Lady Pirate (17 page)

“Your hair is like fire.”

“Your beauty is incomparable.”

“Your lips are like little rosebuds.”

“You are as sweet as honey.”

“Oh, your voice is music itself.”

Valoree sighed inwardly and tapped her hand im
patiently against her side as compliment after compliment was bestowed by the men crowding around her. It was all a bunch of bunk, of course. Her face was red and blistered, her eyes bloodshot, and her hair was lying flat and unfancy upon her back because she had refused to wear her damn wig. She had left it in Thurborne's garden, anyway. In short, she looked like hell. And she knew she looked like hell. Nor was she terribly impressed with all the flowery phrases with which suitors were showering her.

It seemed her plan had worked too well. The salon was filling up by the moment with hopeful would-be husbands. It was nice to have a choice, but really, how was she to choose one from this mob?

A firm grasp on her arm made her glance around to see Daniel.

“Good morning,” he mouthed with a wink, then turned and started away, dragging her firmly behind him. Her crowd of gentleman callers immediately began to follow, their silly compliments undiminished as they trailed her to the door of the salon. Stepping into the hall, Daniel pulled her out, then slammed the door in their faces.

“Good day,” he murmured, smiling pleasantly as he turned to face her, leaning his weight determinedly against the door and holding the knob firmly. He dug a bedraggled and knotted wig from his pocket with his other hand. “You left this behind last night.”

Valoree couldn't help it; she burst out laughing as she took the wig, then shook her head and sighed. “Good day to you, too. Thank you for getting me out of there.”

“Yes. It seems your plan worked.”

“Too well,” she admitted sardonically as the door rattled with the combined force of those who sought to open it.

“Well,” he continued cheerfully, “I could rid you of
this problem should you but reconsider marrying me.”

Valoree smiled slightly at his words, but shook her head. “I never reconsider a decision. That would make me wishy-washy. Once a decision has been reached, good or bad, it stands.”

“That sounds incredibly foolish.”

Valoree shrugged, vaguely annoyed but unswayed. She had spent most of her life on a ship, and the last five years as its captain. She wasn't going to allow one man's opinion to change her way of doing things.

“What if there was some bit of information that you did not know before you made your decision?” he suggested. “Surely, should you learn something new, and of import, you would reconsider—”

“That's not reconsidering; that is a new consideration entirely,” she told him calmly.

“But that's the same thing!”

“What is two plus two, my lord?”

He blinked at the non sequitur. “Four, but—”

“And what is two plus two take away one?”

“That would be three, but—”

“Exactly. You see. Two separate mathematical problems. With two different answers, despite both having a similar portion.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment; then admiration slowly began to shift over his face. “Why, you clever little witch. I believe you could twist some intellectuals into knots with your thoughts. Are you always so logical?”

Valoree blinked at the question. No one had ever called her logical before. A knock at the front door saved her from having to come up with an answer. Turning, she watched as Bull moved toward the door, positive it would be more damn suitors like those they had trapped in the salon.

“Oh, my!” a female voice cried out in surprise, but
Bull blocked Valoree's view of who it was. “Oh, hello, um…I am here to see Lady—”

“Mother!”

Valoree blinked at Daniel's irritated voice, then left him alone to guard the salon door—which no longer shook, the suitors apparently resigned to wait in peace. She moved curiously to Bull's side to see that it was indeed Lady Thurborne.

“Oh, Lady Ainsley,” Daniel's mother exclaimed with relief as Valoree moved into view. “For a moment, I feared I had the wrong town house. Daniel just waved down the street. He did not point out exactly which one it was and—Oh, hello, Daniel,” she said, easing cautiously past Bull and into the entry.

Her son did not look impressed, Valoree noted with amusement, taking in his expression. “What are you doing here, Mother?” he asked.

“Oh, well, I thought mayhap I could help.”

“Help?” Valoree asked with amazement. Surely his mother had not come to plead his case as to why she should marry her son?

“Yes, dear.” Lady Thurbone whirled toward her, smiling brightly. “Daniel mentioned that he had stopped at the apothecary's to collect some salve for your poor face because you had reacted to—Oh, my!” she interrupted herself in horror. Bull had swung the door wider for a nervous young maid to scamper inside and sunlight spilled over Valoree, illuminating her ravaged face.

“Oh, you poor, dear thing, you!” she cried, hurrying forward to catch Valoree's face gently in her hands, turning it this way and that to examine the blistered skin. “Oh, Daniel. You did not tell me it was so bad! That nonsense you got from the apothecary will be useless.”

Then she turned to scowl at her son. “Did you know about this last night?” she asked sharply, and read the answer in his expression. “Well, you should have told
me about this. She needs Grandmama's remedy for certain.” Sighing, she turned back to stare at Valoree one more time, then released Valoree's face and shook her head. “It is a good thing I stopped by to see what was about. Now, where is your kitchen?”

“Kitchen?” Valoree repeated blankly. Her mind was still taken with the fact that Daniel had stopped at an apothecary's to pick up some salve for her “poor face.” For some reason, that fact made her feel all warm and squishy inside. It was a feeling she wasn't sure she liked, but was far better than the irritation all the false compliments her suitors had been raining on her had caused.

“Yes, dear. Bessy will need to mix up Grandmama's remedy.” She frowned now. “I wish I had known about this sooner. I would have brought the ingredients, but hopefully your cook will have them on hand. Where is the kitchen?”

“Uh…well…” Valoree glanced uncertainly down the hall. Petey hated anyone in his kitchen. At sea or on land, it was the one thing on which he tended to stand firm. No one was to mess about in his galley. Not even her.

“This way, is it?” Lady Thurborne asked, moving determinedly in the direction Valoree had involuntarily glanced. “Come along, Bessy,” she said to her maid. “There is no time to waste.”

“Damn,” Valoree said under her breath as the woman sailed down the hall and through the kitchen door.

“You might like to call your aunt in on this one,” Daniel suggested with a repressed smile, and Valoree glanced to where he still stood with his back to the salon door.

“My aunt?”

“Aye,” he said with something that seemed oddly like sympathy. “And your uncle, too. My mother will
march right over you if you do not have plenty of support.”

Valoree blinked in amazement at the claim, then shook her head. She was the captain of a pirate ship! The day she could not handle one little old lady…Her thoughts died as a clatter in the kitchen was followed by some vigorous cursing. Frowning, she started up the hall, but paused halfway there when Lady Thurborne stuck her head out. The woman gave a brilliant smile.

“I found your cook,” she sang out cheerfully, not even wincing at a second round of oaths behind her. “He is the temperamental sort, I see. So is mine. All artists are. Not to worry though; we shall get along famously.”

Her head disappeared back into the kitchen, there was a great racket, and then there was complete silence. Valoree hesitated, unsure at that point whether she really wished to know what was going on. Daniel spoke from behind her. “Your aunt was not in there, was she?”

Valoree glanced over to see him nod toward the door he guarded, but shook her head. “Nay, she went up to her room.”

“Ah. Good, she will be well rested and in fighting form. Perhaps you should send someone up to get her.”

Valoree paused, then sighed and nodded to Bull. The giant left his post by the door and started up the stairs at once. “Find Henry, too,” she called after him, then walked toward the salon door Daniel was guarding. “I suppose I had best tend to my suitors while I am at it.”

“Is that what you call them?” Daniel asked a bit peevishly, straightening away from the door. “I would have thought greedy gold-diggers to be a better description.”

“Oh, sod off, Thurborne,” she muttered. With that, she reached for the doorknob and tugged the door open.

“Marry me and you can simply tell them all to just go away.”

Valoree grimaced at the words Daniel whispered in her ear and sighed. She supposed he had been encouraged by her pause at opening the door. It wasn't that she didn't know what to do. It was that she couldn't believe how many men had responded to the gossip. There were at least thirty of them, and of all ages, shapes, and sizes. If she had realized how easy getting them to her door would be, she never would have bothered with all the nonsense of dresses and makeup and socials. She simply would have sent Henry and Meg to have a chat with the appropriate parties, then sat back to await the arrival of every single male in London who wished to marry money. But now they were here, and she had to weed through them and decide which was the weakest, and in the most desperate straits. She would marry him.

Ignoring Daniel, she straightened her shoulders and addressed the waiting mob of men. “Every single one of you is here today because you heard the rumors yesterday about my being wealthy and needing to marry to claim my childhood home, Ainsley Castle.”

She had barely finished making that statement when the men rumbled to life with denials. Oh, no they weren't there because she needed to marry! They were there to bask in her beauty. To wallow in her wit. To enjoy her intellect.

Valoree rolled her eyes. “You can stop your non
sense now,” she interrupted. “You can all see that I suffered a reaction to the foundation and fucus I wore to yesterday's ball. There
is
no beauty to bask in. And I am not feeling particularly witty today either. So if you aren't here with an interest in marrying me for my wealth, then you can leave now.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as the men peered anywhere but at her. Valoree supposed the sudden shifting and nervous silence were because the lords of the ton were not used to such open honesty in regards to motive. She supposed they all would have been more comfortable to play a game where she pretended they all were ensnared by her feminine wiles, and they pretended she found them the most interesting creatures alive. Well, pirates did not go in much for lies! Their motives were wealth and they made no bones about it. That was the society she'd learned to respect. She had neither the patience nor the intent to lie her way through several weeks of courting, smothered by smarmy compliments that weren't sincere.

Despite their discomfort, she noted, not a single man left the room. Valoree nodded her head solemnly, then said, “To inherit, my husband has to be a member of the nobility. If you are not such, you may as well leave now.”

There was a murmur of voices and a general shifting of bodies as first one man, then two others, made their way out of the crowd and moved past where she and Daniel stood by the door.

Well, she thought, three down and twenty-seven to go. “I must also have birthed a child, or be carrying one by my twenty-fifth birthday—which is a little less than nine months away,” she continued. There was dead silence in answer. Valoree frowned slightly. She had hoped at least another one or two men might be eliminated by that. They couldn't all be thrilled to bed her. Just as she would have opened her mouth to speak
again, Daniel startled her by interrupting.

“Lady Ainsley's uncle will, of course, have you all thoroughly investigated to discover whether you are truly members of the nobility…Also, that you have not suffered any injury or illness that might raise some doubt as to your ability to perform the necessary task of providing an heir,” he announced pleasantly. A sudden ripple of alarm wound through the group. Valoree watched in amazement as more than half her remaining suitors made a quick exodus.

“All of them could not be unable to produce heirs,” she murmured to Daniel in disbelief. He shook his head slightly.

“Nay. Doubtless some of them were not really nobility, but had hoped to be able to convince you they were long enough to trick you into marriage. Then, too, some of them may have skeletons in their closets that they do not wish uncovered by your uncle's ‘investigations.'”

Valoree nodded. That made sense. Not that she had a problem with skeletons in one's closet. She had seventy-five of her own, every one of them alive and breathing and eager to see her bound in marriage. Resigned, she eyed the twelve men left to choose from. Then, sensing a presence behind her, she glanced over her shoulder to see Henry standing there, his eyebrows raised as the dozen men left.

“Bull said you were wantin' me,” he explained, then gestured to the room at large. “What happened to the rest of 'em?”

“We weeded out the ones who weren't nobles, or able to father an heir,” Valoree answered, perusing the suitors that were left. As she turned back, she thought she saw an odd glint in her quartermaster's eye, but he was peering at Daniel.

“What are ye going to do with the rest of 'em?” Thurborne asked.

Valoree was silent for a moment, then turned to glance at him, a slight grimace on her face. “I suppose I shall have to spend some time with each to see which one would suit best.”

“Or you could save yourself the trouble and marry me,” Daniel put in. Valoree saw Henry regard the man again, and she quickly moved to squash that notion.

“I already know you would not suit. She turned to Henry. “Take them all to the dining room. Schedule visits with each of them so that I can see what they are about, Henry. If we work this right, we could be out of this stinking town by week's end.”

Nodding, her right-hand man faced the men. “All right. We're moving into the dining room now. I'll get ye names and schedule each of ye with an appointment to return, then ye can leave. Follow me.”

Valoree and Daniel stood aside as the crowd vacated her salon, each man pausing to give her smarmy smile, and kiss her hand with varying degrees of a passion. Each assured her they could not wait for their visitation. Shaking her head as she watched the last man troop out the door, Valoree released a breath with what she told herself was satisfaction. There was not a single real man among the bunch. This endeavor to find an easily subdued mate should be quickly successful. The feat she had thought impossible was suddenly beginning to look simple.

“Alone at last,” Daniel murmured, pressing a kiss to her neck that made her jump in surprise and wheel on him.

“That'll be enough o' that, it will,” she snapped, quashing the shivers the brief caress had sent through her. There was a time for business and a time for fun after all—and she was still on business time.

“Your language is slipping,” he said with a wicked smile, insinuating his arms around her waist and pull
ing her stiff body against his own. “I notice it tends to turn into something resembling the speech of a dockside doxy when you get excited.” His hands slid down her back to clasp her bottom and urge her tighter against him so that their lower bodies were molded together. “Oddly enough, I find that excites me. Can you tell how much?”

“You—”

“Daniel!”

Releasing Valoree at once, Thurborne leaped guiltily away at his mother's scandalized roar from the doorway, then caught himself. Scowling at her, he quickly affected a slightly wry smile. “Done playing in the kitchen, Mother?”

Before she could respond, Meg appeared behind her. “Why, Lady Thurborne! What a pleasant surprise. Zachariah said we had company, but did not mention who it was.”

Valoree was puzzling over the name Zachariah when she caught a glimpse of Bull moving across the hall, his face contorted with mingled embarrassment and displeasure.
Zachariah?
She hadn't even known that that was his real name.
God's teeth!
It was no wonder he preferred to be called Bull.

“Do come in and sit down.” Meg urged Daniel's mother and her maid into the room and toward the chairs and settee. “Valoree, dear, will you ask one of the men to have Peter bring us some refreshments? Tea, and perhaps some biscuits or scones,” she added pointedly.

Just in case I thought rum and a side of beef would do, Valoree supposed with vague amusement, turning to walk out into the hall. When she did, she noticed Bull was missing from his spot by the door. She supposed he was down in the dining salon with Henry, sizing up her suitors. No doubt all the men were. It affected them, after all. No doubt the bloody bastards
thought they could vote on which one she married, too. Well, let them. She didn't care what they did at this point. In fact, she didn't really much care which she married. Although, had her life been a normal one, and her needs not so specific, she had to admit that Thurborne would have been an interesting option. He reminded her very much of her dearly departed brother, at least in his determination and strength. Aye, she liked Thurborne.

But she had been in charge of her crew for too long to give up her power to another and play the submissive, dutiful wife. Not that she even could have if she had wanted to. She had no skills in that area—didn't know the first thing about it, and didn't want to. Being a lady and wife seemed incredibly boring next to her years of adventure on the high seas.

“Ah, Lady Ainsley.”

Drawn from her thoughts, Valoree looked blankly at the fellow she had nearly walked into, recognizing him as one of her suitors. He was a hard one to forget. The man's name was Alcock, which was fitting since he dressed like a peacock. He was also short with a scrawny little neck and shoulders, and a rather wide rump. A most unfortunate physique, she decided as he drew her hand into his and lifted it to press tiny butterfly kisses across her knuckles.

With his lips still pressed to her hand, he peered up at her in what she considered a rheumy manner. “Truly you are as lovely as a fresh summer day. How it pains me to say
adieu
.”

“Aye. Me, too,” Valoree lied, snatching her hand back. Then, using it to catch his elbow, she propelled him firmly toward the door. “Now watch your step on the way out,” she sang out with feigned good cheer. Pulling the door open, she gave him a shove that sent him stumbling out into the street, and she closed the door behind him with a snap.

“Lovely as a fresh summer day indeed,” she muttered with a scowl, fully aware she looked anything but lovely. Unless one liked rashes…

“Henry!” she yelled, starting up the hall, then paused when the door to the dining salon opened. Henry's head popped out. “Cross Alcock off the list. He's too damn prissy for my liking. And have Petey fetch some refreshments; we have company.”

Henry's gaze shot around the entry questioningly and Valoree sighed. “Lady Thurborne has joined her son in the salon.”

Nodding, Henry turned back to the room, addressing someone. A moment later One-Eye slid out and moved into the kitchen to pass her message on to Petey.

Leaving them to it, Valoree returned to the salon in time to hear Meg saying in a pained voice, “I fear her uncle was not very strict with her over the years. He had no idea what to do with the poor girl, and it has been up to me to try to instill a lifetime's lessons in manners in a very short period. She is coming along nicely, of course, but still occasionally forgets some little thing. Such as that ladies never raise their voices,” she added, turning to eye her “niece” with some annoyance.

“She is doing fine.”

Valoree's answering glare at Meg faded abruptly, replaced with amazement as Lady Thurborne championed her. “She is a lovely girl, and with perfectly lovely manners. I must confess that I myself sometimes forget and call out to, or for, my servants more loudly than is thought proper.”

Meg smiled doubtfully at that, but Valoree chose to ignore her. Lady Thurborne continued, “Daniel mentioned to me that Lady Valoree had suffered a reaction to her makeup last evening, so I thought I would come over and see if there was not something I could do.”

“Oh, that was very kind of you,” Meg answered,
tsk-tsk
ing as she peered at Valoree's ravaged face. “I fear we have just not had much luck with cosmetics on the girl. Last night was the second foundation we have tried since arriving, and the second time we have had problems. I fear she just is not suited to such concoctions.”

“Well, it certainly does not seem to have affected her popularity any,” Lady Thurborne said brightly.

“Yes, well,” Daniel piped up, “it appears Lady Valoree is in much the same boat as myself. She must marry to gain her inheritance.
Someone
let that slip, and it has made the gossip mill. Every second son and down-on-his-luck lord in London showed up here today.”

“Oh!” Lady Thurborne's eyes widened slightly; then she confided, “Well, I
had
heard something about that. About the will, I mean. Actually, I am surprised that you are not married already, dear. Surely there were some marriageable men on that island you grew up on? Which island was it?”

Meg sidestepped the question for her. “As to meeting marriageable men, I fear Henry, Valoree's uncle, was not very interested in society. It was not until we married that Henry understood the importance of society and a coming-out and marriage. Hence the reason Valoree is coming out at such an advanced age.”

Valoree's head whipped around at the “advanced age” comment, a scowl darkening her expression. She wasn't
that
old.

“How old are you, dear?” Lady Thurborne asked with curiosity. Valoree hesitated, then answered reluctantly.

“Four and twenty.”

“Oh, dear!”

Valoree grimaced at the woman's shock and dismay. She'd reacted as if she had said sixty.

“Aye.” Meg's expression was disconsolate, but Valoree swore she saw a spark of humor in her eyes. “Such a problem. And then there is the codicil to her father's will, which adds even more urgency to the issue of marriage.”

“I heard about that, too,” Lady Thurborne confided. “I was told that to inherit, she has to be married and have a babe—or at least be with child—by her next birthday. When is that, dear?”