Lady Pirate (9 page)

“Beecham,” Daniel interrupted patiently.

“Oh, sorry. Well, it was drying up as the night progressed. It turned a sort of grayish color as it dried and began to crack. Little bits of it were flaking off for most of the night as I took her and her uncle around. Honestly, we left a trail of the stuff from one end of the ballroom to the other. I believe she must have been aware of it and did not know what to do, for she grew quieter and quieter as the evening progressed. And, of course, she could surely feel it. It seemed to be pulling her face tight.”

Seeing that Daniel was growing impatient again, Beecham hurried his story along. “Anyway, apparently Mother asked her a question she could not just nod at as she had been doing most of the night. She spoke, her face cracked, and a great chunk of it fell right off her chin. It bounced off her”—he gestured vaguely toward his chest—“and it plopped into Mother's wine. Of course, Mother's wine splashed out all over her new yellow gown. It will probably stain, and she is quite distressed,” he ended somewhat lamely.

Daniel bit his lip hard to keep back the laugh that wanted to escape as he visualized the
“incident.”
Taking a moment to clear his throat, he asked, “I take it the lady then disappeared?”

“Fled with her uncle on her heels,” Beecham agreed unhappily. “I do not know where they may have gone.”

“I would think they went straight home,” Daniel proposed, but Beecham quickly shook his head.

“I went out front and checked. Their carriage is still here.” When Daniel raised his eyebrows, Beecham shrugged. “Her servants are rather easy to spot. Pink livery.” He frowned. “I've never seen men look quite so disreputable in pink livery as hers do. And they are all so big.” Shaking his head, he bowed slightly toward Daniel. “I really must find her. I feel somehow responsible. I never should have left her with Mother. Excuse me.”

Daniel considered that last phrase as the fellow hurried off. It was more telling than the rest of the tale. Beecham suspected his mother was somehow at fault for the whole affair.

Knowing Lady Beecham, she probably was. She would have seen the problem the girl was having, but rather than taking her aside and helping her repair her problem, as any good hostess would, she had probably sent her son off deliberately so that he could not field questions and the girl would have to speak and suffer
the humiliation of a cracking face. Lady Beecham was a rather cold, nasty piece of work. Her friends were not much better, and the crowd of them together…Well, they would have eaten Lady Ainsley alive, he thought. But would they? He reconsidered. The woman he had seen eavesdropping at Whister's had not appeared the sort easily chewed up and spat out by anyone, even society's nastiest matrons. No. Just witness the fact that she had not already jumped in her carriage and fled.

He glanced around the room. Where
had
she gotten to then? he wondered. His gaze alighted on Lady Beecham and her crowd of cronies. They were all having a good laugh, he saw. His eyes narrowed as one of the women gestured toward the doors to the balcony, tittering as she did. Daniel stiffened.

Surely that was not where Lady Ainsley had run off to? If so, wouldn't Lady Beecham have told her son, rather than have him run about searching for her? Nay. Of course not. Not if she didn't want the fellow to have anything to do with her.

Positive he was right and drawn by his curiosity, Daniel strode toward the balcony doors.

 

“Oh, Captain, girl, I'm so sorry,” Henry apologized as he found Valoree on the balcony. “This here was a terrible idea. We never should have made ye come out when ye were without the proper stuff.” Awkwardly patting her shaking shoulders, he sighed miserably. “Please don't be crying, though. Yer breakin' me heart.”

Valoree wheeled around at that. “I ain't crying, ye silly old goat,” she snapped, her English slipping somewhat in her hurry to correct him. She had not cried since Jeremy's death. Pirate captains did
not
cry.

“Oh…Well, yer shoulders was shaking so hard I—”

“I was laughing,” she explained. At his amazed expression, she shook her head. “It was damned funny when my face fell off. Did you see Lady Beecham's face when it plopped in her wine? I thought I'd split a gut right there.” She curled her lip. “She was hoping for something of the like to happen, I think, the nasty old bitty. But I don't think she was quite prepared for it to ruin her precious gown like that.”

“Nay, I don't think she was,” Henry sighed. “And she
is
a nasty old biddy.”

“Aye, she is,” Valoree agreed, her amusement evaporating as she recalled the woman's false smile and cold eyes. Had Lady Beecham found aught amiss with Henry's account of life on their Caribbean plantation? He had been telling tales taller than the
Valor
's masts tonight, but then he had always been that way on the ship, too, entertaining the men with some truly imaginative yarns when they relaxed in the evenings. Unfortunately, not ever having moved in such elevated circles as these people moved in, he'd had to make everything up from scratch. And even Valoree, who had not lived the life of a noble since her eleventh year, had seen great, gaping errors in his lies.

Not that he had told many of them at first, but once young Beecham had departed and they had been left alone with his mother and her crowd, Henry had started talking almost feverishly in an effort to draw attention away from Valoree and her cracking face. The more he had babbled away about their huge plantation—the sugarcane, the servants, and the fine “shorties” they held there—well, the more malicious Lady Beecham's smile had gotten, and the more she had eyed Valoree like a hawk eyeing a field mouse. Then she had started interrupting Henry to ask Valoree questions. Henry had tried to answer them, but finally the woman had said, “I asked your niece, my lord. Surely she can answer for herself.”

It was then that, with nothing else for it, Valoree had opened her mouth to speak and sent a great avalanche of the white muck sailing off her face. The largest chunk had bounced off her chest into the woman's goblet of red wine, which had then splashed bloodred on her yellow gown.

Taking one look at the woman's horrified face, Valoree had whirled away to flee. But as she'd just told Henry, it was only so that she would not be seen when she burst out laughing.

“I suppose tonight probably ruined everything,” Henry said. “We'll never get another invite to one of these here sworings, and we'll never get you married now. I should have listened to Meg instead of forcing ye to come tonight.”

Valoree's ears perked up; she was hopeful that this might signal the end of this stupidity and that she might return to her old life, where she felt safer despite the inherent danger of being a pirate. Was Henry admitting defeat so soon? And not because of any fault of hers but because of the men's own miscalculations? Oh, this was too perfect. Better than she had hoped for.

Keeping her relief hidden, she nodded in agreement. “Aye. I doubt we garnered any friends here tonight. We are ruined, I believe is the term.” She gave a feigned sigh of disappointment, then headed for the door. “Well, we'd best clear out of here and head home to tell the men.”

“You don't really want to walk back through
there
, do ye?” Henry asked with amazement, falling into step beside her. He eyed her face with a wince mingled with doubt.

“That bad, is it?” Valoree asked, pausing.

“I could just nip around and see if there's any way to escape without going through the house.”

Valoree briefly considered his suggestion, then nodded.

Henry was off at once, hurrying away, out and through the gardens to disappear into the trees. Valoree waited a moment, then caught herself picking off the chunks of dried glop that still clung to her face. Grimacing, she forced her hands away and walked to the edge of the balcony impatiently. It was then that she spotted the fountain. As she eyed it from where she stood, a plan formed in her head. She hurried down the steps and into the garden.

 

When he first stepped outside, Daniel thought he had been mistaken; the balcony was dark and empty, and there was no sign of Lady Ainsley. It was quiet and cool, though, a nice change from the inside of the Beecham ballroom. Deciding to enjoy the tranquility for a moment, he moved to the railing and set his drink down. His relaxation was broken a moment later as he glanced quickly up at the sounds of splashing water.

Squinting, he peered out over the shadowed gardens, his gaze stopping upon a dark shape directly in front of what appeared to be a rather large fountain. The shape seemed to be the source of all the racket. After a hesitation, he moved to the steps and down into the garden, making his way silently until he stood directly behind the noisy shadow.

It took his eyes a moment to sort out what he was seeing, and when he did, it was only because the dark shape suddenly shifted and rose up slightly, a head and shoulders appearing above the mass of dark blue skirts that had appeared black in the darkness. The sound of spluttering water continued.

Why would any woman submerge her head in Beecham's garden fountain? Unless she had a desperate need to clean some defective foundation from her face.

“Lady Ainsley?” he asked in disbelief.

The shape whirled on its knees and turned to face him. It was indeed the lady. She peered up at him in dismay, then lurched to her feet, pushing wet hair back off her face and glancing about rather wildly—looking for an escape route, most likely. Shifting forward a bit, Daniel blocked any opportunity for escape, his eyes taking in everything about her.

For a moment they were both silent; then Daniel cleared his throat. “I heard of your incident and thought to come out and check on you.”

Her eyes widened. “My incident?”

“The trouble you had with…” He gestured vaguely toward her now clean-scrubbed face and thought she winced slightly, but he couldn't be sure in the darkness.

“Oh, aye. Well…I seem to have…been sold some inadequate foundation,” she said at last.

“Ahhhh,” Daniel murmured, though he wasn't sure what he meant even as he did so. “How distressing for you.”

“Aye,” she agreed. “Most distressing.”

They both fell silent again; then Daniel, judging that she wouldn't run off on him, stepped back to give her some room. “I see you managed to remove it.”

“Hmmm.” She grimaced slightly. “I doubt Lady Beecham will appreciate my befouling her fountain.”

“Better that than her wine.” Daniel laughed, then realized what he had said. Quickly he tried to backpedal. “I mean—”

“Oh, don't worry about it,” the girl muttered, pushing past him and moving a few steps farther into the garden. Her gaze shifted out over the shadows as if in search of somebody; then she glanced back at him with a frown. “Was there something you wanted?”

“Wanted?” His eyes widened. “Nay, I just…” He paused, having no good explanation for his presence in the gardens. He shrugged, then searched for some
thing to say. “I trust your appointment with Whister—”

“Went about as well as yours,” she finished dryly, then glanced around. “Else I surely wouldn't be
here
.”

“I take it you are not enjoying yourself?”

She turned her face toward him in the darkness. “Is that a joke, my lord?”

A bark of laughter slipped from Daniel's lips at her dry question. The girl certainly didn't pull any punches. He liked that. Clearing his throat, he tried a different topic. “Ainsley is in northern England, is it not?”

“Aye,” she agreed, turning to peer out over the bushes again.

“I understand your parents died when you were quite young?”

“Aye.”

“And your brother, Jeremy?”

Her head turned sharply, and Daniel could almost feel her eyes boring into him in the darkness. He continued.

“Whister mentioned that he died some…five years ago, was it?” He waited for her reaction. In truth, Whister hadn't said anything about this girl's brother; Daniel had known the fellow personally. In fact, Daniel had been looking for the man for some time now.

Though the man had been reputedly killed, someone was riding the ocean waves and continuing to loot the Spanish in his place. And whoever that man—Back-from-the-Dead Red, he was called—might be, he owed the king of England his percentage of five years' worth of piracy. If Jeremy Ainsley had thought to escape his contract with the Crown by faking his death, he was mistaken. If it was someone else in his stead, the king wanted him brought in.

Because he was the only one other than the king who had ever met Captain Red, Daniel had been com
missioned by the king to bring Jeremy Ainsley to task for his crimes.

Of course, that had all ended a year ago when Daniel's father had died, leaving him Thurborne and all of its problems. It had been rather humiliating to him to have to admit failure after four years of endeavoring, but Daniel had had little choice but to give up his hunt for Jeremy Ainsley or his impostor. He'd had to return to take up his responsibilities. But perhaps here was a chance to rectify that. A little charm, a few compliments, and no doubt Lady Ainsley could be encouraged to give up the information Daniel needed to at least discover if her brother still lived.

“Damn!”

His thoughts interrupted by the curse, Daniel glanced down at the light oval of Lady Ainsley's face, then followed her gaze toward the balcony. Lord Beecham was coming out of the ballroom.

He glanced back to Valoree Ainsley, hoping to continue their discussion, but when he did, she was gone. He peeked around. The girl had ducked behind a nearby tree. It was a poor hiding place, and her skirts were sticking out on either side of the trunk.

Amusement filling him, Daniel took pity on the girl. She obviously did not want to speak to Beecham. With a sigh, he started back toward the steps to waylay the man.