in London for any other reason." His gaze searched her face with such intensity that she looked away.
"I think seeing you hang is reason enough."
"Must be, to get you into a dress," he joked. When she glanced back at him, he told her, "No, Reenie, you're lying. There's more to this than meets the eye. I saw you enter the room; I saw your face when you spotted him. He is no friend and no ally. Whatever he's promised you, don't trust him."
"You don't know what you are talking about. Do you think your lies will distract me?"
"Distract you? I'm trying to save you. If you turn me in now, I won't be able to help. Let me fix whatever is wrong, and then you can betray me. I owe you that much."
The sincerity of his words trailed along on the last notes of the dance, stopping her for a moment.
As the couples began milling apart, Julien faced her. "Don't trust him, Reenie. Your father did, and it nearly cost him his life. I won't have that happen to you."
"You're lying," she said.
"No, I can prove it." He ran his hand through his hair, a movement that used to tug at her heart. "Ask yourself, Reenie, how did an Irish-born pirate like your father meet an English lady like your mother? Don't look at me like that; I remember everything you told me about yourself, your family. You told me yourself your mother was highborn. Well, your father was as well, and English to boot, no matter what type of Irish malarkey he tried to pass off. Ask that aunt of yours, the one you lived with. She'll tell you the truth."
He glanced over to where the Lord Admiral was now approaching them like a frigate under full sail. "But whatever you do, don't trust that man. It won't prick his conscience to betray you any more than it did when he consigned your father to life on a prison hulk."
With that he bowed over her hand and then crossed the floor, cutting a smooth course directly for the door.
Her instincts clamored for her to stop him, to call out for the officers the Lord Admiral had planted throughout the room to catch him, but she couldn't.
Everything about him called to a place in her heart she'd thought safe from ever seeing the light of day again. His stance, the throw of his shoulders, his very gait ...
Maureen turned her gaze from de Ryes, torn between the past and the present and everything she loved.
How was it that no one else had seen or questioned the rolling movement in his motions? The commanding bearing he lent his fussy London clothes? Or the hawkish way he watched the horizon, even if it was only the far wall of Almack's? His very presence screamed of the sea, of a man who'd lived through battle and survived, who'd ridden through a hurricane, who knew how to chart a course with nothing more than his eyes and instincts.
But then again, she was surrounded by fools. Dancing, prancing, pretentious fools hiding behind their own fragile facades.
Herself included.
"Well, have you seen him?" the Lord Admiral demanded. "I'm not paying for all this for you to start husband-hunting. I want you to find de Ryes."
She glanced over at him. His disparaging tone did nothing to improve her humor. So instead of answering him directly, she said, "I thought I would be able to see more of the crowd from the dance floor."
"Harumph," he snorted, taking her by the arm and leading her back toward Lady Mary. "Your behavior out there looked more like that of a Thames-side doxy. Remember, you are supposed to be a lady, but I doubt even Lady Mary could instill that in the likes of you. That comes with breeding, and don't forget it."
"I won't," she said, bristling at his reproach.
"So is he here?" he repeated.
She turned around and faced the man who held her life and the lives of her crew in the balance and, against her better judgment, lied. "No, I haven't."
If at first she didn't regret lying to the Lord Admiral, as she turned and watched Julien meld into the departing crowd and then disappear from sight, she wondered how she'd let herself
"I think seeing you hang is reason enough."
"Must be, to get you into a dress," he joked. When she glanced back at him, he told her, "No, Reenie, you're lying. There's more to this than meets the eye. I saw you enter the room; I saw your face when you spotted him. He is no friend and no ally. Whatever he's promised you, don't trust him."
"You don't know what you are talking about. Do you think your lies will distract me?"
"Distract you? I'm trying to save you. If you turn me in now, I won't be able to help. Let me fix whatever is wrong, and then you can betray me. I owe you that much."
The sincerity of his words trailed along on the last notes of the dance, stopping her for a moment.
As the couples began milling apart, Julien faced her. "Don't trust him, Reenie. Your father did, and it nearly cost him his life. I won't have that happen to you."
"You're lying," she said.
"No, I can prove it." He ran his hand through his hair, a movement that used to tug at her heart. "Ask yourself, Reenie, how did an Irish-born pirate like your father meet an English lady like your mother? Don't look at me like that; I remember everything you told me about yourself, your family. You told me yourself your mother was highborn. Well, your father was as well, and English to boot, no matter what type of Irish malarkey he tried to pass off. Ask that aunt of yours, the one you lived with. She'll tell you the truth."
He glanced over to where the Lord Admiral was now approaching them like a frigate under full sail. "But whatever you do, don't trust that man. It won't prick his conscience to betray you any more than it did when he consigned your father to life on a prison hulk."
With that he bowed over her hand and then crossed the floor, cutting a smooth course directly for the door.
Her instincts clamored for her to stop him, to call out for the officers the Lord Admiral had planted throughout the room to catch him, but she couldn't.
Everything about him called to a place in her heart she'd thought safe from ever seeing the light of day again. His stance, the throw of his shoulders, his very gait ...
Maureen turned her gaze from de Ryes, torn between the past and the present and everything she loved.
How was it that no one else had seen or questioned the rolling movement in his motions? The commanding bearing he lent his fussy London clothes? Or the hawkish way he watched the horizon, even if it was only the far wall of Almack's? His very presence screamed of the sea, of a man who'd lived through battle and survived, who'd ridden through a hurricane, who knew how to chart a course with nothing more than his eyes and instincts.
But then again, she was surrounded by fools. Dancing, prancing, pretentious fools hiding behind their own fragile facades.
Herself included.
"Well, have you seen him?" the Lord Admiral demanded. "I'm not paying for all this for you to start husband-hunting. I want you to find de Ryes."
She glanced over at him. His disparaging tone did nothing to improve her humor. So instead of answering him directly, she said, "I thought I would be able to see more of the crowd from the dance floor."
"Harumph," he snorted, taking her by the arm and leading her back toward Lady Mary. "Your behavior out there looked more like that of a Thames-side doxy. Remember, you are supposed to be a lady, but I doubt even Lady Mary could instill that in the likes of you. That comes with breeding, and don't forget it."
"I won't," she said, bristling at his reproach.
"So is he here?" he repeated.
She turned around and faced the man who held her life and the lives of her crew in the balance and, against her better judgment, lied. "No, I haven't."
If at first she didn't regret lying to the Lord Admiral, as she turned and watched Julien meld into the departing crowd and then disappear from sight, she wondered how she'd let herself
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