Friends, welcome Ruth A. Casie to the blog today, with her account of an interesting visit to Her Grace, the Duchess of Haverford

Eleanor, the Duchess of Haverford is a progressive woman for her time. She judges a person by their character and not their title or purse. Some think she must have been a handful growing up, always open to meeting all sorts of people. There was one time when she visited Sommer-by-the-Sea, a village near Newcastle Upon Tyne, and had tea at the Rostov Tearoom. She was certain she saw the Grand Duke Nikolai Baranov, a Russian spy. Her astute self quickly identified His Imperial Highness’s interest, Lady Patrice Edgemont. Ah, but that is another story for another time.

Today, Eleanor is having tea with a pirate and his wench. Oh, dear reader, did you spill your tea? I should have been more clever in introducing them. Eleanor is expecting Lord and Lady Reynolds today. They have become dear friends who do not stand on ceremony. They are close enough to address each other by their given names. I know, it is outrageous. And close enough to divulge their deepest secrets.

Lady Reynolds, the former Darla Maxwell, was her father’s greatest prize. Graeme Maxwell and his close friend and business partner, Ewan MacDougall, collaborated in searching for a suitable husband for her. Darla has a … magical background, which, as a young woman, she sought to deny. She found it off-putting to those who knew. Therefore, she had it in her mind to never marry. Eleanor is hoping to find out more about how Darla’s magic influenced her life and what changed her mind about marriage.

Lord Wesley Reynolds, the son of the well-known silk merchant, has a most interesting background. Eleanor is looking forward to hearing more about it.

“More tea?” Eleanor asked with the pot in her hand.

“You can warm mine.” Darla smiled brightly and lifted her cup.

“Wesley,” Eleanor said as she warmed Darla’s cup, “you’ve teased me long enough. I still find it difficult to believe that you were ever a pirate and now one of the King’s most trusted men.”

“Wesley’s personal history has several twists and turns.” Darla put down her teacup and placed her hand on the arm of Wesley’s chair. “It has made him the man he is today.” 

Eleanor knew that Darla was Wesley’s devoted advocate. She smiled, understanding theirs was a sincere love match.

Wesley patted his wife’s hand. It was a tender touch, one that didn’t escape Eleanor’s notice.

Wesley turned toward Eleanor. “As a young man, I followed in my father’s footsteps. He was both an excellent silk merchant and businessman. He taught me the silk business, from cultivating the silkworms to making the final cloth to selling and shipping the bolts. I learned by traveling with him and observing him at his work. He was a well-respected merchant and excellent negotiator. When he passed away, I was ready to take over, although I would never be able to take his place.

He picked up his teacup and finished the brew.

“You are aware that there are rumors that you sailed out of the Cinque Ports in southern Europe in the service of the King.” Eleanor was determined to find out more about his pirate days and what he had done to be awarded a title and Glen Kirk Castle. The estate sat on the border with Scotland.

Wesley moved back in his seat as if he wanted to avoid the subject.

“Wesley,” Eleanor’s quiet voice broke the building tension. He looked at her. “If this is difficult—”

Wesley glanced at Darla, who gave him an encouraging nod. He let out a breath and continued.

“I provided the king with the silks he wanted, as I did with many monarchs across Europe. Because of my connections, I was a good sounding board for him. I had my own ships, and one thing led to another.”

“That led you to become a pirate?” Eleanor was not going to let the subject go.

“I had no love for the Spanish. They thought I was a charity, taking my goods off my ship without paying for them. So, I simply took from their ships as payment of their debt. All in all, a fair transaction.”

Eleanor chuckled, a bit unladylike, but she was with friends. “I dare say they deserved it. It sounds like a good life.”

“Over the years, my brother told me what happened while I was in boarding school, how we had to leave our home, and why. I believed Darla’s father and MacDougall, my father’s closest friends, plotted against him and my family. I thought they ruined his business and took his property, all circumstances that led to his death.”

“Oh, dear. That is a deep betrayal. Darla’s father, you say? I surmise you don’t believe that tale now. What made you believe it in the first place? And why the change of heart?” Eleanor’s interest was piqued.

Wesley’s eyes darkened, and his jaw tensed as he struggled to contain his emotions. “I put my trust in someone close and was deceived,” he finally admitted, his voice strained with regret.

Eleanor, seeing Wesley’s turmoil, poured a glass of port and handed it to him.

Wesley accepted the drink with a nod of thanks. His gaze dropped to the ruby liquid as he took a sip.

“Did this have anything to do with the pirate king, McAlpin?”

Wesley chuckled and drank the last of his port.

“I understand why you ask.” He returned Eleanor’s gaze, his eyes reflecting his resolve. “The MacAlpin has the reputation of being a ruthless, savage pirate. But, in all my dealings with him, he proved to be fair and trustworthy. He was instrumental in seeing justice served.”

He paused, a heavy sigh escaping his lips, and then he continued. “It was difficult, after years of believing something so strongly that had woven its way into your soul, to become fundamental, your very essence, and then to uncover the truth and recognize you’d been lied to for a very long time.”

He glanced at his wife, his expression showing that the hurt of the deception still remained.

“From the first moment we met on the docks by my father’s ship,” Darla offered, “and I mistook him for MacDougall’s son-in-law, Magnus, I was drawn to Wesley. I was exceedingly relieved to learn he was unencumbered. Very pleased indeed.”

“Darla’s father is a gem merchant. Maxwell and MacDougall were nothing like I expected. After my father’s death, I was told again of their thievery. I had it stamped into my brain, and I didn’t question it. You see, from an early age, I was fostered by the Highland Maxwells. When I came back and worked with my father, he had already moved the family from our home on MacDougall’s island, forced out, I was told. I accepted it as truth, and when my father died, I vowed to take revenge for all the injustices Maxwell and MacDougall did to my father and my family.”

“Wesley thought to use me as a pawn in his effort to hurt my father.” Darla sat still, holding Wesley’s hand.

Wesley gazed at Darla, their hands naturally entwined, a silent bond between them. “That wasn’t one of my shining moments,” he admitted. “The more time we spent together and the more I knew you, your father, and MacDougall, the more I knew I had it all wrong, but evil kept buzzing in my ear, pushing me to carry out my plans.”

Darla met his gaze with understanding. “You found the truth,” she said calmly, her voice steady. “It’s all over now.”

Wesley’s gaze softened, filled with gratitude and admiration as he gazed at his wife. “I’m a very lucky man.” His tone carried a warmth and passion that couldn’t be mistaken.

“More tea? Cook made some delicious scones,” Eleanor offered with a warm smile. “Darla, I understand you have unique insight—”

Wesley’s expression tightened as he got to his feet. “Come, Darla.” His tone was clipped. “We’ve imposed on Eleanor long enough.” He extended his hand to his wife, a silent signal he wanted to leave.

Eleanor, surprised at Wesley’s change in behavior, put down the plate of scones she was offering and, for a moment, was startled into silence. “Forgive me, my lord, if I have offended you or your wife.”

“No, Eleanor. You have done nothing of the sort. Wesley is very overprotective.” Darla, still in her seat, gently took his hand and pulled him toward her. He remained as he was. “I do have a unique ability. I have second sight. I see things before they happen. Some people—”

“Unintelligent, witless ones—” Wesley spit out between clenched teeth.

“Eleanor understands your meaning.” Darla acknowledged before turning toward their host. “Some people believe it’s witchcraft. They say and do foolish things. It is why I kept to myself while growing up. Why I never allowed myself to become attached to a gentleman. How could I get someone I loved tangled in that rat’s nest? Some may see my gift as a blessing, but I assure you it is not. Imagine knowing something terrible is going to happen, and you’re not able to influence it at all.”

Darla put her hands in her lap. “I thought I would never marry. I was satisfied with being alone for the rest of my life. I was wrong. I had no idea that I was waiting for the right person, my soul mate. I never saw that coming until I met Wesley. So much for my second sight. When I found him, I knew I would never let him go. He is my love,” Darla declared as she rose from her seat and stood next to Wesley, “my life.”

“As you are mine,” Wesley said, his wife in his arms. He turned to Eleanor. “Deception and family honor were at stake.”

Darla glanced at Eleanor. “So was my heart.”

Eleanor stood. “I’m glad you found each other. Your story is a breathtaking adventure. I am honored and want to thank you for sharing so much with me.”

“Eleanor.” Darla left her husband’s side and embraced her dear friend. “Thank you for your invitation. We have a long journey ahead of us to Glen Kirk Castle.”

Eleanor walked her guests to the door. “I wish you both safe travels. The lesson I learned from your story is a very profound one. It is a cautionary tale about the destructive nature of revenge and the healing power of forgiveness and love.” She hugged Darla. “Please, you must visit me again.”  

The Pirate’s Jewel

Deception and family honor are at stake – so is her heart.

Wesley Reynolds will do anything to avenge his family’s banishment from Dundhragon Castle, even throw in the notorious pirate MacAlpin. His plan is to ruin Lord Ewan’s trading network. He has a more devious plan for his father’s ‘best friend,’ the man who abandoned them at the eleventh hour. He’ll ruin the man’s most precious jewel, his daughter Darla. Wesley’s so close to ruining the trade network and succeeding he can almost taste it, but revenge is not nearly as sweet as Darla’s kisses.

Darla Maxwell, beloved by her parents, has no prospects of marriage. Her father and Lord Ewan search to find her the right husband. Darla’s special gifts are frightening to many. She has visions that often come true. The murky image of a man haunts her. She’s sure it’s Lord Ewan’s soon-to-be son-in-law, but the vision morphs when she meets Wesley. The meaning couldn’t be any clearer to her; her destiny lay with Wesley.

When revelations surface, indicating Wesley has been deceived and his revenge misplaced. Will he find the truth of what really happened to his family in time to stop the pirates? Will Darla ever forgive him? Will he ever forgive himself?

Buy Link: Kindle Unlimited

An Excerpt

The ship glided out of the protection of the dock and sailed into the churning channel. Huddled under the sail, hugging her knees, Darla thought she might as well be blind. To add to her discomfort, the aroma of beer from the surrounding barrels was overpowering in the small space.

The rise and fall of the ship had her holding on to the barrels for dear life. Large raindrops that randomly pelted Darla’s shelter intensified. The ends of her canvas hideout fluttered and hammered a beat as gusts of wind plowed into the standing barrels, sending sprays of water through the spaces between them. The tight ropes holding her sanctuary together sang as they strained against the pitching of the ship and the onslaught of the wind and rain.

From her hiding place, she had no sense of what happened beyond its boundary. No way to prepare for the next roll of the ship, gust of wind, or drenching rush of water. Shouted orders, along with the grunts and salty words of the crew, reached her ears above the sound of the howling wind and crashing water.

“Take in the sail. Toss out the sea anchor. We need to keep the ship headed into the wind. Tie a bag of oil to the windward side and toss it over. Let’s hope that keeps the waves from breaking over the side.”

Water that soaked through her makeshift canopy gathered above her and rained down on her, adding to her misery. She lifted her skirt, tucked her mantle close, but the water wicked through her clothes. Soaked and tired to the bone, she gave up trying to keep dry. Drained of any warmth, she shivered and waited for her ordeal to end.

Riding up and down the swelling sea, the rise and fall of the ship continued. The limited air in her space soured. Woozy, she needed fresh air but was trapped with no way out. With her head on her knees, she closed her eyes and prayed for the journey to end.

The thundering snap of a rope, followed by the full force of the wind and water startled her from her daze. Part of the sail slid off the barrels. She grabbed at it, but the wind pulled the canvas from her hand. For a moment, she delighted in the salty air and took a deep breath. The ship lurched and the barrels protecting her came loose from their bindings and turned into crushing weapons.

Strong arms grasped her. She didn’t care if her father found her. Getting free of her prison was all she wanted.

The wind roared down the deck, sprays of water erupted from the prow as the ship bounced and rolled in the sea. Nothing hindered the man’s grip. Finally, she raised her head, but the shroud of fog blanketing the ship made it difficult to see.

Darla strained and made out dark wet hair plastered to his face. The ship shifted beneath her feet. Unsteady, he held her close, she clung to him. She didn’t have to see clearly to know who held her.

Close to his chest, she made out rivulets of blood sliding down the side of his head, but she clung hard to him. She pulled away from his chest and stretched to reach his ear with her mouth.

“You’re hurt.”

He said nothing as he moved them forward.

“You have my thanks.”

He turned and gave her a flash of a smile.

“Wesley.” She smiled at him.

“I was afraid you’d think I was Magnus.” He cupped her head and drew her to his chest. He staggered forward, fighting his way against the wind to reach the entrance. Here, there was some protection from the wind. He made fast work of the door.

The wind howled outside. She let out a breath, but Wesley didn’t stop. He hurried down the narrow passageway into a cabin.

“You’ll be safe here.” He sat her in a chair and then went to leave. “Whatever you do, stay inside.”

A secretive smile softened his lips before he left, closing the door behind him. She ran to the door, looked through the small hole, and watched him make his way down the passageway, his broad shoulders nearly scraping both walls.

About Ruth A. Casie

Hi! I’m Ruth A Casie. I write historical adventures from the shores of medieval Scotland to the cobblestone streets of Regency London. My stories embrace strong woman and the men who deserve them. Within the pages you’ll discover ‘edge-of-your-seat suspense, mind boggling drama, and heart melting emotions. Grab your favorite cup of tea, or an ale if you prefer, and join my heroes and heroines as they race across the pages to find their happily ever after. I hope my stories are your next favorite adventures!