Regency High Society Vol 2: Sparhawk's Lady / The Earl's Intended Wife / Lord Calthorpe's Promise / The Society Catch. Miranda Jarrett

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СКАЧАТЬ behind the petticoats!” he said sharply. “What ship, eh?”

      Her anxiety mounting, Caro watched as Jeremiah slowly rose to his feet, using his height to his advantage as he towered over the others. It seemed to her he was twice the size of the little lieutenant, and despite his rough, common clothing, there was more authority in him alone than in all three of the uniformed Englishmen combined.

      The lieutenant knew it, too, and didn’t like it. “I asked you your ship, you insolent dog.”

      “I’m not a dog, but a captain,” answered Jeremiah with a mildness that didn’t fool Caro. She thought of the pistols in his belt beneath his coat and the knife at his waist and who only knew what else, and prayed he wouldn’t be halfwitted enough to use any of them now.

      “An American captain,” continued Jeremiah, “a shipmaster and an owner of nearly twenty years’ standing. I stood my own quarterdeck before you were breeched, you English puppy, and I’ll thank you to remember it before I report you to your betters for ill breeding.”

      The others in the room hooted and laughed derisively. “Silence, all of you,” bellowed the lieutenant as his men raised their cudgels around him, “or I’ll have you all taken in for disrespect to an officer of the crown!”

      The cudgels, not his threats, brought an uneasy silence, and the officer turned back to Jeremiah. “You claim to be an American captain. What ship? What port? Where, sir, are your papers?”

      “I am Captain Jeremiah Sparhawk of Providence, in the State of Rhode Island in New England.” There was no mistaking the pride in his voice as he handed the lieutenant a document with a heavy red seal stamped into one corner. “Most recently of my own brig the Chanticleer.”

      “The Chanticleer? I know of no ship by that name in port.”

      “She was lost,” said Jeremiah softly, “last November.”

      The lieutenant grunted as he took the document. “That’s convenient, isn’t it?”

      Caro held her breath as the officer scanned the paper, his lips moving slightly as he read to himself. If what Jeremiah said was true, then the man must be satisfied and leave them alone.

      But instead he tossed the paper scornfully onto the floor at his feet. “A Yankee forgery, and an amateurish one at that. Were I in Boston, I’ll wager I could buy another like it for half a crown. But I don’t even believe you are American. Sparhawk, that would be a Scottish name, wouldn’t it?”

      Caro could see Jeremiah tense, how he consciously flexed his hands at his sides to keep them from making fists.

      “In Cromwell’s time, it was English,” he said, his voice unnaturally calm, “but it’s American now, and has been since we tossed your kind off our shores twenty years ago.”

      “He lies, sir,” spoke up one of the marines, his role obviously rehearsed. “The rascal’s from Greenock, sir. I knew his people there.”

      The lieutenant smiled with triumph. “Then he shall do his duty in the maintop of the Narcissus, or be flogged for the lying, sneaking Scotsman he is. Seize him, before he makes off!”

      But outnumbered though he was, the fury in Jeremiah’s green eyes kept the Englishmen at bay. “If you do not choose to believe me, then perhaps you’ll believe the word of Vice Admiral Lord John Herendon—your captain’s superior, aye? Herendon will vouch for me, for he is married to my sister.”

      “A rogue like you married into Lord Jack’s family?” The lieutenant sneered, and now it was his men’s turn to laugh. “Next you’ll be telling me that this little strumpet is lady-in-waiting to the queen!”

      The tension that had been building in Jeremiah suddenly exploded. He pulled Caro to his side and tipped the heavy oak table over with a clatter of pewter and breaking crockery, scattering the Englishmen on the far side of the makeshift barricade. With a grunt he lifted the bench and swung it like a club, knocking the first marine senseless to the floor. The second one had his rifle lifted clear from his hands, and while he stared openmouthed after it, Jeremiah struck his chest so hard that the man folded in two and fell gasping for breath on top of the other marine.

      But then came the unmistakable snap of flintlocks being cocked. Jeremiah froze, staring at the lieutenant’s pistol aimed at his heart and two seamen’s rifles pointed at him, as well. Behind Jeremiah, Caro stared at the guns with her knuckles pressed to her mouth, sick with dread over what would, inevitably, come next. The hatred between the American and the Englishmen was palpable, and the only sound in the room came from the groaning marines on the floor.

      “That will earn you an extra twenty lashes, you filthy liar,” said the lieutenant. “Now drop it.”

      With an oath Jeremiah tossed the bench over the table and at once the English sailors were on him, shoving Caro aside as they roughly jerked Jeremiah’s arms behind his back to tie his wrists with tarred cords. They found and claimed his pistols and long knife, and a second blade hidden in the sleeve of his coat, and struck him with a cudgel when he tried again to protest. Blood trickled from his mouth and stained his shirtfront, and when they prodded him toward the door he stumbled, and they laughed again with a cruelty that tore at Caro’s heart.

      She couldn’t let them do this to him. He deserved better from them, but even more from her. Three times this night alone Jeremiah Sparhawk had come unbidden to her defense, and though she didn’t have his experience or his strength, there had to be a way to save him now.

      For Frederick’s sake, she told herself as she rushed after them. She was doing all of this for Frederick, not for Captain Sparhawk, and never for a moment for herself.

      “Jeremiah, love!” she cried as she flung her arms around his neck. “They cannot take you like this, my darling husband!”

      Confusion, then irritation, showed in Jeremiah’s eyes. “Hush, Caro, this is none of your affair. They won’t make any of this stick. I’ll be out and free tomorrow, and I don’t want you in the middle of it.”

      “No, love, no!” she wailed, fervently kissing his cheek before she turned to the lieutenant, wringing her hands with despair that was only partially feigned. “Please, oh, please, kind, dear, just sir! We are newly wed, only this very night! Could you be so cruel as to rob a bride of her heart’s one true love on this day of all others?”

      Behind her Jeremiah groaned. “For God’s sake, Caro—”

      “No!” She clutched at the lieutenant’s sleeve, pleased that her histrionics had made him look so uncomfortable. The other men in the gang were hesitating, too, looking to him for reassurance, and around them the tavern’s patrons were muttering and grumbling among themselves. She had him, she thought triumphantly; he’d have to let Jeremiah go now.

      But instead of agreeing, the officer shoved her away. “Where would his majesty look for his navy if every wife wished to bind her husband with her apron strings?” he said curtly as he motioned for the others to continue. “It’s your misfortune, not mine. My duty is to fill the company of the Narcissus, and I mean to do it no matter how many dubious brides weep at my feet.”

      “No, wait!” She rushed back to Jeremiah, her arms flung across his chest to protect him. She wasn’t as certain as he that they’d set him free tomorrow. She’d heard too many stories from Frederick about the abuses of the navy’s pressgangs in Portsmouth, СКАЧАТЬ