The Reinvented Miss Bluebeard (London Paranormal 03) (17 page)

The Captain squinted. "Is someone pretending to be your husband? Why, I'll run him through, I will."

Eve scoffed. "That look hasn't worked on me since I took my hair out of pigtails."

Bluebeard fought down his pride. Instead of praising her courage he complained, "It's just unnatural for a daughter not to fear her da." But Eve had a good wind, all right, no doubt about it.

"It's unnatural for a father to pay a man to pretend to be my husband," she retorted, clenching her fists. She needed that money much worse than did the wastrel who was being paid to be her loving husband. In fact, she wanted to beg her father for some of his treasure right now, but knew she never could with the terms of surrender. They would be too heavy: Close the asylum and marry that hateful Hook.

"A pox on yer fears, daughter. Ye should trust me!"

Girding herself for more battle, Eve let nothing show on her face. She wasn't her father's child for nothing, having his fierce determination to be victorious. She would stay afloat without Captain Bluebeard's plundered, pirated, sunk-shipped treasure.

Her father said, "You gave me no choice, lassie. Wedded bliss is a fine state, a holy state between man and woman. Marriage is forever and, well…" He hesitated before nodding. "Marriage is blissfully blissful."

"How droll! How can you say that when you've been married
seven
times?"

The captain remained unrepentant, ignoring her scorn. "Well, now, it took a bit of practice. But I got it right with your dear mother."

"Humph," Eve grumbled, shaking her head.

"Now see here, missy, no need to get on your high horse. 'Tis true—marriage is a fine state with the right companion. It's not me fault that six of me wives were she-devils in disguise."

Eve snorted inelegantly. "None of your wives were demons."

Bluebeard shrugged. "Nay, ye're right. They were worse. Me first wife was a witch. Mean-tempered, with a wart on her as—" Realizing what he had been about to reveal, he quickly said, "Never mind where the wart was. Just know that she was a stomach-churning shrew, always spewing curses and stinking up me ship with her boiling cauldron and mumbo jumbo. Me second wife was made more for the bliss bit of matrimony, but she just didn't have a strong constitution. Of course, it wasn't her constitution that got her in the end, just her poor eyesight."

Eve nodded, for she had heard the story a time or two when her father was in his cups.

"Aye. Imagine mistaking a crocodile for a stepping-stone," Bluebeard reminisced. "We were married only four years. I never should have taken her to Africa."

"At least not without her spectacles."

"True, true. But then, she was a vain woman, even on nature walks," he replied, pursing his lips. "So she died looking better than she saw."

After a moment he frowned, recalling his third wife. "Holly was a true beauty in every respect, but she couldn't keep her nose out of me treasure chests. Could sing like an angel, and could wield a cutlass better than most of me sailors. But she was a hard-hearted wench who loved gold more than me. And the rolling of the sea made her queasy."

"Should have been hanged from the yardarm," Eve remarked sardonically.

"She was," Bluebeard replied, and then added with a contented sigh, "In Port-a-Prince, after putting her hands on the governor's chest.

"Now, yer mother was the best of the lot. Six was me lucky charm. Yer mother was a real lady with a heart of gold. She was me real treasure. Loved me with all her heart and never played me false, even if she couldn't tell north from south or hit the broad side of a barn with a cannon. Still, I loved her dearly."

Eve's anger died a little in the face of her father's adoration.

"She was my pride and joy—just like you are," the crafty old pirate added. He loved his daughter, warts, nuthouse, and all. "That's why I picked a handsome, fine husband for you. A good solid Irishman, with a touch of piracy, a touch of the English, and a seducer's touch as well. His father was a baron, ye know."

"No, I didn't," Eve said, "and I don't care. Besides, I think one pirate in the family is enough." That Adam had been into pillaging the seven seas with a bunch of cutthroats was another point against him—a big, fat point. "And I find him neither fine nor handsome," she lied.

Bluebeard pinched her cheek. "Never try to lie to a liar, lass, or cheat a cheater—or outman the man of the sea. They'll give you no quarter."

Eve glared, hating the fact that her father knew her so well. "I didn't say he was
ugly
, now, did I? This Adam character might be fairly attractive, for argument's sake, but I'm not in the market for a husband. As you well know!"

"Of course not, Evie. You already have one." Her father laughed.

"Da, if you don't get rid of him, I'll have him thrown in prison for pretending to be someone he's not."

Her father glared at her. "I don't think so, lass. I have a friend or two in some pretty high places."

"Of course you do," she snapped. "But that won't stop me from declaring him an impostor. Adam is looking at a fall."

"Adam won't be arrested for pretending to be anything, for he's the very man ye married in Vienna. Or so I shall say. Already those busybody doctor friends of yours think he's yer husband. How will they feel about giving their coins to a woman who says her husband isn't her husband, yet who pretended he was her husband when he was pretending to be that same husband?"

Shaking her head, trying to decipher that sentence, Eve finally got the gist, and the jest was unhappily on her. Dr. Sigmund and Count Caligari would never give her their foundation funds if they realized she was a liar and a fraud. It was all as she'd feared. "You bloody-minded, conniving, conspiring crab!"

The Captain's face became a mottled red, and he fought the urge to turn his grown daughter over his knee and paddle her bottom as if she were still a child. "You're one to talk! That's like the pot calling the kettle a Bluebeard. Look who's the calculating chit, pulling a spouse out of thin air with nothing more than her overactive imagination."

"Well, I certainly learned from the best!"

The captain stood, pointing a finger. "Adam stays as your husband. If ye so much as breathe a word to anyone that he isn't, I will personally see that the good mind doctors find out the whole story. Ye will be ruined in the scientific community. Ruined in any society, scientific or otherwise—except on a pirate ship, which is where ye belong anyway, so don't tempt me!"

Eve's chin quivered, but she held back her tears. "You hard-hearted barnacle! For how long am I supposed to play house?"

"I want grandkids, lass."

She shot him a look of pure horror. "Sleep with him? We're not really married!"

"Now, don't get your sails in a knot. I have a plan," he confided craftily.

"Why am I not surprised?" she muttered, her eyes aching with the sting of sorrow, yet her demeanor rigidly polite.

"Adam is to be your husband for only a while. Then, unluckily, he dies and you're a widow—free to marry a flesh-and-blood person!"

"He might have something to say about dying just to please this plan. I know I do. I don't like the lying lout, but I won't let you murder him," she retorted abruptly. What a waste! Not many men were so dashing that they could make a lady's toes curl by kissing her silly. "When did you become so bloody bloodthirsty?"

The captain rolled his eyes and shook his head, his weathered face revealing his annoyance. "I'm a pirate. What do you expect? But I wouldn't do him in. Since he's yer pretend husband, it will be a pretend death. But we'll have one fine and dandy funeral for him."

"A real funeral?" She was beginning to get mixed-up.

"Of course, real. A fancy funeral for a fine man, so that all will know ye to be a poor widow."

Eve stomped her feet, then stood with legs apart, hands braced on her hips. Ironically, so did her father.

"Let me get this straight," Eve managed to mutter through clenched teeth. She had gone beyond vexation into pure rage. "You've made me accept an impostor as a spouse so that you can pretend to kill him off so I can be a fraudulent widow?"

"You'll be a widow for only a short time, lass. Then I'll see ye married good and proper."

"I see," Eve said in stunned disbelief. Her deceitful da was even more devious than she had previously thought.

Plopping back down in her chair, Eve slowly shook her head. "We have a room in the Towers if you're interested, because you've gone barmy, I declare! Madder than any patient of mine," she growled, her eyes shooting sparks. "How could you?"

"Not mad, just crazy like a fox—even though me bloodline's pure werewolf. Still, I'm canny as a wolf, and you should be overjoyed. Since Adam isn't as fine or as handsome as ye like, ye can marry me boon companion," the old salt suggested, waiting to see if Eve would take Hook, line, and sinker. He knew he had to continue to advance while her guard was down.

Eve just blinked. Her father intended her to marry the nefarious Captain Hook? "I think I'll keep Adam," she replied sarcastically.

Bluebeard shook his head. "No, lass. Adam is a fine fellow for an impoverished impersonator, but I want a real pirate for a son-in-law. See, it's just like I always told you, lassie: every cloud has a silver lining—and if one doesn't, you just steal it."

"Never. I'll never, ever marry Captain Hook!" Giving her father one last baleful look, she turned sharply on her heel, shoved her way through a dirty dozen or two, and stalked back to where Teeter had just ordered his third ale.

Grabbing the mug from him, she downed the strong brew in less than a minute, without choking once—an advantage of having lived on a pirate ship.

So, her father wanted her married to Hook, and by crook. But she wouldn't marry the heinous Hook, and she wouldn't sleep with Adam. She would be captain of her own destiny. Maybe not tonight or tomorrow, but soon. "Well, as soon as I can come up with a plan to upset the old pirate cart," she muttered to herself.

Teeter started to argue as his mistress drank the last few drops of his ale, but seeing her harried expression, he decided that his two previous mugs were quite enough for the time being. He would raid the wine cellar later—perhaps with Mrs. Fawlty, if she were in the mood for high romance.

Eve cursed and set down the mug. Her father had just trimmed her sails without a shot being fired. "Blast him and all men to smithereens!" she growled, shoving Teeter out of the tavern and into the darkness of coming night. "Where's our bloody carriage?" she asked sourly. Twisting the pearls around her throat, she realized that in her anger she had forgotten her father's cardinal rule: "Early to rise and early to strike makes a pirate healthy, wealthy and wise," she repeated. Well, it didn't rhyme but it was true. Her father had struck swift and early, his aim deadly accurate, and now she was trapped in a pretend marriage.

The horse-drawn carriage took both Eve and Teeter back to the Towers after her unpleasant visit with her father. Any other night Eve might have taken a moment to appreciate the spaciously noble building and its lush location. As an inheritance, it was grand. The house had been set upon a slight hill, and had a fine view of a meadow and woodlands. Its lofty walls and soaring spires had been raised when Elizabeth I was queen. Now the walls were dark gray with age and mellowed by centuries of weather, and covered in a variety of deep green ivy and flowering plants.

Walking inside the asylum, Eve found it more than odd that the place appeared deserted. Before she could become thoroughly worried, however, a loud disturbance outside caught her attention. Eve discovered as she opened the balcony doors that sounds of merriment grew louder. Perplexed, she stepped down the terraced steps to find a fairyland. Under the soft golden glow of the moon, and hundreds of colored Japanese lanterns, Eve watched her patients and servants mill about the yard with plates of food in their hands, or tap their feet to an orchestra.

"Why is there an orchestra here?" she asked. It was true that music soothed the savage beast, but it wasn't even a full moon yet.

Eve narrowed her eyes in disbelief as she took in the scene before her. Between tall Greek pillars crowned by heraldic beasts or Nosferatu or wereanimals, she spied curious faces laughing and frolicking. Everyone appeared in a rather boisterous and rowdy mood. It was a little after nine at night, and it seemed the madhouse had moved into Eve's garden. She didn't know whether to frown or smile. So often the insane were trapped in silent, ugly worlds, but tonight was certainly different—as evidenced by the chaotic sounds of laughter and mayhem.

"What on earth is going on?" she asked as Teeter came to stand beside her. Glancing up at his homely face, she could tell from his expression that he was as clueless as she. "Who ever heard of a nighttime picnic for the insane? Who ever heard of any picnic for the insane? Who ever thought up this particular folly should have
their
head examined!" She hoped her paranormal patients didn't decide to eat the servants.

Teeter volunteered a comment nervously. "Madam, the lunatics might escape into the night. If they do, they'll turn London upside down with their strange behavior. What will we do?"

Eve's face clouded as she assessed the situation. So far, everyone appeared to be in fine form, behaving themselves. Did she dare break it up and become the bad guy? No. "I guess we wait and see. And, speaking of duties, I see Hugo." She pointed to the bellicose bell-ringing dwarf. His face was cast mainly in shadow, but she could see his weak chin and the slash of his mouth.

"But we weren't speaking of duties," Teeter complained.

Eve almost smiled and let him off, but a punishment was a punishment, else a ship would go to rack and ruin and a madhouse would be run by its inmates. "Come now, Teeter, it's not so bad. Hugo is playing quietly with his marbles. And see? Sir Loring is watching as well," Eve cajoled. "With avid interest," she added. Upon closer inspection, she had noted that it was not Hugo's marbles that had mesmerized Sir Loring, but rather the dwarf's fat little neck. "Go and tend Hugo now. And see that Sir Loring is fed immediately."