"You could arrange a pardon for Jon, Papa."

Sir Thomas nodded slowly, his lips pursing as if he was thinking the matter over. "Yes, I suppose I could."

"I won't marry anyone else, Papa." Cathy's eyes challenged him. Sir Thomas sighed.

"And is that your last word, my dear?"

"Yes, Papa.That is my last word."

"Isee that you leave me no choice." Sir Thomas relented grudgingly. "But mind you don't reproach me later! This is entirely your idea, and I refuse to take any responsibility for it!"

Cathy flew up out of her chair, throwing her arms around her father and hugging him tightly.

"Oh, thank you, Papa! Thank you!"

Sir Thomas patted her back consolingly.

"That's quite all right, my dear. You know I'm only concerned with your happiness."

"I know, Papa. I love you for it." The soft words, muttered into the front of his satin coat, cost Sir Thomas a momentary pang of conscience. But he stilled the pang, and continued to smooth her tumbled hair until she pushed away with a shaky laugh.

"I must look a mess."

"You do indeed, my dear. Have you no other clothes?" Sir Thomas eyed her crumpled white dress and untidy hair somewhat severely.

"I did-but they were in Jon's house. It got hit with a cannon ball and burned. I don't imagine there's anything left."

"Good G.o.d," her father said faintly. "If I had known for sure you were on that island, I would never have let them open fire. But Colonel Hugh-he's in charge of the soldiers that came with us--a.s.sured me that the pirates would have killed you long since, as there was no ransom demand. I thought you were dead, Cathy."

"Oh, Papa," Cathy said, tears filling her eyes at the thought of her father's pain. "Jon didn't send a ransom demand because he wanted to keep me with him. I was never in any real danger," here she managed a glimmer of a smile, "at least, not until this morning."

'Yes, well," Sir Thomas turned away, clearing his throat. "I believe Martha packed some of your clothes in with my things in case you should need them. I'll have someone bring them in to you. I think that I had best make the arrangements for the marriage today, if that suits you. Under the circ.u.mstances, the sooner, the bet-ter.

"Anything you say, Papa." Cathy smiled at him lovingly,then impulsively ran across to press a kiss to his ruddy cheek. Sir Thomas hugged her to him lightly,then let her go. Cathy thought she saw moisture in his eyes as he turned to leave the cabin.

Left alone, Cathy wandered aimlessly around the room, too keyed up to sit still. She ran a hand over the curving backs of the elegant chairs, absentmindedly admiring their delicate beauty. After all, if one could afford it, there was nothing wrong with having the best, she thought defensively, imagining the sneer that her ideas would bring to Jon's handsome face. She picked up a delicate Sevres vase almost defiantly. Jon would simply have to grow accustomed to a different standard of living. Indeed, he would have little choice, if her plans worked out the way she hoped. It would be fun to teach him the modes and manners of society. She smiled, picturing her fierce pirate captain in the guise of an English gentleman. How he would scowl at first! But for her sake, and their child's, he would adjust. She knew he would, given time.

She was conscious of a faint, uncomfortable stirring of guilt about forcing him into what she was pretty sure would be an unwelcome marriage. He had been obviously displeased about the baby. It was unlikely that he would be any happier with the news that he was to become a husband as well as a father. But better wed than dead, as she would be sure to point out to him at the first opportunity afforded her. If not for herself, and the baby, he would have been hanged.

Her father had been certainthat Jon didn't, couldn't, love her . Well, maybe not. Maybe she didn't even love him. But they had made a baby together, and, for the present, their own emotions were secondary. The coming child was what was important now.

A gentle tap sounded on the cabin door, and Cathy ran a self-conscious hand over her tumbling hair before bidding whoever was on the other side to come in.

Mason!shecried joyfully as thegentlemans gen-tleman , who had been with her father for years, entered.

"My lady," Mason beamed at her. "It's good to see you again, my lady, if I may say so. Sir Thomas has beenLike a man possessed since we had word that you were captured by pirates. He thought you dead, my lady, and the thought grieved him-grieved us all."

"I know, Mason." Cathy smiled at the severely dressed little man. Mason was as much a part of her childhood as her father or Martha. He had always been reserved, as befitted the personal servant of a great man, but to Cathy he was as well-known as the drawing room in their Lisbon home.

"A sailor is bringing in Sir Thomas's trunk, my lady. If you require help in fixing your hair, or if your clothes need attention, please feel free to make use of my services. Sir Thomas tells me that you are getting married this afternoon. Allow me to offer you my best wishes for your happiness, my lady."

"Thank you, Mason." Cathy was touched by the prim speech.For Mason to offer his services as a lady's maid was tantamount to herself offering to scrub floors. "I may want you to fix my hair. I'm still not very handy at doing it myself."

"I should think not, my lady," sniffed Mason, plainly scandalized at the thought. He responded to another tap on the door, relieving the man in the hall of Sir Thomas's trunk without ever letting him catch a glimpse of Cathy. Cathy smiled. It felt a little strange to be so protected again. She realized that reverting toher rightful role as a high-born lady might require some adjustment. She had become accustomed to freedom on the pirate ship.

Cathy dismissed Mason with a smiling thank-you, and rummaged through her father's trunk herself. Martha had packed four dresses and a nightgown as well as the necessary underclothes, hairpins, and paraphernalia without which a lady could not claim to be properly attired. Her garments took up a goodly portion of Sir Thomas's trunk. Mason wouldn't Like that, she thought,grinning . Mason had always been determined to keep her father dressed in the very height of fashion, and if he had consented to turn over some of his master's precious luggage s.p.a.ce to her needs, then everyone must have been more concerned about her than she had imagined. It was a small sign of devotion, but it touched her as nothing else had done.

One of these dresses would be her wedding gown, she reflected as she shook out the garments. They were all lovely-all her clothes were, as Jon had once remarked-but she had always had visions of marrying in white satin, with a lace veil and a bouquet of orange blossom. She allowed herself a gentle moment of regret and then decided on a silk dress of a luscious peach, trimmed with yards of creamy Viennese lace. Martha had thoughtfully included the matching slippers, and her truly beautiful matched pearl necklace and earrings. With an elegant hairstyle she would do, she decided, and summoned Mason to iron her dress. While she was gone she bathed her face and hands in the basin of warm water, thinking with a momentary pang of the sweet scents that were most likely reduced to ashes in the ruins of Jon's house. Martha had pointedly not included any scent.

Cathy struggled into the three petticoats that werede rigueur,and laced her stays as well as she could herself. It was lucky that she was naturally slender, she reflected wryly. Somehow she couldn't quite picture Mason helping her lace.

When he returned with the dress, she had him wait outside the door while she donned it. Once respectablyclad, she let him in to do her hair. He was surprisingly handy with a brush and hairpins, and Cathy teased him about his skill. He maintained a dignified silence as he swept her hair up into an elegant Grecian knot. Finally, he pa.s.sed her a small hand mirror, and Cathy surveyed her reflection critically. Without conceit she decided that she looked as lovely as she ever had in her life. Under the gentle coaxing of the tropical sun her cheeks had taken on the same glowing color as the dress, while the rest of hercomplexion, down to the gentle swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s that was just visible above the frilled neckline, was a lovely creamy white. The perfectly matched pearls were looped twice around her neck to rest with a cool heaviness in the hollow between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Pearl studs shone delicately pink-white against the lobes of her sh.e.l.l-like ears. Her months with the pirates had given her face a fine-boned purity ofoudine that had not been apparent before. She looked like a woman now, not a girl, and her cheeks flushed becomingly as she thought about her imminent marriage to the man who had made her so.

Mason went to inform Sir Thomas that she was ready. Cathy forced herself to sit quietly as she awaited her father's return. Suddenly she wished for a few moments alone with Jon before their wedding.If he truly disliked the idea. . . . What could she do? She was committed to it now, and so was he. If he disliked the idea, then he would just have to dislike it. She was not going to draw back at this stage. If she were honest, she would admit that she didn't even want to.

Sir Thomas, when he rejoined her, a.s.sured her that all the arrangements had been made. Captain Winslow of the "Lady Chester" would perform the ceremony, and Mason and Sir Thomas himself would be the only witnesses. Besides Captain Winslow, no one outside of the family would know the details of her hasty wedding.And that was the way it should be, her father cautioned. If it became known that her new husband had once been a pirate, then the respectability that the marriage was supposed to achieve would be destroyed forever.

Cathy was caught by surprise when the door to the cabin swung open after only a perfunctory knock. Sir Thomas frowned at this breach of etiquette on the part of the two sailors detailed to guard the prisoner, but Cathy had eyes only for the man in the middle. His face was bruised and streaked with a combination of gunpowder, soot, and sweat. His clothes were torn and filthy, and his eyes glittered oddly as they moved almost contemptuously over Cathy's elegant form. She nervously moistened her lips with her tongue, and his expression changed to a savage sneer. It was only as he was thrust roughly forward by his two captors that she saw the heavy chains that swung between his wrists and ankles.

For the second time that day she could neither move nor speak. She could only watch with horrified compa.s.sion as he stumbled over the chain that stretched from ankle to ankle. He managed to right himself with an effort, and stood regarding her as her father dismissed the men.

"Well, well," Jon drawled, when neither Cathy nor her father spoke."To think that I was worried about you. I should have remembered that cats always land on their feet."

'Why, you . . . !" Sir Thomas snarled, taking a hasty step forward. Jon swung around to face him, chains rattling, teeth bared like some savage animal. Cathy ran across to her father's side, clinging to his arm.

"No, Papa!" she said urgently, her eyes wide as they moved between the two men. Then, in what was almost a whisper, "I want to speak to him alone, Papa. Please."

"Impossible!" Sir Thomas growled,his eyes narrowwithhatred as they fixed on the tall, muscular form of the animal who had abused his daughter. His mouth was dry with bloodl.u.s.t. If it were not for Cathy's presence, he would have taken great pleasure in blowing the rogue straight to h.e.l.l.

"Papa, please!" Cathy repeated, her eyes pleading with him. SirThomaslooked down atherwhitening face, his own softening.

"My dear, it is quite impossible," he said patiently. "He kidnapped you once before, and he looks quite capable of using you asahostage again to win his freedom. I'm sorry, child, but there it is."

"Your father is right, Cathy," Jon said slowly, his eyes gleaming at her with an expression she found hard to define. "If you come too close I might wrap these chains around that sweet little neck and snap it witha single jerk. Better not risk it."

"Shut up, you!" Sir Thomas barked, the gun pointing unwaveringly at Jon's heart. 'You can thank my daughter that you're still alive! If she hadn't told me of the child that you forced on her, I would have let you hang with great pleasure. As it is, you are going todowhat you can to repair her good name!"

"Papa!"Cathy cried in despair as she saw Jon's face darken ominously. This was not how she planned to tell him! If they could only be alone, she could persuade him that marriage to her would not be the purgatory he was plainly expecting.

"I forced the child on her?" Jon repeated, his voice savagely mocking. "If that's what she told you, she lies."

Angry blood rushed into Sir Thomas' face. It was all he could do to restrain himself from pulling the trigger. His finger ached with the effort it cost him not to do so. Cathy flushed herself under the stinging taunt of Jon's words, but she clung steadfastly to her father's arm.

"I take it you want me to marry her," Jon said with a viciousness that tore at Cathy's heart.

"And why not?" she cried, stung. "It's your child, you know it is, and you share the responsibility for it! The least you can do ismake certain that it doesn't grow up a b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

"You opportunistic little b.i.t.c.h," Jon snarled, and Cathy whitened under his raking glare.

If you speak to my daughter in such a manner again, I'll shoot you down on the spot." Sir Thomas had regained his composure. His voice was icy cold.

Neither Jon nor Cathy replied. They glared ateacx*other, anger and pain in both pairs of eyes, neither recognizing the other's hurt. Sir Thomas looked from one to the other and relaxed slightly.Hewas well satisfied with the way this interview was going. If the b.a.s.t.a.r.d kept on in this present frame, Cathy would be hating him before the ceremony was completed.

"And if I refuse?" Jon asked after a long moment.

"You'll hang," Sir Thomas respondedpostively . Cathy bit her lip. Jon's eyes swung to her.

"Do you agree with that?" he demanded curtly.

Cathy looked at him miserably. "Jon, I know you don't want to marry me, but I have to think of the baby.

I'm sorry.

"You do agree." He swung around so that his broad back was turned to them, and swore savagely under his breath. Cathy longed to go to him, sliding her arms around that hard waist, but both Jon's own att.i.tude and the presence of her father held her back. There would be time enough for making it up to him after the ceremony, she thought.

"It seems I have little choice," Jon said coolly at last. The look he turned on Cathy made her flush. "I hope you're not expecting a proposal in form."

Cathy flinched from his cruel mockery. He really was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, she thought furiously. Her father had been right. Jon definitely didn't love her!

Now that the minor matter of the pirate's consent had been settled, Sir Thomas dealt with the rest of the formalities with his usual efficiency. Less than twenty minutes later Cathy was standing at Jon's side in front of Captain Winslow, while that bewildered but game gentleman read the words that united them in holy matrimony. She was surprised at the cool sound of her own voice as it made the correct responses. Inside she was a quivery ma.s.s of pain. Jon sounded equally composed. Suddenly she found herself hating him. His callous disregard of her needs and the baby's was despicable!

When Captain Winslow got to the part about the ring, Sir Thomas hurriedly pulled the gold signet from his own finger. In the rush he had forgotten the need to procure a proper wedding band, but that could be attended to once they were safely in England. Jon took the ring from him without a word and slid it onto Cathy's finger, making as little contact with her as he possibly could in the process. Cathy could have wept at the feel of his warm hand holding hers so distastefully. Whenever she had imagined marrying Jon, it had certainly been nothing like this! His cold dislike of her almost made her sick.

She numbly signed the paper that Captain Winslow held out to her, and Jon wrote his name below hers in a firm black scrawl. Then the captain was p.r.o.nouncing them man and wife, and Cathy lifted her face to him hopefully. He stared down at her for a moment, his lips twisting in a jeering smile.

"I hope you don't expect me to give you a chaste bridal kiss after that farce," he drawled, and, before Cathy could think clearly, she slapped him hard across the face. The mark of her small hand was plainly visible against his dark cheek. He snarled, reaching for her, and his action mobilized the other three men who had been watching the little scene with stunned surprise.

Sir Thomas's pistol cracked down hard on Jon's head and Captain Winslow's caught him on the back of the neck. He went out like a light. Mason ran to the door and bellowed for the guards, who appeared on the double. They dragged Jon away between them while Cathy stood biting on her clenched fist to stop herself from crying out. She had provoked Jon's violence, she knew, and she bitterly regretted it. She hadn't meant him to be hurt.

"Papa, could you see that he's all right?" she asked after a moment, voice low. Her father looked at her sharply, then nodded, shepherding the other two men out of the cabin with him. Cathy was standing over by the window when he returned, tears rolling down her cheeks. Sir Thomas felt a renewed surge of hatred for the pirate.

"He wasn't hurt, was he, papa?" she faltered. Sir Thomas crossed the room to her, putting his arm around her waist. Cathy clung to him miserably.

"Not at all, my dear," Sir Thomas said sorrowfully. Cathy looked up quickly at something in his voice.

"Papa. . . ."

"My child, I hope that what I'm going to say won't hurt you. You plainly don't love the pirate any more than he loves you, so I want you to look on this as a blessing."

"Papa.. . .!"

"He's escaped, Cathy.Abandoned you, and your child, and my promise of a pardon for him. Now, my dear, was I right?"

Twelve.

London was nothing at all like Cathy had imagined it would be. Instead of stately mansions surrounded by acres of parkland, there were narrow townhouses separated from the streets by tiny yards and wrought iron fences. Carriages rattled over cobbled streets at all hours, while street vendors touted their wares from dawn to dusk. Garbage filled the gutters and no one seemed to pay the least heed to its stink. It was not at all unusual for the contents of a chamber pot to be emptied from a second story window onto the head of an unsuspecting pedestrian. The London of her dreams had been elegant and gay and extremely fashionable. The London of reality was merely dirty.

Immured in the opulence of her Aunt Elizabeth's house inGrosvenour Square, Cathy was at first restless, then bored, then totally disconsolate. Even though she had attained the dignity ofmatronhood , it was still considered improper for her to leave the house without a female attendant. Her readily apparent pregnancy precluded her partic.i.p.ating in the parties and b.a.l.l.s and musical soirees of the London Season. The only pastimes left to her were sedate walks, or carriage rides through the park with Martha in attendance, or a visit to the nearby shops.

Cathy's enjoyment of these diversions quickly palled. The thick chill of the coming winter made the park uncomfortable for one whose blood was used to warmer climes, and her thickening waistline kept her from taking any real interest in fashion. For several weeks she managed to amuse herself by selecting the baby's layette, but when that was complete, to the last tiny cap and satin coverlet, she could find nothing else to do. She moped about the house, smiling wanly in response to Sir Thomas's and Martha's attempts to cheer her. Resolutely, she refused to acknowledge that the inexplicable lowness of her spirits might have something to do with Jon's defection. As far as she was concerned, she told herself firmly, he was a chapter in her life that was now closed.

Elizabeth Augusta AnneAldley Case, Lady Stanhope by marriage, and sister to Sir Thomas, had no patience with Cathy's megrims. In her considered opinion, the girl was very lucky to have escaped so lightly. If not for her willingness to cast the mantle of her sterling reputation over her niece, Cathy would have found herself a social outcast-despite the whitewash that Sir Thomas had tried to spread over the whole unsavory affair. For although the d.u.c.h.ess of Kent had refrained from discussing what had befallen LadyAldley at the hands of the pirates, theGradys had felt no such inhibitions. What they didn't know for a fact, they made up out of thin air. And the story they told was scandalous enough to ruin the reputation of even the mostunimpreachably virtuous lady.

Lady Stanhope, sailing into the fray like a bosomy mano'war , dismissed the rumors as false lies. Her niece, said the lady with a look that dared her listeners to contradict her, was secretly married to an American in Lisbon before sailing for England. When the unfortunate bridegroom had fallen ill of a fever and died just days after the ceremony, a grieving Cathy had been packed off by her father to spend the summer with her aunt on the theory that a change of scenery might be what was needed to dispel the young widow's grief. When the "Anna Greer" was overrun by pirates, Cathy was alreadyenceinte.The pirate captain, when made aware of her condition, had chivalrously offered the expectant mother the use of his cabin, and had behaved toward her thereafter with perfect propriety. Sir Thomas had recovered his daughter in Cadiz after the d.u.c.h.ess and those unspeakable chits were ransomed. And that, said my lady, was what really happened. Although polite society might t.i.tter behind its hands when Lady Stanhope was not present, no one quite had the nerve to openly dispute what she said.

Cathy, although not really ungrateful for these efforts on her behalf, was indifferent. Even after the baby was born, she did not antic.i.p.ate feeling a burning urge to shine in society, or indeed to enter it at all. It would suit her far better to retire with her child to the country, she told her father. Sir Thomas was appalled. He foresaw all his careful machinations being made the casualties of an incomprehensible female whim. He appealed to Martha for aid in enumerating to Cathy the advantages accruing to a place in the polite world, and even a possible second marriage. When Cathy pointed out, with undeniable logic, that a second marriage was out of the question as she was not really a widow, Sir Thomas squirmed uncomfortably and told her not to bother her pretty little head about that. When the time came, he said, something could be arranged.

Besides Lady Stanhope, Cathy, Sir Thomas, and the servants, the present Lord Stanhope was also a resident of the house inGrosvenour Square. Plump, pompous, and pasty-faced, he was the widowed Lady Stanhope's only child and the apple of her eye. She thought Harold could do no wrong, and when Harold looked down his nose at his little cousin and p.r.o.nounced her wild, Lady Stanhope could only agree. Cathy's degenerate tendencies had brought about her downfall, as Lady Stanhope told the girl repeatedly. Cathy, mindful of her father's career and the burden her adventure had already placed on it, held her tongue and submitted, with as good a grace as she could muster, to her aunt's homilies. But with Harold, she had no such scruples. She despised him, and did not care who knew it.

The first of December saw Cathy going into the sixth month of pregnancy. She felt as large and ungainly as an expectant sow, and her dissatisfaction with her appearance and general malaise caused her to be snappish and impatient with anyone who came near her. The tensions in the house grew to suchan intensity that she was driven to spending much time in her bedroom. It was large and elegantly furnished, with a satin-draped four-poster, delicate chairs, a mirrored dressing table, and a plush gold oriental carpet. But the lack of fresh air and exercise made Cathy pale and listless. Her days were spent huddling apathetically in front of a roaring fire, a book forgotten on her lap as she gave herself up to wistful daydreams. "If only Jon had loved me" was their usual theme, and Cathy was tooheartsore to banish them. But she finally managed to convince herself that her love of Jon, if indeed it had ever existed, was now dead. In its place was an implacable antagonism.

The coming child was becoming more real to her with every pa.s.sing day. She could feel it moving inside her, its tiny kicks and rolls tickling like theflutterings of atrapped b.u.t.terfly, and she thrilled to the knowledge that in less than three months she would be able to hold her child in her arms. Despite Jon's betrayal, she would love their child with every ounce of her being. The baby would be her whole life.

Martha was growing seriously concerned about Cathy's melancholia, and consulted with Sir Thomas endlessly on the subject. He too was becoming alarmed. Except for the bulge at her middle, the girl had lost weight, and she was uncharacteristically quiet. Sir Thomas began to wonder if he had done the right thing. The remedy was even now in his hands, he knew, but any change of plan must be worked out quickly. After the third of January, it would be too late. Cathy would in truthbea widow.

NewgatePrison was a horrible place, as Sir Thomas had found on the first of his numerous visits. To a prisoner without friends or money, and under sentence of death, it was h.e.l.l itself. The guards had no scruples about dragging a condemned man out into the courtyard, tying him to a whipping post, and beating him until the blood ran. Sir Thomas learned that a carelessly tossed silver coin could a.s.sure such treatment on a weekly basis.Hedidn't have to waste his money bribing the guards to withhold food and drink. The standard prison fare was a piece of moldy bread, twice a day, accompanied by a sc.u.mmy mug of water.

His craving for revenge was almost satisfied as he watched the weekly beatings, gloating as the once powerful-looking man was reduced to a wild-eyed skeleton. If Cathy could only see her pirate now, he thought, turning up his nose at the unwashed odor of the man's body and staying well back out of reach of hands that he knew itched to kill him, she would recoil with revulsion. There was nothing about the pirate now to awaken maidenly hearts, and the knowledge pleased Sir Thomas mightily. Still, he worried about what Cathy's reaction would be if by some unlikely mischance she were to discover that her pirate captain had been hanged atTyburn instead of escaping as she supposed. Was it possible that after the pa.s.sage of so much time she would be angry nonetheless? , No anger, however, could match that which Jon Hale felt for Sir Thomas. A homicidal gleam would come into the crazed gray eyes when they rested on their captor, and his parched lips would curve in a feral snarl. Although the man was chained hand and foot, and was under the constant guard of armed men, Sir Thomas was conscious of an occasional stirring of fear. The pirate only made the mistake of lunging for him once, when Sir Thomas had remarked deliberately on his plans for his daughter's future. The pirate emitted what could only be described as a howl and leaped like a wild beast for his throat, but Sir Thomas was able to jump back in time while the guards clubbed the man senseless. They then dragged the prisoner over to the whipping post, tied him to it, and beat him again as soon as they revived him. After that, the pirate feigned deafness when Sir Thomas mentioned how sorry Cathy was to hear of the treatment he was receiving. Feeling that his daughter's vengeance was being well and truly served, he began to tell the man before each beating that they had been ordered by Cathy, and nothimself . And the malevolent glitter in the pirate's eyes or the twitching of a muscle in his cheek conveyed to Sir Thomas that his prisoner was indeed cognizant of what was being said to him.

Although Sir Thomas hated Jon Hale for having dishonored his daughter, he began, very reluctantly, to feel a glimmer of respect for the pirate's iron endurance. The man never uttered a sound, although the pain he sufferedwas excruciating, and the only time he showed any reaction was when Sir Thomas mentioned Cathy's name. Even then, the emotion in his gray eyes was so fleeting that Sir Thomas was unable to identify it.

Jon's hanging was scheduled for seven o'clock on the morning of January third. As Christmas came and went, Sir Thomas began to have serious misgivings about the wisdom of what he was doing. Was he indeed serving his daughter's best interests by having the pirate hanged? Or would she be better off with him for a husband? For instead of getting over her infatuations, as Sir Thomas had been certain she would, Cathy seemed no happier now than she had weeks ago. If anything, in fact, she was plunging more and more deeply into depression. If she genuinely loved the pirate, then Sir Thomas would reluctantly put her wishes before his own career. But he was still morally convinced that what Cathy felt was a mere girlish infatuation which time would remedy. It was just that it was taking rather more time to cure her than he had at first supposed. Anyway, it was too late now to restore the pirate toher, the man would very likely do her serious harm if he could get his hands on her, believing what he now did about her. Thus Sir Thomas decided that it was in the best interests of all concerned to let the execution take place. Even the pirate might welcome death as an alternative to his present sufferings.

New Year's Day, 1843, dawned clear and crisp and very cold. Snow lay thickly on the window sill just outside Cathy's bedroom. The antics of the child in her womb had awakened her earlier than had lately become her custom. For a long while she lay quietly in bed, one hand pressed to her belly, while she watched the sky turn from midnight blue to a leaden gray. From the looks of it, there would be more snow before the day was out,adding to the foot or so that was already on the ground. Cathy grimaced. The somberness of the day exactly matched her mood.

The fire in the hearth had burned down to a few glowing embers, and the room was chill. Cathy burrowed beneath the thick satin quilt, tucking it cozily around herself so that only the tip of her nose and her eyes were exposed to the raw air. She thought about getting out of bed to poke up the fire but then decided against it: it simply required too much effort. Martha would be bringing her morning chocolate in a few minutes, and the woman could do it then.

A knock sounded very formally at her bedroom door, and Cathy smiled ruefully. Martha usually acted far more like her mother than her servant, and when she made a point of remembering her place, it was a sign that she was gravely offended. Cathy sighed, because when Martha was offended she could be as difficult to placate as an outraged Brahma bull. Apparently the words she had flung at the older woman the night before still rankled. She hadn't meant to hurt Martha's feelings, G.o.d knew, but she was so cross now. Her personality had changed so much in these few short months that she scarcely recognized herself.

"Come in," she called, resigned to spending the better part of the morning soothing her nanny's ruffled feathers.

Martha entered with a dignity that would not have been out of place in Queen Victoria herself.

"I've brought your chocolate, my lady."

The stilted form of address told Cathy, more clearly than a diatribe would have, that Martha felt that she had been ill-used. Cathy sighed again, not feeling up to the task of placating anyone. It took a great deal of effort just to maneuverherself into a sitting position against the pillows.

"Please don't be angry with me," she coaxed as Martha arranged the tray of chocolate and warm croissants on her lap."You and my father are the only friends I seem to have left. If you desert me, I'll have no one."

"There's no talk of anyone deserting you, Miss Cathy." The woman responded to the sadness of Cathy's tone just as she had been meant to do. "It's only natural that you should be a bit peevish now and again, what with the baby and you not being in good health. When I see how you're changed, I could kill that pirate myself it I knew where to lay hands on him. What he's done to you is criminal!"

"Martha, please!" Cathy cried, biting her lip. Any mention of Jon was excruciatingly painful, and, as a rule, Martha and Sir Thomas were careful never to allude to him in any way. Although Cathy had done her best to banish his lean image from her thoughts, it was impossible to do so, with his child moving so strongly inside her. The man was beginning to haunt her night and day like some earth-bound ghost.