Page 103 of The Pirate Lord
“To Atlantis?” Lord Dryden broke in. “But son, you’re my heir. You belong in England.”
When Gideon looked taken aback, Sara added mischievously, “Yes, Gideon. It seems the Pirate Lord actuallyisa lord, one of those awful noblemen he always delighted in tormenting. You’re the Earl of Worthing. You have a title and great lands in England.”
His face clouded over as he looked at her. “I don’t care about all that.” His voice grew strained. “But I know it counts for something with you. If you don’t wish to live on Atlantis?—”
“Don’t be foolish. Atlantis is the only place I truly belong. How could I live anywhere else?”
With eyes glittering, he murmured, “I love you, Sara. I love you so much that I’ll willingly go to England and be the . . . the?—”
“The Earl of Worthing.”
“Yes. If that’s what you want. If that’s what it takes.”
Her heart swelled to hear him offer to make such a precious sacrifice for love of her. “And I love you, Gideon. Which is why we willnotgo to England until you’re ready . . . if ever.”
“Am I to lose my son so soon then?” Lady Dryden asked in a plaintive voice. “Just when I have found him?”
Tucking his arm around Sara, Gideon turned toward his mother. “You won’t lose me, Mother. I swear it.” He smiled. “I’m a ship’s captain, after all. I imagine Sara and I will be making a great many trips to England in the future.”
“They’ll hang you if they catch you,” Barnaby put in sourly.
“Notmyson,” Lord Dryden retorted. “I assure you that between Lord Blackmore’s influence and mine, we can ensure a pardon for the Earl of Worthing.”
When Jordan snorted loudly, everyone broke into laughter.
“Do you hear that?” Gideon told Barnaby. “I’m to be pardoned and set up as an earl. Quite a fitting end for the Pirate Lord, don’t you think?”
“Brought down by a woman,” Barnaby grumbled. “They’ll never believe it when we tell the tale on Atlantis.”
“Oh, they’ll believe it,” Sara said as she stared up at her husband-to-be, her joy so intense she felt light-headed. “After all, every one of those pirates has been brought down by a woman of his own.”
“Aye, they have at that,” Gideon murmured as he pulled her close for another kiss. “And if you ask me, it’s not a bad comeuppance for a bunch of scurvy American privateers. Not a bad comeuppance at all.”
Epilogue
MARCH 1819
The ballroom at the Dryden estate in Derbyshire was crammed with people curious to glimpse the marquess’s long-lost heir. His lordship had thrown a lavish costume ball to welcome his son, and now Sara and Gideon strolled about the room, having already been introduced to what seemed like every inhabitant of the county.
Thank heavens they were in costume, for it gave them something to talk about with people whom Gideon barely knew. Thinking it would be a grand jest, Sara and Lady Dryden had coaxed Gideon into dressing as Sir Walter Raleigh to match Sara’s Queen Elizabeth costume. They’d even let him wear his earring. As Lady Dryden had said, “He looks like a pirate even in civilized clothing, so he might as well dress the part.” With his black mask, tanned skin, and newly cropped dark hair, Sara thought he was by far the handsomest man at the ball, and she’d noticed more than one woman eyeing him with interest.
He was completely unaware of it, however. Never had she seen him look so uneasy, not even when he’d first set foot in England two weeks ago. Then he’d merely been curious andsomewhat amused to find himself now a respected member of the very nobility he’d plagued for so many years.
Tonight, however, he seemed very conscious of what was expected of him as heir to the Marquess of Dryden. “Must the women keep curtsying to me as if I were some deity?”
“It’s due you because of your rank.” An impish smile crossed her face. “You didn’t even have to brandish your saber to get it. Fancy that. It must be a new experience for you.”
He cast her a sidelong glance. “If you don’t show me some respect, my dear wife, I’ll have to brandish my . . . er . . . saber in front of you later when we’re alone.”
“Oh, you will, will you? And you think that’ll gain you some respect?”
He grinned. “It’s been effective in the past.”
She struck him playfully with her fan. “You are entirely too naughty for polite society, my lord.”
“Stop calling me that,” he said with a scowl. “The words still leave a bad taste in my mouth.”
“You’d better get used to them if you’re planning to spend any time in England.”
