“You have a point.” Somehow he managed to form his mouth into what he hoped was a pleasant smile. “But may I suggest the committee return to a more salient topic.”
“Indeed,” Edrington said, leaning forward to look down the table at his colleague. “The basis of this folly of a bill has no foundation in Lady Dunscore’s marital status.”
“Perhaps not,” De Lille replied, “but its resolution may.”
“We are not here to arrange Lady Dunscore’s marriage,” Edrington shot back. “We’re here to get at the facts!”
“Precisely,” Nick agreed, for once doing something to steer things in the right direction. “Lady Dunscore, I have here a list of a number of your exploits in the Mediterranean. Perhaps you can give us the details of each—”
“Blast the bloody details!” Edrington exclaimed. “I fail to see why this bill lives on in the face of the fact that this woman saved Croston’s life. Do we have any evidence at all that she has acted against the Crown? Violated the law of the sea? Has anyone made a complaint?”
“She sailed under her own colors,” Nick reminded them, and James wanted to grab him by the throat to keep him from speaking. “And we do have evidence that she took prizes from across the Barbary coast.”
“Then by God, give the woman a medal!” De Lille exploded.
“Need I remind you we are trying to maintain peaceful relations with the Barbary states for the safety of our merchant trade?”
“Peaceful,” Edrington spat. “Those bloody curs have no honor. They’ll agree to peace with one hand and take our ships with the other. This woman has saved not only Croston, but other British subjects—the dowager countess of Pennington, for one, and Cantwell’s daughter Lady India, for another. Clearly she has acted not against the Crown, but in its interests.”
“Has she?” Ponsby demanded, staring down the table at Edrington. “I believe Lord Edrington has information relevant to this discussion that he planned to withhold from us today.”
Edrington’s expression turned stony. “I brought no information.”
“No doubt you didn’t,” Ponsby scoffed. “But I believe this committee should know that not three days past, Lord Edrington shared with me an affidavit he’d procured from one of Lady Dunscore’s crew alleging that she did not, in fact, intend to save Croston at all. Rather, her initial order was to leave him to die in the water.”
James looked at Katherine. A moment of fear in her eyes confirmed the truth. Bloody hell, this could ruin everything.
“Is it true, Lady Dunscore?” Ponsby demanded.
“Taking a stranger aboard a ship with a skeleton crew was a foolish thing to do,” James told them before she could answer. “My respect for Lady Dunscore’s judgment as a sea captain would seriously decline if I thought it might not be true. She had no way to know whether I was friend or foe, as the wreck happened at night when I was not wearing my uniform. There was nothing to mark me as British—quite the opposite, in fact, given my natural coloring. Moreover, I could have been carrying any number of diseases that might have killed everyone on board. Whether we like it or not, there is no duty to rescue.”
“Don’t like it,” De Lille muttered. “Never have.”
Ponsby frowned at him. “And it doesn’t bother you, Croston, that you might have been left to perish?”
“By all rights, I should have perished the night of the wreck,” he said flatly. “This line of inquiry has no bearing on the bill before this committee. If anything, it shows more clearly the risk Lady Dunscore was ultimately willing to take to help another.” You should know that I’ve forgiven you. Now he had a good idea why.
Winston spoke up, addressing Jaxbury. “What have you to say about that day, Jaxbury?”
“Only that Lady Dunscore was acting out of care and concern for her crew. And that a young child was aboard.”
“Your daughter,” Winston said to Katherine.
“Who also has no bearing on this discussion,” James said. He’d be damned if he’d allow them to drag Anne’s legitimacy into this.
Ponsby studied Katherine. “Ultimately, you chose to take the risk and bring Croston aboard. Why?”
“My ship’s surgeon was of the opinion that the man in the water had been adrift for several days, and that a diseased person would not have survived that long without food and water.”
It sounded cold, even though the reasoning was sound. Fear of what might have happened gripped him, and he pushed it away.
“For God’s sake, I’ve heard enough,” De Lille blustered. “If Croston says he should have been left behind, who are we to disagree with him? I, for one, would be prepared to dispense with all this if Lady Dunscore will agree to find a husband.”
James’s lungs constricted. There was a murmur of agreement, punctuated by a snort of derision and more than a few sharply worded dissents. Winston, chairing the committee, cast long glances to his right and left, then looked at Katherine and smiled. “You will be informed of the committee’s recommendation on this matter, Lady Dunscore. Prior to that, if it does so happen that you should enter into a marriage contract...clearly, the committee would be most interested.”
Bloody living hell.
“This committee is adjourned!”
Nothing had been resolved. Not one bloody thing. They could not force her to marry, but it was obvious they hoped to try. He looked at Katherine, hoping to see her reaction, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at Lord Deal.
MARRIAGE. KATHERINE STRUGGLED to draw breath even though Winston’s words only confirmed what she’d already known. A husband was the only way to put an end to this. She simply hadn’t wanted to accept the truth.
The committee room erupted in commotion with the bang of Lord De Lille’s gavel. She didn’t dare look at Captain Warre. Instead, she pushed to her feet and made straight for Lord Deal with the weight of decision closing around her.
The committee’s implication was clear, and only a fool would ignore it. She needed a husband, and she would have one—but not one of the libertines who hoped to use Dunscore’s wealth to finance their excesses while slaking their lust in her bed. And not someone who might yet live thirty or fifty years before setting her free.
A man who would not interfere with her running of Dunscore.
Who would be kind to Anne.
Who would only have the strength for the marriage bed twice yearly.
“Don’t worry, Katie,” Lord Deal said close to her ear. “Just come to Scotland. It’s past time you returned to Dunscore anyhow—we shall both journey north, and once we’re there we’ll work out an arrangement that will be to everyone’s satisfaction.”
Yes, they would—but not in the way he meant. It was all but certain he was imagining pairing her with any number of eligible young Scotsmen. But once safely at Dunscore, she would make sure Lord Deal understood there was only one arrangement she would accept.
She looked into those kindly brown eyes and imagined being with him the way she’d been with Mejdan. “I can be ready in a matter of days,” she told him, even as something inside her curled up tight.
William pushed in next to her and gripped her arm. “The offer I made last night,” he whispered urgently. “I will renew it, if it will help.”
“I am honored, William,” she murmured, “but there is no need. I plan to work out a solution with Lord