“I had a broken leg and arm, as well as a cracked head. I suspect some of my ribs were fractured as well. I hadn’t given it much thought until recently.”
Vincent’s expression was grim as he nodded. “Pirates attacked your ship. You were the only survivor.”
Nathan had a vague memory of the attack, but nothing afterward. He clenched his jaw so tightly, it hurt. Damn them, killing his captain and crew. “What I do not know is the reason for all of this.”
Vincent leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Your step-daughter.”
“Eugénie?”
“Do you have another?”
Trust his friend to joke at a time like this. “Very funny. Tell me what you know.”
“What I know, I pieced together from everyone’s stories. Her uncle, the Vicomte Villaret de Joyeuse, wants to marry her to an older Frenchcomte. It appears the family is rather done up, and Eugénie is the only lady in the family of marriageable age to offer in wedlock.”
Nathan sipped the strong black coffee as his friend related how Villaret was responsible for the death of Nathan’s crew and the destruction of his ship. If he found the blackguard, he’d kill him. An English frigate had seen the fight and given chase, then returned to find the crew dead. It was, of course, assumed that Nathan had died as well. And now Eugénie’s uncle was on St. Thomas. There was no way in hell he’d allow the rogue to get his hands on his daughter.
“I need to get home as soon as possible. Can you get me a description and the name of the ship?”
“Naturally.” Vincent grinned as he handed Nathan a piece of paper. “I have been busy while you slept. It is already done, my friend.”
“TheUnconquerable. We’ll see about that.” He glanced back to his friend. “How soon can we depart?”
“I’m outfitting my ship now. We will go aboard before dark.” Vincent took a sip of his coffee. “The only problem is your rather large friend.”
That wasn’t much of a surprise. Mr. Conrad would have made a good circus giant. A giggle from another room reached him. “I assume you have a plan?”
“You could say that.” Vincent glanced at the door. “I have a friend who works in the theater. She is completely trustworthy and, I think, almost finished.”
Nathan seriously doubted if anyone could disguise Conrad enough to get him aboard in broad daylight. Setting his cup down, Nathan made to rise, but Vincent stayed him. “I’ll send my man to you. Once you are dressed and have eaten, join us.”
The next hour was taken up with bathing, shaving, dressing, and eating. Fortunately, Vincent and Nathan were about the same size. Nathan had not known how hungry he was until he dug into the savory stew filled with beef and vegetables and had consumed a loaf of fresh bread. He hadn’t been aware of it, but at the plantation he had been fed with the intent of not allowing him to regain his strength. He made his way to the drawing room. Unlike the houses in St. Thomas, the French replicated their native architecture in Martinique and the rest of the French-held islands.
Miss Marshall had her hands crossed over her stomach, laughing. Conrad sported an old-fashioned gray wig, and his skin color had been lightened to almost white. His lips were pink, and someone had fashioned a frock coat with wide cuffs and a great deal of gold. He was in the process of entertaining the others by walking around stooped over with a cane, spouting the occasional French curse. He resembled an old man who insisted on dressing in the fashion of the previous era.
“Do you think he’ll do?” Vincent asked.
“I think he might.” Nathan grinned. Hiding Conrad had been his most pressing concern. “We should load him on the boat while it is light enough for everyone to see.”
“I agree.” Vincent took Nathan by the arm, leading him to the far end of the room. “The plantation’s overseer is looking for you and the others. Fortunately, the only descriptions they have given out are of Conrad and Miss Marshall.”
This was bad news, but not unexpected. “I knew it wouldn’t take long. Have you been able to arrange all our papers on such short notice?”
“They are being made up. We’ll have them before we depart.” Vincent glanced at the others. “Everyone, including you, will be in disguise. You must take care to speak French. The slaves’ owner”—Vincent’s lips thinned with disapproval—“did his best to ensure none of them could speak my language. It is our good fortune that he did not succeed. Even Miss Marshall speaks very good French. She is an impressive woman.”
Nathan nodded. “She told me their story. I agree with you. Not many women would do as she has done.”
A boy burst into the drawing room and spoke in rapid patois to Vincent. He turned to the rest of their group. “We will soon have visitors.”
Vincent strode to one of the ornate wall panels, pressed a leaf, and a moment later it opened, revealing a comfortable room with chairs and a sofa. “Everyone but Mr. Conrad, please. You must be silent.”
When the group was settled, he closed it again and glanced at Nathan. “Go to your room. The authorities are not searching for a white man, but I do not wish to give them reason to tell the overseer about you.”
Knocking sounded from the door below as Nathan returned to his chamber, praying none of them would be caught.
Chapter 21
Before leaving Whitecliff House, Eugénie had told Cicely about her visitors. Fortunately Cicely knew a family in Virgin Gorda who would help them. William had insisted on escorting the girl and her baby to the ship, along with the trunks. After dark, mother and child would be moved to the boat that would take them to safety.
