The Buccaneer(43)
Catherine glared at him and spoke the sudden thought that popped into her head. “Nobility! You were of noble birth.”
He shifted uncomfortably against the pillows.
“I knew it,” she continued, pleased that she had solved one piece of the puzzle. “Your speech and manners are too refined for that of a pirate or a common man.”
“Being of noble birth did little good for me when I discovered myself on the merchant ship as part of the crew.”
Catherine paused at this remark, and then commented, “Do you know of anyone who harbored resentment against you, or your family?”
Lucian shrugged, having briefly considered the possibility years ago and having found no validity to it. “I thought about it, but could think of few if any who held grudges against the Darcmoors.”
“Darcmoor?” Catherine repeated in surprise. “You’re a Darcmoor?”
“Lucian Darcmoor, the Earl of Brynwood, to be exact, my lady.” He executed a short mocking bow of his head.
Catherine stared incredulously at him. “The Darcmoor estate called Brynwood that lies next to my father’s in north Yorkshire?”
“Correct.”
She shook her head as if confused. “I don’t recall seeing you there over the years. And I’ve met the earl that is in residence now. Charles is his name. He has become a friend of my father’s and has dined often with us. But I do recall some rumors —”
“That I was dead,” he finished.
“An accident I believe was mentioned, concerning the son of the earl.”
Lucian nodded. “How that rumor came about I’ll never know. Charles is my cousin, next in line to inherit after me, which he has successfully done. He now possesses all the Darcmoor holdings.”
He paused considering the plan he had implemented to regain his title and possessions. He had shared his intentions with no one but Santos. He didn’t know why he wanted to reclaim his holdings, perhaps it was a matter of honor, or revenge. Whatever the reason he knew it was necessary.
“I had never cared for the country estate and spent little time there. I much preferred the active social life London had to offer. I was young and pompous like so many of the gentry. I learned quickly and harshly how life was for the other half.”
Catherine sat listening, gaining a better understanding about the infamous Captain Lucifer.
“I wrongly and ignorantly assumed my social position would free me from mistaken debts. The captain laughed in my face when I told him who I was. He informed me that he didn’t give a rat’s ass as to my title. He had a paper that said my ass belonged to him for three years and he intended to see that I worked off every minute of every day of my debt.”
He raked his hands through his hair, briefly closing his eyes on his past. Then he opened them and held her concerned gaze once again while he continued his story. “I never knew such misery existed. I never realized how harsh life could be. I never knew the gnawing pains of hunger, but I learned fast enough. I learned that when you’re hungry you’ll eat just about anything, even food laced with weevils.”
Catherine cringed at the thought of bugs in her food and shivered at the cruelty that necessitated such an act.
“I swore as each day passed that I would find the man who wronged me and make him pay.”
“This captain on the merchant ship,” Catherine asked. “Is he the one who gave you my father’s name?”
“With his dying breath.”
“Dying breath?” Catherine repeated.
Lucian once again relived that fateful day. “The ship was attacked by bloodthirsty pirates. They boarded and raided the vessel in minutes, killing any crew member who refused to join them. I took up a sword immediately, foolishly assuming freedom was close at hand. The captain lay on the deck of the ship bleeding to death. I went to him and asked him for the name
of the man who claimed the debts that sold me into servitude. The name spilled from his bleeding lips. Abelard.”
Catherine began to protest.
“Don’t bother to look for an excuse. A dying man isn’t about to lie. Why should he?”
“He could have harbored a grudge against my father.”
“Catherine.” He sighed her name. “When will you finally accept the fact that your father is capable of cruelty?”
She answered swiftly. “Never.”
Lucian smiled, a stark unfriendly smile. “Not even when I show you the papers with your father’s signature?”
“Show me them,” she challenged, “and we shall see.”
“Yes, Catherine, eventually the truth will be obvious to you.”
“And the documents that prove my father innocent of treason?” she asked. “Will you give me those papers as you had promised?”