the crossing. He was one of the few people who’d heard the rumours about her in London and chosen not to believe them. Cassandra appreciated his fatherly attitude and the many pieces of advice he’d offered her about returning to Williamsburg since they’d set sail.
‘I have no more choice in whether to join him than you did in assisting his surgeon.’ Cassandra sat on the edge of Dinah’s bed, stroking her daughter’s dark hair and watching the child’s eyelids flutter while she slept. Jane stood on the other side, her small face with the snub nose still white with fright.
‘I understand, but others may not see it the same way and think you went to him willingly. It might bring you more heartache than you left behind in London.’
Cassandra paused in her stroking of Dinah’s hair. She was going to him willingly because he’d asked her to in exchange for the crew and the passengers’ freedom, not because he’d demanded it, but it didn’t change her lack of choice in the matter. Her daughter was her most prized possession and the only good to come from her marriage and she would do anything to protect her. ‘If I have to meet privately with Captain Rose to ensure we reach Virginia, and Dinah has a real home and a future, then I will.’
‘What future will she have if you are ruined?’
She leaned down and kissed Dinah’s chubby cheek, then rose to face Dr Abney. ‘Belle View plantation is mine and nothing, not rumours, my reputation or any man, can take it away from me.’ Though heaven knew what condition she’d find it in once she reached it. ‘Besides, if there’s one thing that can always be counted on, either in London or in Williamsburg, it’s the English love of titles and land. Thankfully, I possess both.’ It was money she lacked. She had enough fine gowns and jewellery to give the illusion of wealth so necessary for securing one’s place in society, but it wouldn’t last for ever. She hoped it worked in Williamsburg long enough for her to succeed for it was the only card she had to play.
She wandered to the window, desperate for a cool breeze to ease the heat. On either side of the open pane, the swirled leaded glass distorted the view of the water. The cloying humid air sat heavy over the ship and she dabbed her sweat-soaked chest with a small handkerchief, unable to find relief. The prospect of facing all the old ghosts waiting for her in Virginia unnerved her as much as the man she was about to dine with. ‘Captain Rose gave me his word that no harm will come to any of us and so far he’s kept his promise.’
‘Then for your sake, I pray he continues to do so.’
‘Me, too.’ She smoothed her hands over the light blue silk of her robe à la française, trying not to let Dr Abney’s concerns increase hers. If the Captain proved as untrustworthy as Giles, it would add another salacious story to the ones from London already trailing her like a wake behind a ship and make everything she hoped to regain in Williamsburg that much more difficult.
A knock at the door tightened the already strained air of the room.
‘Enter.’ Cassandra faced the door, lacing her hands together in front of her. She’d changed from her simple cotton day dress to a deep maroon silk one, with lace along the half sleeves and silver embroidered flourishes on the skirt and bodice. Although it was heavier and hotter than the other, it was thicker in the front and wider at the hips, revealing less of her narrow waist. The bodice was a touch higher, but it still emphasised a good deal more of her décolletage than she would have liked. Witty conversation was how she intended to charm Captain Rose into keeping his promise to send them on their way, not the more carnal assets Giles had once accused her of using to ensnare lovers. As loathsome as her late husband’s touch had been, there hadn’t been anyone but him. It no longer mattered. By wearing the fine gown, she’d give Captain Rose the cultured dinner partner he’d asked for. Besides, if he proved to be a rogue, none of her gowns, no matter how high the bodice or how wide the skirt, would stop him from taking what he wanted.
The man with the Monmouth cap entered, tugging at the dirty red scarf tied around his neck while he struggled to keep his eyes on hers and not her chest. ‘Mr Rush, milady. I’m to escort you to the Devil’s Rose.’
Cassandra took a steadying breath. She must be brave for Dinah’s sake and for everyone else aboard the Winter Gale. ‘Then let’s be off.’
Mr Rush offered her his arm. ‘Milady, if I may?’
She slid the slender walnut pistol box off the table and tucked it under her arm, wondering why Captain Rose had asked her to bring it. There were more valuable items he could take from her, though two fine weapons were probably of more use to a pirate than jewellery. She placed her free hand on Mr Rush’s coarse, sea-spray-stiffened coat and allowed him to lead her on deck and to an unknown fate.
The Winter Gale crew, guarded by the pirates, watched Cassandra and Mr Rush walk side by side to the wide planks laid between the ships. Pity filled a few of the older men’s eyes, but she ignored them as she’d ignored the vicious stares and whispers of London society. The plank bobbed and rolled while the two ships, held together by grappling hooks and lines, tossed about on the sea. Captain Rose stood on the other side, some of his men flanking him at the balustrade, the change in him from earlier remarkable.
He wore a black frock coat without facing. A row of silver buttons curved down along the front and decorated the bootleg cuffs folded back to reveal his large hands. A red waistcoat hugged his trim torso, the line of it broken by a wide belt pulled down on one side by the weight of his sword. Black breeches tucked into tall cuffed boots covered his long legs. The severity of his dark attire was lightened by the white shirt beneath his waistcoat and the silver embroidery about the edge of the tricorn he wore low over his forehead to meet his mask. His exposed cheeks and jaw beneath the mask revealed a smooth face freshly shaved. If she hadn’t seen him an hour ago, his shirt wild and loose about him, his hair hanging to his shoulders, she might have mistaken him for any gentleman in a ballroom in Mayfair.
When she approached the plank, he examined her with a gaze intense enough to ignite every cask of gunpowder on the ship. Panic gripped her harder than when the pirates had first burst through the door, and her hand tightened on Mr Rush’s arm. She wanted to rush back to the cabin and reload the pistols, but she held her ground, refusing to reveal her fear to everyone, especially Captain Rose.
‘You needn’t worry,’ Mr Rush offered when they stopped before the plank. ‘Captain Rose is a gentleman. No harm will come to you.’
The older man’s faith in his Captain bolstered hers and her courage. With Captain Rose and both crews watching, she couldn’t turn back or betray her word and risk placing the ship, herself and Dinah in danger. ‘Thank you for your concern, it’s very much appreciated.’
‘I’ll hold the box while you cross.’
She handed Mr Rush the pistol case, then took his hand and stepped up on to the plank. The timbers of the ships and the thick ropes lashing them together groaned and creaked with the movement of the swell and every once in a while the hulls banged together, sending up a small spray of water.
Captain Rose stepped up on to the plank on his side. He clutched the rigging in one hand and offered Cassandra the other. She ignored it and took hold of the sides of her dress and began to walk regally across the splintered wood. She didn’t look down, aware that if she fell between the ships they might slam together and crush her. She was halfway across the boards when the Winter Gale lurched, throwing her off balance.
In a flash of black fabric, Captain Rose caught her about the waist and whirled her around to set her on the deck of the Devil’s Rose. He held her close, his arm tight about her waist, his wide chest hard against her stomach. The potent smell of sandalwood shaving soap and leather surrounding him made her dizzier than the near fall. He’d been imposing in the confines of the cabin with little more than the distance of the pistols between them. With his body pressed against hers, the fine wool of his frock coat brushing her bare chest above her bodice, he was overwhelming.
‘The trick is to move quickly.’ His husky voice rumbled deep inside her. She peered up at him, her breath stolen by his closeness. His suntanned skin showed no evidence