“No!” Alistair broke in sharply, drawing a startled look from Rudd. After a brief pause, he continued in a calmer voice. “We’ll search around, all right, but we’ll have to be discreet about it. I won’t have the servants bruiting this about. It might raise questions.”
Rudd’s face had taken on a slightly greenish tinge, which darkened perceptibly as he stared at Alistair in growing apprehension. Then his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What sort of questions?”
“Never mind what kind! Just do as I say! The old biddy held the purse strings while she was alive, making me plead for every pound, but she won’t hinder me from her grave. I’ll have it all, I will!”
“Might I venture a suggestion?”
“What?”
“Perhaps Miss Kendall might know where the records are kept.”
The glower that Alistair gave him sent a chill racing down Rudd’s spine. The barrister snatched up a brandy snifter, filled it to the brim and proceeded to drain it in three large gulps.
“Miss Kendall is not here,” Alistair reminded him acidly. “If you recall, I sent her away.”
Rudd’s head bobbed agreeably. “Aye, that’s right. But now I’m thinking she might—”
“Why didn’t you think on it yesterday before I threw her out into the street?” Alistair roared.
Rudd flinched as each word slammed into him with brutal force. “Didn’t occur to me that there’d be a problem. If we could find her, we might…”
Alistair approached close enough to sneer into the lawyer’s face. “Do you seriously think I want to alert Cerynise Kendall to the fact that I haven’t a ken where Lydia’s financial records are? Isn’t that situation a tad strange for an heir to be in?”
“Well, yes,” Rudd conceded, “but I really don’t see what she can make of it all. And even if she did make something of it, what matter? She’s hardly in a position to cause any—”
Alistair grew adamant. “She’s out of this! Gone! And she’ll stay that way!” His red-rimmed eyes flashed sullenly. “With any luck, some hardworking cutthroat will rid the world of her ere long, if it hasn’t happened already.”
Rudd reached for the brandy bottle again, but Alistair snatched it away. Then, with a crook of his finger, he motioned for the man to follow him. Rudd did so, albeit with lagging step.
“I’ll give the servants the day off in honor of their beloved employer’s passing,” Alistair confided, wrapping an arm around the solicitor’s neck. “While they’re gone, we’ll search this house room by room. If those papers are here, then we’ll damn well find them.”
A carriage drew to a halt near the area of the quay where the Audacious was tethered to the dock by her bow-fast and stern-fast lines. The stoic-faced Jasper stepped out and, after bidding the driver to unload the trunk from the boot, turned to help Bridget descend to the cobblestone wharf. Together they bundled up an assortment of valises, satchels, a wooden case and an easel before following several merchants across the gangplank.
“Is there a Mistress Kendall aboard?” Jasper asked the first seaman he came to. “We were told by Captain Sullivan that the lady whom we desire to see is here on board the Audacious. Have we been misinformed?”
Stephen Oaks was the first mate on the frigate, and hardly anything transpired without his knowledge. “The lady is here, as I’ve been told by my captain,” he replied politely. “Do you have business with her?”
“We’ve brought a few o’ the liedy’s belongin’s,” Bridget explained, dimpling beneath the mate’s smile. “She’ll be needin’ ‘em for sure if she’s ta set sail from England.”
“If you’ll give me your names, then I’ll inform the captain that you’re here.”
In a moment Beau appeared and questioned the pair briefly before venturing down to his cabin. He had shared his mate’s quarters during the night, but he had found little rest in the hammock while images of Cerynise in all manner of disarray flitted through his mind. He could only wonder if seeing her in actuality would be any worse than confronting her in his imagination.
Beau tapped on the cabin door, heard what sounded like muffled scrambling, and waited in the lengthy silence that followed. The portal was finally snatched open, and he found himself staring into the flushed, utterly beautiful visage of a woman who had been caught unprepared for visitors. He espied the reason, which she was trying desperately to hide behind her back. Undoubtedly she had washed her undergarments, spread them around the cabin to dry and, at his knock, had seized them up again. Now she was making every effort to keep the apparel out of sight while she clutched the lapels of his robe together in some embarrassment. She had good reason to be disconcerted, Beau decided, for the velvet cloth molded her unfettered breasts sublimely.
“There are two servants on deck who’ve come from the Winthrop house with some of your possessions,” he announced, and repeated the names that he had been given. “Shall I have them come down to the cabin?”
“Oh, certainly!” Cerynise replied eagerly, and then reddened profusely as she recalled her state of dishabille. “But give me a moment, will you?”
Beau threw a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the bell behind him. “Ring it when you’re ready, and I’ll send them down.”
“Thank you.”
Beau hoped sincerely that her own clothes would be less disruptive to the coolheaded poise he was striving hard to maintain. “My men will bring down your trunks and things once your company leaves. I’m sure you’ll be delighted to have something other than my robe to wear.”
“It’s a nice robe,” Cerynise murmured with a smile, running a hand over the sleeve.
His eyes flicked down her slender form, admiring all that the garment contained. Now that he had seen her in all of her naked glory, he was hard-pressed to see anything but what he wanted to see. “I rather fancy the way it looks on you. It certainly never looked as nice on me.”
Cerynise could feel her cheeks warming from the pleasure of his compliment. “You’re being most gallant, sir, in view of my poverty.”
“If others looked as delectable in their poverty as you do, my girl, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind it so much.” Taking a blue frock coat from the recessed closet, he gave her a wink reminiscent of those he had once bestowed upon her in years gone by. “I’ll send down your guests.”
When Bridget came through the cabin door a few moments later and saw Cerynise, she gave a glad cry and rushed forward to give the girl an exuberant hug. “Oh, mum, we were so worried about ye, an’ here ye are, looking so grand.”
“But why are you both here?” Cerynise asked worriedly. “Mr. Winthrop hasn’t dismissed you, has he?”
“Only for the day, miss. We’ll have to be back in the morning,” Jasper explained. “Mr. Winthrop said he had some business to take care of and didn’t want servants underfoot disturbing him.”
Cerynise breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid I had been the cause of you both being let go.”
“We brought your easel, miss. Mr. Oaks said that he’d send it down shortly,” the butler informed her. A smile sorely tested the stiff muscles of his face as he swept a small wooden coffer from behind his back. “And I believe these are your paints, are they not?”
“Oh, yes!” Cerynise cried, gathering the chest to her with a joyful laugh. “But how in the world did you ever manage to sneak them out of the house?”
“We did it early this mornin’, mum, whilst Mr. Winthrop an’ Miss Sybil were still asleep,” Bridget confessed proudly. “We didn’t have any idea, then, that he’d be sendin’ us away for the day, but here we are, for yerself ta see, mum. We didn’t dare bring everythin’ o’ yers, ye understand, just a few gowns an’ things what wouldn’t be readily missed. We moved yer paintin’s up ta the closet in the attic. Ye knows the one what’s behind all ’em crates. Unless Mr. Winthrop knows o’ it, it don’t seem likely he’ll be a-findin’ it any time soon, even if he goes up there. If’n ye can leave the name o’ a place where ye’
ll be after ye gets ta the Carolinas, then we’ll try an’ send them ta ye.”
“I’ll ask Captain Birmingham if he can loan me enough to pay for the shipment. I wouldn’t want any of you to be put out by the expense.”
“’Twould help, mum,” Bridget agreed. “For the most part, we’ve decided ta seek employment elsewhere. Mrs. Winthrop had friends what can vouch for us, an’ all o’ us know we’d be better off workin’ for someone else.”
“But once you leave,” Cerynise said worriedly, “won’t Sybil realize that some of my clothes have been taken and accuse you or some of the other servants of stealing them?”
Bridget tossed her head in flippant disregard for what the trollop might think. “I doubt Miss Sybil’ll even notice they’re missin’, mum. She certainly can’t wear ‘em. The ones we brought were at the bottom o’ a huge pile she left on the bloomin’ floor after riflin’ through yer wardrobes and chest o’ drawers. Most likely she’s already forgot they were even there.”
“You’ve taken an awful chance bringing them to me,” Cerynise surmised, but a glowing smile assured them of her gratitude. “I don’t know how I can thank you enough.”
“Just knowing that they’ve been given to their rightful owner will be our reward, miss,” Jasper assured her. “We wouldn’t have felt right without making some attempt to help you.” He chuckled, displaying a rarely glimpsed humor. “Why, Mrs. Winthrop would have come back to haunt us if we hadn’t tried.”
“You’re both dear, dear friends,” Cerynise averred, taking each by the hand. “I shall miss you terribly.”
“You were the apple of Mrs. Winthrop’s eye, the child she never had,” Jasper murmured gently. “Bridget and I have come to think of you as her adopted daughter. We’ll grieve in your absence.”
The parlor maid took a deep breath to halt the sadness welling up within her and, blinking away blurring tears, glanced about the cabin to redirect her thoughts to something less emotional. “Have ye e’er seen anythin’ what looked this grand, mum?” she asked in a thick tone and then corrected herself. “I mean, besides Mrs. Winthrop’s home, o’ course. I’ve ne’er been on a ship afore an’ always imagined they’d smell a bit like fish or somethin’. Little did I think that ye’d be able ta find passage home on such a fine ship when ye hadn’t a farthin’ ta yer name.”
“Captain Birmingham is an old acquaintance,” Cerynise stated carefully, preferring not to explain that she wouldn’t be returning to the Carolinas on his ship. “Years ago he was one of my father’s students. The most promising, I might add, despite his reluctance to settle down to his studies. ’Twas truly my good fortune that he was in port.”
“Oh, he’s a real looker, al’right, mum,” Bridget eagerly expounded. “Then, there was the nicest Mr. Oaks what greeted us…”
The delicate clearing of Jasper’s throat was enough to remind the parlor maid that she had forgotten herself. The butler squeezed Cerynise’s hand. “We should be going now, miss. I hope you’ll take care of yourself and write to let us know how you’re getting on.”
“I shall,” Cerynise pledged, her eyes misting. “Just as soon as I reach Charleston.”
“Very good, miss,” the man murmured. “We shall both look forward to receiving your communiqué.”
“Bridget, would you ask Captain Birmingham to come down to his cabin for a moment,” she bade the maid. “I’ll see if I can get enough funds for you to ship my paintings without delay.”
The maid was suddenly a-smile at the idea of seeing the first mate again. “Right away, mum.”
A moment later Beau returned to find Jasper waiting stoically in the corridor leading to his cabin. He had no time to question the man before Jasper swung the door open for him.
“The lady wishes to speak with you, sir,” the butler announced.
Cerynise turned as she heard Beau enter and, with a hopeful smile, went to meet him. “Jasper and the other servants have hidden my paintings in Mrs. Winthrop’s house and would like to send them to me, but I don’t have a single coin to my name. I was wondering if I could beg a loan…”
“What will they need?” he asked, going to his desk and opening a drawer.
“Ten pounds at the most I would imagine. There’s quite a number of paintings, and since I’ve sold others for a goodly sum, some as high as ten thousand pounds, I think I’ll be able to sell the rest in the Carolinas and repay you double the amount you loan me.”
“You’ve sold them for how much?” Beau questioned incredulously.
Cerynise lifted her shoulders in a hesitant shrug, fearful that he might think her boastful. “Ten thousand pounds.”
“And this Alistair Winthrop, whom you told me about, tried to claim them as his?”
She was confused by his rising ire. “Yes.”
“Then the man’s a first-rate thief,” Beau stated sharply. “The paintings are obviously yours and no one else’s.”
“Mr. Winthrop and his lawyer, Mr. Rudd, refused to consider that possibility since Mrs. Winthrop bought the paints, paid for the art lessons, and arranged for the exhibits.”
He snorted, irritated with such asinine logic. “And what would she have had if you hadn’t painted them?”
“Nothing much beyond canvas and oil paints,” Cerynise answered simply.
“Exactly.”
She smiled, her heart warmed by his conclusion. “I tried to explain that to the two, but they were intent upon stripping me of my every possession. Truly, I’d have gladly yielded them generous rents for the past five years I lived in the Winthrop house. Even deducting that from what I had already earned from my paintings, I’d have had a tidy sum left over. Unfortunately Alistair has claimed the funds as his own.”
“Perhaps I should find you a lawyer of your own,” Beau suggested. “I’m sure you’d have good cause to attach a lien against the inheritance.”
“I’d rather go home,” she murmured quietly. “I’ve missed it so.”
Beau counted out a pile of coins and dropped them in a pouch, which he then pressed into her hand. “For good measure, I think we should give Jasper fifteen, for the shipment and for their trouble. Is that sufficient?”
“Oh, yes, Beau. Thank you!” She had the greatest desire to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him for his generosity, but that wouldn’t have been at all proper.
“It’s probably better if I don’t meet Alistair Winthrop,” Beau mused aloud, curbing a grin. “I’d be tempted to blacken the man’s eyes.”
Upon leaving his quarters and closing the door behind him, he paused to speak in muted tones with Jasper. At the servant’s eager nod, he withdrew a purse from the pouch on his belt and, after handing it to the man, shook hands with him. They parted, and as Beau crossed to the companionway, Jasper returned to the cabin.
Cerynise handed the butler the small bag of coins that she had been given. “Whatever you do, be careful,” she urged. “I don’t want Mr. Winthrop to get wind of what you’re doing and have you thrown into prison. If you’re caught taking the paintings from his house, he’ll have good cause to set the law nipping at your heels.”
Jasper’s stiff features began to shine with amusement. “He’d have to catch me at it first, miss, but with the late hours he keeps at night and his tardy departures from bed in the morning, I rather suspect that won’t happen. Besides, the way Mr. Winthrop and Miss Sybil snore, we could steal the house out from under them, and they wouldn’t even know it. I think, miss, you’ll be rather amazed at what we’ll be able to transport to the Carolinas.”
Soon after the two servants’ departure, Billy carried down the easel and several smaller satchels. He was closely followed by a brawny sailor who toted her largest trunk on his shoulder. As the huge tar took his leave, the cabin boy paused at the door. “The cap’n told me ta tell ye, miss, that he’ll be away for the night, so ye’ll be able ta stay in his cabin without bein’ disturbed. He also told me ta make sure ye had everythin’ ye might want or need.”
; Cerynise was curious to know what could occupy a captain for a whole evening besides the harlots who roamed the docks. She wasn’t at all pleased by the premise that he might be in some other woman’s arms while he was away, but she could hardly express her disappointment, no matter how much she felt it. Bravely she offered a smile for Billy’s sake. “I suppose I could do with a bit of privacy.”
“Then you’ll be havin’ it right enough, miss,” the lad assured her with a ready grin.
Soon after the cabin boy had taken his leave, Cerynise sorted through the clothes in the trunk and the assortment of satchels just to see what Bridget had managed to bring her. She was thrilled to find her best gowns, evening wear, and several day dresses tightly packed in the trunk. The valises were filled with shoes, nightgowns, chemises, silk stockings, and other accouterments that a well-garbed lady had need of. Indeed, what had been brought was much more than Cerynise could have dared hope for considering the difficulty of trying to sneak her possessions past Alistair. Bridget had managed to supply her with at least half her wardrobe, a feat that nearly boggled her mind. She had no doubt that she’d now be able to garb herself in a manner that hopefully would claim the captain’s attention and perhaps inspire him to let her sail on his ship.
* * *
“It has to be here!” Alistair insisted. He was slouched behind the desk in the library. Rudd, however, had slumped to the floor in roweling defeat several hours earlier.
“Isn’t here,” the solicitor sighed in a wearied daze. He shook his head in stunned disbelief as he glanced around at the countless stacks of documents strewn around him. In all of it, there hadn’t even been the tiniest bit of information that could have helped them. “Not here or anyplace else in the house.”
Howard Rudd was pale, bleary-eyed, and thoroughly exhausted. He was still in the grip of the same fierce anxiety that had goaded Alistair, but his tension had become more evident. He had developed a repetitive twitch on one side of his face, and his lips were so thinly drawn they looked bloodless.