“And as such, Michael Biddle—” Walter sneered disdainfully, “now known as the notorious pirate the Sea Hawk—should receive no quarter.”
Standing straight again, ignoring the dull throbbing of his wound, Nathaniel clenched his fists, thinking of the scars on Hawk’s flesh. “A deserter of a navy that enslaved him. You talk of savages—how is our government any better? They stole him from his home and impressed him against his will. Yes, he eventually deserted under a cruel tyrant of a captain after years of service. And despite this, he still wanted to aid his country. You destroyed that. He wasn’t the first, was he? You lied and stole. You cheated for your own gain.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Walter’s face reddened and creased. “Enough of this nonsense. What does it matter? This pirate almost killed you, and you argue for his welfare? You truly are a simpleton.”
“You forget that I was there. I know it was your man who attacked, waiting for his opening to kill H—Captain Hawk. I foiled his assassination attempt. He had to have known it was suicide. I wonder how you convinced him to do your bidding; what threat you employed. And why you tried to have Captain Hawk killed like that and not in a public spectacle.”
“If that bumbling fool Taylor had been on time with the brigantine—” Walter broke off, nostrils flaring. “I had to have a secondary plan in place. The pirate had to die one way or another. I could not be bested by that nothing of a man. I had to prove that pirates will fall if they dare cross Governor Bainbridge. I had to be the one responsible for the Sea Hawk’s demise.” He slammed his fist onto the desk, an inkpot rattling. “I am to be respected!”
“And what of me? If your assassin had hit his target, do you think the pirates would still have released me? Or if they’d realized the ransom was largely counterfeit?”
Walter’s cheek twitched, a nervous tic. “It would have been…regrettable. But in war, some losses must be borne.”
Nathaniel stared at his father, this stranger in a crooked wig who had loomed so large over his life even from across the ocean. His voice was hoarse as he said, “You’re the criminal.”
Narrowing his eyes, Walter hissed, “We both know you haven’t the wits to understand how the world works. You are my greatest disappointment. To think I was so determined to have a son—” He broke off, swallowing thickly. “I might still have my Margaret if not for you.”
Guilt slashed through Nathaniel, anger eager on its heels. “I didn’t ask to be born so you could prove yourself a man with a proper heir. Not that there’s anything to inherit. You are bankrupt, morally and otherwise.”
Ignoring the jab, Walter shrugged. “Temporarily. There is a fortune up for grabs, and you will marry the Davenport girl and acquire it. Her brother is dead, and her father has willed everything to her. Even if the fool returns to Jamaica, as long as you marry the girl, we will eventually have enough to rebuild here. I’ll make the Crown see that Primrose Isle is not dead. Davenport’s an old man. His heart is failing. God willing, it won’t be long until the girl inherits.”
“I won’t marry her. I don’t love her, Father.”
Walter gaped. “Love? What does that have to do with anything? I know you are an imbecile, so I will explain the situation slowly. Marriage—”
“Fuck you.”
Walter jerked, more blood rushing to his face. “My boy, you are treading on thin ground.”
Nathaniel shook his head, saying it louder this time. “Fuck. You. I won’t give up my life for your delusion. You’ve destroyed this place with your greed. Almost everyone has fled. Susanna and Bart are going to Jamaica with Mr. Davenport. The Crown pulled out the militia weeks ago, Bart told me. There’s nothing left. He said the buildings are almost all flattened but for this one and several others. It’s over, Father.”
The bell at the front door rang distantly, and in the silence following it, they stared at each other. The paper in Walter’s hands shook, and he smoothed out the pages on his desk. “I will not accept defeat. Primrose Isle will thrive. So help me, I shall be respected.” The bell rang again, and he snapped, “For God’s sake, why isn’t anyone answering that?”
“Because they’ve all gone, Father. It is the worst wickedness to enslave people, and I pray they are never returned to you.”
A voiced called, “Er… Hello?”
“In here!” Walter barked. “What do you want?”
The messenger appeared in the doorway, a boy of about twelve with a shock of blond curls and mud caking his shoes and trousers almost to the knees. “The pirate has been delivered.”
As Nathaniel tried not to sag in relief, Walter clapped his hands once. “Ah! Some good news this morning. Excellent.”