Chapter 3 #2
A look of alarm flashed in Hawke’s eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He frowned, his jaw tight as he studied the three of them.
Annabelle’s stomach churned as she watched him wrestle with his decision.
She found it difficult to meet his eyes.
Using his friendship with Tim to threaten him was cruel.
She tried to ignore her guilt and focus on their objective.
They must rescue Court. Aside from that, nothing else mattered.
But she was still uneasy with how it was playing out.
“Very well,” Hawke said at last. “I will lead you to the island. But I will not do it for free.”
“You have no advantage here,” Grieg said.
“We will reward you,” Annabelle said at the same time. She grimaced in apology to her shipmates, but payment felt like the proper thing to do.
Hawke tipped his head as he looked at her. She had his attention.
“Name your price,” she continued, relieved that the guilty feeling eased with the offer.
“Calypso’s Quest.”
“You want the ship?” Annabelle asked. The sick feeling returned to her stomach. She couldn’t bear the thought of someone else sailing Court’s beloved ship.
Grieg scoffed. “Not likely.”
“It is a reasonable offer,” Hawke said. “I am a captain without a ship, and you are a crew in need of a captain. Isn’t Courtney’s life worth more than a floating heap of wood?
” He put his hands behind his head. “While you do have leverage”—he leveled a look at Grieg—“I still have the advantage. I am the only one who knows our destination. And I am the only one who can make certain we arrive there with all haste. Otherwise the journey may take longer than you’d like.
And who knows what might happen to Courtney in the meantime. ” He shrugged.
Grieg scowled. He looked at Shadbolt, and then to Annabelle, clearly displeased.
Hawke was right. Speed was of the essence.
And while they could force him to board the ship, they could not force him to lead them in the right direction.
The reward was the only way to be certain Hawke had a vested interest in their journey.
Shadbolt gave a terse nod.
“You will have the ship, but only if we find Captain Courtney,” Annabelle said, wondering how they would break the news of their bargain to her godfather.
But she would worry about that later. Finding him and rescuing him came first. That was the most important thing.
“And you must ensure our safe return,” she added.
“Very well.” The corner of Hawke’s mouth lifted in a victorious smile as he offered his hand across the table.
Annabelle let out a breath, taking his hand. His palm was coarse, his fingernails filthy, but the surety of his grip eased her worries, even if only a bit. She felt the significance of the decision as they shook on it.
Once the formalities were out of the way, Hawke leaned forward, arms on the table. “How much of a lead does Blackham have?”
“A week,” Grieg said, frowning. He leaned forward as well. “We were anchored off the Ponant Isles when the captain was taken.”
“A week?” Annabelle’s voice squeaked as her throat tightened. Court had already been with Blackham for so long. She imagined him locked in the brig of Blackham’s ship, shivering and hungry, and she clenched her fists. “We must leave as soon as possible.”
“High tide in the morning,” Shadbolt said, rising from his chair. “The ship is being supplied as we speak. We sail at dawn.”
When Annabelle returned home, her mind was racing with plans.
She and Liza needed to pack her trunk immediately, and there was the matter of the chaperone her mother always insisted accompany her.
Unfortunately, Liza typically returned to care for her parents in Devon during the summer while her mistress was away at sea, but perhaps Annabelle’s old nanny could make preparations in time.
A footman met them in the entry hall, informing Annabelle that her mother awaited her in her sitting room.
Lady Montagu was seated at her writing table when her daughter entered. She laid down her quill and motioned to a chair, moving to a seat that faced Annabelle directly. “I trust you had a pleasant outing with your . . . friends.”
Annabelle didn’t miss her mother’s small grimace. “I did. We enjoyed a lovely luncheon at a dining establishment.” She smiled, deliberately omitting the word “tavern.”
Lady Monatgu’s expression remained pleasantly composed, but her posture changed slightly, and Annabelle could tell the pleasantries were finished and an unpleasant conversation was coming. She braced herself.
“Annabelle, it is time to stop this. You have played at sailor girl long enough, but you are twenty years old now. And it is time you focused on your responsibilities rather than gallivanting off to sea in . . . less than savory company.”
Annabelle was so shocked that she couldn’t find words to reply. Surely her mother wouldn’t forbid her from taking her yearly journey. Not now, not when Court’s very life depended on it.
“You have a reputation to consider,” the countess continued. “What would people think of a young woman spending months at a time alone on a ship with a crew of men?”
“But I’m not alone,” Annabelle said. This was one point on which she could rightfully defend herself. “Nanny has always accompanied me.”
Her mother waved this off with a flick of her fingers. “Nevertheless, the sea journeys are finished. You have duties here.”
“What duties?” Annabelle’s heart began to pound, her blood heating.
Her mother’s head tipped, the only indication that she’d noticed the emotion in Annabelle’s voice.
“As Lady Annabelle Bradford of the House of Montagu, your purpose is to find a suitable husband. An honorable man of wealth and good breeding.” She sat back in her chair, regarding Annabelle. “It is a simple task, but one of utmost importance. And at your age, it should be your sole ambition.”
Annabelle’s ambition could not have been more contradictory. She opened her mouth to argue, but her mother held up a hand, stopping her.
“You will go to the ball tonight. You will dance with gentlemen. Afterward, they will call on you. Some will hopefully court you, and by the end of the summer, I intend to see you married.”
“Married?” She scoffed. “I shall not be married.”
“There will be plenty of suitable gentlemen at Lord Hamilton’s ball,” her mother said, as if Annabelle’s only impedi-ment to the plan was a lack of male suitors. “The Duke of Angle-sey, the Earl of Stokesborough—both fine prospects. And they have both asked about you.”
Those men are more than double my age. Annabelle felt like she was falling and struggled to catch on to anything that would save her.
Her thoughts whirled. “Mother. I can’t.” The prospect of marriage was dreadful enough, but the thought of never returning to sea .
. . It was intolerable. Tears filled her eyes as her emotions hovered between despair and frustration.
Why were her own desires not taken into consideration?
For the first time, the countess paused.
She reached forward, taking her daughter’s hand and smoothing down the curls to hide Annabelle’s folded ear.
“My dear, I am not being cruel. I am only thinking of what is best for you. And for our family. I will not live forever. When I am gone, this house and all of your father’s property will belong to your cousin, Sir Oliver. Marriage is the only course for you.”
“But Captain Courtney . . .” Annabelle’s voice choked. If her mother only knew what was at stake.
“He is welcome to visit you whenever he is in port,” her mother said brightly, as if the issue were resolved. “As long as your husband permits it, of course.”
Annabelle thought she might be ill.
The countess smiled, looking relieved at having the difficult conversation finished. “Off you go, my dear. You will want a nap before the ball. And tell Liza to take extra care with your hair arrangement. Everything must be perfect.”
Annabelle sat in her bedchamber. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there.
Her mind was somehow both blank and whirling.
Of course none of what her mother said was a surprise, but she’d thought there were still years before she would have to marry.
Just thinking of leaving behind the sea made her heart ache.
She would have no more adventures, no more discovering new places.
And saying goodbye forever to her shipmates, to Court—it was more than she could bear.
She could not do it. Especially not now when Court was in danger. What she needed was a plan.
Hours later, Liza arrived for the ball preparations. But Annabelle was not seated at her dressing table. Her room was in disarray, clothing and other belongings strewn across the floor and furniture. She had gathered a bundle on her bed and was tying it together with a leather belt.
Seeing her lady’s maid, she smiled, all worries and fears gone from her mind. She was resolved on a course. “Liza, I’m in need of your help once again.”
Liza looked at the bundle, and then at her mistress. “Another scheme, my lady?”
Annabelle smirked and bounced her eyebrows. “Another scheme indeed.”