The Guardship

he was a former naval captain drummed out of the service, he was a former pirate, he was the bastard son of the old king. She did not believe any of it.

But Marlowe was wealthy and growing in power, and while he made an obvious effort to ingratiate himself with the powerful families of the tidewater, still he did not seem in the least intimidated by them, or anyone, for that matter. He had the governor’s ear. Perhaps he was an ally she should cultivate.

But now he was gone, and nothing could save her from the unwanted attention of Matthew Wilkenson.

“Allair has been relieved of his command,” Governor Nicholson said, taking the invoice and replacing it on the pile of papers. “I believe as vice admiral it is within my authority to do so, and if not, too damned bad, I say. I’ll not suffer a thief to run amok in the guise of an officer of His Majesty’s Navy. We have endured fewer insults from the pirates and picaroons than we have from him.”

“Well, sir, I am very sorry to have been the instrument of Allair’s downfall,” Marlowe began, but the governor cut him off.

“Nonsense. It was none of your fault, and frankly I’m glad this has come to light. But look, here’s what I wished to speak to you about. The colony cannot be without a guardship. The pirates are swarming about the Capes, and once word of Allair’s arrest is spread abroad they’ll be amongst us with nothing to fear. Now you, sir, are a former naval officer yourself-”

“Please, Governor,” he interrupted, holding up his hand, “I was captain of a privateer, not a naval vessel. I have not

held a naval commission, though to be certain I participated in many actions with the navy during the last war.”

“Yes, of course, a privateer. But still you have the experience of many a sea fight. And as you are a gentleman of some breeding there can be no question as to your suitability for a naval officer. What I am asking, sir, is will you take command of the Plymouth Prize? At least until we have communicated with the admiralty and an official replacement for Allair has been sent?”

Marlowe smiled. “If it would be helpful to my king and my adoptive home, Governor, then I should be delighted to accept.”

And delighted he was.

Marlowe had watched Allair’s conduct aboard the Plymouth Prize, his petty thieving and his robbing honest merchants of trifles, and he found it intolerable. He could not stand to see the guardship used thus, to make pennies. Not when he knew that in his own hands the ship could be made to yield a fortune and at the same time raise in colonial society the name of Marlowe to the heights of Rolfe or Randolph or Wilkenson.

“Perhaps we should return to the ball?” Marlowe suggested, for fear that the governor, once begun on the subject of the guardship, would not be easily stopped. He was still thinking of the lovely Mrs. Tinling, had not lost his resolve to approach her.

“Yes, of course, but, pray, let us make certain we are of one mind on this. You will take command of the Plymouth Prize at your earliest convenience?”

“I will.”

“Excellent, excellent. If you would like to send a man by tomorrow, I shall have your official orders drawn up, and your commission, and you can then go aboard as soon as ever you are ready.”

“Then all is settled, sir,” Marlowe said, standing as if to leave.

“Yes, quite, but for one small thing…” said the governor, half standing and then sitting again.

“That being?” Marlowe sat as well.

“The fact is, it seems Allair has a mind to keep possession of the ship. I have ordered him to relinquish command and report to me, but he has so far refused and remains on board…”

They sat in silence for a moment, both thinking the same thing: the Plymouth Prize would have to be taken by force from her legal commander. What more was there to say? Nothing, or so the governor apparently felt. He stood at last, smiled, and held out his hand, which Marlowe shook.

“Well, we should return to the ball,” he said. “I have no doubt that you’ll find some means to extract that rogue from the ship. Your king and country are much indebted to you for this.”

Indeed, thought Marlowe. But in fact he shared Nicholson’s confidence that he could pluck Allair from his ship like a splinter from a thumb, and the thought worried him not in the least.

And as to the debt that the country owed him, he was equally confident that the Plymouth Prize could be made to pay that debt many times over.

Chapter 3

“ELIZABETH.” MATTHEW Wilkenson, grinning with the cocky air of the confident. “Might I have this dance?”

“Mrs. Tinling.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Address me as ‘Mrs. Tinling.’ You take great liberties, sir.”

“Oh, Mrs. Tinling, is it?” Elizabeth felt her anger and disgust rise in proportion to Wilkenson’s widening grin. “Your husband has been gone nearly two years, and you, ma’am, do not look to be in mourning any longer.”

“Whether I am in mourning or not, sir, is no cause for you to be discourteous.”

“Forgive me, Mrs. Tinling.” Wilkenson bowed deep at the waist. “Might I have this dance, Mrs. Tinling?”

“I am faint with the heat, Mr. Wilkenson, and I do not believe I shall dance this next.”

Wilkenson straightened, looked her in the eye. His expression was something altogether different from his former arrogant, self-satisfied look. “There is no call for you to continue with this game. I am growing weary of it.”

“I do not know what game you refer to, sir. I do not wish to dance.”

“And I do, and I think it is in your best interest to cooperate with me.”

“Oh, indeed? And do you think because the Tinlings and Wilkensons were such friends that I am beholden to you? Do you think it my duty that I yield to your base whims?”

Wilkenson glared at her for a long moment. “Duty? No, it is not your duty to me. But perhaps to yourself. Your position in this colony is tenuous. You know that. And there is nowhere for you to go. I have had much correspondence with William Tinling since his father’s death, you know. He has told me much. So I suggest that you consider…accommodating me.”

“Or what?”

“Or you might find your position entirely untenable. I should hate to hear tales being spread abroad, and I think perhaps that might be best prevented through an alliance between you and me.”

Elizabeth held his hateful gaze. Matthew Wilkenson had started this advance six months before. Back then he had just wanted to bed her, nothing more. She had seen animal desire in all its forms and recognized its countenance.

It was different now. Now it was base urge mixed with thwarted pride and a need to possess that which was denied him. Wilkensons, like Tinlings, were not used to being denied. It drove them to distraction.

And in the end he would win. They both knew it. He could make life unbearable for her in the colony. She could not return to London, and even with the money she had received from the sale of the plantation there was not enough to set up in some other city, as if a single woman, even a widow, could travel on her own. She could fight him, but in the end he would have her, and the longer she held out the more he would make her pay.

“Very well, sir. This one dance,” she said through clenched teeth. She held up her arm for him to take.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Marlowe asked Bickerstaff once he and the governor had returned to the ballroom.

“No.”

“Oh, but I think you are.”

Bickerstaff sniffed by way of reply. “Your meeting with the governor? It went well?” he asked. He sounded as if he could not care less, but Marlowe knew that he was consumed with curiosity.