Lady Pirate (6 page)

Still and all, she had heard quite a bit of bragging from the men about their exploits. She had even stumbled across one or two of the men with prostitutes they had sneaked aboard-ship over the years. Between those two things, Valoree had a good grasp on what it was all about. As far as she could tell, it all appeared rather awkward and silly to her. All that mushy mashing of mouths, humping, and moaning. It didn't appear very exciting to her. But if the men were to be believed, it felt a whole lot better than it looked. That being the case, Valoree wasn't against trying it out. She just
hadn't yet met a man who attracted her in that way. She was rather hoping that she would be lucky enough to find a man like that, though, for she suspected sex was one of those things that could be a chore if there wasn't some attraction involved.

The idea had her so caught up, it took her a moment to realize the carriage had stopped. Glancing about distractedly, she peered at the open door of the hack where Henry stood patiently waiting.

Sighing, she shifted along the seat, then leapt clear of the door, landing in a puddle with a satisfying slap of her boots.

Ignoring Henry's startled and even slightly disapproving look, she turned and strode up the dock, uncaring of how it looked for a woman in a dress to be striding about like a man. This was how she walked: purposeful, commanding, with someplace to go. This was her life.

Pausing at the end of the dock, she waited as Skully and One-Eye hurried to catch up to her. She scowled. They looked ridiculous in the livery. Pale pink simply did not do a thing for Skully's peg leg or One-Eye's patch. Their hair was too long, their faces scruffy and sun burnt. They did not fit in such finery. They looked better and were more comfortable in their worn and ragged pirate garb. Mayhap it was better that they would not be forced into the roles of gentlemen farmers.

“I want you to rally the men, Henry. We leave as soon as the last of them return.”

“Leave?” her friend asked in shock. “For where?”

“The Caribbean. I shall not inherit. It looks as if we have a few more years of sailing left before us.”

Valoree had changed out of her gown and back into her usual dress of breeches and top, yet this time she no longer bothered to bind her breasts. It was the first time she had worn her captain's clothes without doing so. She had been binding her breasts since she'd developed them. Younger brothers and cabin boys did not have breasts, and that was how the crew had thought of her for thirteen years—until now.

Henry had announced to them that she was a girl the afternoon they had sailed into London. It had seemed a good idea at the time. Now that things had gone differently, then they'd planned, Valoree wished he had kept that information to himself. The men had been shocked, of course, and one or two had not taken it well that their captain had turned out to be a girl. Still, they were probably over it by now.

Right, she thought sarcastically, then leaned back in her chair with a sigh and propped her feet up on the table. Grabbing the bottle of rum she had brought to her cabin with her, she took a swig. She was working very hard at emptying it.

Valoree was more than halfway to being sotted when a knock came at the door. Sighing, she started to sit up, then changed her mind and slouched even further in her seat. Surely they had come only to tell her that they had voted someone else captain, anyway. They would hardly keep her now that everyone knew she was a woman, nor could she supply the longed-for home in the country
that had been promised years ago when they had all signed on with her brother.

“Enter!” she snapped, then watched calmly as Henry ducked inside. He was followed by One-Eye, Skully, Bull, Petey, Meg, and as many of the rest of the crew as could fit inside the room. She could hear the rest clustered outside the door.

“What?” Valoree asked wearily, then waited for the announcement to come.

The men all turned to Henry. He grimaced at being stuck with the job of speaker, but stepped forward, clearing his throat. “Well, now, ye see, Cap'n, Meg here told us all about what that there Whister feller said.”

“Of course she did.” She had expected as much.

“Aye. And then One-Eye here and I, we went and rounded up all the men and brought them back.”

“As you were ordered to do.”

“Aye. And then we…er…Well, we informed them of what was said.”

“I am not surprised.”

There was silence for a moment; then One-Eye nudged him. Henry sighed and continued. “Well, the men…we all discussed it some, ye see, and then we…er…We had a vote.”

“Here it comes,” Valoree murmured to herself. So much for five years of successful piracy.

“And we vote ye marry.”

Valoree blinked. “What did you say?”

“He said we voted, you marry,” Petey repeated helpfully from his position near the door.

Valoree frowned at the cook's words, then glanced over the rest of the men. Every single one of them was nodding solemnly.

“You voted that I should
marry?
” she murmured with disbelief, unsure whether to laugh or scream. It would almost be easier if they had voted her out of
position as captain. Were they mad? Did they not understand things? No, of course they did not, she realized suddenly. They had no concept of what a monstrous undertaking marriage was. Especially in noble circles. Hell,
she
was not even sure of the full details.

Shaking her head, she dropped her booted feet to the floor and calmly stood. “Gentlemen, while I appreciate what is at stake, you do not seem to understand—”

“We understand,” One-Eye assured her with a grin. “We understand that you gotta marry to gain Ainsley, so we voted ye get married.”

Valoree paused at One-Eye's words, then frowned. “Now, see here. As my crew you can vote on a lot of things—where we sail, whether to take a Spanish ship or not, whether to kill its crew even—but you cannot vote on whether I marry.”

“Well, now, that's no' exactly true.”

Valoree frowned at that announcement, coming as it was in a Scottish brogue. Jasper stepped forward unfolding several contracts he held. “According to Article six of the contract we all signed upon joining up with you, and I quote, ‘Every seaman shall have a vote on such matters as affect the welfare, safety, health, and future of the crew.'” Lowering the contract, the Scot raised his head and smiled at her, an expression revealing a number of missing teeth. “This here affects the whole crew.”

Every man present was again nodding in solemn agreement. Even Meg was.

When Valoree merely stared at them, baffled, Henry explained. “To get Ainsley, ye got to marry. Gettin' Ainsley or not affects all of us. It's why we all threw in together—first with Jeremy, then with you.”

“Aye,” One-Eye agreed, drawing her gaze. “Jeremy
said he would give each of us a cottage at Ainsley where we could settle down.”

“Where we could get married,” Petey added almost dreamily. “Have a wife.”

“And bairns,” Jasper put in.

“A garden,” Henry added. Everyone turned to stare at him. Straightening his shoulders, he scowled at them defensively. “Jeremy promised me a garden.”

“So's you can grow vegetables,” Skully added hopefully, but Henry shook his head.

“Flowers.”

“Flowers?” They gaped at him, but he shrugged, indifferent to their scorn.

“I'm thinkin' on growing me some roses. I've got a green thumb, don't ye know. Think I'll try me hand at makin' one o' them new roses. I'll call it the Grand Valoree.”

Valoree shook her head in disgust and sank back into her seat. Staring at her motley crew, she shook her head again and shrugged. “Fine,” she said with feigned indifference. “I shall marry. I suggest you go out and find me a husband. All you need is a nobleman capable of getting me with child. However, I warn you, he has to be willing to let me make all the decisions and run the roost. Otherwise, do you think he'll let me set you all up on his estate? Good luck to you. I shall just wait here for you to accomplish the deed.”

Grabbing her bottle of rum once more, she sank back into her seat.

The room was silent for a moment as Valoree studiously ignored her men; then they slowly began to file out.

“Marry,” she muttered, raising the rum to her mouth and gulping some of it down before shaking her head. “Me.” She was aware of her shortcomings. More than aware. They were all tied up in her past and who she was.

Her parents had both died by the time Valoree was five—her mother breaking her neck in a fall down the stairs shortly after Valoree was born, and her father during a cholera outbreak when she was five. That had left her and Jeremy. Jeremy had been six years older than she, a tender eleven years old when they had been left to fend for themselves.

Well, they hadn't been left entirely to themselves; there had been Lord Swintun. He had been a neighbor and their guardian. He had been a kind and tender man who had been good to them both. Unfortunately, he had been less kind to their birthright. He'd raped the land, destroyed the pastures, and generally done his best to run the place into the ground, milking every drop of profit out of it that he could—as had been his right to do as guardian of the inheritance.

Still and all, Valoree had been sorry when he had died in her tenth year. He truly had been kind and caring toward her and her brother. He had hired the best tutors for them, seen to Jeremy's training, and openly nurtured them both. Then he had died, and they had been left in the hands of his son, a fellow who'd had a terrible tendency to leer at Valoree even at that tender age. It had been most uncomfortable for a while. Four years later, Jeremy had turned eighteen and taken Valoree home to Ainsley to reclaim their birthright.

And that had been worse. Neither of them had been near the estate since their father's death, and what they found was shocking. The manor house was uninhabitable, with not a stick of furniture left. Swintun's son claimed it had all been stolen and, seeing as selling off the goods and household articles was not exactly accepted as a right of the guardian, they had believed him. There had been nothing to do about it by then anyway, as it was apparent that the furniture had been gone an awfully long time. The house had obviously been used as a squat for various passersby, including animals, birds, rats, and spiders.

Cleaning and refurbishing had been what it needed. That took money, however, and that was something they were sadly short of. In his mismanagement of the land, Swintun had made it almost unrentable. Farmers would not rent land they could not work.

Valoree recalled that Jeremy had taken one stunned look at his inheritance, walked around the destroyed entry and great hall, then moved to the fireplace, removed a small rock there, pulled out a bag, and turned away. He'd walked straight out, mounted his horse, and ridden off.

Knowing he was distressed, and trying to help, Valoree had set her hand determinedly to cleaning up, hoping that she could make a difference. Unfortunately, after the whole day and most of the night cleaning, she had barely made a dent in the ruin that was now their home. She had cried herself to sleep on a bed of rushes in a corner of the great hall, the cleanest space she could find.

That was where Jeremy had found her late that evening when he returned, and that was where he had told her of their change of plans. The bag he had removed from the fireplace had been their mother's jewels. They were to have gone to Valoree. Instead, Jeremy had taken them and bought a ship, and he had hired a quartermaster—Henry. He intended to enter the risky business of privateering. He would attack the king's enemies, take their goods, and split them with the Crown. Then, when he'd made enough, he would return and legally claim his inheritance. It seemed the only way.

Valoree had protested, of course. But when her brother had gone to great pains to assure her of the safety of his undertaking, she had rebelled at Jeremy's next intention: to ask Lord Swintun to continue her guardianship until he returned. She hated and feared the young nobleman, and anything would be better
than a sentence of living under his care. If a seafaring life was safe enough for Jeremy, it was safe enough for her. And that was how she'd become a pirate.

Now Valoree knew all there was to know about sailing, and she was quite a hand at battle as well. But that was where her talents lay—not in wifely duties. True, she'd been trained in Latin, English, and German while under the older Swintun's care, and her brother had continued her reading and writing lessons in those languages while he was alive, but those weren't exactly womanly arts.

Even her speech was lacking. Jeremy had made her speak properly while he was alive, but she had slipped somewhat since his death. Especially when she was angry.

She certainly had none of the useful crafts that should be known by women. She was not very good with a needle. She could sew, but her stitches were nowhere near as straight as they could be. She knew next to nothing about running a household, and was as good as useless when it came to tending illness. Her mother had been an expert with healing herbs, Jeremy told her, but had died long before being able to teach Valoree any of what she needed to know. And for such pastimes as dance and music, the years she might have been learning those she had spent sacking galleons in the Caribbean. In short, she was terribly lacking. No nobleman would want her—let alone one who understood her needs.

Her depressing thoughts were brought to a halt by a light tapping at the door. Sighing, she set the almost empty rum bottle on the desk and sat up straight. “Aye.”

Henry opened the door and stepped silently inside. This time he was alone. Valoree did not know if that was a bad sign…or worse.

Pausing before the desk, the quartermaster eyed her
for a moment, then shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “The men have been talkin' the problem over.”

Valoree arched an eyebrow at him. “Which problem would that be?”

“The problem o' findin' ye a husband.”

Valoree grimaced. At least it sounded as if her men were being realistic about it, and weren't fooling themselves into pretending it would be an easy task. “And?” she prompted.

“Well, we're thinking that the docks are no place to meet up with some of them there noble fellers. We're thinkin' we need to get you into society.”

Valoree nodded at his logic. “How?”

“How?” He frowned. “Well, er…I guess we'd have to be gettin' ye some o' them there invites to some of them sorries.”

“Soirees,” Valoree corrected dryly, then repeated, “How?”

“How?”

“Aye. How? You cannot steal or force those at swordpoint, you know.”

“Aye, well….” His lips puckered briefly; then he backed toward the door. Her exceedingly quiet and calm manner seemed to be making him a touch nervous. Perhaps he'd learned over the last thirteen years that when she was calm, it usually preceded a storm. “I'll be getting back to you on that,” he ended lamely, backing through the door.

“I am sure you will,” Valoree snapped, then returned her attention to her bottle.

 

“We are here.”

Valoree glanced about at the announcement just as the coach came to a halt. Shifting closer to the window, she looked out at the town house they had stopped before, peering at it through a jaded eye. They were
about to waste a whole lot of time and coin pursuing the impossible.

This was the answer the men had come up with for getting her “some invites to them sorries.” They had determined that she must rent a town house for the “seasoning” and “have one o' them there comin'-up things.”
Brilliant. Marvelous
. They were all mad. How did they think renting a town house would get her married? It was not as if the members of the ton were like to be overwhelmed by her grace, charm, and beauty.

The door suddenly opened and Henry appeared, offering a hand to aid her out. Sighing, she caught up her skirts in a bunch, grabbed his hand, and clambered irritably down from the coach. Once on the ground, she released her skirts, giving them a slight shake so they would fall back in place, and glanced at the carriage parked in front of their own. The door to that one opened and a tall, slender, fair-haired man alit somewhat cautiously even as Henry helped Meg down from their own carriage.