The Pirate's Tempting Stowaway (9 page)

“I purchased it myself. Carlisle is utterly besotted with Grace. He’ll make her a splendid husband. He’s a good man.” Father’s voice began to fade, then he shook his head. “I intend to return the portrait to its rightful owner.”

Her heart swelled. An earl was besotted with Grace. She was a
countess
now. Clara bit into a pastry with a smile. “But why would he sell a cherished painting to begin with?”

“I assume to fund improvements on his property. Or to buy trinkets for Grace. Or food. They’re quite penniless.”

Clara stopped chewing in horror. She narrowed her eyes at her father. “What do you mean, penniless?”

“Exactly that.” Father shrugged. “Grace’s dowry was a respectable thousand pounds—I couldn’t talk your mother into matching the fortune we’d set aside for you—but I’m afraid Carlisle’s debts far exceed that humble sum. They will never be rich with money, but they are certainly rich with love. The painting will be a wedding present.”

Clara frowned in thought. Grace had lived humbly her entire life, so continuing to do so would not be a hardship. However, simple country living was quite different than living in a vast estate and not being able to afford it.
 

She gazed at her extravagant breakfast tray. If only her mother had been willing to give Grace a larger dowry—however much the earl needed to overcome his debts. Clara’s fingers dug into her palms. She would give the couple her very last penny…if she so much as had one.
 

Her own future was far from certain.
 

Her parents hadn’t offered permanent lodging. And the newly married couple had enough responsibilities without adding a widowed dependent to their troubles. Where would she live?

“I’m sure they’ll love your wedding present, Father,” she murmured, wishing she could have also contributed to her daughter’s new home.

Father’s eyes twinkled at her merrily. “I have an even better surprise for you.”

She patted his hand. “I don’t know if I can withstand many more surprises. All I want now is to see Grace. And perhaps to intrude upon your company for a short while, if you and Mother would be so good as to allow me to stay for a few weeks.”

“That will be up to you.”

“Don’t you mean up to Mother?” she bit out, then pressed her lips together. Unlike Clara, her father had spent the last two decades by his wife’s side. Her controlling personality would not come as a shock.

“Up to any woman of independent means.” Father fished a folded parchment from inside his waistcoat and handed it to Clara. “I invested your dowry money. It’s been doubling and tripling for the past twenty years.”

She blinked at him in confusion. “But why would you save my dowry? You hated me. I disappointed you.”

He gazed at her. “We were unquestionably disappointed. But we
loved
you, Clara. We still do.”

She stared back at him in silence, unwilling to let herself hope. Unable to stop herself from loving him back.

“When you left, we were terrified. Shattered. We didn’t know if you’d gone north, south, east, west…”

“You
disowned
me,” Clara corrected bitterly. “You didn’t care where I went.”

“Your mother may have disowned you,” he conceded. “But she regretted it almost immediately. By then it was too late.
 
I couldn’t find you. If we would have known where you were, if there had been any hope of bringing you back home…”

“You did know. I sent you a letter as soon as I got to America.” Her throat convulsed. “I promised myself I would never have anything to do with the parents who disowned me, but just in case you did wonder where I had gone… The moment I arrived in New York, I sent the address of my boardinghouse. I sent it
twice
.”

He nodded. “I wanted to send for you straight away, but your mother thought it best if you had the child abroad before returning home. And I only wanted what was best for you.”

Her blood chilled. “You expected me to give up Grace?”

“We thought it possible,” he admitted. “Your mother would choose Society over anything. It never occurred to her you wouldn’t feel the same.”

“I would
never
give up Grace,” she said vehemently. “Not for you. Not for anyone.”

“We realized that as soon as she appeared on our doorstep,” he said with a small smile. His eyes grew vacant. “But twenty years ago, we didn’t know much of anything. We couldn’t even find our own daughter. We sent letters. You never wrote again. We sent a solicitor. He discovered the boardinghouse had closed. You’d never received our letters, and you probably never would. There was no trace of a Miss Clara Mayer anywhere in New York City.”

Her throat dried. “You’re right. By then I was Mrs. Clara Halton. And I had moved to Pennsylvania with my daughter and my husband. To make a new home. Our own life.”

She stared at her father in disbelief and sadness. All those years, wasted. Both sides believing the other had forgot them.
 

Her fingers shook. She was finally home. Now that they were part of her life again, she would never let them go.

“Your mother and I won’t live forever. Which is why…” Father motioned toward the document he’d given her. “That’s a mere portion of your inheritance. But it’s a start. I’ve already solicited it be transferred to your name.”

She unfolded the document with shaking fingers and gasped at the listed sum. “
Father—
”

“’Twas your dowry, daughter. It’s yours again. You’re free to live the life you choose.”

She stared at him in disbelief, then clasped the paper to her chest. It was enough money to buy an island. A castle. An armada. They
did
love her.

They always had.

“I love you, too.” She wrapped her arms about her father in a heartfelt embrace. To him, the sum might be tuppence…but to her, it meant the world.

She straightened as her heart burst with excitement. She wouldn’t simply be able to buy her daughter a wedding present—she’d be able to settle their debts herself. And still have plenty left over.
 

“Write your solicitor.” She shoved the document back into her father’s hands. “Have him reserve ten percent for me, and to put the rest in Grace’s name. How soon can it be done?”

“By tomorrow.” Father folded the parchment and slipped it back into his waistcoat, his smile pleased. “Anything else?”

“Yes.” Clara pushed her tray to the side and threw back the covers. “Please take me to my daughter.”

Chapter 9

Clara and her parents stepped out of their carriage and onto the Earl of Carlisle’s front lawn. The house was massive and beautiful, and shrouded with a lush expanse of woods, giving the estate the illusion of a country home despite its proximity to the city.

The front door swung open and a slender, dark-haired girl burst out of the house with her arms wide open.

Grace
. Clara gathered her daughter in her arms and held on tight, breathing in the scent of her hair. The four months since she’d last seen her daughter seemed like an eternity. Due to her long illness, Clara had certainly felt like she’d aged years. Now that she was much healthier, and had Grace back in her life—back in her arms!—she felt young and carefree again. Grace would be fine. They all would be. Clara would see to it.

“I was so afraid for so long,” her daughter whispered.

Clara stroked her child’s hair. “So was I. When Blackheart showed up—”

Grace jerked out of her arms. “
Who?
”

“The ship’s captain.” Clara’s cheeks flushed. Why on earth had she used his nom de plume? Perhaps because of his typical Blackheart swashbuckling display at her parents’ house. “That isn’t his given name, of course. It’s difficult to think of a rogue like that as a ‘Mister’ anything. He’s just so…”

“‘Piratey’, I imagine.” Grace’s brow furrowed. “The name alone is infamous. Did he find you a doctor? I doubt a man like Blackheart is often called upon to play nursemaid.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong.” But he was very good at it. Steele might be ruthless to his enemies, but he’d been nothing short of tender with Clara. Until that last night, when she’d been so certain he might… Clara cleared her throat. “Yes, it was quite an adventure. But I was so weak, I slept through most of it.”

A tall, handsome gentleman exited the house and came to put his arm about Grace. The Earl of Carlisle, Clara presumed. He did indeed look infatuated with her daughter. And he was the reason Clara was here. She owed him everything.

Grace shot her husband a dark look—likely for having recruited a pirate. Clara could not have been happier that he had done so.

“Please don’t blame your husband for his wonderful actions. He sent explicit instructions that I not be moved if I were not able. As you can see, I’m very able. I was ill, but not mortally. So of course I came. There isn’t much difference between convalescing in my home and convalescing in a cabin.”

“On a pirate ship,” Grace said flatly. “In the middle of the ocean. With a man named Blackheart. No difference at all.”

Memories Clara would cherish forever. She clutched her daughter’s hands. “I’m just sorry I missed your
wedding
. I arrived ill and exhausted, and when I awoke it was too late. We hurried to the church, but the ceremony was long over.” Her voice caught and she released Grace’s hands. “My baby…
married
. I cannot credit it.”

Grace entwined her hand with the earl’s. He kissed the top of her head. Clara’s heart warmed.

“Mama, it is my deepest pleasure to present to you my husband. Oliver York, Earl of Carlisle. Oliver, this is my mother, Mrs. Clara Halton.”

The earl released Grace’s hand only long enough to sketch a courtly bow.

Clara’s mother rapped her on the foot with her walking stick. “See that?
That
is how a gentleman is supposed to greet a lady. Not growling and waving about pistols like a wild animal.”

Grace raised a brow. “I collect the pirate made an impression on Grandmother.”

Clara couldn’t help but smile. When she’d first met Blackheart,
she
had been the one growling and waving about a pistol like a wild animal. Perhaps they had more in common than one might think. “Best we don’t talk about that.”

“Please,” said the earl. “Come inside. I haven’t much, but I can at least offer fire to warm you from the cold, and a nice hot cup of tea with milk and honey.”

At the sound of the word
tea
, Clara’s mother turned toward the estate.

“Just a moment,” Father interrupted her. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

The earl’s wedding gift! Clara clasped her hands together. Her mother might not be the sensitive sort, but Clara’s father had always been sentimental at heart.
 

Before he could so much as open the carriage door, the tiger jumped down from his perch and wrested an enormous, paper-wrapped rectangle from inside the coach.

“This is purely your grandfather’s gift,” she murmured to her daughter. “I’ve a different one. This is for your husband.”

To Clara’s surprise, the earl’s hands trembled as he took possession of the large, paper-wrapped painting. “You purchased the
Black Prince?
For me?”

Clara’s mother jabbed her walking stick in her husband’s direction. “That was Mr. Mayer’s doing. Try as I might, he’s always been a soft heart. Clara was still asleep when he wrapped it. She didn’t even know she was rich yet.”

Grace’s eyes blinked in confusion. “You’re…rich?”

It wasn’t how Clara had wished to break the news and she floundered to explain the extraordinary turn of events. “I knew I was disowned when I ran away to America. But unbeknownst to me—”

“Or to me,” her mother interrupted with a harrumph.

“—your grandfather invested my very generous dowry in the event of my return. It’s been collecting an exorbitant amount of interest for twenty-three years. You should
see
the bank statement. I couldn’t possibly spend that much in a lifetime.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “So I’m giving the majority to you. Happy wedding day, daughter.”

Grace’s mouth fell open. “T-to me?”

“It’s mine to give, and I want you to have it. Both of you.” Clara’s heart warmed at the earl’s possessive hold about her daughter’s waist. “’Tis my understanding you lovebirds have a bit of refurbishing to do.”