The Slide Into Ruin

By Bronwyn Stewart

He came to collect a debt. He left with a wife.

Darius may be an ex-pirate and nameless bastard, but his word is his bond and damsels in distress are his weakness. In order to collect a large debt and rebuild his lost fortune, Darius takes Eliza Penfold as his wife. It’s supposed to be a marriage of convenience, not passion. But from their first encounter, she stirs his blood like no other and Darius wonders if he can truly leave her behind.

Deceived into a marriage contract with a dangerous man, Eliza is forced to admit she and her siblings need protection. She needs to let go of her wounded pride and flawed schemes if she’s to survive. But when her protector is a vengeful pirate running a scheme of his own, she may be getting far more trouble than help.

They're both hiding something and when one of England’s most notorious and vicious criminals comes to call, lives will be in danger and loyalties will be put to the ultimate test...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tule Publishing
• Release date: Sep 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781952560255

Book preview

Prologue

At the first sound of shuffling feet, the ex-pirate turned legitimate captain known as Darius held his breath and stilled his entire body. Who he waited for, friend or foe, he would soon discover.

The nicely appointed rented room above the noisy tavern was cloaked in darkness, but he didn’t need the light to see. Spending more than half of his life at sea, and in the dark beneath decks, had leant his vision an almost supernatural edge.

The shuffling paused on the other side of the locked door, there was a mutter and what sounded like…kissing? Darius swore under his breath but held his position. This was his second-to-last loose end before he left England behind forever and he had to ensure there were no outstanding debts of his own, imagined, obligated or other. The many and varying sins of his youth would not catch up with him in the following years. He wanted to wipe his slate clean after these last errands. It’s why he hid in the dark awaiting a man who probably would rather drive a knife in his back than offer absolution. On one level, he did deserve it.

Finally, the bedroom door opened, and a dim pool of candlelight fell across the floor. His heart thumped against his ribs and his hands grew clammy with the effort it took not to reach for the pistol resting safely in the holster beneath his coat. If he died tonight, then so be it.

Two figures entered, one very large and definitely male, the other slight, a woman. He’d hoped for only the man but the woman might very well mean Darius would walk from the room rather than be carried out in a box.

His fingers twitched to hold his weapon as the candlewick was placed to the lantern and the entire room lit, chasing away the shadows.

First a feminine gasp, then a masculine oath, then the sound of a hammer being pulled back from the chamber of a long-barrelled, gleaming pistol pointed in his direction. How he missed swordplay on the decks of a ship. So much more intimate. So much fairer in a fight than lead balls impossible to dodge or deflect.

Darius didn’t rise. He didn’t react at all other than showing his hands were bare in a gesture of defencelessness. A gesture he hoped would be believed in order not to feel the scorching kiss of one of those bullets.

Captain Richard Germaine spoke first. What the devil are you doing here?

He may as well get straight to the truth of the matter. I came to make amends.

You kidnapped my daughter! Germaine countered with an angry wave of the pistol.

I kidnapped her from her kidnapper.

And then you married her to him, the bloody Butcher of the Battle!

A man she is deeply in love with.

You could have conked him on the head and left him to rot. Better still, you could have thrown him overboard instead of scaring Daniella into thinking it was her you were after.

Darius smiled. Of course, she would tell the story her way. She has your stubbornness. Someone had to make her see the truth.

Germaine sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, bidding the woman to do the same while also keeping her close, gun still in hand while he rubbed the bridge of his nose with the other. Why did you get involved? You had to know your presence would have stirred rather than assured.

Perhaps that’s why? I believe you once labelled me a troublemaker.

I labelled you a good many names, lad. I was right about most of them. What kind of trouble are you causing tonight? We thought you’d be on your way back to Boston and Montrose.

He should have been. He owed Deklin Montrose, his employer, more than he could ever list but there was the matter of debts to be collected from three men in London first. Then he would be free. Free to start his life afresh with means and respect. He and Montrose were fast friends—nothing would ever change that—but Darius paid his dues. He would never be beholden to another as long as he lived. They would be equal partners in the shipping venture or nothing at all.

No trouble, Darius assured the man who had once tried to take a young boy under his wing only to receive a mutiny for his trouble. The deep scar on Darius’s collarbone suddenly throbbed as if his miserable conscience resided right there just next to his neck.

I need to know… How could he put it? How could he ask for forgiveness without seeming weak, needy or vulnerable? Perhaps all three?

Need to know what? Captain Germaine grew nervous, moving closer to his ladylove as though he needed to protect her from him.

Darius swallowed uneasily, the long years of guilt lodging in his throat. I need to know that I’ve atoned for my actions all those years ago. That there is no ill feeling or thoughts of retaliation between us?

You did this, you kidnapped my daughter—

—from her kidnapper. At the time I honestly thought I was saving her.

You did all of this to apologise for a decades-old mutiny?

Darius was rather confused about the turn of events himself. When he’d been a mischievous pirate on the high seas, he’d known when to stay and when to leave with his hide intact. He seemed to have lost the life-saving ability on the crest of a wave somewhere between Boston and Scotland. You once intimated there was something I could do to make it up to you but you failed to say how.

Why now? Why not five years ago? Six?

I mean to build a life for myself, a real life, and I don’t need old ghosts tracking me down. I mean to make friends now, no more enemies.

The captain shook his head and rubbed his neck. Always were a strange lad. Is this the last time we’ll be seeing you?

Darius nodded and stood slowly.

Well then I’d say we are even, you and I.

No hard feelings? Darius’s outstretched hand was enveloped in a much larger, more weathered one, shook once, twice, a third time. Freedom, the very air almost whispered. But it was more than a word for him. It was a promise.

What will you do now? Germaine asked.

I have business in England. Darius walked to the door, stopping only to look back one more time as the captain still shielded his ladylove with his body, offering her his protection as well as his heart. And she was a lady, this one, right down to her toes. An English rose.

How he longed for someone to protect, to give his heart to. But he was a bastard. He had no name other than the one he’d given himself and no English lady would give her heart into his keeping. His past was not only splattered with blood, it was drowned in it, along with piracy and worse. Eventually he would take a bride but not from the English. He only craved a peaceful, easy existence in Boston with a woman who cared nothing for names, for titles, for society. There they cared a lot less about who you were. As long as a man worked hard and paid his way, he was accepted. Darius could live with that.

Business for Montrose? Germaine prodded.

He drew a deep breath. Hastily scrawled words written on tattered paper flashed across his mind as he shook his head. No. Not for Montrose. He bid a quick farewell and closed the door behind him.

He was on his own now. This time it was personal, a matter of pride, of honour and perhaps revenge.

As his fingers twitched once more to hold his weapon, Darius thought it might even be about death. About decades-old hurts and more recent deceptions giving him reason enough to eliminate the Earl of Wickham, his despicable sire, from his life, and this world, once and for all.

Chapter One

The ex-pirate known half the seas over only as Darius crashed through thick, snow-burdened foliage with several curses. Words that would blister the skin off a sailor had there been one around to hear. Not that there was.

He cursed again.

His coat fit like a second skin yet ice-cold water sought its way in to trickle down his back, adding yet more layers to his misery and frustration. How the hell did a man get lost on his own land? For two hours he’d been fighting his way through dense plantations, the thick pine beginning to feel as though it reached out to slowly strangle the life from him.

His first mate, now in the implausible position the English labelled a valet, had warned him to get his bearings right before setting off to survey what was now his. The house he could finally, after so many years, call home. He’d laughed in Wiggins’s face. Darius had grown up running this land. He knew it as well as the back of his now tanned and scarred hand.

At least he thought he did.

With little sense of direction surrounded by trees and soil, having been at sea for over a decade, and no familiar landmarks to save him, he was thoroughly lost. To make matters worse, he would be late for lunch. The men—his men—would come to find him and rescue him.

They were going to roast him alive. Lord Lost they would call him for the foreseeable future. It would be unbearable.

After the third time walking past what looked suspiciously like the same still, snow-covered giant, he decided drastic action was necessary. Shrugging off his thick overcoat, Darius dropped it onto the frozen undergrowth and then stood back to gauge the best way up. If he climbed high enough, he might just glimpse the old slate roof of the house and be home within the hour.

His hand stopped mid-air near the first branch.

Home.

He’d never thought to call any house he slept in home but from the moment he’d walked through the door two days before, he’d felt it. It was a right he’d been denied as a child. Privilege, power, even a warm bed, a hot meal and a kind word had been out of reach for the bastard son of an earl. An earl who should have met with an unfortunate accident rather than a title, lands and gold. His grandfather had always tried to make Darius feel welcome, to feel at home, to help him to find peace and belonging even though his sire hated his every breath. He’d known a small measure of acceptance in that house, once upon a time, but had been too frightened to really reach out and grab it lest it be snatched from his grip.

Everything was different now.

He needed it now.

It was finally all his and no one could take it from him without ending his life.

Only a quarter way up the monstrous pine, he heard the crunch of footsteps from the forest floor below. The shrouded figure of a man approached slowly, his hooded gaze turning in the direction of Darius’s discarded coat.

Darius dared not move. He didn’t recognise the figure as one of his sailors and he would not be caught unarmed or vulnerable. Reaching into the waistband of his trousers, he pulled out his gun and cocked the hammer. In the preternatural silence, the noise deafened and he flinched.

The intruder didn’t seem to hear as he crouched to inspect the jacket. He looked first left and then right but thankfully not up. Shrugging, he abandoned the coat and walked off. Darius swiftly climbed down and gave pursuit. This man was on his land and he didn’t take kindly to strangers. Especially strangers who could be agents for the earl.

Keeping a fair distance was easy until the snow began to fall again in earnest. Even under the wide-spread branches visibility was reduced and Darius was forced to get closer. He had to know what the man wanted before he sprung any kind of trap. Was he headed in the direction of the house? Was it his intent to steal or to murder?

Oh, the irony, Darius thought with a wry smile followed by a wet shiver. After spending the better part of fifteen years plundering and pillaging English naval ships and less than reputable trading vessels, it would serve him right to be fleeced in the same way.

Suddenly the intruder veered off to the right and Darius wondered if he’d been discovered lurking in the shadows. If that was the case, then why not stand and fight? Why lead him even farther into the forest?

A man could have his throat cut out here in the snow and his body wouldn’t be discovered until late spring, if at all. He swallowed and cursed the thick scarf he’d scoffed at, instead leaving it hanging on a hook by the massive front doors of his new home.

Before much longer and just when Darius prepared to call out and put a halt to the chase, the intruder slowed and came to a stop in front of a small tree, not much older than a sapling but already over the man’s head in height. He reached out a gloved hand and gave the tree a shake, dislodging the freshest of the snow in a white cloud. From the deep recesses of his coat, he pulled what looked to be a broken saw, the blade long ago snapped in half, jagged and wicked despite the defect.

When he placed the blade against the tree he paused and lowered his head for a moment before pulling the teeth of the saw over the trunk, close to the ground.

Stop right there, Darius called out in warning, no longer satisfied to simply observe. There was a puzzle here and he needed to work out what the hell was going on.

The stranger froze but didn’t turn or call back.

Darius drew a deep breath in an effort to sound more commanding. "Step away from the tree and turn around. If you run, I will shoot you in the back."

The saw made barely a sound as it fell to the powdery ground next to quite possibly the longest rain slicker he’d ever seen, the dark, worn leather covering legs and boots. Slowly the man turned and for a moment hope bloomed in Darius’s chest that it was all just a simple misunderstanding and he wouldn’t have to mete out his first act of punishment to a trespasser. Hypocrite he might be but he wouldn’t abide treachery in his home.

Hope was short-lived as the stranger suddenly took off back into the tree line. Darius had only one shot but maybe it would be enough to scare?

He raised his arm and fired, the bullet hitting the tree next to where the man had just disappeared. The report didn’t echo for long but the sound was loud enough. There was a cry of pain and for a moment he wondered if he’d accidentally shot the man after all. He was used to sighting and firing from the rolling decks of a ship, not the uneven snow-covered grounds of a hellish pine forest.

Not more than ten steps into the tree line of a particularly ancient planting, the trunks several feet wide in diameter, the man lay sprawled on the ground clutching his ankle, his hood still pulled so far forward Darius couldn’t yet see his face.

I told you not to run, Darius taunted softly as he approached. He reloaded his gun just in case he had the need of it, confident the intruder was unarmed. He would have shot back otherwise. Wouldn’t he?

Finally, the stranger found voice. How could you shoot at the back of an unarmed person? What if you’d actually hit me?

Darius froze to the spot, his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth and his blood ran cold. The pistol fell to his side as his breath fogged before his face and horror dawned. You’re a… You’re a… He just couldn’t form rational thought let alone coherent sentences.

I’m a what? A nearly dead person?

"You’re not a he? You’re a she?"

The fury in the blue-eyed gaze that met his burned red hot as the she in question finally lifted her hood. What difference does that make? I still would have been dead.

Darius raised his hands in mock surrender. In my defence, I thought you were a man and I wasn’t aiming right at you.

But you did shoot at me. Are you in the habit of gunning a person down before you even reveal your presence?

I am indeed, he said with a nod and a malicious spreading of his lips. Spending over a decade on ship as a pirate meant kill or be killed. Even a legitimate, above-board sailor didn’t tarry for tea and pleasantries before an attack.

And I did call for you to stop, he felt the need to add.

Who are you? she asked, pushing her hood all the way back to reveal a mess of silvery-blonde hair to go with those bright, bright blue eyes.

Was she a snow faerie? Had he fallen from the tree and died and not realised? Who are you?

I asked first, she pointed out with a glare for the obvious.

And it’s my land, he retaliated childishly. You are trespassing; so I am well within my rights to shoot whomever I please.

I’m not sure the magistrate would agree with you.

I’m not sure I care. But that was a bald-faced lie. He did care. He had to play the part of respectability for the short time he was back on English soil. It was not his wish to live or die there in the countryside. When he’d set sail from Boston, he’d had but one mission, one line written on the list before he could return home, but things grew more and more difficult by the day. It was a job he had to see through to its bittersweet end and then he would sail back to America and the life he had started to build. He was not impressed with the interruptions to his already tight schedule.

Eliza Penfold, the snow faerie offered after a short silence, and perhaps an internal argument. She inclined her head but did not offer her hand.

You don’t say? Well, well, well. She’d still been in the schoolroom last time he’d seen her from afar. She hadn’t seen him at all. That was the wash with bastards. The lofty toffs never tended to really see them.

And you are? she prompted.

Darius. He thought she paled slightly but she was already whiter than a sheet. Now that he could study her, he saw similarities. The years hadn’t changed her much, merely turned her into a woman, which was no surprise considering how many had passed.

Darius who?

Just Darius. He scratched fingers through his beard feeling awkward and unkempt as she scrutinised him with a look so old and superior, a look he hadn’t felt in an age. It had been years and years since he’d let the sting of illegitimacy touch him, since he’d let it hold him back and down, but standing there, before a real lady, the sting turned into a burn.

Well that’s ridiculous, she said. Everyone has a family name, perhaps a title?

No title, no family so no family name, just Darius.

A strand of her hair came loose as she shook her head in response and attempted to stand. I can’t very well call you—Oh!

He leaped forward but didn’t catch her in time as she fell face-first into the snow, her hands tangled in her coat and skirts. Taking her beneath the shoulders, he lifted her until she was on her feet, well one foot anyway. I have to get you home, Eliza Penfold.

No! She swatted at his hands and attempted to limp forward while wiping snow from her high brows and lashes. Without success. ’Tis a simple twist of my ankle. I shall make it on my own.

Now you are being ridiculous. I can’t just watch as you further injure yourself.

She took another wobbly half step. Then turn your back. I’m sure you have somewhere else you need to be.

Darius chuckled. Just as ornery and proper as he remembered her. He bent at the waist and scooped her into his arms. She was impossibly light as he settled her against his chest and started to backtrack, following her footsteps in the snow.

Put me down, she commanded with a huff and a wriggle.

Darius tightened his hold but then regretted the action. She was so slight beneath her coat, he wondered if she wasn’t a faerie after all. If he held her any tighter, her bones might crack. I’m going to take you home.

Her struggles ceased for a moment as she drew a deep breath, her body swelling against his forearms. Do you know where I live? she asked.

I do; however, I seem to be lacking in direction today. Did she sigh with relief or merely let out her breath? He couldn’t be sure. Of anything. The subtle scent of violets teased his senses as she inhaled and exhaled. The forest was in the grips of deep winter so that wasn’t it. Was it her? It was a scent he hadn’t known in more than ten years, not since leaving England far behind. And for good reason. I’ll follow your marks in the snow.

This time it was Eliza who chuckled. I’ve been walking around in circles for the last two hours. Do you think you could carry me that long?

As easily as he could carry a feather, he guessed, but then the truth of her words sank in. Are you lost also? He groaned as he halted.

She stared up at him through lashes only a shade darker than the hair above, snow drops catching on her smooth forehead as the skin there creased with confusion. Also?

* *

Eliza Penfold was being manhandled by a ruffian, all alone in the woods, but instead of fainting dead away, she began to laugh. She just couldn’t help it. This Darius character had a full beard, lending him the appearance of a backwoodsman, along with a nasty scar below his ear that disappeared beneath the yellowed edge of his collar. He was coatless, no scarf or gloves, and he was lost?

It’s not that funny, he told her, his accent foreign and deep although she couldn’t place it.

Yes, it is, she said with another chuckle, the sound strange to her ears. Had it been so long since something had genuinely amused her? It seems you are more in need of a rescue than I.

I’ll take you back to your father and then follow the main road from your estate to mine. I won’t be turned about for long.

Eliza tensed, her laughter dying away. She couldn’t let him anywhere near Penfold Hill. One look at the manor and the stranger would know their straits and just how dire they were. What if he demanded to see the duke? You cannot take me home.

Give me one excellent reason why not.

She thought about it for a moment. Eliza wondered if the stranger had the whole day free for the list of excellent reasons she had for altering his course. For keeping him away from her home. She’d promised to keep her brothers and sisters safe, to withhold their secrets from the outside world. She’d made a good many promises in the previous months but had begun to lose faith in her ability to be who they needed her to be. One excuse came readily to hand. I’ll be compromised. You’ll have to marry me.

He didn’t even lose a step or gasp or any of the things Eliza thought he might do in reaction. Perhaps drop her. Do you come with a very large dowry?

Instead it was she who gasped. That is none of your business.

He grinned, his facial hair rising around his lips. If you didn’t want to risk your reputation why are you out here alone? Where is your maid or footman?

Simply that. I thought I would be alone. Rather, I wanted to be alone, she amended quickly.

Doing what though? He stared down at her with suspicion. Were you spying on the house? On me?

We aren’t anywhere near the house and why would I need to spy? Are you hiding something?

He shook his head, his gaze shuttered as he looked forward and kept walking.

If you must know, I was selecting a Christmas tree for my brothers and sisters.

This time he did stop; his grip relaxed a fraction. You were going to steal a tree? That’s your story?

It’s not a story. The previous estate owner has been letting me pick out a tree every November since I was six. I only take a small one. You never would have missed it.

But you were going to steal it?

Eliza didn’t like the narrowed-eyed gaze he trained upon her. She almost groaned. If he reported her to the magistrate for this, even something so minor, Sir Percy would come to speak with her father and she would not be able to turn him away. He was the law.

She lowered her own gaze and didn’t have to try to create moisture beneath her lids. She actually thought she was going to cry, such was her sudden and paralysing fear.

No, no, no, he said, his grip once again tightening about her. Please don’t cry, I don’t mind at all. Take as many Christmas trees as you like. Take one for each room in your house if you want.

Drawing a deep and dramatic—if a tad overdone—breath, Eliza’s voice wobbled just the right way as she said, My father will be so angry if you take me home. There’s no telling what he’ll do to me.

Is he a violent man?

She shook her head quickly. That wasn’t what she had been trying to convey. He is very traditional and it would break his heart if I was to be involved in another scandal.

Another scandal?

Blast it all, why had she said that? The shock of being shot at must have caused her brain to turn to soup. Or perhaps it was the lack of oxygen from being held so tight. Whatever it was, she had to order her thoughts before her mouth gave her away. It’s a very long tale but please, can’t we return to your home? I’ll rest for a few moments with a cold compress and then I can walk back. Or I could borrow one of your horses? I’ll return it tomorrow?

The suspicion returned to his gaze. Would that not further ruin your reputation?

Not if no one sees. If it is only you and I who know, surely it cannot do any harm. Please?

What if my servants talk? he asked in a quiet voice, as though he considered doing her bidding.

Eliza relaxed somewhat as hope flickered that he would bend to her will in this. Do you not trust the men and women in your house?

With my life. But there are only men. No women. Not the place for a lady.

That is rather odd, she commented, but not wanting to push him she also said, It will be only for a few moments, an hour at most, and then I will be on my way.

What would the stranger make of her even stranger request? It was a desperate and risky situation. What if Darius decided once they were behind closed doors to hurt her? No witnesses. No recriminations. Her siblings would never know where she had disappeared to. No gently bred miss would ask to be carried in the arms of a man she didn’t know to his home filled with more men she didn’t know. God, what was she doing?

You’re keeping them alive.

Eliza would do whatever she had to do. Just two more months and they would be safe. She hoped…

Chapter Two

It was hard to fathom why a young lady would be out in the snow on her own to pick a tree to decorate. Where was her groom or at least a gardener? Did she think to cut it down and drag it out on her own? Perhaps she knew of her father’s debts and spied on him for the duke? Damn, he muttered under his breath. Sending a lamb to do his despicable bidding. It was a very duke thing to do. Letting someone else take the risks.

I’m sorry, did you say something? the object of his thoughts asked from where she perched on his worn settee.

Her father probably assumed no harm would come to her because she was a lady and she was beautiful and genteel. The men had certainly sprung to action at once upon seeing him carry Eliza Penfold across the overgrown gardens bordering his home. Darius silenced their questions with a glare colder than the snow underfoot and ordered tea and sandwiches brought to the parlour. Just like the true gentleman he pretended to be. A gentleman who’d needed softly spoken directions back to his own door. It was humiliating and had made his words sharper than he’d intended.

He hated to treat his friends so but they had to keep up appearances for the moment. They did not want to attract any unwanted attention just yet. Darius had intended for the Duke of Penfold to sweat a little before a meeting happened between them.

You left your tree saw in the snow, he told her, unable to think of anything else unimportant to say.

She waved a gloved hand in his direction. I’ll find it tomorrow.

I don’t think it likely you’ll be traipsing about tomorrow to find your tree or your saw.

She puffed up like an offended hen at his words, still giving no indication at all that she knew who he truly was or why he was there. He was about to call in a debt that would send her father further than the poor house. He took in her flat, lifeless hair, her worn coats and holey gloves and prayed Penfold had some blunt. By the looks of his daughter, it didn’t appear so.

"I was not traipsing. Ladies do not traipse. I