Lady Pirate (34 page)

“How would you know? You never tried to talk to him!” Blanche snapped back with resentment. “I would have cornered him, forced him to tell me why he was treating me so shabbily after our night together.”

Meg sank back onto her crate looking uncertain as Blanche continued. “Instead, you avoided him—not going to any of the same parties, leaving if he showed up at any you attended.”

“It hurt to see him. I was so ashamed.”

“Well, perhaps if you had used some courage instead of slinking away like a naughty puppy, things would have turned out differently. After the first couple of weeks, he stopped trying to avoid you. He was
actually stalking you from ball to ball. I suspect he would have accepted any lie you chose to tell him, simply to keep you near him; he loved you that much. But you ran.”

Meg bit her lips, tears rushing from her eyes in rivulets.

“Then you realized you were with child. I was afraid you would go to him out of desperation and tell him. I knew he would marry you then. Even if he believed the child was not his, he would have married you. So I said I would go tell him. But I didn't. I didn't say anything to him. I returned home that night, lied to you, and convinced you to take yourself off to the country to have the child in seclusion. Once you were gone, I told him and everyone else that you had run off to elope with a stable lad. And they believed it. Then I waited for my opportunity. As I had expected, he began to drink heavily. One night he got quite drunk and I was there, insisting on seeing him home. Of course, once there, I wouldn't leave until I was sure he was all right.

“I had thought that he would turn to me for comfort. He would make love to me, and I would have him.” She gave a harsh laugh. “But I nearly had to rape him. It was nothing as you described. It was quick, rough, and sloppy, and he kept calling your name. He passed out on top of me. I waited till near dawn to be sure that his servant would see me leave—in a panic, of course—so that he could report it to his master lest he was so drunk he would not recall that he had taken my innocence. Then I waited. I expected him to do the chivalrous thing and propose to me. The next time I saw him, however, he was uncomfortable and as apologetic as could be, but he did not propose. I was furious, but played sweet and waited.

“I had hoped that our one time would get me with child, as it had with you, but once again I was disap
pointed. So again I lied. I told him I was with child from our night. At last, he did the honorable thing. We were married a week later. On our wedding night, he walked me to my door, kissed me in a fatherly fashion on the forehead, then walked off to his own room, not to bother me again. Foolishly, at the time I was relieved, for I had been agonizing over how I would explain that my body had not changed. The next morning at breakfast I began my great plan to fool the ton. I would remove myself to the country during the remainder of my pregnancy, have the child there, and not return for nine months at least so that no one should suspect that we had married due to my pregnancy. He said that was fine, even saw me off. Then I came to see you.

“He never asked me where I was going or how he could contact me, and I told myself that was grand, because then I would not need lie or fear his finding me with you. I was a fool, deluding myself. The fact was, he didn't care about anything anymore, really. Except making money for the future generations of Beechams.”

Sighing, Lady Beecham peered at her sister. “Of course, you realize now that your child did not die. I had him taken to a nearby inn with a servant until I could persuade you to leave on a boat. I remained at the cottage until eight months had passed since my arrival; then returned triumphantly with your child. I was positive that presenting John with an heir would seal our relationship. That he would be grateful and learn to care for me. What I had not expected was his complete indifference.

“He barely even looked at the baby, nor myself, really, when we returned. He did not come to my bed again. Did not even speak to his own son as he grew. And I realized what a huge mistake I had made. My
life with him was as cold and barren as a fallow field in winter.”

“Poor you.”

Meg gave a start at Valoree's words and glanced at her in surprise, as did Lady Beecham. Valoree took in their identical expressions with disgust. “Surely you are not falling for this sad tale and feeling sorry for her?” she said in a snarl. “She ruined your life. She stole the man who loved you, your only child, and your very life! You should have ended up here, happily married and raising a passel of Beechams. Instead you ended up married to a drunk in the islands. And it's all her fault.”

“Nay. It is not.” Meg said quietly. Valoree gaped at her. “She is right: I did not fight for him, and I should have. Instead I ran away like a coward. And it is not her fault I married Gilchrist. That was entirely my own decision. I made my own decisions, made a mess of my own life.”

“But if she had not—”

“Yes, she lied. She told several whopping lies. And I never took the time to rectify or even check on them. I let pride lead me, and fell hard.”

“But—”

“I should have gone to John that first day he cut me, demanded to know what that was about. I might have been insulted, or even hurt, but I was hurt already, and at least things would then have been cleared up. But I did not have the confidence in myself, or him, to do it. And not having that confidence, I should never have made love to him.”

“Fine,” Valoree snapped impatiently. “You made your own decisions and are willing to forgive her for messing the relationship up between the two of you. But she's been trying to kill you since you came to London! Are you going to take the blame for that as well?”

“I have not been trying to kill her.”

Both Meg and Valoree looked over doubtfully at that, but it was Valoree who spoke. “Let me guess. You weren't really trying to kill her; you were simply baiting traps. If she fell into one of them, it was her own fault for not being more careful?”

A flicker of impatience crossed Blanche's face at that. “I did not bait traps, either. It was John.”

“John?” Meg gasped in dismay. “My own son wishes me dead?”

“I am afraid so.”

“Does he not realize that she is his mother?” Valoree demanded.

“I explained everything to him the day I spotted you in the dressmaker's. I feared you would approach him and tell him anyway, so I did it first.”

“If he knows she is his mother, why would he want her dead?”

Blanche grimaced. “I fear it is precisely because she
is
his mother that he wishes her dead.” When both of the women facing her merely stared at her blankly, Lady Beecham explained, “He fears that if it comes out that he is not my son, but Meg's, he will lose his title and everything that goes with it.”

“Because you were married to Beecham and his true mother was not?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, surely that is not really that big a deal? No matter the mother, he is still Beecham's only son. No one would contest his inheritance.”

“I fear he is not willing to take the chance.”

“I can see you did a fine job of raising him,” Valoree said sarcastically.

“It is difficult to raise a child properly when the father makes it obvious that he does not give a damn about either of you.”

Valoree grimaced, seeing some truth in her words,
but changed the subject. “So you intend to simply stand by and let him kill us?”

“Nay, of course not. I slipped down here to set you free.”

“What! Well, why the devil didn't ye say so?” Valoree rolled her eyes. “Never mind, I don't want to hear it. But I shall give you a tip, Lady Beecham.” She moved quickly to the door, Meg on her heels. “When in times of peril, 'tis usually best to leave the explanations until all parties are safely away. Or at least to explain on the way to safety. We could have been halfway to Spain by—” She paused abruptly as she reached Lady Beecham, her gaze narrowing on the man who suddenly appeared behind her.

Catching her expression, Blanche Beecham glanced over her shoulder, her eyes widening in alarm. “John,” she said nervously. “I thought you had gone to your club.”

“I stopped at the old town house on the way to ask Lady Ainsley's aunt and uncle how long they had determined to stay. I had a prospective renter to take their place. I found Thurborne there, examining a man who had apparently broken his neck and died in a fall down the stairs. When I recognized him as that wastrel servant of yours, Addams, I returned home.”

“Oh.” Her hand fluttered down toward her bag nervously, then suddenly dug inside and came out holding a pistol. “Get out of the way, John.”

“Blanche?” Meg said uncertainly. “What?”

“Oh, do shut up, Margaret,” Blanche snapped impatiently. “I am sick unto death of your whining and sniveling. If only you had died in Port Royale as I had hoped and prayed all this time, none of this would be happening.”

Valoree threw her hands up in disgust. “Let me guess: everything you just said was a lie. You
are
the one after all, and John is innocent.”

“Not quite,” she said grimly. “I told the truth about what happened in the past.”

“Well, bully for you,” Valoree answered.

“How could you do that to my father?”

“You shut up too, John. I had her convinced that you were behind the attacks and that it was all her fault. Given a few more moments, I would have had them both convinced to keep quiet about it all and simply to slink back to the islands.”

“I do not slink,” Valoree protested, and Lady Beecham made a face.

“Nay, but you would have kept your mouth shut for Margaret's sake.”

Valoree shrugged, because she probably would have. After all, it hardly benefited her to have Meg's true identity exposed. There would be questions then about where she had been all her life and with whom.

Lady Beecham turned back to John. “You see? If you hadn't interfered, this would all have gone well. But nay. You had to interfere. Like mother, like son,” she said with a sneer.

“But why did you want me to believe all those horrible things about John?” Meg asked in confusion, and Blanche turned on her in fury.

“Because you would not die, damn you! Time after time Addams tried to kill you, and time after time you seemed to sail through the attempts. And now he is dead.”

“He was quite inept,” Valoree told her dryly. “I presume it was he who knocked me out in the kitchens?”

“Aye. He heard my sister say she would go see if the tea was coming and he crept off to the kitchen, but it was you who entered.”

“Hmmm.” Valoree nodded. “You should have gone down to the docks and hired someone from there to do your dirty work. No one down there would have muffed the job. I do not suppose you would care to
share the name of the fellow who knocked Meg and I over the head tonight?”

“Why on earth would I do that?” she asked irritably.

Valoree shrugged. “We might go easier on you when we decide how to deal with you.”

“Deal with me?” Lady Beecham peered at her with a sort of amused horror. “Who are you? Do you not see that I have a pistol? Do you
want
to be shot?”

Valoree grimaced at that, wishing she had remembered her blade. She was truly going soft, else she would have worn it. But it was so difficult to carry about now that she no longer wore boots. A movement drew her gaze past John Beecham to see Daniel walking grimly up the hall, Henry, One-Eye, Pete, and Bull at his heels. “Oh, hello, husband,” she greeted him cheerfully.

Lady Beecham swiveled her head in horror, and Meg's son promptly took the opportunity to snatch the gun from her hand.

“Very good,” Valoree murmured, impressed with the man's fast thinking and agile motion. Perhaps Henry was right: with a little seasoning, Beecham just might measure up to Daniel someday.

“Thank you,” Beecham murmured, flushing slightly at the praise, then turned the gun on the woman who had stolen him from his true mother. She started to sidle toward the door. “What do we do with her?”

They were all silent for a moment; then Valoree suggested, “Well, that depends. Who has control of the Beecham money?”

“I do,” John admitted, obviously perplexed as to the relevance of that.

“Good. I suggest you hire someone to take her to Port Royale. Set her up in a teeny little cottage there, and give her a small stipend, just adequate to see her fed and able to buy a new dress once a year.”

“Nay!” Lady Beecham turned to John in outrage,
obviously horrified by the idea. “Nay. Son, you could not be so cruel.”

“Actually, I think I could,” John murmured, seeming to like the idea. “After all, it is no more than the life you sentenced my real mother to, is it?”

“Valoree!”

Grimacing at Daniel's irate growl, she raised her eyebrows at John. “I take it you brought these men along?”

He nodded apologetically. “As soon as I said that Addams was my mother's servant, they were determined to come have a talk with her.”

“Valoree? What are you doing here?” Daniel asked, slipping past John to move to her side, concern now mingling with her anger. “How did you get here?”

“Visiting?” she suggested, laughing as John dragged Lady Beecham from the room. Meg followed her son. Valoree's crewmen hesitated, then followed as well, leaving Valoree to peek at Daniel's black expression and sigh. “I decided to walk over to the town house after you left, but when I got there, Meg was slipping out. So I followed her here.”

“You walked?” He stared at her in horror. “At night? By yourself? Valoree, you should not be taking such risks in your condition.”

“I am with child, Daniel. Not ill.”

“You know?”

“I know what? That I am with child? Well, of course I know. What sort of idiot do you take me for?”