Lady Pirate (16 page)

“Well, eat up quick there, Captain, girl, and we shall head out nice and early to the shops,” Henry suggested with bluff good cheer.

Turning a suspicious glare on the man, Valoree dropped into the seat at the head of the table. Pete
immediately carried in a large tray of baked goods that made her stomach growl. “And just what would you be thinking we might need to go to the shops for?”

Her quartermaster hesitated, his gaze shooting to Bull and One-Eye, who sat on either side of her. When the two men nodded in encouragement, he cleared his throat and continued, “Well, ye can't be wearing that slop ye wore last night again, so we'll have to go find you some other muck to—”

“The hell we will,” Valoree said in a growl, rising to her feet. “There will be nothing more on my face. Two such incidents were enough.”

“Now Captain, girl,” Henry tried. “I know—”

” Ho!” No-Nose hurried into the room, excitement lighting his eyes. “There's three fellers at the door, all of 'em looking' to see the captain. They gave me these.”

“Let me see those, Robert,” Meg murmured, holding out her hand for the cards he held. Squirming under her use of his real name, No-Nose handed the cards over and waited along with everyone else as she perused them.

“Lord Chaddesley, Lord Alcock, and Lord Heck-ford,” she murmured thoughtfully, tappping the cards against one hand.

“What is it about?” Henry asked, frowning as he moved to stand behind her and peer down over her shoulder.

“I do not know. Lady Thurborne was talking about these three last night. They are all friends who gad about together. They are also second sons—they will not inherit and are in need of wives who are wealthy.”

Relief flowing through her, Valoree chuckled. When everyone turned to her, she shrugged. “I would say they are here to offer themselves up for marriage,” she proposed. “Meg's little chat with the gossips last night must have worked.”

Meg looked taken aback. “Oh, my, of course.” She turned to No-Nose. “You shall have to tell them that Lady Valoree is not available today, and to try back tomorrow. We—”

“What?”
every man in the room, plus Valoree herself, cried out.

Meg sighed unhappily, but her response remained firm. “Just look at her face! She cannot catch a husband looking so. Besides”—her mouth tightened—“it is always best to play hard to get.”

Valoree made a face and shook her head. “Nonsense. They do not care what I look like. This is business. No-Nose, show them to the salon and tell them I shall be along directly.”

“Valoree,” Meg protested, but Valoree ignored her, her eyes narrowing on the hesitating No-Nose.

“You heard my order.”

Acquiescing, the man turned and hurried out of the room. Valoree turned to peer at Meg, whose upset was obvious. “This is business, Meg. I am not looking for a happy-ever-after ending. You yourself should know how rare those are. I have seventy-five men and one woman under me, all in need of a home and safe harbor. I cannot afford dreams of a perfect husband or happy marriage. I must be satisfied with Ainsley, one brat, and a husband who bothers me as little as possible.” Turning her back on the table, she left the room.

 

“Son?”

Daniel paused, the tune he had been whistling dying abruptly as he looked about. His gaze fell on his mother, hanging halfway out of a carriage on the road beside him, waving madly in case he should miss her. Smiling, he changed direction and moved to the carriage, taking her hand to press a kiss to it. “Good morning, Mother.”

“You seem very happy this morning.”

“I am.”

When he didn't add any further information, her smile faded. “Would you care for a ride?”

“Nay. Thank you. I felt like walking and sent my driver on ahead.” He gestured up the road where the Thurborne carriage waited.

“Oh. Well, where are you going? And what is that parcel? A gift?”

Daniel laughed outright at her blunt questions and shook his head. “You never change, do you, Mother?”

“Nay, of course not. Why should I?” she asked with real surprise. He smiled wryly.

“As it happens, I am headed to see Lady Ainsley.”

“Lady Ainsley?” Her eyebrows rose, her eyes filling with speculation. “And your package?”

“Oh.” He glanced down at it, suddenly embarrassed, and shrugged. “She had a reaction to her makeup last night. I stopped in at the apothecary to see what they had to offer as aid. They gave me this.”

His mother barely glanced at the bundle, her next question already tumbling from her lips. “The lady lives around here? I had not realized that the Ainsley's had a town house in this area.”

“Actually, I believe they are renting it for the season from Lord Beecham. It is just…” He turned to gesture vaguely up the street, only to pause and frown as he saw a carriage stop before the town house in question. A gentleman stepped down—John Lambert, he recognized as the man conversed briefly with a servant in pink livery who rushed forward—then turned to give instructions to his driver before following the servant to the door of the house. The Lambert carriage had barely pulled away when another had pulled up in its place, disgorging Harry Gravenner. The servant hurried back at once, gesticulating a bit excitedly, then turned to briefly glare at Daniel's carriage.

“Hmmmm,” his lady mother supplied thoughtfully
as she, too, watched Gravenner say something to his driver, then hurry up to the house. “It looks as if Lady Ainsley is having many visitors this morning.”

“Aye,” Daniel said shortly, scowling as the Gravenner carriage drove away only to be replaced by another. “I have to…” he began distractedly, but didn't finish the sentence. He turned away from his mother's carriage and hurried toward his destination, his whole mood ruined.

Daniel had woken up in a fine state this morning. He had not bothered returning to the party the night before, but had gone to his club for a drink and some peace. Of course, all he had done was think about Valoree: her spirit; her wit; her funny little smile where one side curved up and the other sort of bent downward as if she not only smiled rarely, but was afraid to indulge often lest she find her reason for doing so suddenly gone; the way she suddenly slipped into less than stellar speech when she was annoyed; her determination, her passion….

He had tasted her on his lips for hours after she had disappeared over the wall, and still could when he closed his eyes and concentrated. He could feel her arms wrapped around him, her fingers in his hair, her body molded to his, could hear her gasps and sighs and groans and moans as he had licked her eager flesh.

Dear God, just the memory aroused him, and he had tortured himself with it for hours as he had pondered things—like the fact that he had to marry and produce an heir to gain his grandmother's inheritance. That she had to marry and get with child to gain her family estate. That he could help give her that baby. Over and over again. In bed. Out of bed. Against a garden wall. On a staircase. On his desktop. In one of the chairs before the fire in his room.

He was thinking with his nether regions and not his head, he knew, but damn, it made his nether regions
happy. And really, when it came right down to it, why not contemplate such things? He enjoyed this woman, albeit in an odd sort of way. He found her awkwardness in the ton endearing, her intelligence enchanting, and her independence refreshing. Of course, he would have to curb some of that independence, but the pleasure he anticipated in other areas seemed to make that a small consideration.

He just had to convince her of the smallness of that. Which, he had thought last night, should not be that difficult a chore. After all, she did have to marry to regain her home, and he was a handsome fellow—intelligent, soon to be wealthy, with land of his own, a title, and all those other things that a smart and ambitious young woman sought in a husband. Just look at all the girls and their eager mothers who chased him from ball to ball. They thought he was prime marriage material. And, he had assured himself, it would be little enough trouble to convince her of that, too. His certainty was what had had him whistling cheerfully as he had made his way here.

But that had been when he had thought there would be little if any competition for the woman. Now, as he hurried along the street, watching yet another gentleman leap from his carriage and stride up to the door to rap gaily, he couldn't help thinking that perhaps it would not go as smoothly as he had hoped. And why the hell hadn't he ridden here in his carriage? He would have been here long ago had he not decided to walk off some of his excitement along the way.

“Shall I move, my lord?” Daniel's driver asked as he drew abreast of his carriage. “A servant keeps insisting that I shouldn't park here, but I told him that you said I should, so here I'd be waiting.”

“Stay put,” Daniel ordered, turning to glare at the fellow now rushing toward him from the town house.

“Ye cain't be parkin' yer hack here. Have yer driver
move it. We don't need the road blocked out front here,” the harried-looking fellow announced, and Daniel raised a supercilious eyebrow at the fellow. The man's pink livery was ugly but easy to digest, but hiding his surprise as he took in the man's damaged face took some doing. The butler had no nose! He was also missing several teeth, had long hair, and wore a pistol sticking out of his breeches. Catching Daniel's glance at the weapon, the fellow scowled and fastened his waistcoat. “I said—”

“I heard what you said,” Daniel interrupted coldly. “I simply cannot believe your temerity in attempting to order me about.”

The man rolled his eyes, not looking the least impressed. “Now see here, them's me orders. I'm to be making sure that you fellers ain't cluttering up the road with yer carriages. If all of ye was to be parking yer hacks out here, no one would be able to get by and the ca—er—Lady Valoree, she was saying she didn't want no trouble with the neighbors, so we're to see the carriages move along once their passengers is out of 'em.”

“By all means, do so with the other ‘guests.' However, my carriage shall wait right here for me,” Daniel announced firmly, bringing a scowl to the servant's face. The man looked about to argue the point, but another carriage pulled up just then, distracting him.

“Oh, now, ye can't be parkin' yer hack here!” he shouted, moving on to the new carriage in a fury. Daniel glanced back curiously to see Beecham stepping out. Blinking in surprise at the surly servant, the nobleman directed something quickly to his driver, and the hack pulled away, leaving him to hurry up the walk.

“Thurborne,” he said in greeting, glancing over his shoulder toward the fellow with no nose. “I really must
talk to Lady Ainsley about her servants. They are quite—”

“Unusual?” Daniel suggested. “Impertinent? Loud? Disreputable-looking?”

“All of those,” Beecham agreed as they paused on the steps to the town house and Daniel rapped on the door with his cane.

If the first servant had seemed somewhat disreputable, the servant who opened the door was downright scary. He filled the door like death, as wide as and even taller than, it was, having to stoop to stand in its frame, completely blocking any passage. His skin was a deep, rich mahogany, his head bald, and his teeth shone as he smiled a white smile that was anything but friendly. “Yer cards.”

Daniel blinked at the deep growl and handed his card over, silently eyeing the man's thick arms as he took both it and the card Beecham supplied. Barely glancing at them, the fellow stepped back for the two nobles to enter, then tossed their cards on a tray, where a small mountain of others resided. He gestured toward a door on their left, behind which the sound of voices could be heard. It seemed opening the door and announcing them was not part of his duties.

Amused, Daniel started for the door, only to pause and glance back when Beecham asked curiously, “What did you want our cards for if you had no intention of presenting them to your mistress or announcing us?”

In the process of closing the door, the giant paused to eye young Beecham narrowly. “So's I'll know where to deliver ye if ye cause trouble and I have to knock ye out.”

Even Daniel blinked at that announcement, his mouth drawing into an astounded smile. “And how will you know which card belongs to whom?” he asked smugly. “You have quite a collection there, my man.”

The fellow's expression didn't change at all; he
merely said, “I'll know.” And really, Daniel suddenly suspected the man would. Shaking his head, he turned back to the door and opened it. Having done so, he froze in shock. The room was overflowing with men. There were at least thirty of them in the small salon—and every single one of them was trying to be heard over the others.

“My God,” Beecham breathed, moving to his side to survey the room. Daniel glanced at him grimly.

“Aye. It would seem her plan worked,” he murmured, not at all pleased by this turn of events.

“What plan?” Beecham asked faintly, his glazed eyes shifting from one suitor to another. Knowing the man's penchant for keeping accounts, Daniel surmised he was counting them.

“Her plan to spread the word that she is wealthy and desperate for a husband,” Daniel explained patiently. “She was hoping that it would bring the suitors scurrying. It appears that her plan worked. Every gold-digger in London has shown up.” He made a disgusted face, then noticed Beecham's alarmed expression. “Is that not why you are here?”

“Nay!” Beecham cried at once. “At least—Well, the money isn't really important. I mean, money is always nice, but Lady Ainsley is…She's…” His voice trailed away helplessly, his expression slightly moony.

“Aye. She is,” Daniel agreed darkly. Stepping into the room, he made his way through the crowd of male bodies toward where they seemed most dense. That was where he would find Valoree, no doubt. At the center of the hive.