Always My Viscount (Ever Beloved Book 2) Page 2

  “What’re we to do with him?”

  The male’s accent left little doubt to his origins. He wasn’t a noble sort at all. Probably a dock worker... Where had he stumbled to anyway? He should open his eyes and figure it out, but he couldn’t bring himself to bother. His head hurt enough as it was.

  “The captain will know what tae do,” another male said.

  What was this? An uncouth dockworker club? Donovan really wished he could remember what he’d been doing. He supposed they could be something other than dockworkers. For all he knew, he’d stumbled into the slums of London. Either way, he was rather lucky to be alive. Come to think about it... Why hadn’t they outright killed him? That would’ve made more sense.

  “We should snuff him out,” the first speaker said. “Captain Estes would thank us for it.”

  “Are ye mad?” the other man asked. “Estes hates when we make decisions on our own. There’ll be no thanks given; just our own lives forfeited for our stupidity.”

  Well, that answered some questions. They probably would’ve killed him on their own. Who was this Estes? Donovan wasn’t sure he wanted to meet the lofty gentleman—if he could be called that. He certainly ran a tight ship. He’d have laughed at that, but alas his head hurt enough as it was.

  “Yer right,” the man agreed. “You watch him, and I’ll go find the captain.”

  So he was on a ship. Damn and blast... He’d hoped he was wrong. No telling where they were headed. Why the blazes would he have stowed away on a bloody ship? What did he think that would accomplish? He probably hadn’t intended to be on the damn thing. His drunken stupor had gotten him into a many a messes over the past few years. This was one more adventure on his path to ruin. Maybe he should have gone to visit Manchester Castle again. His friend might have helped him get on the right path again. No, the earl was blissfully happy. It had been sickening and wonderful to see. He was happy for Garrick, truly. But he couldn’t help the seed of jealousy that had sprouted seeing him find the love of his life and also be able to keep her. He wasn’t a good man or friend. It was best he’d stayed away.

  “Are ye awake?” the man asked and then kicked him.

  Donovan groaned. “Go bugger yourself.”

  He hadn’t wanted to engage with the bastards, but this one wasn’t about to leave him to die in peace. Oh well, what fun would it be to go quietly? He wasn’t known for making great decisions. No, the ton referred to him as the golden rogue, or at least they used to. He hadn’t been living up to that reputation of late. Most days he stayed home and drank until he passed out. He didn’t see a reason to go about town when he could find plenty of alcohol in his own coffers to waste away the hours.

  “Rather not, me lord,” the man replied. “The captain’ll be here soon and you fairly reek. I’d as soon as toss you overboard, but it’s not me decision to make.”

  How about that? He’d been right in that assumption. Maybe he should care, but it had been a while. Why start now? Sure, he was supposed to. He had an estate, a title, and no heirs to pass them on to. So some distant cousin or another was about to get their wish. He didn’t have use for being a viscount anyway. What had it ever truly gave him? Money? He mentally snorted. That hadn’t given him a lick of happiness. Security? To a certain extent, it had. Money definitely provided him with the necessities of life; however, it also gave him the means to ruin it. If he’d not had the money, perhaps he’d have had to work to survive. Then maybe he’d have appreciated it instead of drinking himself away. What kind of man did it make him that he’d given up so damn easily?

  “Not my problem,” Donovan mumbled.

  “Good God,” a female said. “What’s that smell?”

  “The gent,” one of the men explained. “We found him down here.”

  “What do ye want us to do with him?” another man asked.

  The woman remained quiet. Was he that bad off? Was this the famous Estes? He hadn’t expected a female, and that surprise was rather nice. Most of the time Donovan liked a good shock. It made him feel alive. This was one of those instances. He wished he had the energy to open his eyes and get a good look at this female captain. She must be big and burly to command these men’s loyalty. Of course, he could be completely wrong about her being the captain. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d made such a monumentally erroneous assumption. Maybe he just hoped the woman was. Something about her voice appealed to him...

  Hell with it. He would get a peek at her. Maybe it would give him the energy to keep living. Then he could visit Manchester Castle and tell Garrick about the female captain. They’d both get a good laugh about it. It would be enough to keep him sober for a spell. He had moments when he wasn’t inebriated, but they were few and far between. This could be the catalyst for one.

  Slowly, he opened his eyes. He blinked several times. Maybe he had died. The woman before him wasn’t big or burly. She was slight of build, with narrow hips encased in leather trews, and a billowy white top covered in a leather waistcoat. Her cherry-red hair was plaited down her back. Those sapphire eyes though—he’d never in a million lifetimes forget them.

  “Estella?”

  HELL AND DAMNATION. What was Donovan doing on her ship? She’d always intended to track him down after her exile had ended, but she couldn’t return to London yet. Her stepfather kept track of her. At least he thought he did. He sent his spies randomly to see her. What the duke didn’t understand was Estella had spies of her own. She knew they were coming before they arrived. When she received word, she always remembered to be home. Most of the time she was anyway; however, every now and then she had to be on the ship to make sure everything went as planned.

  The duke didn’t give her much money to live on. He actually hadn’t sent any since she first arrived. She had to find a way to survive, and she’d taken that first bit of money and doubled it, then doubled that until she had enough to survive the year through. It was then she realized she couldn’t keep gambling. There was not enough to be made that way, and the chances of winning each time remained low. She didn’t mind taking a risk, but it had to be worth it.

  Then she’d overheard someone bragging about a shipping venture. At the time, she hadn’t realized exactly what that venture was, but she’d capitalized on it either way. She’d played the biggest game of cards in her life and won the man’s ship, and his respect. He was her first mate now and asked her to marry him once a week. She’d never agree to be his wife though. He could ask all he wanted, but her answer would remain the same. Her heart had always belonged to one man, and she couldn’t imagine loving another in the same way. Donovan was that man, and unfortunately, he wasn’t quite how she remembered him. Now, she didn’t quite know what she should do or how she should act. Here he was, and he didn’t quite fit all the memories she’d carried of him. It was him, and yet, this man before her failed to live up to all her expectations. She could figure out later what her move should be. For now, she’d keep her feelings bottled up and remain aloof.

  She didn’t respond to Donovan. He was clearly quite drunk. Maybe he’d forget he’d seen her. She turned toward her men and ordered, “Bathe him. When that’s done, tie him to the bed in my room.” His normally beautiful golden blond locks were caked with dirt and grease. The color of his skin was white and borderline translucent, except for his cheeks. They had a ruddy hue to them from the alcohol. If not for that color, he’d look dead. His eyes though—they were the worst for her. The blue depths were glassy and almost looked right through her. That’s when she grasped how bad off he was and that she had to help him.

  “You thinking to use him?” One of the men asked, shock reverberating in his voice.

  Estella would never use Donovan. She didn’t want him having the run of the ship. Tying him up was a mercy she’d not have given anyone else. Donovan though, she owed him. She couldn’t tell the men that though. They understood violence, and she’d have to make them believe she was capable of anything. She palmed the hilt of her rapier—thankf
ul for her fencing lessons before her mother had died. They gave her the skills she needed to be the bloodthirsty smuggler these men expected. The rapier was more dangerous than the foil she normally used though. “Are you questioning me?”

  “No, Captain,” he said and then swallowed hard. “We’ll let you know when it’s done.”

  “Good,” she said and turned to leave.

  “Estella,” Donovan exclaimed. She stopped, but didn’t look back. She couldn’t. He didn’t even remotely resemble the man she’d fallen in love with. What had happened to him over the years? She should have checked in on him and seen that he was all right. This was her fault. She’d driven him to the brink of ruin. It was her place to make sure he found a way back.

  “Don’t go,” he begged. “Why did you have to go...?” Agony stretched across that question and stabbed her where it hurt the most. Her heart broke all over again. This was too much. Her stepfather would pay for what he’d done. She’d made that vow a long time ago, and she intended to keep it. First, she owed Donovan an explanation. When he was more himself, she would tell him everything. If he chose to hate her, she wouldn’t stop him. Once they returned to England, she’d make sure he made it back to London in one piece.

  “Captain?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the crewman. “Yes?”

  “Do ye know him?”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “He’s a man—a nob no less. I’m not acquainted with anyone in high society.”

  No one from her old life visited her, and that made it easier to keep up that pretense. She wasn’t Lady Estella Sims to them and never would be. When she received her inheritance, she’d leave England and never look back. Donovan was the one thing that had tempted her to stay. For him, she’d rethink everything and do anything.

  “He thinks he knows ye,” he said absentmindedly. “He must still be pickle brained.”

  “Undoubtedly,” she agreed. “Now go to work.”

  He nodded and walked back to Donovan. The viscount struggled for a bit and then passed out completely. It was probably for the best. Why had he given up? Did losing her affect him that much? Perhaps it wasn’t her at all. Maybe he’d had another reason for drinking himself to the brink of death. She couldn’t be the only reason he had given up on life. Her Donovan had been happy and charming. He’d loved her with all his heart—until she smashed it to pieces.

  She would take away all of his pain if she could. She’d never wanted to destroy their love to begin with. When her evil stepfather had discovered their relationship, he’d done everything he could to destroy it. In the end, he’d succeeded. Estella had been given two choices: marry an old man and break Donovan’s heart, or end things with him. Both had the same results, but one gave her hope of redeeming herself.

  Maybe fate had finally given her the chance to do that...

  CHAPTER TWO

  Estella strolled along the deck of her ship and surveyed it to ensure everything ran smoothly. The wind speed was good and they were making good progress. They should reach the pickup point well before dawn. That would give them plenty of time to make the exchange. The casks of brandy would fetch a nice price. The Englishmen might turn their nose up at the French, but they sure did enjoy their spirits. She couldn’t fault them for it. Especially since their desires paid her bills.

  As long as they wanted fine French brandy, she’d supply. At least for another six months—then she’d have her inheritance and she could stop the smuggling business. Maybe even use her ship for a more legitimate trade. She had some ideas and hoped to expand on them when she had access to her funds. The duke would hate it, but he wouldn’t have any more control over her. Once she reached her twenty-first birthday, she’d be able to do whatever she wanted.

  “Captain Estes,” a member of her crew called out to her.

  She stopped and glanced upward. He climbed down the rigging. When he reached the bottom, he slid down a rope and landed on the deck in front of her. Estella waited for him to address her.

  “There’s a ship approaching,” he said. “French flags.”

  Damnation. What was she going to do about that? They were an English vessel, and they probably wouldn’t allow them to pass by peacefully. She’d have to find something to bribe them with.

  “Are you certain?” she had to ask.

  “Aye,” he confirmed. “At least it’s not pirates.”

  Estella rolled her eyes. They didn’t encounter pirates on these ventures. They didn’t move through the English Channel as a rule. If they’d been sailing toward the West Indies or something similar, that might be a problem. Still, a pirate might be preferable. Then they wouldn’t have to explain themselves.

  “We haven’t picked up our cargo yet. Tell the crew to cover what we’re bringing as an exchange. I have an idea, but they’re not going to like it. Oh, and send Bertram to me. He’ll know why.”

  She turned on her heel and headed toward the steering wheel. Leeland, her first mate, was handling it. Bertram, another crew member, would have to take over for him. Most people didn’t take her seriously. Leeland had to act as captain in those cases. She didn’t want to do that if she didn’t have to. Leeland was getting a big head from the number of times she’d asked him to do it. If she didn’t nip it in the bud, he’d try to overthrow her. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

  Leeland turned his head as she approached. He nodded at her and kept the wheel steady. “Are you here to relieve me?”

  She almost never took the wheel. It wasn’t her best skill set, and she had people to do that for her. It wasn’t as if she suspected there would be a mutiny on her hands. Most of the men were loyal to her. They realized that, without her, they’d never have the money they needed to feed their families. Leeland knew more about shipping than she had, and she’d made him first mate because of that. But now Estella didn’t need him anymore, and he was well aware of that. As long as he didn’t do anything stupid, she’d continue to employ him. The first time he decided she was expendable would be his last.

  “Bertram will be here in a moment to,” she informed him. “We have company approaching.”

  “Friendly?” He lifted a brow questioningly.

  She shook her head. “Unlikely. It’s a French frigate.”

  He whistled. “What do you need me to do?”

  This was the hard part. For him to actually act as her first mate—she had to trust him. She wouldn’t be the captain, and neither would he. They both had a role to play though. Bertram strolled on the deck and headed in their direction.

  “Is it time?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she confirmed. “Take over the wheel for Leeland. He’ll relieve you in a few hours.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Bertram took the wheel from Leeland. He wound a rope around his waist to hold him in place and placed both hands on the wheel keeping the ship steady so they remained on course. Estella turned to Leeland and ordered, “Follow me.”

  She didn’t wait to see if he would listen to her. He knew his place, at least for the moment. He fell in line beside her as they headed starboard to watch as the other ship approached. She hoped they wouldn’t want to parlay, but she didn’t think she’d be that lucky. The ship slowed down beside them and hailed them as she’d expected. Estella’s ship was flying England’s flags. The French would want to investigate, especially a military ship.

  One of the men motioned they wanted to cross over. Boards were laid between the ships and two men walked over. One was tall and large. He’d probably been chosen because of his size and ability to intimidate. Too bad it took more than that to scare Estella. The other man wasn’t short, but next to the brute, he was rather diminutive—almost dainty. Estella lifted her hand over her mouth to muffle the laugh that threatened to escape. It wouldn’t do to offend these men. She wanted them gone as quickly as possible.

  “Greetings,” the smaller man said. “I am Captain Gerard, and this is my first mate, Monsieur Duval.”

 
; Estella nodded at them. “It’s a pleasure Captain Gerard, Monsieur Duval.” She gestured toward Leeland. “This is the first mate, Mr. Leeland, and I am Lady Warwick. My husband, the viscount owns this vessel, but sadly is under the weather and unable to attend you.” A small lie. Hopefully Donovan would forgive her for the ruse. They would be less likely to haul them off to a French court if they believed it to be a pleasure cruise. “It’s our wedding trip you see, but he’s never traveled before and he’s...” She paused for effect. “How do I put this delicately?”

  “Unable to handle the sea weather?” The captain supplied. “How long has he been sick?”

  “From the start,” she said and frowned. “It’s most troublesome. We were supposed to travel to Italy, but I fear we won’t make it. He’s ever so sick.”

  The captain studied her. He was probably wondering why a lady was dressed in pants. If she’d had time to change, she would have. No, that wasn’t true. She didn’t have a dress to change into. Maybe it was time to start keeping one on the ship for moments like this one. It would come in handy, especially if she could slip it on quick.

  “Forgive my attire,” she said mournfully. “They forgot to load my trunks from the carriage, and my dress is, well, you see...” Estella bit her lip and batted her eyelashes. “My husband...”

  “Ah, I understand,” the man said. “You were a victim of his illness.”

  “Sadly, yes,” she nearly wailed. She had to play her part. “Luckily, the cabin boy was my size. I fear my beautiful gown is ruined. It was so pretty too.”

  Estella drew on every ounce of her debutante experience to play this part. She’d had a short season, but it had been enough. She was a quick study and her stepsister the perfect person to emulate. No one could play Annalise better than her. There wasn’t a helpless bone in Annalise’s body, but she made all the men think she needed their help—only them. It had sickened Estella to watch her play them. Annalise had no interest in anyone but herself.