Lady Pirate (23 page)

“Yes, dear?”

“I was about to speak of something important with Lord Beecham.”

“Were you, dear?” she murmured, then brightened as the door to the salon opened and Petey entered, carrying a tray. Henry was hard on his heels. “Oh, look. Here is the tea!”

Sighing, Valoree sat back in her seat impatiently and crossed her arms. They could delay all they liked, but she
would
marry Beecham. She watched with grim displeasure as the two men walked to her side. Pausing there, Petey held the tray silently as Henry lifted a cup of tea and offered it to her.

Giving him a you-are-pushing-your-luck-mightily stare, she reached impatiently for the cup. But her pesky crew did not move on then; they stood waiting. Valoree arched her eyebrows irritably. “What?”

“Ye have to try it,” Henry announced, adding when Valoree began to frown, “Petey's afraid he may have made it too strong.”

Rolling her eyes, Valoree lifted the cup to her mouth and took a curious sip, nearly spitting it out in surprise. There was heated spiced rum in the cup.

“Something wrong?” Henry asked innocently, giving her a wink when she glanced up at him. Valoree shook her head, her shoulders relaxing.

“'Tis perfect,” she said quietly, knowing that this was Henry's way of saying he was sorry. From the time that she had boarded the
Valor
at the age of eleven, any time she was feeling sick or just plain unhappy, Henry had always brought her some heated,
spiced rum. Of course, Jeremy had not known that. At least, she didn't think he had known. But just the taste of the warm drink on her tongue made her soften toward him affectionately. As unlikely as it seemed, this crusty old pirate had been the equivalent of nanny, friend, and tutor to Valoree from the moment she had become Valerian. And he still was her friend, confidant, and even tutor in some ways. Especially when she was reacting in anger rather than using her head; then he always settled her down and helped her to see what she was doing.

“Drink up. Tea's good for what ails ye, and there's plenty of it,” Henry said cheerfully as he moved around her chair toward the settee, Petey following.

Smiling slightly, Valoree took another drink, enjoying the spiced flavor and the warm, fuzzy feeling it gave her as it went down.

“Thank you, Henry,” Meg murmured, accepting her own cup as Henry took it from the tray and carefully handed it to her. Lifting it to her lips, she took a sip and smiled as she swallowed it. “Oh, my. It is good, is it not?” she asked, smiling at Valoree, who grinned back, nodding as she took another swallow.

Valoree knew darned well that Meg's cup would not have rum in it. Despite the way she had tried to fool them all at first that she was a drunk, she didn't drink much at all. Her cup would hold tea and nothing else. Of that she was sure, and the thought of the trick that she and Henry were putting over on them struck her suddenly as quite funny, making her chuckle aloud.

Henry and Petey paused on the way to Beecham to turn to glance at her with amusement. Meg lifted one querying eyebrow. “Something funny, dear?”

Valoree shook her head. “Jusss thinking,” she murmured, frowning when she heard the slur of her own voice.

“Oh, well, drink up,” Meg murmured. Valoree nod
ded, dutifully swallowing another gulp, then leaning back in her seat with a sigh as she watched Henry continue toward Beecham. She was suddenly quite tired. She supposed it was the lack of sleep last night, when she and Henry had sat up playing cards and guarding against another “accident.” She hadn't really lost much sleep, though, just a couple of hours; then One-Eye and Bull had taken over for them. Or had it been Petey and Skully? Mayhap it had been Skully and One-Eye, or Petey and Bully—
Oops, Bull
. She chuckled again, and Henry paused in the process of lifting Beecham's teacup off the tray.

“All done? Shall I fetch you more?” he asked pleasantly.

“Oh, aye.” Swallowing the last of her drink, she held the cup out, laughing again as it teetered and swayed before her.

An exclamation drew her gaze to Beecham to see the teacup Henry had been holding tumbling out of his hand and down toward the nobleman. It seemed to Valoree to fall in slow motion. She saw it turn upside down as it went, the liquid spilling down to hit the man on the shoulder, splashing down the front of his waistcoat even as the cup finally caught up, bouncing off his shoulder and smashing to the ground in a thousand pieces.

Falling back into her seat, Valoree began to laugh uproariously as she let the cup she held drop to the floor. It was all too funny—especially their expressions. Beecham was jumping up with alarm, his eyes wide as those of a fish. Meg was looking horribly apologetic and leaping and jumping around like a frog as she wrung her hands. Henry was doing his best to mop up the mess up with Petey's help as they urged Beecham toward the salon door. Oh, it was hysterical!

 

“Really, this is awful, I am so sorry. Please forgive us,” Meg murmured worried and repeatedly even as Henry closed the door behind the departing man, then leaned weakly against the wall beside it. She sighed miserably. “I wish there had been another way.”

“Well, there wasn't, so it's no good fretting over it,” Henry assured her quietly, then reached out to pat her shoulder awkwardly as Petey hurried back into the salon to check on Valoree. “Does he know ye're his mother?”

Meg froze at that, her eyes going wide. “I—He is not—”

“He's yer son,” Henry said firmly and dryly. “And there's no doubting it. Your sister may look quite a bit like you, but she hasn't got those lovely blue-as-the-sky eyes with the gold flecks. I doubt anyone does.”

“
You
could tell Lady Beecham was my sister, too?” she asked in alarm. “Dear Lord, what if everyone—”

“Everyone hasn't figured it out,” Henry reassured her quickly. “Valoree has a good eye. She recognized ye were sisters, then talked to ye about it. Afterward she told me. I don't think even she has figured out that Beecham's yer son, though. The only eyes she's been looking into lately is Thurborne's.”

“Aye.” Meg sighed. “I do not understand why she is so set against marrying him. He is perfect for her. My John…” she paused, flushing slightly, then continued, “Well, John is a nice young man, but he is no match for her.”

“Not yet,” Henry agreed quietly. “But he'll become stronger. He is still quite young. He needs a little seasoning, is all—seasoning he never would have got had he married Valoree. She'd have stepped on him and kept him there under her foot until his spirit died.”

“She's asleep.”

They both turned to glance at Petey as he came out into the hall to make that announcement.

“Good. The potion worked,” Henry murmured wearily.

“Aye,” Petey agreed quietly. “But she ain't gonna like it much when she wakes up and figures out what we did.”

“It's for her own good,” Henry said defensively. “We're trying to save her from making a mistake she'd regret the rest of her life.” Turning, he peered down the hallway toward the kitchens. “One-Eye! Skully! Bull!”

The three men came out of the kitchens on the double, a question in their eyes. But only One-Eye asked what they were all wondering. “Is it done? Did it work?”

“Aye. Bull, go fetch her out to the carriage. Skully, help Meg bundle up some of those fine dresses for us to take with us.”

“What do you want us to do?” One-Eye asked, moving up beside Petey as the other two men and Meg moved off to do what he had asked of them.

“We need to move the chests out and make sure everything is locked up tight. Who knows how long it will take ere we convince those two they are meant for each other?” Henry paused, clicking his tongue in irritation. “And I'd best send a message to Beecham, tell him we're off to the country for a bit. This town house is paid up for another five months and he might wonder if we just disappear.”

“What about Thurborne?” Pete asked as Bull carried an unconscious Valoree out of the salon.

“We'll collect him after we get the captain back to the ship,” Henry announced, reaching to open the door for Bull, only to freeze when a knock sounded on the other side. Bull immediately changed direction, turning away from the door and continuing across the entry and on into the library with Valoree. Henry grabbed
Petey's arm and pulled him out of sight on the other side of the door, then gestured for One-Eye to open it.

 

Daniel rapped his cane on the door, then set it on the ground and turned to peer idly up the road as he waited for it to be answered. He was running a bit late. He had hoped to have all his questions answered and to have gotten here by noon, but the answers he had received to his questions had not been satisfactory. He had wasted the whole morning and a good portion of the afternoon finding out nothing. So much for his hopes of being able to sort out the mess that seemed to be swirling around Valoree. And it seemed to him to be a rather huge one.

First, there was the matter of Back-from-the-Dead Red. The king had finally heard that Lady Ainsley was in London in search of a husband. He was demanding answers now regarding her brother's demise, or lack thereof. Daniel had rather hoped the man wouldn't find out for a bit longer. At least until Daniel had gotten her to trust him and give up her stubborn resistance to marrying him. He knew if he didn't get her to agree before she found out about his past, she probably wouldn't trust him enough afterward.

Daniel grimaced at himself and the spot he was in. He had never before been interested enough in any woman to do more than offer her a quick roll in the linens—or possibly two. Yet here was a woman who wanted that roll and nothing else, and he was the one who wanted more. Hell, he wanted it all. She was unlike any woman he had ever met. She was strong, intelligent, decisive. He respected her. He also wanted her with an ache that was beyond anything he had before experienced. The last two weeks had been hell. He had thought that was so damn clever when he had decided that he would use her desire for him to crumble her defenses and convince her to marry him. If he
had realized the agony of torture he would be causing himself…Well, hell, he still would have gone ahead with the plan. He was even beginning to think it might be working. Or perhaps he was just fooling himself, he thought wryly, and sighed.

This woman was a magnet for trouble, though. First there was the king and his desire to solve this Back-from-the-Dead Red business; then there were the rash of accidents around her. They had decided at the time that she was knocked out that she had probably walked in on and surprised someone out to rob her. And he probably would have been satisfied with that if it were not for the carriage accident. That had bothered him a great deal. And the description her men had given of how it had occurred was positively worrisome. From what was said, it had almost sounded as though the crash was deliberate. Daniel had been doubtful enough of its being an accident, and he had decided to look into it.

But Valoree's “servants” had beaten him to it, already talking to everyone he had thought to ask—from the various household help of each place on the street where the accident had taken place, to the owner of the wagon itself. They had all mentioned that a fellow with a patch over his eye, and a mate of his who was as big as a mountain and dark as death, had been by to ask the same questions. Daniel had at once recognized the descriptions as fitting two of Valoree's rather disreputable manservants. He had also learned from the owner of the wagon that the fellow with the patch on his eye had mentioned a fire at the town house late last night.

It had all only left Daniel more convinced than ever that there was something going on, but he hadn't a clue exactly what or why—just that Valoree was as much a magnet to trouble as she was a magnet to him. And that he had best resolve all this soon, before some
one got killed—or he died from unsatisfied desire. He just had to convince her to marry him; then he could lay his cards on the table, tell her all, and together they could work out everything. So today he was determined to get her to agree to marry him—even if he had to blackmail her with his knowledge that she was Back-from-the-Dead-Red to do it.

The opening of the door drew Daniel from his thoughts, and he turned to find the servant Valoree called One-Eye peering out at him. The man's one good eye widened incredulously at the sight of him; then he slammed the door in his face. Astonished, Daniel could hear excited chatter from the other side of the door. Unfortunately, the wood muffled it enough that he couldn't tell what was being said.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he rapped firmly on the door again. It opened almost at once this time, and Daniel arched one eyebrow with incredulity. “Lord Thurborne to see—”

“I'm not daft; I know who ye are,” the man muttered in disgust. “I'll see if she's in.”

The door slammed in his face again.

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Daniel sighed and prepared to wait. It seemed they were playing a new game. Hard to get, perhaps? Or let-the-randy-bastard-wait-on-the-doorstep-until-I'm-ready-to-granthim-an-audience?

The door opened again, all the way this time, and One-Eye gestured for him to enter, then peered out at the street as he did. “Is that yer carriage?”

Daniel glanced out and nodded. “Aye.”

“Hmmm.” He didn't look pleased at the news. Frowning, he pushed the door closed, then motioned toward the door to the salon. “Well, go on in. She'll be along directly.”

Shaking his head, Daniel turned and walked into the salon. He considered making himself a drink, then de
cided to wait until Valoree arrived. He had barely come to rest in a chair, when her Uncle Henry entered, followed by a man he recognized as the cook.

“Good day, Lord Thurborne. How are you?” Henry asked cheerfully. He didn't wait for an answer, but announced, “Valoree will be along in a moment, but she asked me to see to yer comfort and offer you a refreshment, so Pete mixed up a couple of special warmed spiced rums for us.”