Chapter Seven

The lavender evening gown was indeed lovely. A white, ruffled petticoat showed through where the lavender slim, silk overskirt was caught up with bows. Puffed sleeves nearly touched her ears, and tiny seed pearls had been sewn to make rosettes on the sides of each sleeve. The bodice dipped too low for her taste, exposing an alarming swell of bosom, but she trusted that Elizabeth and the modiste were up-to-date on the very latest styles. The hem ended three inches above her ankle—the absolute highest she had been willing to go.

Nora curled her hair and pinned it loosely on her head. Finally, she tucked a single white lily behind her ear and secured it with a pin. White gloves and slippers completed the ensemble. Rebecca eyed herself in the looking glass, satisfied she wouldn’t embarrass her sister—at least not by her state of dress.

“Your cape, m’lady.”

Rebecca took the silk cloak, lined with mink, and draped it around her shoulders. She rolled her eyes at Nora. “Wish me luck in snaring a husband.”

“I do, and hope it is quick,” Nora said softly.

“What?”

“Nothing, m’lady.”

She left the suite and swept down the wide staircase. She found Philip and Elizabeth already waiting for her in the sitting room. The empire waist of her sister’s white gown hid the bulk of her stomach. She looked innocent until Philip ruined the image by kissing her, making Elizabeth giggle. When she became aware of Rebecca in the doorway, she cleared her throat. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you.”

“Shall we go fishing, ladies?” Philip offered his arm to Elizabeth, then Rebecca as they neared.

“You are impossible, dear.” Elizabeth rapped her fan across his forearm gently.

“It is naught but the truth,” he said and winked at Rebecca. “Are we not fishing for a husband for your sister?”

Rebecca couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Elizabeth and Mama are fishing but never asked me if I wished to be bait.”

Philip had a sympathetic expression on his face. “It has been my experience that you seldom realize you are bait until someone reels you in.” He patted his wife’s hand again. “It is not an unhappy circumstance, so take heart, Rebecca.”

She forced a smile for him but did not voice her thoughts. She had no wish to be reeled in by any of the gentlemen in her acquaintance. She doubted any of the men her sister knew would change her mind. Only one man consumed her thoughts, and he was unattainable.

The carriage ride to the Hanover townhouse took nearly an hour because of the surrounding traffic. At one point, Rebecca asked, “Why not simply walk the six blocks?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Part of an evening of socializing is seeing and being seen.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Much like riding through the park at five in London.”

Her sister nodded before she turned her attention back to Philip.

She leaned back against the seat, battling a yawn. It wasn’t nine yet, but she felt ready to retire. She gave in to the yawn and hid it behind her white lace fan. To her relief, they finally arrived at their destination.

Mr. Hanover’s home was considerably more expensive than Philip and Elizabeth’s. It stood alone on the block, surrounded by lush green lots on each side. A metal fence encompassed the entire block. The three-story home was fashioned of brick and wood, with a steep roof and marble stairs. A man wearing a tuxedo stood outside the entrance, accepting invitations and opening the doors for the crush of guests.

Once they had entered the home, Rebecca bit back a gasp. Marble had also been used for the entryway, but someone had ruined its splendor by laying down a long red carpet that led from the entrance to the ballroom.

The doors stood open, and she could see a large number of people milling about the room. She followed her sister and Philip inside. Her nose wrinkled at the mingled odors of perfumes, cigar and pipe smoke, and food displayed on long tables against the far wall.

“Would not you love to be mistress of this home?” Elizabeth whispered behind her fan.

Rebecca shrugged. “I suppose.” It would take more than a spacious home and an adoring assemblage to impress her. “Where is this Mr. Hanover?”

“Lord.”

“Hmm?”

“He inherited a bankrupt Viscount title from his mother’s great-uncle, or distant cousin, I’ve heard,” Philip said. His voice lowered. “Though, I have also heard that when his elder half-brother, The Earl of Hanover, inherited the title, he sent his brother packing. Apparently, Hanover has a murky past.”

She ignored the tidbit of gossip. “I thought Americans did not give a whit for titles?”

He nodded. “That is true. Hanover will be the first to tell you to dispense with such nonsense.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Titles are not nonsense, my dear.”

Philip took her hand. “You are speaking to an American, Elizabeth. I shall never understand the point of them.”

“Perhaps because you were not born with one?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. Titles are not important to you either, or you would not have refused that Viscount to accept my indecently hasty proposal.”

“Must you always mock Mama?” She sounded aggrieved, but her lips twitched with suppressed laughter.

“Shall we dance, m’lady?”

She curtsied to him. “Of course, sir.”

Rebecca watched them glide away to join the minuet, feeling a dart of envy. It was quickly squelched as she saw William Bradleaf making his way to her.

He was tall and lean, with carefully arranged brown curls and strange golden eyes. His navy jacket was the latest in style, with reproduced family crests on each of the real gold buttons. His cravat was intricately tied, and white gloves encased his large hands. He had never been anything other than polite and respectful, but she was wary of him just the same.

She stifled a groan and tried to force a polite smile. “Good evening, Mr. Bradleaf.”

“Miss Stanhope, er, Lady Stanhope.” He bowed at the waist, extending a gloved hand. “The Lancers is beginning, m’lady.”

She looked at the dance floor, where dancers were lining up to perform the modified Quadrille. “I have never been good with the intricate steps, but thank you.”

He shrugged. “No matter. I shall keep you company.”

She bit back a sigh, resisting the urge to tell him he would not be winning the bet circulating among the gentlemen of Boston. “There is no need. That young lady looks eager to dance yet lacks a partner.” She pointed to a painfully shy young girl who retained much of her baby fat.

He frowned. “I am certain someone will ask her.”

Rebecca fluttered her lashes at him as she fanned herself. “It would be gracious of you to invite her, sir. You are quite popular among the younger men and will surely set the trend.”

His mouth tightened, but he nodded. “If it pleases m’lady.”

“It does.” She watched him walk away with a stiff set of his shoulders, barely biting back a giggle. Her mirth turned to annoyance as she searched for a way to dissuade him. Unlike many of the other gentlemen, he seemed deliberately obtuse. He ignored her brush-offs while returning for more. His persistence was driving her mad.

She turned away from the sight of him escorting the awkward girl onto the dance floor and froze. Across the room, she saw a gentleman speaking to a small huddle. He wore a black overcoat, white shirt and waistcoat, and long pants in place of the knee breeches many of the men still favored. He wore white gloves on his hands and clutched a top hat. Unlike the other men, his blond hair wasn’t carefully curled and styled.

She squinted, trying to place him. He seemed familiar, but she couldn’t tell from her current angle. Rebecca took a few steps to the right until she had a clear view of his face. A wave of dizziness passed over her, and she struggled to catch her breath. How different he looked in those clothes instead of the white shirt and tan breeches. Her pirate had transformed into a gentleman.

She felt nauseated and breathless. Rebecca ignored an approaching man, detouring around him to make her way to the balcony. She stepped into the cool night air, relieved to find herself alone. She leaned against the rail and sucked in air as if she had been recently drowning.

It couldn’t be. That man could not be Christoph. What pirate could pass among civilized people? Yet, he had been educated and articulate. He had been logical and methodical in approaching their bargain and had kept his word. Could it be that he was passing himself off as a member of polite society?

She lifted her head as the music stopped and someone spoke. Her curiosity piqued, she hovered near the door of the balcony, gazing up at the man standing on a step a few feet above the crowd. Her eyes memorized every detail, convincing her he was the man who had taken her virginity.

“Thank you for coming to my home this evening. I have missed Boston and America. It is with great relief that I return to our fair city and rest before my next voyage.”

His voice sent shivers up her spine. It was him. There could be no doubt, despite the superficial differences such as clothing and etiquette. What should she do?

Her eyes fell on a soldier nearby, but she discarded the idea. She was reluctant to report him to authorities because she was not anxious for others to know the details of their encounter.

She had to leave before he recognized her. What might he do to protect his identity and secret? Murder did not seem farfetched, as he and his cutthroats had slaughtered five of her crew.

Rebecca pushed her way through the crowd, seeking out her sister and Philip. She saw them near the foot of the staircase and hurried toward them, keeping her face turned from Christoph’s direction.

When she reached them, Rebecca grasped Elizabeth’s arm. “I must leave.”

“What? We have not been here more than a half-hour. It would be impolite to leave now.”

“I am not feeling well,” she said in a rush. “A headache,” she added quickly, seeing her sister’s concern. “I will take the coach and send it back for you.”

“That shan’t be possible, m’lady.”

Rebecca stiffened as his voice came from behind her. He was close enough to touch her but didn’t.

Elizabeth bowed her head. “Lord Hanover.”

He lifted her gloved hand and kissed it. “Mrs. Gallow.” He turned to incline his head to Philip. “Mr. Gallow.”

“Sir.”

Rebecca shivered as his icy blue eyes rested on her. She tilted her chin up and tried to meet his stare without faltering.

“This is my sister, Rebecca Stanhope.”

She resisted the urge to tug her hand away when he lifted it to his mouth. She shivered when his hot breath caressed her fingers through the thin silk. “M’lord.” Her voice emerged as a croak.

“I could not help but overhear your quandary, m’lady. I am afraid your carriage is boxed in at the moment.”

“I shall take a cab.”

He shook his head. “It would be unsafe to allow you to return home unescorted.” Christoph turned back to Philip. “I shall see your charge home.”

“We could not impose.”

“It is not an imposition. I find myself weary of the social niceties already.” His lip curled. “It takes little for one to become jaded.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I shall see Lady Stanhope home before I return to my bed. It has been a wearing journey.”

“I am sure.” Rebecca gave him a simpering smile. “I could not keep you from your bed, sir.”

“Nonsense. It shall be my pleasure to see you home.” His eyes spoke words too vivid to utter in polite company.

She had no trouble interpreting them. Before Rebecca could form another protest, Elizabeth settled the matter.

“You are most gracious, m’lord.”

He smiled at her. “Call me Alex, m’lady.”

She stiffened, prepared to expose him…anything to avoid enduring the ride back to her sister’s home in his presence.

Christoph’s mouth twisted into a parody of a smile. “That is a lovely necklace.”

Her eyes widened at the deliberate mention of the necklace. Was he reminding her he wasn’t the only one with secrets?

Elizabeth blushed and nodded. “Thank you, Alex. It was my great-grandmother’s. Only recently did it come to me.” She flashed Philip a quick smile. “Mama forgave my hasty marriage,” she whispered to her husband.

Rebecca opened her mouth, uncertain what she would say, but he had spirited her from the room before she could think of anything. With dizzying speed, she was standing beside him, with his hand resting lightly at her waist, wondering how they had gotten outside.

He lifted a hand to flag down a passing hansom. When the driver stopped, Christoph opened the door for her and then asked for the address. Once he had relayed it to the driver, he joined her in the coach, lowering the curtain on the window.

Rebecca glared at him. “How dare you pass yourself off among polite society?”

He laughed. “It may interest you to know I was an aristocrat long before I was a privateer, m’lady. You would think it challenging to turn from gentleman to pirate, but one picks up a great many skills necessary to plundering in the company of other nobles.”

She snorted. “Privateer? Do you imply America sanctions your actions?”

Christoph shrugged. “In the past, I confined my business transactions to foreign vessels and gave my government no reason to stop me.”

“But, why? Surely, you do not need the money? You are a Viscount and own an import business.”

He lifted a brow. “You know much about me, Rebecca.”

She colored. “My sister told me something about you, but I did not know you were a murdering pirate.”

He leaned forward. “Murder is subjective. I prefer to think of it as an unpleasant aspect of my former occupation.”

“Ask my crew if they feel that way.”

White teeth flashed against his tanned skin. “No one made them protect the cargo.” He sighed, leaning back against the rocking seat again. “Would it make a difference to you to know I was simply collecting payment for a debt your father owed me?”

Rebecca’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Lord Stanhope was not a reliable associate, but I did not know that until it was too late.” He shrugged. “After exhausting other channels, I chose the only recourse open to me. I came out of retirement for a brief time.” He winked at her.

She shook her head. “You lie.”

“Do I?” He looked beyond her shoulder. “How did your father die, Rebecca?”

“You bastard.” Without thought, Rebecca launched herself at him, pleased when her hand connected with his cheek. If only the glove hadn’t softened the blow, she would have been even more satisfied.

He captured her hands in his, holding her pressed against his body. “So eager, m’lady.” He bent to kiss her.

She turned her head away from him. “My father made mistakes, but he was not a bad man.”

Christoph followed her twisting head, resting his lips against her ear. “He was a man without honor. He owed half of London money and died in a staged argument to escape his debts. He paid Lord Fenwick to shoot him through the heart.”

“No.” Tears burned behind her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

“You deserve the truth, and you must know it all, or you will expose me.” He pulled her further into his arms, ignoring her futile struggles. “I am no longer a pirate by profession, but I do not like to be taken advantage of. Your father cheated the wrong man.”

“Pirate or no, you are ruthless and heartless.” She tried to wrench away from him, but he didn’t loosen his hold. “My father would never have done what you accuse him of.”

He sighed. “I did not think you would believe me.” He released her left hand and grasped her chin. “Know that you will be sullied if you choose to spread tales about me. I circumvented the law so that your father’s debt was settled with me, but I do not make a habit of such acts anymore.” He shrugged. “In my youth, perhaps I built my empire by less than scrupulous methods, but I no longer employ such tactics.”

“I am supposed to believe you? What proof do I have?”

“My word.”

She frowned at him. “I do not trust you, Christoph.”

He smiled. “I know.” His voice lowered. “My name is Alexander Christoph Hanover, m’lady. I prefer Alex.”

Her eyes widened. “If you are no longer a pirate, why lie about your name?”

“It was inevitable that you would eventually find your father’s papers and see my name listed as an associate to whom he owed a substantial amount. You could not connect me to Christoph.”

“Your explanation is too neat.”

“Believe me or not. That is your choice. All I truly require from you is silence and will ensure you receive the same from me.” Once more, he lowered his head to kiss her.

Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut, warring with her conscience and desires. As his mouth settled on hers, she sagged against him. She opened her mouth to allow his tongue inside, moaning softly as it slid against hers. She buried her free hand in his hair, straining to get closer.

“Rebecca, I have thought of you often,” he whispered against her lips after pulling away. “Your soft skin, delicate scent, and beautiful hair. I ache to be inside you again.”

She swallowed, biting back an admission of thoughts of him. “Why did you leave the necklace?”

He leaned away from her. “What does it matter?”

“I must know.”

Alex sighed. “The cargo on the ship was adequate to cover the debt. I had no right to take the necklace.”

She blinked back tears. “You had no other reason?”

He hesitated, then shook his head.

“I see.” She bowed her head. “Please release me.” She returned to the opposite seat and opened the curtain when he loosened his hold. Rebecca looked up at him as soon as she felt composed. “Thank you for the escort home. I see Elizabeth’s block in sight.” She turned her head to look at the open window on the door. “You shall have my silence.”

“I promise none will hear of what transpired between us.”

She inclined her head, swallowing a lump of moisture in her throat as the cab halted before the Gallows’ home. Rebecca opened the door and stepped out, pausing when his hand fell on hers. “Yes?”

“I did not mean to hurt you, Rebecca.”

She forced a brittle smile. “You have not hurt me, Lord Hanover. You are naught but a criminal, despite your words. How could one such as you hurt me?”

His mouth tightened. “My mistake, m’lady. I sometimes forget women of your station have no emotions not inspired by greed and propriety.” He thumped on the side of the door. “Driver, return to my home.”

Rebecca watched the cab disappear from sight before she touched her lips. She could still feel the imprint of his on them. She bit her knuckle to suppress a sob as she turned and ran into the house. She bypassed the butler and hurried up to her room, where she threw herself on the bed and sobbed. Confusion filled her. Was he telling the truth, or had he fabricated a web of lies in the time it took them to exit his home?