A Lady At Last
King's House; June 20, 1820
HEWAS renowned as the greatest gentleman privateer of his era, an accolade that amused him no end. Gentleman and privateer were two words that should never be uttered in the same sentence, even if he was an exception to that rule. Cliff de Warenne, third and youngest son of the earl of Adare, stared at the newly constructed hanging block, unsmiling. While it was true that he had yet to lose a battle or his quarry, he did not take death lightly. He estimated that he had already used up at least six lives, and hoped he had at least three left.
A hanging always brought out the biggest crowd. Every rogue and planter, every lady and whore, were flocking into the city to watch the pirate hang. Tomorrow they would be breathless with anticipation and excitement. There would be applause when the pirate's neck was broken with a loud, jarring snap. There would be cheers.
A tall, towering man with tawny, too-long, sun-streaked hair and a bronze complexion, Cliff had the brilliant blue eyes the de Warenne men were famous for. He was clad casually in high boots, pale white doeskin breeches and a fine linen shirt, ... read full excerpt from A Lady at Last ebook
