

  “He says he takes care of you.”

  “He did at one time. But then, Gregor takes care of everyone. It’s his nature.” He looked out to sea and asked suddenly, “Do you play chess?”

  She looked at him in bewilderment. “Yes, I used to play with my father.”

  “And are you adequate at the game?”

  “No, I’m not adequate. I’m very good.”

  He laughed, his face alight with amusement. “My apologies. I meant no insult. It’s my curse that I cannot bear to play with novices.”

  “I’m not a novice. After the first year of play I bested Papa all the time.”

  “Let us hope I’m better than Papa.”

  “You wish me to play chess with you?”

  “It will while away the time. It will take us weeks to get to England, and sea voyages can be stultifying.”

  “Then play with Gregor.”

  “Gregor refuses to learn the game. He gets too restless.”

  “I’d think you would suffer the same malady.”

  “On the contrary, I can be very patient—if the prize is worth the game.” He said softly, “And I think you would be an excellent opponent. You have a single-mindedness that bodes well for the match.”

  “I have no time for games. I have to take care of Alex.”

  “Ah, yes, your duty to the men of your family. I believe Gregor would be willing to watch over the child.” He shifted his gaze to her face. “Doesn’t the idea appeal to you? Think of it. You have a chance of humiliating me over the board and seeking out every weakness.”