One Unashamed Night by Sophia James Page B

sofas.
    The downstairs salon was full to bursting and the discussions were under way when a new arrival made Beatrice stop in mid-sentence, for the woman who had run into the open arms of Taris Wellingham in the barn was here.
    Emerald Wellingham?
    A wave of embarrassment washed away any sense of the argument she was trying to forward. Why would she come? What possible reason would bring her here, for surely she had understood her brother-in-law’s wish for distance as he had left the barn so quickly after the carriage accident? The Duchess of Carisbrook was a beautiful woman, her countenance in this room even more arresting, if that was at all possible, than it had been in a snow-filled night.
    ‘As I was saying…’ Bea could barely remember the thread of her prose. Would the woman tell others here of her escapade, bringing up the scandal of her night alone in the company of an unmarried man for all to judge? Lord, if any of it should be known, her presence would hardly be countenanced in polite company, an ageing widow who had crossed a boundary that brooked no return.
    Ruin!
    And that was only with the knowledge of half of it. Taris Wellingham’s hands in places no one had ever touched before, the waves of pure delight that had run across her body, melding it into rapture.
    Tearing herself back to the topic under discussion, she finished off her speech. ‘…and so I reiterate again that many of these so-called pirates were refugees from the gaols of the world or deserters from the rigours of harsh naval discipline.’
    ‘So you do not think some were just natural-born leaders who chose a life of crime by instinct, piracy being an attractive proposition when measured against what might have otherwise been available to them at home?’
    Emerald Wellingham asked the question of her and there was a burst of discussion around the room as Bea tried to answer it.
    ‘There are some who would agree with you. Some who might even say that piracy was an honourable, if not a noble, profession.’
    A man interjected. ‘These people were murderers who committed untold acts of barbarity on the open seas. They are not to be excused.’
    ‘Priests and magistrates and merchants in the West Indies excused them all the time, sir. Money sometimes has a louder voice than morality.’
    Emerald Wellingham again! Beatrice felt swayed by her argument.
    ‘Indeed.’ She sought for the words that might not alienate a group of folk who were by and large titled and wealthy. ‘If one was from the West Indies, the availability of goods sacked by the pirates might have been considered a godsend.’
    ‘You speak of heresy.’ The same man as before spoke and his face had reddened.
    ‘And of conjecture,’ Beatrice added with a smile. ‘For such stories are often that of fable and myth and it could take one a lifetime to truly know the extent in which they were entangled.’
    She hoped such a platitude might console the man’s anger and was relieved when it seemed to, and Elspeth’s announcement of a light supper was timed well.
    As all those present moved through into the dining room, Beatrice tidied her notes and when she looked up Emerald Wellington stood beside her.
    ‘For a woman of strong views you are remarkably diplomatic.’
    ‘Perhaps because a heart attack of a patron at one of my soirees may not be conducive to their continuation.’
    ‘And it is important to you that they do…continue?’ Emerald’s green eyes slanted bright against the lamplight. Was this a threat? Had she come for a reason? Laughter surprised Bea.
    ‘You remind me of myself, Mrs Bassingstoke. Myself a few years ago when the past held me immobile.’
    ‘I do not know what it is you speak of. Now if you will excuse me…’
    ‘My brother-in-law mentions you often. I think it was your bravery that impressed him the most.’
    Anger made Bea feel slightly faint. Certainly his inspiration was not gained from her beauty or her easy giving of love.
    ‘I