A Most Unconventional Courtship

Would he take her by force? Chance found the quill he had unconsciously picked up broken in two. No, probably not. If nothing else, the Count would think the less of himself if his vaunted powers of seduction failed him. But would she give in to him? Possibly, if she thought she must do so to help her relatives, or if she thought she had no future in England, or Corfu, after being so thoroughly compromised. And she liked the man. Damn it, so did he. He just wanted him at the end of a rifle barrel, with the trigger under his own finger.

To be fair, the Count would probably send for the children if she asked him to, and he would look after them all well. Demetri would love learning to be a pirate, the little wretch.

But the lad was never going to get the opportunity to try it, not if he had anything to do with it. Chance set out to explore and find out just what the limits on his freedom were.

Almost complete, as it turned out. He was blocked only twice—once in front of what he guessed must be the armoury and magazine and once at the door to Zagrede’s own cabin. He returned on deck to find the Count standing besides the helmsman, studying a chart that had been weighted down on the nearest hatch cover.

‘Good ship, eh?’ He glanced up as Chance approached. ‘You have a look round?’

‘Yes, thank you. How am I going to shave myself?’

‘My man will do it. He has a steady hand, so long as you do not distract him.’

Suddenly curious about something that had been niggling at the back of his mind, Chance demanded, ‘Where did you learn your English?’

‘Harrow,’ the Count responded with a flash of amusement. ‘Somehow they failed to make me a complete English gentleman.’

Harrow! This was rapidly becoming like a bad dream. Chance looked down at the chart, th

en up at the coastline. Corfu had vanished into the haze, but the bulk of Albania still loomed on the starboard bow.

‘When?’ he asked abruptly.

The Count glanced up, not making the error of thinking that Chance was referring to the promised shave. ‘Tomorrow, when we are into the Adriatic. Soon we will be at the heel of Italy. I would like to be beyond it and have a little more sea room before I strike.’

‘You hunt alone?’ Chance looked up at the heights.

‘Yes, this time. You are right to look up; if I lead a wolf pack, then we use fires to signal where the quarry is.’ He released the weight that held the chart and it rolled up, the sudden noise rasping Chance’s raw nerves. ‘Relax, my friend, enjoy the peace. Tomorrow we fight.’

‘How could you do such a wicked thing?’ Alessa faced her aunt across the cabin. ‘The children will be terrified.’

‘Nonsense. Peasant children have no sensibility; besides, they have that Street woman to look after them.’ Her aunt was looking at her as though Alessa was being utterly unreasonable. She really does not understand, Alessa thought, shocked into seeing the truth. It does not fit her image of how things should be, of how she feels, so she fails to see the pain she is causing.

‘When we get to England I will tell everyone what you did,’ she threatened. That should do it, surely. Scandal was what she most feared.

‘What have I done? Removed you from poverty? Reunited you with your family? People will understand if you are vapourish. They will sympathise when I tell them that, all alone, you comforted yourself by doing good works with orphans and became hysterical when you had to be parted from them.’ She smiled serenely. ‘If you do not have the brats clinging to your petticoats, then I am sure one nasty little rumour will not circulate.’

‘People will believe me,’ Alessa said doggedly.

‘Alexandra, listen to me. Two years ago the daughter of Lord Portington had an affair with his valet and got herself with child. He put her in an asylum. Society thinks he did the correct thing. It will be very distressing to have to take such drastic action, but people will applaud my efforts to at least ensure you are looked after in England, you poor, distracted child.

‘And if you stop this nonsense…why, then you can live a good life, as a respectable, conformable lady. It is your choice.’ She shut the door softly behind her, leaving Alessa staring at the panels, her blood chilled in her veins.

Chapter Nineteen

It was mid-day before Zagrede allowed the Ghost to begin to overhaul the Plymouth Sound. Chance shaded his eyes as the merchantman, still a distant shape, began to lose way.

‘They are slowing down.’

‘Perhaps the damage that was mended so quickly was not mended very well and someone on board knows how to weaken it again,’ the Count said airily. ‘We have them soon. And you, my friend—will you give me your word you will do nothing to intervene?’

‘Like hell I will.’ She is over there, so close.

‘Then I will have you tied up and locked in your cabin,’ said the Count equably.

Chance wrestled with the choices. ‘I will give you my parole until you capture the other ship,’ he said eventually. ‘Or, if you do not succeed, until dusk tonight.’

‘And then?’