Page 23 of A Countess Captured for the Captain
“A disgrace, Samantha, that is what you are. A complete and utter disgrace,” her father growled, clutching her arm, and dragging her forcefully into the salon where Regina sat voluptuously upon a chaise lounge by the window.
“I told you she would return, eventually. I wonder what tall tale she has to tell us now?” Regina said, tutting and shaking her head.
She was sipping at a glass of tonic, a dish of cut fruit at her side, looking every bit like the cat that had got the cream. Samantha scowled at her, folding her arms, as her father sat her down on a chair by the fire, his face like thunder.
“Scandal, nothing but scandal. Where have you been? What have you done?” he demanded, pointing his finger at her.
Samantha could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she had no intention of giving Regina the satisfaction of seeing her upset. She pursed her lips and fixed her father with a defiant gaze.
“I was with Rebecca and Nicholas,” she said, for it was truth, if only a half truth.
She had no doubt that the escape of Nox from prison was already the talk of the ton, for her own adventures on the high seas had surely been the scandal of every salon and drawing room in London. But Samantha was not ashamed of what she had done, and when Nox was revealed for who he truly was – the heir to the Earl of Brimsey – she would find herself vindicated.
For now, though, her father could know nothing of how she had helped Nox to escape the gallows, nor of what had transpired between them. He would only show his cruelty even further and ensure that Samantha would never have the opportunity to see Nox again. No, she must bide her time, appear to agree with whatever rules he now laid down, and wait for the moment when she and Nox might be together again.
“I see. And what possessed you to slip out of the house in such a clandestine manner? I had arranged for you to meet Marquess Reginald Spencer. You are lucky that he still wants anything to do with you after everything that has happened,” her father replied.
Samantha suppressed a smile at the thought of everything that her father did not know of, how she had fallen in love with Nox on the voyage across the Atlantic, and of the kiss they had shared in the shrubbery after his escape. Her mind lingered on his touch, the taste of his lips against hers, and a shiver ran through her at the thought of further liaisons, with all their possibilities for pleasure. But the thought of meeting Reginald Spencer soon put a dampener upon such thoughts, Regina’s smug expression reminding her she had little choice but to submit.
“I have no desire to meet him,” she said, and her father’s face turned a nasty shade of red.
“Samantha, do not make this harder for yourself. You will marry Reginald Spencer, whether or not you like it. He is coming here tomorrow. I told him we would have found you by then, and he is eager to meet you. Now, stop being foolish and accept your fate,” he said.
“She always has been a disobedient sort,” Regina said, heaving herself to her feet.
“Do not let her trouble you, my darling, she will soon learn,” Samantha’s father said, his tone changing as he turned to Regina with a smile.
“Oh, she will learn, what other choice does she have?” Regina replied, smirking at Samantha, who wanted nothing more but to flee from the house, her future now lying in tatters.
Chapter Eleven
Nox did not want to be known as Norman. He had a name, one which was feared in every port of the Caribbean, and to have it changed into something respectable seemed at odds with the life he had lived – the only life he had ever known. To find himself thrust into the world of the English aristocracy, claimed as none less than the heir of an Earl, was bewildering.
He could remember nothing of his past life, the life he had led before the shipwreck which had killed his parents, and now his Uncle Albert had swept him up in a grand narration of his family and the future he could now enjoy. They were sitting in the drawing room of the house in Knightsbridge, surrounded by a history which Nox could remember nothing of but which was entirely his own. It was most bewildering, and Nox wished he had insisted that Samantha remain, she, the Duchess, and Nicholas having now disappeared.
“And then there are the Scottish estates. The act of union brought a marriage between an ancestor of yours and the daughter of a Scottish Laird. In Scotland we are known as the Dukes of Kinrothshire,” his uncle was telling him.
It seemed that the list of titles, estates, and wealth was unending, and Nox was beginning to realize the full extent of his newfound fortune. At first, he had hardly dared believe what Duchess Sinclair was saying. It was surely a mistake, though the pocket watch had always been something of a mystery to him, with its odd inscription and the coat of arms which seemed to adorn most everything in the drawing room in which they now sat.
“But who has held these titles in my absence?” he asked, and his uncle looked at him in surprise.
“I have kept them in my ward,” he said, smiling, just as the door to the drawing room flew open.
“Iz it true?” exclaimed a large woman, bedecked in jewels and a peacock-blue dress, who spoke with an exaggerated French accent.
She strode into the room, and Nox leaped to his feet, just as she clapped her hands together, wide eyed with astonishment.
“My dear Bernadette, it is true,” Nox’s uncle said, also rising to his feet.
“It iz him, I can see it in iz face, zere iz no mistaking zee likeness, surely it iz,” she cried.
“Norman, this is your Aunt Bernadette, she has been visiting with a friend this morning,” Nox’s uncle said, and Nox bowed to the woman, who shook her head in astonishment.
“Remarkable, quite remarkable, zee very image,” she said, as much to herself as to him.
“I am sorry, but I do not remember you,” Nox said, still thoroughly bemused, though it had now dawned on him how fortunate he had been.
His escape from prison had been a minor miracle, but to have fled the country would have taken far more fortune, and he would have endured a lifetime with a price upon his head so high that every mercenary from Europe to the Islands would be hunting him. Not that the thought had not had its advantages for the life of a pirate was all that he knew – all that he could remember. But now, he could reappear as an entirely different man, respectable and with a title. There would be no mistaking him for the notorious pirate and terror of the Caribbean. It was the perfect escape from his fate.
