Julia London - Regency Vows - A Gentleman 'Til Midnight / The Trouble with Honour / An Improper Arrangement / A Wedding By Dawn / The Devil Takes a Bride / A Promise by Daylight

“Only if by ‘force’ you mean oarsman, Admiral,” Jaxbury said. “Lady Dunscore is a most determined woman, and braver than I.”

All eyes shifted back to her. Then again to Jaxbury. “I understand you were in captivity, as well, Sir Jaxbury.”

“Yes,” he said darkly.

“And I presume you escaped from your captor, as well.”

“Yes.”

“And the two of you met where, on the streets of Algiers?”

“Yes.”

A stark scenario coalesced in James’s mind. Katherine, alone and with child on the nighttime streets, dressed, most likely, in the clothes of one of her captor’s male slaves. She crosses paths with Jaxbury. The two of them scrape by on whatever they can, ducking into doorways and avoiding the sultan’s henchmen, plotting a way out of the country, toward which end Jaxbury draws on his experience at sea to suggest a dangerous plan.

“And the two of you, alone, snatched a prize out from under the corsairs’ noses?” Winston asked. “I find that exceedingly difficult to comprehend.”

“It was a small prize,” Katherine told him. “Only eight cannon.”

“Lady Dunscore,” Nick said, finally speaking. “You will understand, of course, that some of my colleagues are concerned about a member of the peerage who has demonstrated a tendency toward the unlawful.”

“Unlawful?” she said. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“You deny you have taken ships unprovoked?”

“I certainly do not deny it. But I was always justified.”

“By the promise of silks and spices? That smacks mightily of piracy, Lady Dunscore.”

“By the knowledge that my prey had come by its spoils by being a predator.”

“A questionable activity at best,” De Lille interjected.

“But one that resulted in the liberation of more than one Englishman, as this committee well knows. My prize-taking activities have been strictly limited to ships far more questionable than mine. As for my present circumstances, rest assured I know nothing about robbing stagecoaches or burgling slumbering widows.”

“Relieved to hear it, Lady Dunscore,” Rondale declared from the end of the table.

“At least our travelers and widows may rest easy,” Edrington said, glancing down the table at Winston, “even if gentlemen hopeful of producing children may not.” Uneasy laughter went up from the gallery.

“I have only the deepest respect for Lady Dunscore’s skill with a cutlass,” Winston replied with a half smile.

De Lille tucked his chin and assessed Katherine over the top of his spectacles. “What of your plans to marry, Lady Dunscore?” he demanded. “Certainly you do not plan to manage an estate the size of Dunscore alone.”

Around the room, half the men both on and off the committee had turned their attention to Katherine, no doubt salivating at the thought of having both her wealth and her body at their disposal.

James’s blood ran cold.

But Katherine merely offered that smile he was becoming too familiar with, one he’d seen night after night watching her fend off every lecher in the ton. “What a creative suggestion, Lord De Lille. My only regret is that you are not unattached.”

A member three seats away erupted in a fit of coughing. Lord De Lille’s face dove into a wrinkled scowl.

“Perhaps Croston ought to marry her,” Winston suggested, shifting his attention to James. “He seems to take her in hand well enough.”

Damn the man. “A ship can only have one captain,” James said dryly, “and I prefer to be it.”

Ponsby barked a laugh. “You’ve taken enough prizes in your day, I’ll avow you know how to master that situation.”

“You have a point.” Somehow he managed to form his mouth into what he hoped was a pleasant smile. “But may I suggest the committee return to a more salient topic.”

“Indeed,” Edrington said, leaning forward to look down the table at his colleague. “The basis of this folly of a bill has no foundation in Lady Dunscore’s marital status.”

“Perhaps not,” De Lille replied, “but its resolution may.”

“We are not here to arrange Lady Dunscore’s marriage,” Edrington shot back. “We’re here to get at the facts!”

“Precisely,” Nick agreed, for once doing something to steer things in the right direction. “Lady Dunscore, I have here a list of a number of your exploits in the Mediterranean. Perhaps you can give us the details of each—”

“Blast the bloody details!” Edrington exclaimed. “I fail to see why this bill lives on in the face of the fact that this woman saved Croston’s life. Do we have any evidence at all that she has acted against the Crown? Violated the law of the sea? Has anyone made a complaint?”

“She sailed under her own colors,” Nick reminded them, and James wanted to grab him by the throat to keep him from speaking. “And we do have evidence that she took prizes from across the Barbary coast.”

“Then by God, give the woman a medal!” De Lille exploded.

“Need I remind you we are trying to maintain peaceful relations with the Barbary states for the safety of our merchant trade?”

“Peaceful,” Edrington spat. “Those bloody curs have no honor. They’ll agree to peace with one hand and take our ships with the other. This woman has saved not only Croston, but other British subjects—the dowager countess of Pennington, for one, and Cantwell’s daughter Lady India, for another. Clearly she has acted not against the Crown, but in its interests.”

“Has she?” Ponsby demanded, staring down the table at Edrington. “I believe Lord Edrington has information relevant to this discussion that he planned to withhold from us today.”

Edrington’s expression turned stony. “I brought no information.”

“No doubt you didn’t,” Ponsby scoffed. “But I believe this committee should know that not three days past, Lord Edrington shared with me an affidavit he’d procured from one of Lady Dunscore’s crew alleging that she did not, in fact, intend to save Croston at all. Rather, her initial order was to leave him to die in the water.”

James looked at Katherine. A moment of fear in her eyes confirmed the truth. Bloody hell, this could ruin everything.

“Is it true, Lady Dunscore?” Ponsby demanded.

“Taking a stranger aboard a ship with a skeleton crew was a foolish thing to do,” James told them before she could answer. “My respect for Lady Dunscore’s judgment as a sea captain would seriously decline if I thought it might not be true. She had no way to know whether I was friend or foe, as the wreck happened at night when I was not wearing my uniform. There was nothing to mark me as British—quite the opposite, in fact, given my natural coloring. Moreover, I could have been carrying any number of diseases that might have killed everyone on board. Whether we like it or not, there is no duty to rescue.”

“Don’t like it,” De Lille muttered. “Never have.”

Ponsby frowned at him. “And it doesn’t bother you, Croston, that you might have been left to perish?”

“By all rights, I should have perished the night of the wreck,” he said flatly. “This line of inquiry has no bearing on the bill before this committee. If anything, it shows more clearly the risk Lady Dunscore was ultimately willing to take to help another.” You should know that I’ve forgiven you. Now he had a good idea why.

Winston spoke up, addressing Jaxbury. “What have you to say about that day, Jaxbury?”

“Only that Lady Dunscore was acting out of care and concern for her crew. And that a young child was aboard.”

“Your daughter,” Winston said to Katherine.

“Who also has no bearing on this discussion,” James said. He’d be damned if he’d allow them to drag Anne’s legitimacy into this.