“He expects the babe to be born around the first of May, not this week.”
“It won’t be born this week,” Eden insisted stubbornly, but she had known before Julian began to scold her that she had not been getting nearly enough rest. And her back did ache, almost constantly, but she had thought that was because she had been doing too much, not because the baby was in danger of being born early.
Julian considered Eden’s preoccupied frown a positive sign she had finally taken his warning seriously and reached out to pat her hand. “Amy and the other maids can take turns caring for the men. They were born free, and I’m certain none is worried they’ll end up slaves by caring for Confederate wounded when, by all reports, your side is losing the War.”
“You certainly have a way with words, Dr. Ryan.”
Not understanding the subtlety of her sarcasm, Julian blushed slightly as though that had been a compliment and left her room to finish seeing his other patients.
A man of his word, before Julian left the house the next morning he gave Yadira a bottle of chloroform. “I fully expect to be the one to deliver Eden’s babe, but as a precaution, I want you to have the means to ease her pain should that not be the case. You need give her only a few whiffs in the beginning. You don’t want to render her unconscious until the birth is imminent.”
“I understand.” Her interest in Eden’s comfort minimal, Yadira set the bottle aside. “She appears rather fragile. It is probably a good thing you put her to bed.”
“Oh yes, it certainly is. I would hate for Alex’s child to be lost.”
“Alex’s child?”
Julian realized his mistake instantly, but saw no harm in revealing the truth to Yadira. “Yes. Raven wants it kept a secret, but Alex was Eden’s first husband, and the babe is Alex’s, not Raven’s.”
The housekeeper accepted that chilling news with outward composure, but inwardly she felt as though her heart had just been ripped to jagged bits. “I had no idea,” she said calmly. “Eden always seemed so devoted to Raven.”
Julian regarded the dark-eyed beauty with a sly smile. “Well, I’m sure she is, but as you well know, things are not always what they seem.”
Yadira’s placid expression remained unchanged until Julian had departed, then she went to her room and gave vent to the furious rage his confidence had inspired. “The slut!” she snarled as she twisted her pillow until the fabric ripped and a flurry of goose down billowed around her. That in one summer Eden had gone from being Alex’s wife to Raven’s, apparently without a moment’s pause to mourn her first husband’s passing, was the most hideous crime she could imagine. Obviously the girl had married Alex for his money, undoubtedly hastened his death with her ardor, and then wed his heir to secure her position as Lady Clairbourne.
“The bitch should have been buried with Alex!” She remembered the chloroform then, and hurriedly went to fetch it. Julian feared a premature birth, and Yadira was certain if that occurred, and Eden failed to survive, no one would suspect her of murder. She began to scheme with a triumphant smile, thinking it could all be arranged so easily On Julian’s next visit, she would ask him for powders to help her rest, and she was certain he would give her enough to put his mousey sister and the ailing men to sleep.
There were several possibilities then, but wanting the joy of raising Alex’s babe herself, she decided upon the one that would ensure the dear child’s safety while at the same time allowing her to put a quick end to his mother. It was too risky a plan to implement as yet, however. The baby would be stronger at eight months than seven and she was doing this for him.
A wicked smile graced her lips as she climbed the back stairs and walked toward Eden’s room. She had been too stunned by Alex’s death to welcome the girl to his home properly, but now, she was determined they would become the best of friends. Yes, Eden was going to trust her with her life, and that would be the frail blonde’s last mistake.
In his first days at sea, Raven poured all of his energy into familiarizing himself with the Southern Knight so he could command her with the same confidence he had shown on board the Jamaican Wind. He found that chief engineer Douglas Owen, a man in his late thirties, knew how to coax the maximum performance from the ship’s two engines. Confident they had the speed to outrun the larger, heavier Union warships, and keeping out of the range of the swifter blockaders, Raven set a course for the east coast of America, where their presence would be most likely to discourage whatever shipping continued under the United States’ flag. Nathan had told him that at the end of the month they were to rendezvous with another Confederate ship off the coast of Norfolk to receive new orders, and he wanted to make certain they had accomplished all they could by then. Despite his preoccupation with his task, Raven never once forgot the forlorn expression Eden had worn when he had kissed her goodbye. While he had not walked out on her in the midst of a fight as he had so often in the past, he could not shake the uncomfortable sensation that somehow he was guilty of deserting her. He could not have refused to take her father’s place and kept her respect, and indeed, he had not even considered that option when he had learned how serious Nathan’s injury was. He had wanted to help, and he knew Eden must have wanted him to make exactly the choice he had, but he could not believe how stupid he had been to have mentioned Alex as the reason why. He had let his jealousy over the love he knew Eden still felt for her first husband erupt into a spiteful comment that had hurt her. That he had left without apologizing for his thoughtlessness had only compounded the error.
As Raven lay in his bunk each night, missing Eden terribly, he reminisced about each minute they had spent together. Gradually he began to understand how complex their problems truly were. Eden’s devotion to Alex was only one aspect of them. There was also the sorry fact that he had never revealed the truth about himself. He had made the mistake of waiting, and not at all patiently, for Eden to fall in love with him, when everything she believed about his background was a lie.
He knew then that he could no longer wait indefinitely for her to fall in love with him and then confess the truth. She would only feel betrayed then. No, he would have to tell her the truth as soon as he returned home. All he could do was hope that someday she could love him in spite of the fact that he and Alex had not really been kin, rather than despise him for keeping that secret so long.
Michael Devane had had to swallow most of his pride to a
sk Raven to command the Southern Knight, but when he saw how hard the young earl worked at being the ship’s captain, his resentment gradually became grudging respect. Within a week Raven could not only call each member of the crew by name, but knew which were the most dependable, and which the slackers, and he tempered his comments accordingly.
When Raven had come on board, the crew had been discouraged not only by their close call in Havana, but also by the relentlessly depressing news they had received of the South’s losses. Raven made no reference to the conflict between the North and South, however. He stressed only the professionalism he expected his crew to display, and following his example, they all began to regain their badly damaged pride.
By late March of 1864, the morale of the crew of the Southern Knight was at an all-time high, and Raven was as eager as the rest of them to continue their destruction of United States shipping. President Lincoln had promoted Ulysses S. Grant to the rank of lieutenant general and given him command of all the Union armies, but the men on board the Southern Knight neither knew, nor cared.
When they sighted a schooner flying the Stars and Stripes off the New Jersey coast, Raven announced that he intended to be among the boarding party. “But how can you?” Michael argued. “Captain Sinclair’s uniforms fit you well enough, but as soon as you open your mouth, they’ll know you’re British.”
Raven regarded his executive officer with a slow smile. “On the contrary, they will believe me to be Captain Nathan Sinclair,” he responded in a perfect imitation of the Virginian’s gentlemanly drawl. “I meant what I said my first day as captain of the Southern Knight. I’m taking Nathan’s place, and even in the unlikely event that we’re all taken prisoner, no one will ever learn I’m not he.”
Michael shrugged helplessly. “You sound just like him.”
Not needing the lieutenant’s approval, Raven turned back to observe the schooner. He had announced to the crew that he would not sink any ships nor take prisoners, but that he had come up with an idea he thought would be equally effective in discouraging the merchant trade. Predictably, the schooner surrendered without putting up any resistance and Raven went on board as planned.
“This is a fine ship,” he complimented the captain in the dulcet tones of a Southerner. “I’m going to give you a choice. We’ll take you and your crew prisoner and scuttle her, or if you give me your solemn promise you’ll not sail her again until the War’s end, you may dump your cargo overboard and return to port.”
Astonished the captain of a Confederate raider had offered him a way to save his ship, the captain of the schooner had the hold emptied within an hour. Raven stepped close and lowered his voice to a threatening whisper before bidding the grateful man farewell. “This is a favor I’ll not repeat,” he warned. “You understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir, that I do.”