Just like when he’d left her at Yorktown five years ago.
Richard picked at the nail head on his chair, a guilt washing over him such as he hadn’t experienced since the first time he’d taken a ship what seemed like a lifetime ago. He was quickly proving to be as big a bastard as his enemy. ‘I’m sorry things did not turn out as you would have liked.’
‘It’s been a long time since anything has.’ Defeat draped her like a sail cut loose from a mast. It was the same futility he’d experienced when word had reached him of her marriage and then of his father’s death. Regret crept along the back of his mind, resisting all his efforts to kill it. He’d worked hard for so long to dampen those emotions because there was nothing he could do to change what had happened. He could change things today. He’d done nothing to earn the right to ask her for any favour, especially one that might cause her more grief than Richard’s selfishness had already visited upon her. Let Walter tell her the truth in his own time, if at all. It would keep her untarnished by the hate enveloping Richard and grant her some peace of mind.
He rose, ready to escort her back to the Winter Gale, to bid her goodbye as he had five years ago, except this time she was ignorant of who he was and he was all too aware that they would not meet again. ‘I hope you find solace with your family in Virginia.’
She slowly spun the amethyst bracelet she wore around her delicate wrist, then spoke in so low a voice he almost didn’t hear her. ‘I have no family in Virginia.’
Every sense that told him when an enemy ship was approaching on the horizon raised the hairs along the back of his neck, and he pressed his fingertips into the top of the table. ‘What?’
‘My uncle, my only family, was sick with a fever,’ she choked through heavy words. ‘He died three months ago.’
Richard worked to steady himself as everything around him came apart like a ship in a hurricane. Walter Lewis, his only ally in the colonies, was gone and with him went Richard’s greatest chance of seeing himself and his men exonerated, and Vincent ruined. Panic filled him, and he struggled to keep it under control.
Before Richard could speak, Cassandra jumped to her feet, making the plates on the table rattle. ‘I’ve entertained you at supper as you asked. Will you let us go now?’
Her plea didn’t move him this time and neither did the anguish in her eyes. Everything Richard had spent the last five years working to accomplish teetered on the edge of ruin and he would not see it go over the side. He balled his hands into fists. Vincent had defeated him once before. He wouldn’t allow Walter’s death to let him do it again. ‘No, Cas, I’m afraid I can’t, not yet.’
* * *
Cassandra gripped the side of the table as the ship tilted. ‘What did you call me?’
He reached up and untied the strings of his mask, allowing the silk to slide down his face and drop to the floor.
‘Richard!’ It couldn’t be, but it was. ‘You’re alive!’
Hard work at sea had broadened his chest and arms and everything else about him. The sun had lightened his hair, making some strands near red, and turned his skin tawny. His eyes were almost the same except for the small lines about the corners and the steel of experience hardening them. She wouldn’t believe it was him if it weren’t for the small scar beneath his left eye formerly hidden by the mask. It was a reminder of a wherry accident from when he was a boy, a tale his father had laughingly recounted to her once when she and Uncle Walter had dined at Sutherland Place in the early days of their engagement. Tears blurred her vision. During too many lonely nights Richard’s memory had haunted her and made her wail over their lost future. She’d cursed the sea for luring him away and when the strangling weight of her marriage bonds had chafed, Richard’s memory had fed the faint hope she might some day find happiness again. It had all been a lie, like Giles’s love during their courtship and Lord and Lady Chatham’s concern for her. ‘When they said you’d turned from privateer to pirate, I thought they were mistaken. I told everyone you were innocent. I lost friends and was ridiculed because of my faith in you and all along they were right.’
‘No, they weren’t.’ He banged his fist against the table, overturning a bowl and sending the oranges inside it rolling across the table and on to the floor. ‘I was innocent. I am innocent.’
‘You aren’t. Look at you. I wish you had died, then I could remember the man who loved me and not this...’ she flapped her hand at him, no name black enough to describe what he’d become ‘...pirate.’
‘I didn’t choose this life,’ he hissed with a fierceness to make her shift further behind the chair. ‘I and my crew were forced into it by Vincent Fitzwilliam and I have no choice but to live it until either he’s ruined or I’m dead.’
‘How can that be?’
‘The ship we attacked was a Virginia Trading Company sloop shipping cargo under Dutch colours and a forged Dutch pass. We attacked it because the Dutch had joined the war and their ships were fair prizes. I didn’t realise what Vincent was doing until I saw the Captain’s papers. By then it was too late. The Captain escaped in a launch and made it to Virginia before I could. To protect himself, Vincent had me and my men declared pirates and bounties placed on our heads. His company was foundering under the weight of his father’s gambling debts and when the embargo was issued against the French, shipping cargo illegally under a Dutch flag was the only way he could maintain his business. He sank me, his oldest friend, to save himself.’
‘If you had the fake papers, then why didn’t you fight the charges?’
‘Vincent had the Governor’s ear—he still does—and his Captain’s testimony. I had nothing except my ship, my men and my disgraced word.’ He pressed his fist into his hips, his fury easing, but not the tightness along his shoulders. ‘I renamed the Maiden’s Veil the Devil’s Rose and we’ve plundered Virginia Trading Company ships in search of evidence and to destroy Vincent’s business ever since. What little evidence I’ve found I’ve sent to your uncle, hoping it would one day be enough for him to take to Lord Spotswood and see the man convicted and me and my men pardoned of all charges, but it hasn’t been enough.’
He bent his head in a frustration she could feel because like him, she knew what it was to fight and struggle and to keep failing. But she couldn’t comfort him, not with the realisation of the truth behind his words cruelly dawning on her.
‘Uncle Walter knew you were alive? He lied to me about your death?’ She dropped into the chair, her legs no longer able to support her and the grief weighing her down. Uncle Walter had been a steady rock for her to cling to in the midst of the storms of her life in Williamsburg after her parents’ deaths and again in London when his letters had offered advice and affection when no one else would. All the while he’d been lying to her, and in the cruellest of ways, like almost everyone she’d ever cared for including Richard, Giles and the Chathams.
Why am I not worthy of love and honesty? She longed to bury her face in her hands and cry, but she couldn’t. All she could do was continue on, as she always did, adding this new grief to the old ones already bruising her.
‘He lied to you and to my father because I didn’t want either of you to see what I was forced to become in order to destroy Vincent.’ He righted the bowl, his fingers lingering to trace the engraving on the edge of it. ‘I was aware of the dangers when I went to sea, how it could kill a man. I didn’t think it could destroy the very essence of who he is, or was.’
The pain of his strained words made her heartache slide away. The man she’d once loved was suffering in a way she understood and longed to ease. She laid a comforting hand on his and curled her fingertips to press against his palm. His muscles tensed, but he didn’t pull