Gallant Rogue (Reluctant Heroes Book 3) Read online

  A man in a broad straw hat sat cross-legged in the shade, strumming a guitar for the passersby. The song he sang was of a Spanish lady. A woman beside him in a bright yellow dress danced and clapped little castanets in her hand to keep time with the guitarist. No one seemed to feel the woman’s behavior was inappropriate. No one shunned her. All were smiling at her and some waved as they passed the couple by. They were welcome in the square. People threw coins into the small bowl as a form of praise for the musician’s efforts.

  Chloe started when a hand seized her elbow from behind. She glanced up into the smiling face of Captain Jack Rawlings. “My lady, if you wish to make your uncle’s villa by sunset, you must stop gawking at the crowd and come with me.”

  “Did you get directions to Casa del Amico?” she asked, uncertain if the man knew Spanish. She’d not thought to ask until now.

  “Yes, we’ve made arrangements for a carriage to take you there,” Jack informed her. “It’s just this way, if you can pull your lovely eyes from the local scenery and move across the square. See, there’s Morgan there, waiting with your trunks. Are you ready, ma’am, or would you wish for me to buy you a sweetmeat at the farmer’s market before we adjourn to your uncle’s home?”

  “No, thank you.” She could not help smiling at his jest. She wasn’t a child, yet she was acting like one, bedazzled by the sights and sounds of the marketplace. “Is it far to Uncle Miguel’s home?”

  “Just a few narrow turns. The driver assures me he knows the way.”

  Chloe allowed him to escort her through the square to the waiting carriage and driver. Lt. Morgan was there, his perfect white teeth bared to greet her in an amused smile. He was young enough to enjoy the festive feel in the air and not be suspicious of mere shadows. He helped Chloe into the carriage. Marta was handed in beside her. The captain joined them, taking his seat across from them and when they were settled he rapped on the roof.

  They were dusty and rumpled from their journey, first being rowed to shore by English sailors and then wandering through the docks to the marketplace. Chloe wished she could change before she went directly to her uncle’s home, as she must appear common indeed in a plain muslin gown and a straw bonnet that was without decoration or appeal. She’d been concerned about the saltwater ruining her new gowns, as the row boats were so low to the water. She touched the pale blue gown, one of her old ones from Ravencrest, and sighed. The last two inches of the skirt were wet, and had sand caked on them from being wet and then walking through the wharf and the marketplace. She had the appearance of a servant, or worse, a poor relation begging for a room. A grand entrance would have to wait until she could unpack her lovely gowns and have them pressed.

  The carriage moved through narrow cobblestone streets, turning and winding until Chloe lost all sense of direction. In some places, it barely fit through the passage between buildings they called a road. Towering brick and stone facades on either side blocked out the view of the sun or sky. It seemed a crowded place. There were no sweeping vistas of the countryside or the sea, as she was accustomed to at Ravencrest plantation. This was an island city built upon stone and the clever Spanish seemed to have made use of each inch of space allotted them. She missed the verdant foliage of the Indies she’d become accustomed to seeing from her window or the garden, the vibrant greens and the vibrant flowers that decorated the landscape of her island home.

  “Is the heat too much for you?” The captain asked, seeming to sense her change of mood.

  “No. I’m fine,” She lied, unwilling to admit her fatigue or her uneasiness at being trapped between the high walls of this unusual city.

  At last, they seemed to have left the tight confines of the narrow streets. A large paved plaza opened before them, a plaza lined by stately trees. The buildings reminded Chloe of the London townhouses she’d driven past. They had similar architecture, and yet, the buildings were decidedly different. Pink brick and pale white stone made up the houses lining this square. The doors had marble columns and tall, grandiose entrance doors, signifying a wealthier residence then the earlier streets they passed through.

  “Here we are,” Rawlings said as the carriage drew to a halt before a majestic building opposite the stunning-copper domed cathedral she’d spied from the decks of the Pegasus. “That is Santa Cruz Church. Your uncle’s town house is opposite it, according to the driver. Wait here, I’ll knock on the door and make sure dear Uncle Miguel is at home.” He exited the carriage.

  Chloe huffed with impatience. He did seem to be taking this escort business too seriously. She wanted to jump down from the carriage like a little girl and go rushing up to the door, lift the brass knocker and rush into her Uncle’s startled arms. She wasn’t a girl, and Uncle Miguel may not have even heard of her existence, for all she knew. It was infuriating to be so constrained by social decorum when her heart wanted to fly into the welcoming arms of her father’s brother. Jack was being cautious. It seemed his nature to question everything, to scan the horizon for any possible clouds that mar the sun.

  “I am sorry,” Jack murmured moments later as they stood in the grand foyer surrounded by marble columns, pink marble columns that must have cost the family a fortune. “He’s not in residence here, my dear.”

  “We’ve come so far,” she said, fully aware she sounded like a petulant child. Her hands were fists at her side. Chloe gaped about her at the opulence of the Casa del Amico, the home of her Uncle, the Marquis del Amico. “Will they not put us up here? Marta and I must have a place to stay. When will uncle return?”

  “The house boy is finding the housekeeper. She went out this afternoon, to some ladies circle at the church across the street. He’ll be back in a moment.”

  “And in the mean time, we are to stand in the foyer like beggars? Like shopkeepers awaiting her ladyship’s pleasure? My lady the countess would never treat a relative so, nor would her household staff. I am his niece, Jack! The only daughter of Juan—”

  A thin, regal woman dressed in black came scurrying across the marble floor, her heels clacking and echoing in the vast expanse of open foyer. “Perdon!” She rushed to Chloe and took her hands, speaking in rapid Spanish. “Juan’s girl. From America?” The woman’s thin, narrow face was full of astonishment. “We hoped he would return to us. Your papa, is he well?”

  “My father died years ago,” Chloe replied in Spanish. “And I am recently widowed.”

  “Poor dear. Come, come. We will settle you. And these men, they are your servants?” The woman peered anxiously at Jack, Lt. Morgan and Jinx. “You require rooms for them as well?”

  “Captain Rawlings is an old acquaintance of my husband’s. He was charged with escorting me safely here.” Chloe gestured to Jack, who was hanging back, leaning against a column in a leisurely posture, his arms crossed as he watched the exchange in silence. She knew he understood Spanish, at least some Spanish, for he was able to find them a carriage and obtain directions to her uncle’s house. For some reason, she couldn’t say why, she had the distinct impression that he was trying to pretend otherwise. “Captain,” she said in English, feeling it best to follow his lead. “Will you stay the night or will you and your men be returning to your ship?”

  “We’ll stay. I’m to deliver you to your uncle, the marquis, not his house woman,” he replied in English.

  She conveyed Jack’s intentions to the housekeeper. The housekeeper nodded and gave orders to the boy who had fetched her. The quick words in Spanish were simple. Open the best room for our senora and her captain. Find room for the maid in the attic, and for the other men. Quickly.

  Jack’s audible sigh echoed about them. It had been a long, exhausting day. Chloe was tired, hungry, and exasperated to find that her uncle had chosen this time to travel into the interior to visit one of his villas. She only hoped this woman was telling the truth, that Uncle Miguel was simply away from home and that nothing unfortunate happened to him.

  If so, it would make her journey across the sea for naught.
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br />   *

  “You look lovely, ma’am.” Marta’s praise was welcome as Chloe examined herself anxiously in the large oval mirror. She’d dressed carefully for dinner, wearing a new silk gown with the least wrinkles, despite the fact that her uncle was not in residence. She still wanted to appear at her best, and make the housekeeper and the servants forget the bedraggled creature that came to them two hours earlier resembling a servant for hire.

  She walked down the hall toward the grand marble stairs. It was an enchanting dream, finding herself amid such grandeur, wealth that had belonged to her own family for generations. As she stood at the top of the stairs, Chloe wondered why her father would run away from such wealth and social position.

  “Great Neptune, who do we have here?” The voice startled her out of her musings, but not for long. It was Jack, dressed in finery. He came to where she stood at the top of the stairs from the opposite hall and offered her his arm. “Shall we, Mrs. O’Donovan?”

  One glimpse of his crooked grin and her anxieties faded away. She had successfully arrived at her uncle’s home. She had arrived and had only to wait to be presented to her uncle. Tonight Chloe would enjoy Jack’s company at dinner. Perhaps it would be their last evening together.

  The realization that this might be the last time she would enjoy his companionship brought her spirits low. She took his proffered arm, and allowed him to guide her down the marble staircase. This place was like a palace. Regal, luxurious. It was grander than she had anticipated. An elegantly dressed footman stood at the base of the stairs, ready to guide them to the dining room. He led them down a hall and then opened the door for them.

  “Do we dine alone, or are your men dining with us?” she asked as Jack helped her to her seat and held the chair for her.

  “Alone,” Jack murmured. “The men have duties to perform, a little outing … my dear. The taverns are usually the place to find out what is brewing in a port city, so I’ve given them leave to go make friends.”

  What was he worried about? She was safe in her uncle’s home with servants to attend her until the master’s return. Jack should be overjoyed to leave her and sail back to the Indies.

  The footman served them wine and the first course. The scent was intoxicating: roasted pork, highly seasoned and roasted to perfection. It was spicy, and yet satisfying. There were odd little beans or peas with onions and a heavy spice she was not familiar with.

  “Do you leave in the morning, Captain?” she asked, sipping her wine slowly, hoping to savor this evening for the rest of her days.

  Jack finished chewing before he answered but continued to cut his third portion of meat as he spoke. The chinking of the silver knife on the gold-edged china was a pleasant accompaniment to his rich voice in this intimate setting. “No, I’ll hang around for a few days, get the lay of the land. I’d like to meet your uncle proper, make sure he’s worthy of you before I head out. Donovan would expect no less of me, as you are his kinswoman, after all.”

  “By marriage. I’m hardly family, I married his uncle. He takes his duties a little too seriously, if you don’t mind my criticism.”

  Jack shrugged and tossed an olive into his mouth. After swallowing, he reached for the wine. “That is his way. And he does answer to my lady, mind you. Elizabeth is fierce when it comes to the people she loves, and you, dear Chloe, are one of them.”

  It was wonderful to be reminded that she did have people who cared for her, as she would now be residing with strangers. The housekeeper was polite, and yet Chloe did not miss the wariness in her features. Perhaps it was the shock of having her master’s relation wash up on shore unexpectedly. Perhaps the woman thought her a fraud. No matter. Chloe had letters of introduction to give to her uncle. Even Jack had written a letter for her to make up for the one they took bearing Lord Greystowe’s seal.

  “To Spain.” Jack raised his glass to her. “We made it here without getting blasted out of the water today. To Spain and a new life for our lovely Mrs. O’Donovan.”

  “To Spain.” Chloe raised her glass in salute and drank to his toast. She lifted her glass and made a toast of her own. “And to brave men, such as Captain Rawlings and his crew. A finer escort I could not have asked for to accompany me. I thank you, Captain. I thank you for all you’ve done on my behalf.”

  “Sounds as if you are ready to be well shot of me,” he said, giving her an odd look. “I’m not ready to relinquish you just yet, Ramirez.”

  Chloe was taken aback by his statement. She stared at him, waiting for him to explain further. He did not. The suggestiveness of his words was strangely invigorating. She glanced down at her plate and then carefully at him again.

  He was sizing up the dining room. It was impressive, bathed in candlelight and with dripping old world extravagance and splendor. The marquis’s house was beautifully furnished, but it lacked a family filling the room with warmth and laughter. It seemed formal and empty.

  *

  The following morning, Chloe was led to an outside courtyard patio for breakfast. She was told the marquis always enjoyed his morning meal there, when the weather permitted. It was a small hidden garden with a tiled fountain. Lush green foliage was planted in a strategic pattern surrounding a round tile table with scrolled iron chairs. It was as much of a garden as one could expect to find on an island city consisting of brick and stone. The bright flowers in the urns hanging every few feet from the open balcony above made their surroundings seem a little less cold and foreboding. There was even a small tree in the corner of this enclosed garden with little orange fruits hanging from it. The sight cheered her, as did the vision of Jack sipping coffee in a casual pose as if he were the owner of this grand villa, not a guest.

  As Chloe approached Jack, he rose from his chair. “Good morning, ma’am.”

  She didn’t like it when he called her that. It was one thing for the crew, but she felt Jack was more of a friend, and so it seemed unnatural to be addressed so. She preferred he call her Chloe, but that would not be prudent, not if she wished to present herself as a proper lady to her uncle’s household. “Please, do not call me that, Captain. You make me feel a spinster.”

  He sat after she did and scowled at her. “You are no spinster. You are a young widow.”

  She scoffed at his use of the word “young”, as she was in her early thirties, hardly young by any standard. “What are your plans today? Are you off to your ship?”

  “Trying to get rid of me, are you?” He grinned. And her heart felt a strange little twinge.

  “Don’t tease me. I don’t wish for you to leave, but I could not delay you further with my cares.” She poured herself a cup of coffee from the silver carafe. Since sailing with Jack, she’d come to appreciate coffee in a way she’d not thought possible. With cream and sugar, it was more than tolerable. It was actually very bracing.

  A footman brought a tray laden with fresh fruits and little cakes dusted with sugar. He set the tray down on the table and started serving them. There was some sort of meat, Chloe wasn’t sure what it was and did not feel like asking. It appeared to be fish, poached fish. She declined the meat, but allowed him to serve her fresh fruit and cakes.

  When the footman withdrew, Jack picked up the conversation. “I promised to deliver you to your uncle. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in a city so close to being placed under martial law, even if it would be the British corralling it like fish in a barrel.”

  He had some news, then, from the spies he sent out to the taverns last night.

  Chloe buttered a little cake, and took a dainty bite of it, waiting for him to continue.

  Jack was remarkably perceptive. Her look of anticipation was all the prodding he needed.

  “The Spanish are unhappy with the French alliance. They are planning to break it. The city is safe enough for now, but I think it might be best if we took Captain Maxwell’s advice and returned to London to wait out this troubling business.”

  “No.” Chloe set her teacup down with a cl
atter. “I came here to meet my uncle. I will find him. You may leave whenever you wish, Captain.” She stood up, surprised as tears marred her vision. She didn’t mean to be so emotional, but he was asking her to abandon her quest when she was so near to triumph.

  “Sit. Don’t go off like doused cat. Sit, I say.”

  “You are not in command of me, Captain. I will not be told what to do by any man.”

  “Was Mr. O’Donovan a little too heavy handed?”

  “How dare you imply something so crude. He was a darling, a lamb.”

  “Well, my dear shepherdess, as you are without said lamb, why take offense at my words? You are upset. I am bound to learn the reason why. I asked you to sit.”

  “No.” Chloe returned, tossing the napkin down on her plate. “You ordered me to sit. I do not take orders from anyone, not anymore.” She couldn’t control the sudden rage within her. Unable to speak further, she turned and stalked back into the house.

  “Most peculiar,” Jack muttered as he observed her stiff march through the small garden and into the main house. “All that because I told her to sit down?”

  Someone had treated Chloe badly. If not Mr. O’Donovan, then who?

  Jinx stumbled through the arched portico door, just missing Chloe’s retreat by seconds. “Mornin’, sir.” He meandered to the table and sat in the place Chloe had just vacated as there were only two chairs. Seeing the half eaten food and the tray laden with more food, the man did what most men would do—he piled the plate high with reinforcements and tucked in.

  “Your report is troubling.” Jack confided. “If rebellion is in the offing, then we must extract ourselves from the city before it ignites.”