Lady Pirate (5 page)

The newcomer, too, was reacting oddly, blinking at her rather blankly, unable to believe he had heard what he thought he had just heard.

Gathering from all this that ladies did not “go to the loo,” Valoree sighed inwardly and offered a bland smile. “Lou. Louis. Our footman. I left my smelling salts in the carriage and I was going to have him fetch
them for me. My aunt faints quite easily,” she added drolly. Then, putting a hard edge into her voice, she addressed Meg. “Aunt? Is that brandy for me?”

“I—Yes, dear.” The woman hurried forward at once, pushing the glass into Valoree's hand and patting her on the back. “Come, my dear. You should rest
silently
and drink this…after that knock.” Her emphasis was not missed by Valoree.

The butler hurried into the room just as Valoree lifted the snifter of brandy to her lips.

“Here, my lady. This should help,” the older man murmured, rushing to her side with a flowered blue bowl filled with water and a fresh cloth. Setting them on the table before her, he watched anxiously as Meg took her glass, set it aside, and took up the cloth to dip it in the water.

“I am ever so sorry about this. All of this. You should not even have had to wait. Yours was the only appointment scheduled for today, but—”

“But I arrived unexpectedly and quite rudely usurped some of your time,” the younger man interrupted. “Of course, once I realized that Master Whister had another appointment, I politely took myself off here to allow you your time before I finish with him. He should be along directly.”

Valoree accepted that bit of information with interest, then glanced toward Meg as the woman touched her arm.

“Lean your head back,” her faux aunt instructed quietly, then laid the cold cloth out flat over her forehead and face so that even her mouth was covered.

If Valoree had suspected that compresses were not generally supposed to cover the mouth as well as everything else, a short burst of laughter from the newcomer assured her she was right. Dragging the cloth away, she sat up to glare at Meg, then glanced toward the newcomer. But before she could give him the
dressing-down he deserved, the butler murmured, “Well, then, Master Whister should be ready to see you now. I shall just check to see—”

“No need to check, Hinkle. I am ready.”

They all turned to the door at that bluff announcement, and Valoree took in the lawyer with curiosity. He was tall, slender, and distinguished-looking. Too, he had a gentle, reassuring face that seemed to suggest he was trustworthy. He took a moment to survey his guests, then started forward, his smile of greeting turning to a look of concern. “Is everything all right? You are not ill, are you, my lady?”

“Aye. I mean, nay, I am fine,” Valoree murmured, rising to her feet as the solicitor paused before her. Turning to Meg with sudden panic, she added, “And this is my aunt.” She fell silent then, deciding at that point that she would be more than happy to allow the woman to take over. The lawyer intimidated her. She didn't know why. The other man and the butler hadn't, but this man, gentle-looking though he was, did. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that she had to go through him to get what she wanted, Ainsley Castle. And she knew that cutlasses and flintlocks were not the way to do it this time. She was out of her depth.

Meg stepped in to take over. As Valoree watched, Meg smiled and chatted away, entirely charming as the lawyer ushered them out of the salon and into his office. Once there, the small talk between the two continued briefly before they finally got around to business.

“I received your letter regarding your brother Jeremy's death. I am sorry for your loss,” Whister began with suitable solemnity. “I realize he is the last of your close family.”

“It was years ago,” Valoree murmured, ignoring the pang of loss she felt at the mention of his name.

“Yes. Yes, of course. Well, it was lucky you had
such a lovely and warm aunt who could take over your upbringing and shelter you until now, though. Was it not?” He smiled charmingly at Meg, who actually blushed. Rolling her eyes, Valoree muttered a quiet agreement to that.

“Well.” Clearing his throat, he smiled once more at Meg, then looked away before getting to the sticky part. “I need proof of his death, of course. I presume you…” The lawyer paused as Valoree suddenly tugged a rolled-up scroll of paper from her sleeve, then removed the ring she had not taken off since the day Jeremy had given it to her. The day he had died. She set both on the desk before him.

Whister read the scroll, a doctor's letter, then examined the family signet ring silently before setting it gently back in the hand Valoree held out. He then settled himself behind his desk once more and began to shuffle through his papers. “Well then, of course you know that Jeremy never really claimed Ainsley. He made an appointment to see me and have ownership transferred from the guardianship into his name, but he never arrived for that appointment.”

“Yes, I know.” Valoree ignored Meg's startled glance and cleared her throat. “Ainsley was—probably still is—a shambles. Lord Swintun released the servants when he took over and rented the estate out for several years. Until it fell into disrepair.”

“Yes.” Whister acknowledged gently. “Your brother did write to explain that he would miss our appointment. He did say that the estate had been poorly used by Lord Swintun. He claimed that Ainsley needed extensive work and monetary input to make it liveable and self-sustaining, but that there was not nearly enough money to make the repairs necessary. He had purchased, instead, a small ship and contracted to privateer for the king to earn the funds.”

Valoree nodded mutely.

“What I never understood was, why he did not take the money he purchased the ship with and use it to begin the repairs on Ainsley? Surely he might have borrowed upon the estate then.”

Valoree felt her hands clench in her lap. She had made that same argument herself. And had Jeremy agreed, he would still be alive. But things had not turned out that way. “My brother was a proud man. He did not want to
borrow
. In fact, Jeremy bought the ship with jewels that were actually left to me,” she explained quietly. “He intended to make enough wealth to return both those jewels to me
and
restore Ainsley…without involving anyone outside the family. And he succeeded in doing so! Had he not been robbed and killed…” Valoree fell silent as her throat constricted with emotion. For a moment she struggled with anger and grief, then, noting the pitying expression on the lawyer's face, she straightened. “But he was killed,” she finished gruffly.

Whister immediately began to shuffle his papers again. “Yes. Well, in the end it was fortunate that he hadn't claimed Ainsley…since he left no will. As it is, since he died without either producing an heir or claiming his inheritance, we must revert to your father's will. According to that—” He paused briefly, skimming a few lines of the paper he held. Nodding, he said, “According to this, that makes you the heiress. Which, of course, you already know. Else you would not be here.”

“Aye,” Valoree murmured, shifting uncomfortably. It did not feel right that she was there to collect an inheritance gained through her brother's death. She would rather her brother were alive. Still, things had not turned out that way, and she had to be strong.

“Well, then, on your twenty-fourth birthday…Let us see, that would be…My goodness, that was almost three months ago.”

Valoree nodded solemnly. They would have come sooner, but they'd run into rough weather on their first attempt to head for England. It had been as if the sea itself were trying to prevent her gaining her inheritance. They had been lucky to pull through the storm, but not fortunate enough to escape with their ship undamaged. They'd had to put in to port for a bit to make repairs; then there had been a bit of trouble with illness—several of the crew had come down with a fever of unknown origin. And as Valoree had refused to leave the ill men behind, since they had fought for her for long and well, they had waited until the sailors' illness had run its course.

“Well, then, let me see here.” Propping a monocle over one eye, Whister lifted several pages and squinted to read them quickly. “Yes, yes,” he murmured after a moment, then set the sheets down and smiled at her sweetly. “It is all very simple and straightforward. All you need to do is have your husband come with you to sign these papers—”

“My husband?” Valoree stared at him blankly.

“Aye. According to the will, your husband must sign—”

“Husband?” Valoree interrupted. “It is not mine, but my husband's?”

Eyebrows rising slightly at the dismay in her voice, the lawyer shifted unhappily. “Well, technically it will go to your heir, but your husband will have charge of it until your son is of age.” Seeing that the news did not appear to improve her grim expression one whit, he began straightening his papers nervously. “It is very common. Most men are hesitant to leave such a large estate in the hands of their daughters. Either they leave it to their sons, or—”

“Fine. I shall marry then,” Valoree announced calmly, almost to herself. It was little enough trouble to accomplish that deed. She could marry one of her
men, for that matter. None of them would be foolish enough to think that they could take control of her inheritance, and if they did…Well, they simply wouldn't. They would realize that the rest of her crew would quickly make her a widow should they try it.

Mr. Whister peered from her to her aunt and then back. “Am I to understand that you are not married?”

“Not yet. No.”

“I see. Well…” Frowning, he began to straighten the papers on his desk, then glanced at her uncertainly. “Your husband has to be of noble birth, you know.”

Now Valoree was frowning. “Noble?”

“Aye. I fear that was a stipulation of your father's will as well. A noble of some intelligence, good reputation, and…er…” He flushed slightly, then muttered, “Capable of fathering a child, of course.”

“Fathering a—”

“Lord Ainsley was quite concerned with continuing the family line.” Whister was quite pink now. “To prove the…er…last requirement, you have to be married and either with child or already having had one by your…er…twenty-fifth birthday.”

“By my twenty-fifth—But that is only—Why, it's not much more than nine months away.”

“Aye, I know,” he admitted apologetically.

“What if she is married but not…in the family way by then?” Meg asked as Valoree simply stared.

“Well, then the estate would revert to the next in line. I am not sure who that would be, but I can look it up—”

“That will not be necessary,” Valoree told him, getting abruptly to her feet. “Thank you for your time. Good day.”

Blinking as she started for the door, Master Whister got abruptly to his feet. He hurried around his desk as Aunt Meg followed Valoree out.

“I am sorry. I did not realize that you were not aware of the stipulation,” he apologized miserably as he hurried down the hall behind them.

Nodding silently, Valoree sailed through the entry and out the door, leaving Meg to deal with the man.

Henry leaped from his perch and hurried to open the door of the hack as she approached. Valoree ignored his frown, knowing that he was worried by her stiff demeanor and cold expression. He could wait for an explanation. As she seated herself in the carriage, she turned to see Meg hurriedly exit the house. Valoree raised her eyebrow in question, hoping that something had been said that altered the situation.

The woman shook her head in answer and climbed into the carriage, pulling the door closed behind her.

Valoree rapped on the coach, and, shrugging, Henry climbed back up onto his perch at the back of the coach so that Skully could get the horses in motion. They set off.

The silence in the carriage was heavy. At last Meg spoke, and Valoree was surprised by the concern in the woman's voice. “What will you do now?”

Valoree was silent for a moment, then shrugged. “Return to the ship and set sail.” She glanced over, regretful. Bull had promised this woman a place on the estate if she helped them. Now the promise was in vain, despite Meg's having held up her end of the bargain.

Sighing, Valoree spoke. “You may sail with us if you like.” It wasn't exactly a cottage on an estate, but it was all Valoree had to offer. “You could help Petey cook,” she added, just to let the woman know that her position would be a respectable one.

“Where do you plan on sailing to?”

Valoree frowned and considered briefly before answering, “Back to the Caribbean most like.”

The woman shook her head. “Will you not even try?”

Valoree blinked in surprise. “Try what?”

“To find a husband?”

She did not even bother to answer, merely turned her face back to the window and stared at the passing street. It seemed obvious that she had little if any chance of finding a husband, not with the prerequisites her father had left her: find a man, intelligent and nobly born, who would be willing to marry her. That would have been hard enough, but she also had to be with child or have birthed one by her next birthday. No, it was all quite simply impossible. If the “nobly born” part had not been included, well, then, that would have been one thing. But where the devil was Valoree to find a noble who would be willing to both marry her and leave her in charge of her own estate? And where would she find one she was willing to lay down with to beget a child?

Valoree wasn't the timid type. Being raised on a ship full of pirates had seen to that. But she wasn't anywhere near experienced when it came to sex either. She had never even been kissed yet. That was something else that being raised on a ship full of pirates had seen to. Or more specifically, that's what hiding her gender on a ship full of pirates had seen to.